That earned a smile. Not the bright grin I’d seen on the way into Bonaventure but something more tempered and hard earned.
‘Anti-hunting but pro-keeping you alive. He would be proud.’
We reached a fork in the path. The right side in total darkness while the bright, silvery moonlight shone off to the left, beckoning Catherine and I on. We followed dutifully, the full moon guiding us through the trees and moments later, in the distance, I saw two blinding white lights. Barnett. The car.
‘I think it would be best if we didn’t tell anyone about this, not even Ashley,’ Catherine said, slowing down as we got closer. I looked over at her, waiting for the punchline of this strange joke, and saw she was entirely serious.
‘You don’t think she’s going to ask what happened?’ I waved a hand at my torn clothes, my blood-covered body. ‘I think Barnett might notice too.’
‘Ashley will be in her room when we return and Barnett is very discreet.’
‘Your car has white leather upholstery,’ I reminded her.
‘We’ll put down blankets.’
‘But Catherine—’
‘It would be for the best,’ she repeated more forcefully. ‘I must ask you to trust me and say nothing.’
The discussion was over. This was not up for debate.
Somewhere in the undergrowth, I heard a rustling sound, turning just in time to see a large, long-legged bird swoop out of the trees and soar off into the night.
‘Wolves hunt in packs,’ I whispered, relieved not to seeanother pair of golden eyes staring at me from the darkness. ‘What if there’s another one out there somewhere?’
‘There’s always another out there somewhere,’ Catherine said with a weary sigh. ‘But next time, you’ll be ready.’
Next time?
‘You’re sure there’s no one we should tell?’ I asked. I was shaking again, my limbs trembling at her casual certainty. ‘No authorities or anyone?’
‘Trust me, Emily,’ Catherine replied as we crossed through the gates of the cemetery, officially leaving Bonaventure grounds. ‘No one mourns a wolf.’
Chapter Nine
When I opened my eyes the next morning, it could have been any other day until I rolled over and saw a long, silvery scar on the inside of my forearm.
Bonaventure, the underground chapel, the wolf.
How had the wound healed already? I touched it gingerly with the tip of one finger. No pain, just cool, smooth skin. Even with the sun beating through my bedroom windows, I was suddenly freezing cold, yanking the sheets up to my chin as I shivered uncontrollably. There was a china teacup on the nightstand, empty except for a few leaves in the bottom, and I fished through a hazy memory of drinking it before collapsing into bed, exhausted. Catherine sat by my side until I fell asleep. Next to it was a shining leaf-shaped pin.
‘It’s a moonstone set in pure silver,’ she had explained as I drifted off. ‘Keep it close and it will protect you.’
After that, I didn’t remember anything. I didn’t even dream.
‘Emily? Are you awake?’
The sound of Ashley’s voice and her disembodied head appeared around my bedroom door. Instinctively, I opened thedrawer in my nightstand, pushed the piece of antique jewellery-slash-murder weapon into the drawer and slammed it shut, sealing the pin inside.
‘We’re having a lazy day today, I see.’
‘Catherine’s tea knocked me out,’ I said as she strolled into my room. ‘What time is it?’
‘Time you were out of bed. Almost ten.’
Cautiously, I pushed back the covers to examine my arms and legs for telltale evidence that might give our secret away but there was nothing other than the mark on my arm: no cuts or bruises, not even any dried blood under my fingernails. If it weren’t for the almost invisible scar and the pin in my nightstand, I might have written off the whole thing as a bad dream. A very, very bad dream.
‘Is Catherine downstairs?’ I asked, climbing out of bed and into my slippers, pulling a sweater over my pyjamas. ‘I need to talk to her.’
