Page 11 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Three steps led up to a wood porch, with a ramp to the right of them. I got to the front door, and a little bell chimed above me when I opened it and stepped inside.

It was nice and cool, a radio on behind the front reception desk playing a folk station, though I didn’t see anyone. The front reception was small but cozy, with two armchairs close to an unlit stone hearth, a small table full of wrinkled magazines in between them. There was a long wooden table with a steaming kettle, a selection of teas and coffees, and a jug of ice water with sprigs of mint inside. On the opposite wall, to my right, there was a display of brochures for tourists. I froze when I saw one advertising the Moonshade Berry Festival in Everwick in the fall, feeling an unexpected tightening of grief deep in my chest as I held my breath.

“Checkin’ in?” came a voice.

I jumped. An older woman had appeared behind the front desk from the ajar door behind her. Wiry white hair hung past her shoulders, and it was half-pulled back by a silver clip resembling a crescent moon. She had beautiful gray eyes, the lines around them deeply wrinkled. Up close, I noticed a cloudy film over them, a cataract haze that dulled the pupils but left the pale gray color luminous around the edges—almost silvery, like moonlight caught in frost. She wore brown trousers and a deep purple tunic embroidered with white vines on the sleeves. In her right hand was a thin cane.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, approaching the desk, clearing my throat. “Blanche Redfield. A friend made the booking for me. It might be under Megan Banks.”

Her gray eyes snapped right to mine, and I found myself holding my breath, a strange quiet falling in the reception cabin, like a whisper across my flesh. My brow furrowed.

But then, her eyes strayed past me, going to the brochures beyond my shoulder. “Nice friend. Prepaid, I remember. Lemme grab your keys and I’ll show ya over to the cabin.”

“Sorry I’m a little late,” I supplied, watching as she maneuvered to a wood cabinet on the wall behind her, rubbingat my arms. Inside were the keys. She ran her fingers over them as they jingled musically before she plucked out a set from the bottom row, under a faded label I couldn’t make out. “I forgot how dark these roads get at night.”

“No bother,” the woman replied, rounding the desk. “You from round here? Or just passin’ through?”

Her hand smoothed along the wood as she turned toward me, her cane tapping out a steady beat. I realized she was blind.

“I—I grew up in Everwick but haven’t been back for a while,” I told her. She was nearly to the door, and I hurriedly pulled my luggage from her path. Rushing forward, I said, “Here, let me get that.”

“Thank ya, dear,” she murmured. The still warm air outside made her eyes close. When the bell stopped chiming over the door, she said, “Ahh, I always love those crickets singin’ on nights like these. Ya won’t ever find more peace than right here—I guarantee it.”

As if on cue, I heard a wolf howl in the distance, making my heart leap in my chest. Beyond the cabin, I saw a path heading past the fork in the road. From this vantage point, I saw the sparkling reflection of a lake. The lady smiled.

“Though ya better be careful of the wolves, dear,” she added. “Come this way. I have ya in one of the lake cabins close to the reception building so I can keep eyes on ya, in case. Real nice, recently renovated. Your friend booked ya the one with the clawfoot tub too.”

I watched as she maneuvered down the steps expertly, forgoing the ramp, her feet crunching on the gravel path beyond the stairs, which would give way to the compact dirt road leading to the lake.

I followed when she veered north, tugging my suitcase behind me. “Are you one of the owners?” I asked, filling the sudden silence.

“Me?” she asked, surprise evident in her tone. She laughed, a gruff short sound. “No, that’ll be Mr. Wolfe. You’ll see him round; he’s always workin’ on somethin’. I’m in charge of reception. I cook all the meals too, so don’t be shy callin’ down if ya need anythin’, all right?”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, smiling. There were trees all around us as we walked down the path, the steady tapping of her cane playing out a rhythmic beat. Trees so tall that I marveled at their height.

Maybe it’s good I’m here,I thought, my shoulders lowering a bit.Maybe this is what I need.The lake came into view, and I saw the dark shapes of cabins lining around it. I counted nine, possibly ten, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Are any other guests staying here?” I wondered, seeing the windows were dark. It wasn’tsolate that everyone was asleep already, surely.

“We get booked on weekends mostly,” she told me. “It’s offseason right now, though a nice family left just this mornin’.”

Offseason?

It was the middle of summer.

My expression was perplexed, I was certain, but then she guided me up the pathway, leading to a quaint little cottage painted blue near the shore of the lake. The indigo shutters had crescent moons carved into them, and green shrubs decorated the exterior below the paned windows. Everything looked new—fresh paint, fresh landscaping. Maybe that was why this place was empty, I reasoned. Maybe they’d just opened up to guests. Then again, the sign off the main road had looked faded.

The older woman tapped her cane against a little signpost poking out of the ground with the number two, below which readMoon Gate Cottage.

“Here’s home. Everythin’ ya need is inside,” she declared. The keys jingled in her hand when she gave them to me.“Remember, call down on the landline if ya need me. I’m May. I’m here till midnight.”

“Thank you, May,” I said, but she was already turning back down the path. “I’ll remember.”

“Oh, and stick to your cottage at night, dear, unless it’s round the lake. Don’t go wanderin’ into the woods. This isn’t the city. Plenty of things in there that would eat ya right up. Though those city boys probably would too.”

Her laugh lightened the words, but my gaze flicked to the edge of the forest on the opposite side of the lake in trepidation.

“Stay inside at night—got it,” I murmured under my breath. Then I nibbled on my lip, thinking of wolves or bears or shapeshifting monsters or wraiths that could be in the woods. “Do you want me to walk you back?”