Page 111 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Memory rose up so sharply it almost knocked me back. A flash of lantern light on the path to my cabin, the smell of wet pine and woodsmoke, Jonathan’s hand brushing mine in the dark. My grandmother’s garden. Plump moonshade berries staining my fingers. The way the night in Everwick felt like it was breathing with me instead of against me.

My throat constricted.

“I want to go home,” I whispered to the girl in the glass.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Home.

I didn’t know if that meant Everwick. Or my grandmother’s cottage. Or the Hollow. But I knew it meant…anywhere that wasn’t here. Anywhere I didn’t have to shrink to exist.

I retrieved my phone, debating what to do. My fingers hovered over the dim screen.

Someone inside Skoll had the answers I needed. And I thought I knew who might.

Polaris Equity. Shell structures. Dam proposals.

Things Bernie had been too tired to endure anymore. Things Erik smiled about when he thought no one was looking.

Jonathan thought I’d set him up…lured him into the wolf’s den. He was wrong.

But if I didn’t do anything…if I stayed small and safe and afraid, then maybe, in the end, he’d be right about me.

My hand closed around the phone.

“I’m not from here,” I said softly, my voice steadier this time.

I didn’t know how I would prove anything. I didn’t know where to begin.

But for the first time in a long while…I knew what I wanted to do.

I called Bernie.

CHAPTER 31

BLANCHETTE

Ifound myself standing outside a modest brick walk-up on the east side of the city.

Maybe I just needed someone who remembered me before everything had gone wrong. My grandmother was gone. Jonathan had left. I felt alone. I had Megan, of course. And while I knew she’d come running if I needed help…right now, I needed a calm presence. A steady one. Someone who wouldn’t bring their fiery elven temper and charge to the nearest witch’s residence for an “Ex Hex,” but someone instead who would quietly listen.

The answer was clear who I wanted. Who Ineeded.

The front buzzer didn’t work, so I pushed through the propped door and climbed the stairs. Bernie’s apartment was on the third floor, the hallway smelling faintly of dust and cinnamon. I knocked twice before I heard shuffling, then the soft scrape of a lock turning.

Bernie opened the door in corduroy slacks and a tidy cardigan, still put together with the kind of quiet care that said he hadn’t given up on being seen, even if most days no one did. His face lit up when he saw me, then dimmed just as quickly, like he already sensed that something was wrong.

“I’m glad you were able to find time for a visit,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for having me,” I said, my voice small. “I hope I didn’t disturb you—I know it’s getting a little late.”

He gave a soft huff. “Nonsense. One of your visits is always a pleasure. Always good to have good company.”

“I said we wouldn’t be strangers,” I answered. I tried to smile. It didn’t hold.

He stepped aside to let me in. The apartment was small but warm. A single lamp glowed in the corner beside stacks of paper, unopened mail, and a chess board mid-game with no opponent. I wondered who he played against—himself or someone long gone?

“Tea?” he offered. “Earl Grey with cream. Just like the lady likes it.”