Spirit Of The Wolf Collection - The Complete Series

Excerpt from Spirit Of The Wolf Collection

The day was warm, a muggy heat filling the darkened living room. Billy pulled back the curtain and coughed when a plume of dust went up in the air. “You know, since I let you live here rent free, you could at least clean up some.” He tied back the curtain and opened the window. Rays of sunlight reflected off the array of particles floating around him.

“I do clean,” Meg said defensively. Her legs were curled up under her on the couch, a magazine on her lap. How she could read without the light on, he had no idea. Personally, he couldn't stand being in a dark room. He needed a least some light, bulb or sun, always. He even slept with a television on sometimes. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing worse than being in a dark, quiet room, with only your own thoughts for company. Billy sneezed and shot her a dark look, indicating the sneeze as proof of his point. “I do,” she insisted again. “It’s not my fault you left this place abandoned for so long.”

Billy felt his face fall. The house had once belonged to his parents and this was only his third visit home since their deaths, almost two years ago. He’d left Nicole to take care of everything for far too long. Honestly, if she hadn’t told him she planned to sell it, he probably wouldn’t be here now.

“Billy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Meg put down the magazine and turned to face him.

“It’s okay. You’re right, I let you both down.” Billy tousled Meg’s hair and pulled her to her feet for a hug. Although neither of the girls were his sisters by blood, he’d always been protective of them. Nicole was his sister in all but blood, and Meghan was her best friend. The three of them had grown up together. Now, Nicole was married and expecting a child, and Meghan was training to be a police officer. It made him feel old. All he had to show for his life was a failed teaching job and a lot of guilt. “Now,” he stepped back and handed her a rag, “get to work. Those bookshelves won’t dust themselves.”

“Fine, but only until Mark gets here. We’ll need to leave if we want to get to the festival in time for the fireworks.” Meg dutifully began cleaning the shelves, pulling books out one at a time to blow off the quarter inch of dust which had settled on them. After the second book, she started sneezing, too.

“You have fun.” Billy pulled out the broom and trashcan to collect all the globs of dust gathering on the floor.

“You aren’t going?” Meg stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at him.

Billy shrugged. The Independence Day festival was a big deal, but everyone in town would be there. “I don’t know. I’m not really in a partying mood right now.” He really didn’t feel like seeing the people he grew up around and having them ask how his life was, or worse, offer him condolences for his parents’ deaths.

“You have to go, no arguments. You haven’t been back here in year, and you aren’t missing your first festival. Don’t make me call Nicole,” she threatened when he didn’t instantly relent.

Billy took one look at her rigid stance, 'no arguments' eyes and finger pointed right at his face and knew there was no use debating his plans. It would be far easier to go and leave the festival early, then Meg couldn't say anything. “Alright, I give up. I’ll go. But I’m not eating any pie.”

“Hey,” she said, resuming her cleaning, “that's between you and Nicole.”

* * *

The day was unusually cool for this time of year. Frequent rain storms were keeping the temperatures low and the ground moist. Wet pebbles littered the streets and sidewalks, making for treacherous walking conditions. A car drove past, tires loudly displacing the puddles as it went. At least it was perfect weather for fireworks, if the rain would hold off for a night.

Katie hobbled carefully to the store. Her new crutches were harder to use than she’d thought they would be. The nurses had made it look so easy when they demonstrated the proper techniques. But when your arms were sore and every time your foot brushed the ground, sharp pain radiated up through your leg, it wasn't so easy. Pausing at the entrance, she shifted her weight and reached for the door. It opened suddenly, and a harassed-looking woman in a pinstriped shirt and jacket rushed past. Katie took a step back instinctively, forgetting the cast around her leg for a moment. The right crutch slipped out from under Katie’s arm, and she found herself falling. Expecting to take a hard hit on the sidewalk, she was surprised to find steadying hands at her back. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the face of her rescuer.

He’d saved her life once. Close to death, after a vicious attack by an evil, disturbed man, she would certainly have died if the stranger hadn’t interceded on her behalf. All he’d done was bring her presence to the attention of someone nearby, but it was enough. She’d received the medical help she needed to recover from her injuries.

Without comment, he leaned down and picked up the fallen crutch. “You should be more careful,” Durante said, refusing to smile or greet her in any way. He found his voice rough from lack of regular use.

Katie took the crutch and nodded her thanks. Reaching behind her, Durante opened the door so she could enter the store.

Slowly Katie made her way inside and fumbled with collecting a basket. Durante didn’t offer to help, and he knew she wouldn’t expect him to. Still, it irked him that no one else offered to assist her. Mortals really were useless and yet they claimed to be caring and filled with morality. Mara had often claimed, despite their poor words and actions, they were good people. Every day in this wretched world proved her wrong. Humans looked out for themselves, helping others only when it benefited their own purposes.

As they made their way through the store, Katie watched with amusement when he changed the fruit marquee to read thirty nine cents a pound, instead of ninety three cents. Whenever Katie stopped to get something, he changed labels on food and drink, switching caffeinated for de-caf and fat free with its fully fattening counterparts. He even switched organic eggs with regular eggs. She laughed to herself. It certainly explained some of her shopping trips over the years. Thinking back to similar labeling problems at other stores in the area, she wondered how far his mischievous pranks reached. Returning her attention to food, she grabbed microwave meals, pizzas, and a few other simple items she could make without a great deal of standing or movement. Not that she had much of an appetite these days, her stomach turned just looking at many of her favorite foods. The combination of pain meds and being in a constant state of discomfort took its toll, but she needed to eat to keep her strength up.

“What's your name?” she asked, half afraid he would disappear without answering. Asking a personal question was risky, her instincts told her he was hesitant to share private information, but she was sick of referring to him as ‘him’ and ‘he’ in her head.

He didn't look at her when he spoke. “Durante, or at least, that’s what I go by, now.”

“You've had other names?” If he was open to saying this much, maybe this topic wasn't off limits.

“Only one.”

“Why?”

“I'm immortal,” he answered, not understanding her meaning.

“Right, I know that,” she said, “but if no one knows who you are, what does it matter what name you use?”

He stopped walking and pulled his eyebrows together in thought. “There is one person who would recognize my old name.” After another few seconds, he started walking again, and she let the topic drop.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“You’re the only one who can.” He shrugged, switching price stickers on some discount movies.

“That intrigues you,” she guessed.

“For the moment,” he admitted. “When it ends, you will never see me again.”

Katie nodded. “For what it’s worth, I like talking to you.”

“Why?” He looked up at her, the price sticker still hanging from the tip of his finger. His confusion was obvious.