Aimee woke with a start. She lay there for a second, trying to remember where she was. All she could picture was her bedroom in the fifth grade—gumball pink, with posters of The New Kids on the Block covering the walls from floor to ceiling.
She blinked in the darkness. The wind howled outside, cold and ruthless. Yet she kept sweating. Drops of it crawled down her neck, soaking her shirt between her shoulder blades. Pebbles bit into the side of her hip where she shifted uncomfortably on the ground.
No…definitely not her fifth-grade bedroom.
She rubbed her eyes. Every muscle in her body felt as if it had been put through a hay baler. Her tongue was thick and dry, and she licked her lips, trying to moisten them.
Her den—that’s where she was. Maggie had come to visit tonight, and Aimee had watched her go, feeling sick. Feeling something else too. What had it been?
She sat up straighter and tried to clear her head. Obviously, she had come down with something. The only time she could remember feeling worse was when she’d had bronchitis, also in the fifth grade. Her mother had fed her a continuous diet of Popsicles and vanilla ice cream until she’d felt human again.
A painful lump rose in her throat. What she wouldn’t give to have her mom there now. But then again, that would mean having to explain why she’d vanished off the face of the earth. So, there was that.
The weather had gotten nastier since she’d fallen asleep a few hours ago. But still no sleet or snow. Just the promise of it, enough to make her teeth click together. She brought her knees up to her chin. She’d have to decide whether to ride this one out or head down the mountain for some help.
The person she trusted the most, other than Maggie, was only about a half hour’s walk from there. Jim had helped her through her transformation, given her strength and comfort when she’d needed it. He’d known exactly how to handle what had happened to her, because he’d gone through the same thing. He was a wolf too. But unlike her, he’d chosen to live among people. And had done a pretty good job of it.
If she could make it down to the inn where he worked, he’d know what to do.
She rocked forward and stood slowly. It wasn’t without effort. Pain shot through her temple like an ice pick. Wincing, she steadied herself against the wall of the cave. The wind screeched outside, making her wish that she had heavier clothes. She’d never needed them before. But she’d never been this cold before either.
Pulling on her jacket and zipping it to her chin, she stepped into the little clearing. The wind immediately snatched at her hair, whipping it in front of her face. Trembling, she slung a small pack over her shoulder and made sure all the embers from the fire were out.
Half an hour. She’d be there in half an hour. For the first time in two years, she relished the thought of a bed and pillow.
* * * *
Jake pulled back the covers, briefly considering just going to bed fully clothed. He loosened his tie. It was about as comfortable as he’d been in days anyway.
But then the phone rang.
He looked at his watch. The face was so blurry, he couldn’t make out what it said.
Groaning, he leaned over to the nightstand where his keys and cellphone sat. It was a Wolfe Creek number. His parents, who had Daniel for the night, lived in Splendor Pass. Staring at the phone, he wondered how bad a doctor he’d be if he just chucked the goddamn thing across the room.
It rang again, and he screwed his eyes shut. Maybe whoever it was would give up. Then again, he’d never been that lucky.
Snatching it up, he jabbed the green answer button. “Dr. Blackstock,” he bit out.
“Doc, it’s Jim, down at the inn.”
Jake sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his temple. “Jim, hi. Everything okay?”
“Actually, I’ve got a little problem here. I’m sure sorry to bother you this late, but I could use your help.”
Jake eyed his pillow longingly. His head throbbed, and his back ached. Pulling these kinds of hours had been fine in his twenties, but at thirty-eight he had to admit he felt his age.
“What kind of problem?”
The man on the other end of the line paused. Jim wasn’t really much of a talker in person. On the phone it was about ten times worse, like squeezing blood from a turnip.
“I’ve got a sick girl here,” he finally said. “Wondering if you could take a look at her.”
“Someone staying at the inn?”
Jim paused again. “Yeah…yeah, someone staying here.”
Herein lay the problem with being the only doctor in a town this size—no answering service, no telling people to go to the ER if they got sick in the middle of the night. And there sure as hell was no turning them away when they needed him most.
Jake squinted at his watch again. Eleven PM. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right over.”
There was an audible release of breath on the other end of the line. He sounded relieved.
“Thanks, doc. I appreciate it. Really do.”
* * * *
When Jake pulled up to the Wolfe Creek Inn, all the windows were dark except for the one on the second floor next to the side stairwell. The place was a nineteenth-century stagecoach stop that had been used as a hotel for close to one hundred and twenty-five years. It had been kept up immaculately—pristine white paint, black shutters, wraparound decks on both the first and second levels. A whitewashed picket fence, which had just undergone a facelift last summer, enclosed the yard. And beyond that, massive sequoias and Douglas firs bordered the rest of the property.
Staring at the second floor, Jake cut the engine and grabbed his bag. Sometimes he felt more like a prairie doctor than a modern MD. He wasn’t really a specialist at anything, but could handle most everything. And he had. Delivered babies, treated the mumps and measles, fixed strained backs. He’d even pulled an abscessed tooth before, when Wolfe Creek’s dentist was visiting his wife’s family in Baltimore.
Some people still chose to go to Splendor Pass—they had a nice clinic and a full staff of doctors and nurses. But most wanted to stay close to home when they were sick, especially in the winter, when getting down the mountain could be treacherous at best, and deadly at worst.
Opening his jeep’s door into the wind, he swung his legs out and stood.
“Doc. Thanks for coming.”
Jake turned to see Jim stepping out of the shadows, graceful as a panther.
Jim stuck his hand out and Jake shook it, marveling at its size. At six foot two, he still found himself tilting his head up at the older man. His eyes were dark in the dimly lit night, his expression stony.
“Of course. Is she inside?”
Jim nodded. “Follow me.”
The inn was warm and smelled liked baked goods. Ara, the innkeeper, dropped things by his office every now and then. Tonight he thought he caught the scent of chocolate chip cookies, maybe a cake or two. For all his talk about not wanting any more food, blah, blah, blah, his mouth watered like he hadn’t eaten in days.
Jim headed up the stairs and Jake followed, the hardwood creaking under their weight. The wind moaned around the old windows and a few pines, standing close, scratched at the panes.
The lights were off in the hallway on the second floor. If Jim hadn’t been walking right in front of him, Jake would have tripped and broken something by now. Probably his neck.
They passed several rooms, all of them empty, but the doors were swung wide, as if hoping for a visitor. Jake guessed they probably didn’t get many guests this time of year. The weather sucked until about mid-April, when everything started to thaw out and the sun decided to make a welcome reappearance.
They turned a corner to another hallway, this one dimly lit. Before Jake could take another step, Jim turned and put a hand on his chest.
“Hold up, doc. Before we go in, there’s something you need to know.”
Jake looked down. He’d changed into jeans and a Patagonia fleece before coming out, but even through the thick fabric, he could feel the heat coming from Jim’s skin. And something about that made him uneasy.
“Do you trust me?” Jim asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you trust me, doc?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”
“Then you’ll have to make me a promise. Can you do that?”
Jake narrowed his eyes at the other man. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Of course, he didn’t really know what he’d expected from this call, besides someone being sick and needing his help. And he was being kept from her now. Why?
“I’m not really in the business of making promises before I know what I’m committing to, Jim. You should know that.”
“I do.”
“Then what’s this all about?”
“I’m telling you, you gotta trust me. And you have to promise this one thing before we walk into that room.”
Jake stiffened against the hand on his chest.
“Sorry,” Jim said quietly, stepping back. “I just have to make sure you and me…we’re on the same page here.”
The look on his face had changed. His eyes conveyed a sadness, a somberness so distinct it reminded Jake of his own right after Lizzie had died. It was a look of helplessness.
Jake swallowed, uncomfortable with the memory. Honestly, he didn’t need to hear any more. Whatever Jim wanted him to promise, he would. He owed the people of this town a lot. Jim was no exception. And when it came right down to it, he simply couldn’t argue with that expression on his face.
“Okay,” he said. “I promise. What’s going on?”
“You were the right one to call. I knew it.”
Jake braced himself. For some reason it felt like the temperature in the old inn had dropped a notch. The wind continued to howl past the windows in an eerie, almost human tone.
“The girl in there,” Jim began, “she’s special.”
“Okay.”
Jim put his hand on Jake’s arm. “No. She’s really special. It’s very important that you don’t tell anyone you’ve treated her tonight, or that you’ve even laid eyes on her. Do you understand?”
The hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stood on end. This conversation was getting weirder by the second. Whatever Jim’s reasoning, he seemed fairly serious about it. Actually, serious was an understatement.
“I understand.”
Jim watched him a second longer, then nodded. Finally, he turned and began walking toward the bedroom, where a soft, yellow light spilled from the doorway.
And Jake followed.