Chapter Twenty-Three

Maggie gaped at her, then wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Yeah. Okay.”

Holding the gate open, Aimee waited until Maggie passed, then closed it, dropping the latch soundlessly.

She walked ahead a few feet and Maggie followed, her mind tumbling over itself, a mass of joy, confusion, questions, relief. She found she couldn’t hold on to just one emotion, so she stopped trying. She had to trot to keep up with Aimee, who made her way into the trees and shadows on silent feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked, wincing when a branch scraped her thigh.

“Shhhh.” Aimee held a finger to her lips and looked back at the house again. Her hair hung in her face. She looked untamed. Uncivilized almost.

“Aimee?”

“Just hold on, Mags.”

They walked that way for a few minutes, getting deeper and deeper inside the woods. The moonlight pierced the trees above, creating an eerie mix of light and shadow. Maggie shivered, watching Aimee’s back. Watching her hair swing over angular shoulders and the way she stepped so confidently over the forest floor.

When Aimee finally stopped, it was inside a dense thicket of trees and brush.

Breathing heavily, Maggie looked around. Then rested her gaze on her friend, whom she still couldn’t believe was standing there looking back. She shook her head, overwhelmed and a little dizzy.

“Aimee,” she began, “what happened?” Her voice wavered and then broke. “Where have you been?”

Aimee’s face settled into a look of concentration that Maggie remembered well. But those black eyes. Those, Maggie was having a hard time with.

“And what happened to your eyes?”

Aimee touched Maggie’s elbow and motioned for her to sit on a fallen log. She did, feeling the dew seep into the seat of her jeans.

“What is it?” Maggie asked, insistent. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m not the same person you remember.”

Maggie laughed nervously. “No shit.” Her smile wilted when Aimee remained serious. “Of course you’re not. You’ve been through hell. It’s okay though, because we’re going to get you home. We’ll get you some help.”

“Maggie.”

“We’ll find you the best doctors.”

“Maggie.”

“The best therapists—”

“Maggie.”

She looked up. “What?”

“I don’t want to go back.”

Maggie stared up at her, not processing. “What?”

“I don’t want to.”

“What?” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “What?”

Aimee took a step forward. “I look different, because I am different.”

Maggie nodded.

“No.” Aimee kneeled down, putting a hand on her knee. “I’m different, Maggie.”

Maggie looked into her eyes. Surely they were contacts, some kind of disguise. None of this made any sense.

“Listen to me,” Aimee said evenly. “It’s going to be hard for you. Really hard. But I want you to try and listen to what I’m about to say.”

The urge to laugh as if it was all an absurd joke was overwhelming. But the look on Aimee’s face remained serious.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“That night, the night we stopped here—”

“I know what night it was,” Maggie snapped, suddenly angry. Why were they sitting here in the middle of the damn woods, anyway? Why weren’t they on the phone to Aimee’s parents right this second? She took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just confused.”

Aimee’s lips tilted. Small and weary, but familiar. “I know you are. I’m sorry, too. For all of this. But you have to understand, it’s never what I wanted. I had no choice.”

Maggie twisted her fingers to the point of pain. “Go on,” she said. “Please.”

“The night we stopped here, when I went to use the bathroom…”

Maggie held her breath.

“He was waiting for me. He was behind the door.”

“He?”

“The policeman. The trooper.”

“Aimee.”

“He wasn’t in uniform. He wore a mask. He grabbed me from behind and put an arm around my neck.” She seemed far away when she said this, her voice barely audible. “He was so strong. Said if I made a sound he’d kill me. He dragged me through the window and into the woods.”

Maggie touched her own throat, remembering how Alan’s hands had felt wrapped around it. So that was what had happened that night. Her stomach roiled, and she felt like she would be sick.

“When he got me far enough in, he started groping me.” Aimee’s face was pained, but composed. Maggie had the distinct feeling this was for her benefit. “He tried to take my bra. Of course. Sick fuck.”

And there was a glimpse of her old friend. The dry humor that Maggie had loved so much.

“He was going to kill me. I knew it. It’s strange, you know? All those things you hear, about what to do in a situation like that. I couldn’t remember any of them. I couldn’t remember shit. All I kept thinking was, This is how I’m going to die.”

“How’d you get free?”

Aimee looked away, seeming to hear something in the forest Maggie couldn’t. “I didn’t. Not on my own.”

Maggie’s blood chilled.

“Someone helped me.”

“Who?”

When Aimee looked back, her eyes seemed infinite inside her delicate face. “Jim.”

“Jim…Jim…the caretaker?”

Aimee nodded.

“What?” Maggie was having trouble breathing. “How? Why? Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because. He has a secret, Maggie.”

“A secret.”

“Remember when I told you that you needed to hear me out? You’re going to have to listen very carefully, okay?”

Maggie dug her fingers into the log where she sat, jamming bits of bark underneath her nails. A piece of bark broke off. The moss was slick and soft against her skin, and she held on for a minute, rubbing her thumb back and forth over it.

Aimee reached over and stilled Maggie’s fingers, the touch familiar. She shoved the bark in her pocket, finding comfort in its cool, earthy texture.

“Okay. Sure. I’m listening.”

“Jim isn’t what he seems.”

“He’s not a caretaker?”

Aimee smiled at this, but it was Maggie’s turn to be serious. She was beyond confused. All of this was getting weirder by the second.

“He’s Koda and Zane’s uncle from their father’s side. His name is James Bastien Wolfe. No one but Ara knows that. Until now.”

Maggie considered this, felt a strange prickling sensation and then understood why. “Koda and Zane. Ara,” she said. “You know them?”

Aimee shook her head. “I know of them. But I don’t know them. Not like you.”

“Their uncle.” Maggie sampled the words on her tongue. “Why wouldn’t he tell them?”

“Because. The fewer people who know about him, the better.”

Suddenly Maggie didn’t want to hear any more. It was all getting too bizarre.

Aimee’s strange dark gaze settled on hers. “Jim didn’t so much see what was happening to me, as he sensed it.”

Maggie waited, silent.

“He sensed it because the Wolfe men…they’re special.”

Above them an owl hooted. The sound sent shivers up Maggie’s back. What she really wanted to do was get up and walk away before Aimee spoke again. But she forced herself to sit still. Because she loved her and couldn’t bear to leave her again. No matter how freaky she sounded.

“You know about the legend.” Aimee said.

“The legend,” Maggie repeated, as if it would start to make more sense. Her entire body felt coiled, ready to spring.

“You know about the lupus, the family tragedies.”

“Yes.”

“There’s no lupus.”

“Thank God,” Maggie said.

“It was just an explanation.”

“For?”

“Early deaths and disappearances. Because the tragedy part is true.”

Maggie immediately thought of Koda’s father who’d died so young, and her head throbbed. She fixed Aimee with a wobbly stare. “So they have bad luck?” She wanted it to be that simple, wanted Aimee to stop right there and not say anything more. But a tiny spot of clarity began to reveal itself inside her brain.

“You could say that. Among other things.”

“What? Just tell me.” She took in Aimee’s features, beautiful, apprehensive. Whatever it was, her friend worried about saying it out loud. Maggie was worried, too. And for whatever reason, all she could think of was that spine-tingling howl she’d heard that night with Koda. There are no wolves around here, he’d said.

Aimee sat back, the heels of her moccasins sinking into the bed of pine needles. “Well, here’s the thing. The legend…the part about werewolves…” She took a long breath, blowing it out slowly. “That part is true.”

Maggie laughed. It was high pitched and shrill. Almost loony. She looked at Aimee and wiped a tear from her eye. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true, Maggie.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“Aimee—”

“Mags.” Aimee cut her off. “If you’re being honest with yourself, deep down, I think you probably already knew.”

Maggie laughed again. “That’s ridiculous. I never believed any of that crap. And what’s really hard to swallow, is that you do. Why, I don’t know. The only thing I can think of is that you’ve been traumatized.”

“That’s true. I’ve been through something horrible. But I’m not crazy.”

“How do you expect me to believe this? God knows I love you. I’m so thankful, and…and…” She was having trouble getting the words out. None of them fit. None of them were strong enough or encompassed all of what she was feeling. “I’d do anything for you. You’re my family. But…”

“But what?”

Maggie rocked back and forth, hugging herself.

“If you really love me, you’ll believe what I’m saying. It’s imperative that you do, Maggie.”

Aimee stood. She was so tall now, so different. Her eyes, her build. Things that Maggie had questioned in the back of her mind, but knew she’d be able to explain away later. Now, she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Coming back to Wolfe Creek had turned her world upside down in more ways than one. Everything that she believed to be true about her life had changed the second Aimee had walked back into it.

“This is a magical place,” Aimee said. “There’s more going on here than an outsider could ever guess. I think it’s always been this way. Magic exists, but most people are just too busy to notice.”

Maggie remained quiet. Magic.

“I think maybe we stopped here for a reason,” Aimee said. “I think I went into that bathroom at exactly the moment I did, because I was meant to.”

“You never believed in fate before.”

Aimee shook her head, her long, tangled hair moving against her cheeks. “No, I didn’t. But I do now.”

“So what happened? When Jim…appeared?” Maggie couldn’t bring herself to believe any of this, but there was a strange compulsion driving her to ask.

“I’m going to tell you, but I need you to stay calm, okay?”

“I will.”

Aimee narrowed her eyes. They sparkled even in the darkness. “Really calm.”

A tranquility settled over Maggie’s shoulders. She nodded. Those eyes.

“Jim saved my life that night. The trooper ended up getting away, but I was caught in the middle.”

Goose bumps prickled Maggie’s legs.

“I was accidentally bitten.”

An owl hooted again. Something scampered off to the left, rustling the bed of dry leaves. Maggie remained still, soaking in the words. Bitten. Bitten. What the fuck did that mean? Did she have rabies?

Aimee watched, intent. “Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say. Are you telling me that Jim bit you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you telling me that you were bitten by a…werewolf?”

Nodding slowly, Aimee stepped forward.

“So…so you’re saying you’re a werewolf.” The words fell from her mouth like boulders.

Aimee leaned down until she was within just a few inches. Maggie could actually feel the heat coming off her skin. Could feel the sweetness of her breath against her forehead.

“Yes,” Aimee whispered.

This time Maggie didn’t laugh. She looked at her friend, the girl whom she’d grown up with, shared so many secrets with. The girl she thought of as her sister. And felt only pain.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Aimee bent to one knee, her expression mirroring Maggie’s. “There was no way around it. You had to know.”

“I can’t believe this, Aimee. I’m so sorry, but I just can’t.”

Aimee didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out and wrapped her long, graceful fingers around Maggie’s wrist.

“Ouch. You’re hurting me.”

Aimee’s midnight eyes widened, their shape actually changing, growing.

“Ouch,” Maggie said, trying to pull away. But the hand that held her wouldn’t allow it. It was like a steel trap. Her heart drummed in response, and she wanted to run.

Before Maggie knew what was happening, Aimee clamped her other hand over her mouth. She struggled, too caught up in a rush of panic to understand.

An electricity pulsed beneath Aimee’s hot, dry skin. It was salty against Maggie’s lips and smelled like meadow grass. She tried to scream, but couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” Aimee said. “I’d never hurt you, Maggie. I love you. Don’t you see? I’ve been with you this whole time.”

Maggie shut her eyes. Sharp, vivid memories came at her one after the other. They were relentless. Hitting the dog on the freeway, the howl rolling over the meadow where she’d slept with Koda, the night she saw the animal crouching by the gate. All of them assaulted her at once. Aimee. It had been Aimee all along.

And when she looked back, her friend’s eyes were no longer black.

They were a bright, lustrous gold.