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She’s right. We both watch as Marty takes a knee, and begins jamming tools into the inn’s front door. Soon, he has it swinging open.
“Should we call the police?” Marley asks. I already have my phone out.
“Dialing!” I say, as I punch in the Hillcrest P.D.’s main line.
It’s no surprise when Chris picks up. “Hillcrest Police Department, this is Captain Chris Wagner.”
“Chris!” I say. “It’s Penny! I’m at Hillcrest Inn. You guys have to get down here!”
As I speak, I see Marty take one last look over his shoulder and then disappear into the inn’s lobby. I duck down out of sight.
“Are you okay?” Chris asks.
“I’m safe Chris, but we just saw Marty—you know, Animal Control Marty.”
“Marty Stevens,” Chris supplies.
“Right,” I say. “He broke into the inn!”
“What are you doing at the inn? It’s past midnight.”
“Overnight surveillance. Marley and I are here, watching for a couple big dogs that Neville saw... I can’t explain now. Chris, Marty is inside the building. Should I go in after him?”
“Stay where you are,” Chris says authoritatively. Then he adds, “Wherever that is.”
“Marley’s van,” I say. “We’re across the street. I think I should go in...” I’m sitting up now. “I have my gun in my bag,” I say, as I start to rummage through my bag.
“Do not go in there, Penny. Stay put. We’re coming right over. I’m going to get McDougal now. I’ll call you right back.”
“Get him?” I ask. “Where is he? You’re at the station, right?” I’m watching the inn attentively, looking for signs of struggle. What is Marty doing in there?
“We’re parked out on the highway. There was an accident just outside of Hillcrest and the Melrose cops asked for backup.”
“When will you get here?” I ask.
“Give us ten minutes,” Chris says. “Fifteen, tops.”
“But Chris, Marty is inside the inn. What if he’s dangerous? I should go in and —”
“Penny, think this through,” Chris says. “If Marty isn’t planning on hurting anyone, you charging in there with a gun is only going to escalate things. And if he is planning on hurting someone, you aren’t prepared to stop him safely.”
“I could do something...” I say. “I can’t just sit here.”
“You’re not just sitting there. You called us. Now let us do our job. Hold tight, all right? Let me go get McDougal.”
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“I love you, Penny,” he says, before getting off the phone.
“Love you,” I murmur.
When I hang up, Marley is looking at me anxiously. “Is Chris on his way?” she asks.
“Yeah—from an accident scene out on the highway. Him and McDougal aren’t going to be here for another fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes!” says Marley. “What do you think we should do?”
I eye my bag again. Sure, I’m not trained like police are, but I have taken down a murderer or two. And I’m a witch, for goodness sake.
“We could use magic,” I say.
“The Power Spell?” suggests Marley.
“Yes,” I say. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. This could be dangerous, Marley. You should stay out here and call Dawn and Neville. Tell them what we saw, and that I’m coming in.”
I begin reaching for my gun.
“If you’re going to use magic, why are you bringing your gun?” Marley asks.
I pull my little hand gun with the pearl handle out. “It doesn’t hurt to pack heat, too,” I say, as I reach for the door handle.
Just as I’m about to open the van door, Marley stops me.
“Penny, wait!” she says. “The inn’s front door is opening. I think he’s coming back out!”
I release my grip on the handle, and crouch back down so I’m hiding again.
Marley is lying flat. She does a half-sit up, and looks out the window.
“He’s leaving,” she says. “He’s walking down the steps... out to the sidewalk...” She flattens herself again for a minute, and then sits up again. “He’s going up the hill.”
“Any new lights on inside?” I say. “Anything look different or out of place?”
“Just that one reading lamp still. Nothing looks different. Hang on... What’s that?”
I can’t help it. I pop up and take a look.
That’s when I see someone else is coming down the sidewalk. No, make that two someone elses.
We sure picked the right night to do surveillance! This is getting crazy!
“What the...?” Marley says, voicing my thoughts exactly.
The first man is a complete stranger. He is lean and tall. He’s wearing a tan trench coat. His long, white hair, which is tied back in a low ponytail, reflects the moonlight in an eerie manner. His pale face is spooky too—with a long, sharply pointed nose and deep-set eyes. He’s moving quickly—almost at a run.
The second figure is twenty feet behind the first, trailing the man in the trench coat furtively. He hides behind bushes, trash cans, and anything else he can find, and then sprints forward every few moments. I see that he’s wearing a grey knit cap, and a sweatshirt. He’s tall, and has a dark beard. It’s Raul’s visitor.
They’re coming down the hill, fast. Neither of them bother looking over towards our van. It’s a good thing, too, because Marley and I are too captivated by the scene that’s unfolding to even think about ducking down out of sight.
We watch in horror as the white-haired man bounds up the inn’s front steps. He tries the door handle.
It opens up.
Marty must not have locked it, when he left.
“He’s going inside!” I say, in shock.
“I can see that!” Marley says. “I’m not blind.”
At first my friend’s attitude irks me, but then I remember that we’re both on edge.
“I know,” I say. “Sorry. What’s the other guy doing?”
“He looks like he’s calling someone!” Marley says.
Indeed, the man in the grey cap now has his cellphone out. He looks distressed as he presses his phone to his ear. His other hand is up, his elbow crooked. He cradles the back of his head and then flings his arm down with frustration as he pulls the phone away from his ear.
Apparently, no one picked up. He paces a few steps forward, and then back. We can see that he’s talking to himself.
“He doesn't look happy,” Marley says.
“He looks really upset,” I say.
We watch as the man dials the phone again. Again, he lifts it to his ear.
He waits, pacing.
No one answers. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket, and then starts running towards the inn’s front steps
He disappears inside.
Now there are two intruders in there.
“That’s it,” I say. “I’m going in. Call Neville and Dawn. Their apartment is in the back of the inn, so hopefully they’re staying out of the way. If they don’t answer, go knock on the back door.”
I push the van door open, and am running toward the inn, my gun drawn, when I hear sirens.
Within seconds, Chris’s cop car is screeching to a halt right in front of the inn.
I’ve just reached the front walkway. I keep moving.
“Penny!” I hear Chris shout out my name.
“Come on!” I shout. “Two other guys just ran in there!”
“Put your gun away!” Chris shouts. His voice is closer. I hear his footsteps behind me. “Officer McDougal and I will go in first,” he says. “Let us clear the scene. Ted!” he calls out.
Ted McDougal, an officer who I was in the police academy with, before I failed out, runs up behind us. He has his gun drawn.
I’m out of breath, probably because I’m so nervous. My heart is racing. I reach a hand up and point. “Marty left. About five minutes ago. Then these two other men—they came running down the street. One with white hair went in first.”
“Were they armed?” Chris asks. He’s lining up on one side of the doorway, and Ted is positioned on the other.
“Not that I could see, but the white-haired guy was wearing a big trench coat, so I couldn’t—” I feel like I might cry. Or puke.
Either way, I’m not doing well.
I’m worried sick about Dawn and Neville. What if they got up, because of sounds? What if they went to see what the commotion was, and got hurt?
I feel my stomach lurch.
“Stay out here,” Chris orders.
I know he’s trying to keep me safe, and I appreciate how he’s taken control of the situation. He is a cop, after all, with years of experience. At the same time, I resent his orders.
Not that I’d be much help in there, but at least I wouldn’t feel like a child being told to stay put.
Chris gives Ted a signal, and simultaneously they move through the doorway. Swift. Efficient. Professional. All of the things that I am most assuredly not.
I hear the van door slam, behind me. I turn and see Marley crossing the street.
She holds up her phone. “I just talked to Dawn,” she says. “Luckily, she and Neville managed to sleep through the commotion. They’re safe in their bedroom. I told them to stay put.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Then, a thought strikes me. “What about Dawson?” I ask. “He lives with them too, do you think he’s out at the bar still?”
Marley nods. “Yeah. Dawn thinks that he’s still out at The O.P. She says he usually stays there ‘til closing time.”
“Whew!” I say.
I look towards the inn anxiously. From our position on the front walkway, we can see Raul’s bedroom. It’s still dimly lit.
I see an occasional shadow, move across the window. What is going on in there?
“No shots fired,” I say, half to myself, and half to Marley. “That’s good.”
Marley looks as freaked out as I feel. I think that both of us liked the idea of an exciting overnight surveillance operation more than we like the reality of it.
Now that we’ve gotten more than a fair share of excitement, I think both of us wish that the night had passed uneventfully.
Suddenly, movement catches my eye. It’s coming from Raul’s room. The window is opening.
I step back, away from the building. My fingers tense up around my gun, which I’m holding down at my side. My hand is shaking.
“Get behind me!” I say to Marley.
She hurries behind me.
The white-haired man dives, head first, out of the open window. Before his body touches the ground, he transforms, before my very eyes, into a wolf. The wolf is large, with snow-white fur. He touches down onto the ground, and then his muscles bunch as he springs forward.
In what looks like three bounding leaps, he clears the yard and is out into the open street.
Just as he reaches the street, a second figure dives through the open window. This time it’s the man with the grey hat. His body also transforms, magically, before he reaches the ground. He becomes a black wolf, with a long, lanky body. The second wolf tears after the first, running so fast that he becomes a blur in my vision.
My mouth is hanging open.
I feel Marley shaking.
“Did you just—” I stop abruptly. I feel like my brain is scrambled. I can barely comprehend what I just saw. “Did those men just—”
“Yes,” Marley says. I know that she saw what I saw.
“Werewolves,” I whisper.
Running after the two wolves doesn’t even cross my mind. If you saw how they were moving, you would understand. The way they could run made human running look like crawling. I can’t see either of them anymore. They have disappeared completely, leaving us only empty pavement to gawk at in awe.
“Penny!” Chris shouts. I turn and see him rushing out the inn’s front door. “Which way did they go?”
I shake my head. “They’re gone, Chris,” I say.
“Which way?” he demands again.
Because I don’t know what else to do, I point up the street, in the direction the two wolves ran.
Chris’s radio cackles. I hear muffled speaking through it, and then Chris tilts his chin down to respond. “I’m going to pursue the trespassers,” he says, into the radio. “Up Aspen Street. They’re on foot—shouldn’t get far.”
Oh, I wouldn’t say they’re on foot. Eight, furry paws is more like it.
I don’t think Chris has any idea how far those two trespassers are capable of traveling.
“Chris!” I say, as he heads off towards his cop car. “Wait!”
He’s running, so I jog after him. I’m not moving too fast, because I need to give myself time to think.
Nope. There’s not enough time in the world that would allow me to think a way out of what I have to tell Chris right now.
I take a deep breath. He’s reached his car door. He pulls it open and half sits as he looks at me.
“What?” he says as he lowers himself into the driver’s seat. “Make it quick, Penny.”
“Chris—those guys. They aren’t normal.”
“Yeah. They’re no-good criminals,” Chris says.
“No—Chris! Listen to me. They’re not normal. I mean they’re not regular... humans. They’re werewolves.”
“Werewolves?”
“They’re men who turn into wolves. I don’t know how it works exactly, but I just saw it with my own eyes. They jumped out of that window, and by the time they reached ground their bodies had transformed. You don’t need to look for men. You need to look for two wolves. One was white and the other was—”
“Penny—” Chris shakes his head. “You sound crazy. I need to go. We’ll talk about this later.”
I’m standing right in the way of his door. He can’t shut it.
His radio cackles to life. “I need your position, 204” the voice on the other end says.
Chris looks at me. “That’s my chief. Move, please.”
“Chris,” I say, begging him with my eyes to listen to me. “I wouldn’t make something like this up.”
“You’re tired,” Chris says. “Your brain is playing tricks on you. It’s dark out, and —”
“No!” I shout, cutting him off.
I didn’t want to do this, but he’s forcing me. I have to do this.
I lift my hand.
“Flamma,” I say, and just like that, a little ball of light emerges over my palm. It’s a little trick that I picked up from Azure, an Air Witch who lives in Hillcrest part time so that she can keep an eye on me and my coven sisters.
I bounce the flickering fireball up and down slowly, just with my thoughts. I watch Chris’s eyes move along with the ball of light, up and down.
“Are you tired and seeing things?” I ask. “Is your brain playing tricks on you?”
Chris shakes his head, as if trying to clear away a mental haze. He squeezes his eyes shut.
When he opens his eyes, I start turning the flames into different colors.
Purple. Blue. Red.
“Magic is real, Chris,” I say, while the little ball of light changes colors. “There’s lots of things out there that we don’t really understand, as humans. I’m just learning about it. I would never have believed in werewolves, before I started to learn about this kind of thing for myself. But now—”
Chris’s radio crackles again.
The voice on the other end of the radio speaks. “202 to 204. What’s your twenty. I repeat. I’m heading down main street towards Aspen. I need to know your exact location.”
Chris tears his eyes away from the ball of light in my hand. “I’m at the inn, Chief,” he says. “Leaving now.”
“Copy that.”
Chris releases the radio. He looks pale.
“Move,” he says. His tone is cold, almost robotic.
I don’t know what to make of it. Is he in denial about what he just saw?
I step back, and he pulls his door shut. He turns the siren on, and pulls out into the road, speeding up Aspen and then turning down main street.
As soon as the siren fades, I hear a new sound. It’s shouting.
I turn, and see that Marley is standing where I left her. The shouting is coming from inside the inn. If I’m not mistaken, it’s coming from Raul’s room.
This crazy night’s not over yet.
I run towards Marley. “I think that’s Dawn, yelling,” I say.
As I jog past Marley, she follows me. We both make our way up the inn’s front steps, through the door, and then down the hallway that leads to Raul’s room.
It’s definitely Dawn, yelling. Her shouts become louder as we near the room.
“Let him go!” Dawn is shouting. She sounds distressed, and urgent. “He didn’t do anything wrong. My baby! My baby...he’s a good boy.”
We reach the room.
When we enter, I see Dawn and Neville standing with their backs to me. They’re facing into the room, where I see a large empty bed, a nightstand, a small desk, and a chair. The lamp by the chair is on, but not the overhead lights. I see why the room had the subdued glow that it did.
While Dawn shouts, Neville stands slightly behind her. His hands are on her shoulders, as if he’s both comforting her and holding her in place.
Further into the room, next to the bed, I see Dawson. His pale face looks even more ashen than usual. He’s on his knees, and his hands are handcuffed.
Ted McDougal stands over him.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
All eyes turn to me.
“They’re going to arrest Dawson!” Dawn says, looking at me with wide eyes. “Do something Penny! Tell this police officer that Dawson didn’t do anything.”
“McDougal, why are you arresting Dawson?” I ask.
“For suspicion of murder,” Ted McDougal answers.
A look around the empty room again. “Murder?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
McDougal gestures with his head, towards the area just behind the large, empty bed.
I feel my stomach do a flip flop.
Uh oh. I have a feeling I’m not going to like what I’m going to see on the other side of that bed.
I take several slow steps into the room.
“Don’t touch anything,” Ted says. “This is a crime scene. But you might as well see for yourself.”
I take a few more steps forward. Slowly. Finally, I reach the edge of the bed, and I peer past it.
There, on the floor, is a body.
It’s lying face first against the floor. The carpet round the body is stained blood-red.
There's a knife, sticking out of his back.
I recognize his stocky, muscular build. His sweatshirt. The dirt streaks on his pants, and his dark, spiky black hair.
Raul Rivera has been murdered.