Chapter 23
Genevieve backed away from the sculpture and set aside the air hammer fitted with the chisel bit. The tool made the work go faster, but she had to take more care. It was good for large areas, but the finer details had to be honed with smaller instruments and sandpaper.
She worked on the face for nearly two days while she waited for Finn to come to grips with things. He’d been quiet, distant. It was probably the best for them both, but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
Her shoulders ached from holding the tool and she rolled them. Time to stop. She was tired enough that she’d probably make a mistake.
Taking off her work clothes, mask, and goggles, she carried them outside to shake off the dust and hung them on a peg next to the door. After securing the studio, she went into the house. With a cold drink in hand, she wandered into the living room and flicked on the television. Leaning back on the couch, she propped her feet up on the coffee table, and allowed her mind to wonder while an endless stream of commercials played.
What would happen to Finn if the spell didn’t work? She feared what he would do, not to others, but to himself. How could he go on like this?
The news came on, and she half listened to the broadcast. If the spell didn’t work, she had to find a way to make things easier for him, to give him a reason to go on. Tears welled, and she covered her face with her hands.
The word Superstition spoken in the news anchor’s generic accent caught her attention. “A college student enrolled in Superstition, Kentucky’s community college has disappeared. Her roommate reported her missing on Wednesday night.” A picture flashed on the screen. Genevieve caught her breath, recognition immediate. She’d done drawings of Mai for several days before starting the sculpture. Her eyes wandered to the figure before the window.
The news anchor continued, “Mai Chen left a local restaurant, The Dish, around ten o’clock, carrying a drink and her backpack. Her car was found just down the street from the restaurant. It did not appear to have been disturbed, and no personal possessions were inside. No one has seen or heard from her since Tuesday night. If you have seen this young woman, or have information about her whereabouts, please contact the Superstition Police Department at….”
Genevieve’s breathing came in labored gulps, and her heart beat heavily in her ears. Mai would never just go off without contacting her roommate. And she would never miss classes. She was working hard to get her degree so she could help her mother and father immigrate to America from China. It was all she talked about while Genevieve sketched her.
Her roommate, Silvia, came with her for the modeling sessions, and had teasingly complained about how straitlaced and studious she was. They both were. Mai didn’t have a boyfriend, or drink and party. Doing a work-study program and maintaining a 4.0 grade point average left little time for other things. Mai mentioned she studied at The Dish.
Something had happened to her. Someone had taken her.
Genevieve hit the button on the remote and turned off the television. Her stomach churning, her mouth tasting of bile, she paced the room. She had to do something. But what?
She still had some drawings of Mai’s face would work well for flyers. She could print them and put them up in town. She needed to call Chase, Miranda’s boyfriend, and offer to do that. Rushing into the kitchen, she picked up her cell phone, intent on the call, when an idea struck.
She hurried out the door to the breezeway and sat next to Finn’s statue, placing a hand on his arm. “Something horrible has happened, Finn. A young woman I hired as a model has disappeared. Do you think you and the wolves could track her? She disappeared from a local restaurant on her way to her car. I know you have a lot on your mind right now, but I’d really appreciate it if you could try.”
She waited impatiently for him to transition from sculpture to gargoyle.
* * *
Finn recognized the distress in Genevieve’s voice, and fought against the constraints of his form. As soon as the sun sank behind the mountains, he writhed against his prison, but the hold the magic had over him was too strong. Dusk had fallen before the stone melted and he was free. “I can ask the wolves if they will do what ye ask. My appearing on a street downtown might cause confusion, but one of them might be thought just a dog.”
Genevieve was so tense, her eyes revealing the shadow of worry and grief held in check. “Can you go now to find them, and see if they would be willing to help?”
“Aye. But we dinna know what she looks like.”
She hurried away and entered her studio.
He had barely gotten his pants on when she returned with a paper, holding it out to him. “She’s very petite, slender, barely comes up to my ear. Her hair and eyes are dark brown. She’s Chinese. She disappeared just down the street from The Dish, a restaurant downtown.”
He studied the drawing. “Do you have anythin’ with her scent on it? ’Twill help the wolves track her.”
She looked blank for a moment. “Yes, I think I do.”
He tucked the drawing into the waistband of his pants and followed her to the studio door. She opened a cabinet and withdrew a robe. “While she posed for me, I gave her this to wear when I wasn’t taking pictures and drawing her. I gave her all the photographs, and I’ve sold most of the drawings. All but a few of her face, and the one you have.”
Finn didn’t touch the garment. “The wolves will find the robe more helpful than the drawing, and I will take it with me. ’Twould be better to put it in something so my scent doesna blend with hers.”
“Of course.”
She rushed to get a bag, the kind she lined the rubbish bin out back. She put the robe inside, then handed it to him.
“I’ll go and find the pack now, and return as soon as I can.”
Genevieve pressed a bottle of water into his hand and hugged him. “Be careful. It’s not fully dark yet.”
He held her because he couldn’t resist the temptation, and because she needed the comfort. He sensed grief in her, tightly controlled. She believed the woman was already dead.
“I’ll be careful,” he assured her, and, with some reluctance, turned and walked to the edge of the yard.
Gripping the bottle in one hand and the bag in the other, he took to the sky. After some time, he came upon the pack in the field where he took Genevieve a few nights before. They were drinking from the creek, and several looked up as Finn landed close to them.
“Good eve, friends. My mistress, Genevieve, has asked me to approach ye for help. There is a missing woman, just a wee lass. This woman once posed for her as a model for her sculptures. She disappeared in the village at a place called The Dish. I have a bag with a garment in it with her scent. Would ye be after helping to find her?”
The alpha wolf yipped and trotted closer.
Finn knelt down and opened the bag. “The garment has Genevieve’s scent on it, too.”
The wolf stuck his head inside the garment for several moments. Then jerked back and took off across the field.
Finn paused to breathe in the scent from the bag as well. He knew Genevieve’s as well as he did his own—he dreamed of it often enough. Genevieve’s was like stone and apples with a hint of vanilla. The other woman’s was more musky, with a hint of spices.
Then he laid the bag with the robe in it on the ground for the others to sniff, if they would, and took to the sky to follow the pack leader.
The large wolf loped across the field in long, graceful strides. He came upon a truck parked within a stand of trees and leapt into the bed. A man sat inside the vehicle. He started the truck, pulled out onto the road, and turned in the direction of town, leaving Finn wondering how he knew where to go.
Finn rose high in the sky, above the glow of the streetlights and signs, following the truck easily. It came to a stop in the parking lot of a small building with a large sign shaped like a pie atop it.
Why had the woman not parked there in front of the building? She would have been safe in the brightly lit lot.
The man got out of the truck and came around the side. Sliding a leash over the wolf’s head, he waited while it jumped out of the truck. He walked the large animal down the street like a man walking his dog.
Yellow ribbons blocked off the sidewalk where the car had been parked. Finn landed on a building above the two to watch.
The man walked around the area with the wolf. The animal kept its nose to the ground, but stopped at a spot where a dark stain marred the sidewalk. The wolf trotted past the tape and moved down the street, following a scent. Finn leaped across the roofs of the buildings, following him. The animal stopped at the corner, and tilting his head back, scented the air. Finn did the same, but the odor of car exhaust disturbed his sense of smell. He longed to jump from the building to the street below, but there were still people moving about, on foot and in cars.
When wolf and man headed back down the street toward the truck, he followed. Finn ran across the roof and used the side of the building as a springboard to leap into the air. He rose high again, and circled until the truck pulled out of The Dish’s parking lot.
If need be, he’d return later, when everything was quiet, and see if he could pick up a sign or scent the wolf had missed.
He followed the vehicle back through town and landed in the stand of trees. The driver got out of the vehicle and walked toward him, nodding in greeting and extended his hand, “Braxton Myers. We’ve hunted together.”
Finn clasped hands with him. “Finn. I’m glad to know ye.”
The wolf jumped out of the back of the truck and stretched forward. His spine bowed, and the bends in his back legs straightened.
The sound of bone and joint being reformed into human triggered memories of Tearlach pounding him with his ham-sized fists. Finn swallowed against the rush of nauseous pain the memory evoked.
The wolf, now a man, stood a little more than six feet, with dark chestnut hair and a square-jawed face. He walked naked to the side of the truck, reached inside, and retrieved a pair of sweatpants, pulling them up while he joined the driver and Finn.
“Henry Sutton,” he introduced himself. “She was put inside a vehicle and driven south. The scent was faint, since she was inside a car or truck. Her vehicle was one car down from the one she was placed in. I could smell her on the sidewalk in both places.”
“What lies south of the village? I have not traveled there.”
“The lake. There are empty cabins down there. She could have been taken anywhere. But the pack and I will have a look around. Want to come with us?”
“Aye, I do.”
* * *
Finn caught glimpses of the pack as they streaked through the woods. Seeing the direction they were traveling, he flew ahead. For miles, all he saw was forest, until suddenly the trees fell back, and he came upon a huge body of water, the moon’s glow casting a glittering path across its surface. Though it didn’t have the same smell as the ocean, nor any waves, it was just as beautiful. He would enjoy fishing here another time.
He’d retrieved the bag with the robe in it so the wolves could get a fresh whiff of the woman’s scent before searching, and flew along the bank to get a feel for the area. Houses of every size and shape were staggered along the water. Docks long and short shot out from the banks. Other houses were built deep into the woods. He began to get an idea of how huge an undertaking this would be. They could search for days and never reach them all.
How might they cover more area and search? They would have to divide each area of the lake into sections. It would work better if they looked at areas reached by the main roads leading into the lake.
Finn flew higher to see where those roads converged. He saw only two branching from the main highway. On one a truck wove its way toward the lake. It was Braxton, arriving ahead of the pack.
Every occupied house had a car in the driveway, while others that appeared empty didn’t. They should probably check the houses that appeared empty first.
The wolves emerged from the forest a long distance from where he was, and he turned back to meet them. The pack leader was standing, once again human, waiting for him when he landed.
“’Twill take weeks to search here unless we divide each section up and allow two wolves to search each area,” Finn said.
“Braxton has a map in the truck. Let’s section the areas off and spread out in grids, using the lake as the reference point.”
“The driver would have to come into the area from the two main roads. Mayhap we can use the roads as a reference as well.”
After a five-minute wait, Braxton pulled the truck up close to the dock on which the pack milled around. There was tension and excitement in the air. The wolves bunched together, waiting for their alpha to give the order. Braxton got the map out of the glove compartment and spread it on the hood. He raised a large flashlight high and pointed it at the map.
Henry leaned naked against the vehicle as he pointed out the landmarks. “Here’s the river, here’s the road. We can concentrate on this pie wedge right here until we’ve checked all the houses and cars in this area, then move over here to the wedge between the roads.”
Finn nodded. “I’ll search for disturbed areas on the ground around the lake, anything floating in the water, and the house boats.”
“Be careful on the boats. Some of the people who own them have weapons on board. Should anyone find who we’re looking for, dead or alive, you’ll hear the howls.”
“Or my roar,” Finn added. He handed the bag with the robe in it to Braxton, left Henry to direct the wolves, and took to the sky.
Pinpointing the edge of the wedge Henry had designated, he flew up the mountain to the top, then glided back down. He searched for any disturbed soil around the houses, but every house had bushes, trees, and flowers planted like Genevieve, making it difficult to decide which was decoration, and which disturbance. He paused at some of the empty houses, scented the areas around the doors and windows, and spied inside.
He moved further downhill and flew out over the water. He checked every dock and small craft that fell into the wedge, then suddenly realized how many houseboats there were. He was of less use on land, so he would concentrate on the boats.
He glided over the first one and circled it.
If he landed, it might rock the boat and alert anyone inside.
If he landed in the water, he’d drown. His wings became a weight, and would drag him down.
He chose a houseboat that was dark and seemed deserted, somewhat separated from the rest, and landed as lightly on the roof as he could. He climbed down the ladder at the back of the structure and walked around the deck. The smell of fish and burnt charcoal blended with that of the humans who used it, but there were no traces of Mai.
He moved on to the next one, also separated from the rest, then the next. He had soon checked nine of the boats. The tenth was much like the rest. No boat or dingy was tied to it. He landed on the roof and climbed down, as before.
As he passed a window on the port side he caught the scent of blood. He moved cautiously around to the foredeck and paused before the front door. Again he smelled blood—not animal blood, because it didn’t have a wild, earthy scent.
Yes, this was human blood. He hooked a claw in the door handle and tugged it sideways. The door would not give, so he gripped the handle and pulled. The lock sprung, and the door slid open on its runners. Hesitating, he debated whether or not to enter, and settled on sticking his head into the opening and breathing in the smell. Urine, blood, and sickness flooded his senses, along with a faint whiff of spice.
He stepped inside, and the size of the tiny, enclosed space had him pausing to take in a deep breath. The faint light from other occupied boats penetrating the narrow blinds did little to guide him. He concentrated on the dim glow of a small light down a narrow hall and took measured steps toward it. His lowered wings brushed each side, and he folded them as tightly as he could.
The light came from a small camping lantern next to a bed. In an instant, he took in the naked female body lying prone, manacled to the corners of the bed frame. Her eyes were covered by a strip of fabric, her hair tangled in the strip as well.
A metal pole stood near the bed with a bag of fluid. There was a tube running from it to her arm. Breathing, deep and labored, filled the room. Even from the doorway he could see the raw swelling of her wrists and ankles. Pity struck him, and outrage gathered and expanded in his chest. His first instinct was to cover her nudity, then free her, but if she woke and saw him, it would terrify her. She needed care and help.
He crept back down the hall to the front door. He knew nothing of the modern engines on boats, but he might be able to tow the boat to shore. He circled the deck to see what was holding the vessel in place. An anchor and a heavy rope attached to a float of some kind held it stationary. He pulled the anchor up, and rushing around to the rope, he ripped at it with his claws, shredding it and freeing the boat from the float.
Taking off from the edge of the railing, he strained against the weight, his wings sounding like the sails of a boat caught by the wind. He threw his weight into it, pumping his wings as hard as he could, until he got the vessel moving toward one of the empty docks. The weight of the vessel made it difficult to maneuver, and stopping it would prove a challenge, so he spent the rest of the journey plotting how to stop it next to the dock safely.
Fifteen feet from the long wooden dock, he pulled the rope sideways and turned the vessel parallel, hoping it would bump hard against the structure. When it didn’t, he released the rope and gripped the metal railing that ran along the edge of the deck. With a push and pull movement, he eased the houseboat in against the dock. Then he climbed the ladder and, standing atop the roof, let loose a roar that echoed across the lake.
Lights came on in several houses and some of the houseboats nearby.
When he heard a heavy engine start up from down the lake, Finn flew toward it.