Chapter Ten
The frozen earth was difficult to dig into. The shovel cracked down the middle after fifteen minutes and Andre Mitchell threw it away, embracing his Bear to continue his task. His breath crystallized in bursts as his claws gouged the earth. The smell of blood and death hung around him, so heavy that he couldn't smell the Wolf that had done this.
After several hours, his shoulders felt like they were about to be dislocated and his paws hurt so bad they were numb, but he was done. He suppressed his Bear, becoming human in form again, and turned reluctantly. Mary was still kneeling on the muddy ground, her arms wrapped around the little lamb that she had helped deliver four months ago. Tears rolled down her cheeks and that hurt his heart, almost as badly as seeing his little flock of sheep and goat senselessly butchered and left to rot.
The same way he killed Isadore and Eve.
Fury kindled in his chest, making his Bear roar for blood. Andre closed his eyes and held it back–for now. He had to take care of this first. Revenge would come later, and it would be sweet.
Mary looked up as he approached. "You really think my father did this?"
Andre swallowed down a bitter reply. Silently he picked up the goat's corpse and took it to the grave. The water-drenched remains of the cabin he lived in with his wife and daughter before they were murdered caught his eye. Paul Locke had been very deliberate in destroying it. There was still a faint scent of gasoline in the air, but no smoke or heat rose from scorched wood.
He will pay.
He would pay for this, and he would pay for what he had done to Isadore and Eve. Andre's gaze fell on Mary again as she stumbled to her feet, bringing the little lamb to the grave. She laid it in next to the goat, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Mary Locke, Paul's eldest child.
Was it a coincidence that she appeared in his life just when he was about to unleash his Bear on the man who had killed his wife and daughter? He had put off his plans for months because of her presence.
She claimed to have been running from the Wolf community. Her stories had rung true. It made sense, the way the community treated their children, especially their daughters, that she'd want to run. They married them off young, kept them undereducated and all but locked in their houses. Paul Locke was especially hard on his daughters. Andre had seen that for himself. Mary's story was so utterly believable that he never doubted it.
But it was not long after that when Locke revealed he knew about Andre's surveillance system in the forest. And when Andre tried to persuade Mary to leave so that he could finally have his revenge without risking her, she convinced him to let her stay. She talked of soulmates and her eyes shone with love when she looked at him. Or was it all a trick?
Of course it wasn't, a voice said in his mind. She loves you. She doesn't know what her father did. Leave this place now before they come back and it's too late. Go with her.
They could be together. They could be happy. Locke burning down his house, killing his sheep and goat was all revenge because he wasn't there. Locke had been after him, not his animals. And it was his own fault that he left the farm unprotected. He knew Locke knew he was there. If Andre left now, he would have Mary with him for the rest of his life.
How many times had he told himself that he needed to make Mary leave so that he could do what he needed to do? As many times as he convinced himself to let her stay. As many times as he held on.
But rage boiled his blood and clouded his brain. He could not take his revenge on Paul Locke when he was in love with Paul Locke's daughter.
Blood stained the front of Mary's shapeless dress and tears still rolled down her round face. Real or false? Andre stared at her, at her stunning green eyes and her halo of black hair. She was so beautiful, from her long slender hands to her voluptuous body. He especially loved her smile. When she smiled, he could almost imagine himself being happy again.
It was her beauty that fooled him. He should have never trusted her, her smile, her laughter. She had as good as said she loved him after knowing him three weeks. How could she? They hardly knew each other! She was his prisoner! And yet, she had spoken of soulmates as though she thought he was hers.
Mary stepped forward, raising her arms to embrace him. Andre backed away.
"Did you know he was coming?"
Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open. "What?"
His voice was rough, acid. "You knew he was coming! You knew he was coming," he had to repeat it to convince himself.
The shock and betrayal on her face was almost too much to take, but if he let her in again, he could not do what was necessary.
"You lured me away. You delayed going to the city because you knew he was coming. You wanted me away so he could come and destroy my farm and my life! Why else would you want to see their graves?"
"What are you talking about?" Mary flinched back from him, shaking her head. "Andre, I didn't know this was coming. I wanted to see your wife and daughter's graves because I wanted to let you know that I was here for you. We were going to run away together. We were going to go east, away from my family!"
"You were in on it the whole time!" Andre roared, his hands clenching. "He's your father!"
"We don't know it was him. It could have been anybody. Anybody in the community would want to chase a Bear away. We all fear Bears!"
Andre froze, his blood running cold. "We?" he choked out. "We?"
"I didn't mean it like that," Mary reached for him again. He pulled away and she pursued him, following as he backed away towards the untouched barn.
"What did you mean then?"
"I only meant that us Wolves were raised to fear Bears. We heard stories. Bears attacking and killing for no reason. But I know it's not true, I know you. I am not afraid of you. I love you."
Acid scorched his throat. How dare she say that? His ears rang, his vision darkening. Blood roared in his ears and his Bear growled deep in his core. The growl rose through his throat and Mary backed away, her breathing becoming more rapid. A laugh bubbled and burst through his mouth, making her flinch again.
"You really played me, didn't you? But you say you don't fear me? Then why are you afraid right now?"
***
Mary's heart thumped against her chest as Andre advanced. His black eyes were hard and angry, lips pulled back in a snarl. His long hair had come loose from the bun he normally wore it in, fanning out in a ragged way. Dirt clung to his close-cut beard and under his fingernails. Normally he was striking and handsome, a powerful figure meant for admiration. Now he looked like a figure to be feared, some wrathful god come to strike down all those who stood in his way.
Afraid? Yes, she was afraid–but not of him. Not that he would hurt her, at least not physically. But he wasn't in control of the words coming from his mouth.
"I'm afraid that you aren't thinking clearly," she rasped out. "I'm afraid that you are going to say something that you can't unsay."
He stopped advancing, chest heaving, staring at her.
Mary swallowed hard. Though her hand trembled, she reached for him again. "I know you won't hurt me. I know you love me."
Her Wolf whimpered, agonized, wanting to comfort him. But she hung back, not wanting to scare him, or place him on the defensive, or push him too far. Her fingertips brushed his arm. He was freezing. His natural heat seeped from his skin. How long had they been out here without coats? She suddenly realized how cold she was as well, and shivered.
The movement jolted Andre from his reverie. He stepped back, eyes narrowing again.
"I know you're angry," Mary said, desperately trying to get him back.
Where were the tender eyes and reluctant smile that she had gotten to know? She hardly recognized the angry Bear standing before her. How could he change so drastically? Just a few hours ago they were happily looking forward to starting their life together, and now he wouldn't even let her touch him.
She took a deep breath. "If my father did this—"
"He did."
Mary nodded slowly. Who else would it be, besides somebody in the community? Her brother, who had come here the day before, demanding that she return to the community? Peter wouldn't have done this. But he could have easily told their father where to find Andre.
"Yes. Yes, he must have. Then he must have been trying to… to rescue me or something. He… this is horrible, and there is no justification for it, no matter what he was trying to do. But we can still leave. We can run away, go east, build a new life for ourselves. You and me—"
"You and me," Andre muttered. He ran a hand over his tanned face, black eyes softening.
He reached for her face and she leaned into his touch. Both of her hands pressed over his and she closed her eyes, breathing in his woodsy scent.
"You and me, Andre. I love you."
***
It was so tempting. His heart ached to take her into his arms, take her to his truck and just run away with her. But what if it was a trap? What if she was lying? She's not. But she had to be. All Wolves were liars, murderers. He should never have let himself think otherwise.
"I love you," she repeated.
I love you, too. He closed his eyes. When Paul Locke killed his wife and daughter, he never thought he could love again. And yet, he did. Mary. He loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. But did she really love him?
It was a trap. It was always a trap. How could a woman like her love him?
He opened his eyes again and his gaze fell on the slaughtered sheep. Instantly their faces appeared in his mind. Isadore's dark eyes. Eve's tiny nose. The night Eve was born. And their bodies lying on the mountain, cut open the same way these sheep were.
Mary moved closer. Paul Locke's daughter.
Andre jumped away from her. Her eyes opened, looking startled and confused. The Bear glared at her. She had tricked him, trapped him. This was all her fault.
"Andre?" Her voice broke.
"Your father did this. You knew he was going to do this."
She shook her head, but he wouldn't believe her. Couldn't.
"Now know this, Werewolf. I am going to kill your father."