Chapter Three
“This is a nice house,” Henry said as he walked inside. Agatha knew she should say something, but what? She wasn’t going to actually ask Henry Crane if he was a Werewolf. No, she could never do that. He dialed a number from memory and spoke quietly into the phone in a language she couldn’t understand.
“Did you see the wolves last night? They were spotted all over town.” She stared at his face watching his reaction. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a stern look. The problem was, a stern look was much less effective when the person giving the look was wearing a bathrobe.
When she didn’t look away first, he did.
“My mother used to tell me stories that her grandmother told her,” Agatha continued. His silence had emboldened her. “When my grandmother was just a little girl, Cryer’s Bluff was beset by a huge wolf. It was only ever seen at night and was three times larger than any normal animal. It killed livestock: sheep, cows and pigs. But livestock wasn’t enough. It started hunting people.”
Without asking, Henry moved into the kitchen and began to open cabinet doors until he found one with water glasses. He quickly filled it from the tap, guzzled it down and filled the glass again.
“Then it came for people. It knew how to break into houses. People would bar their doors at night, but it wasn’t enough, the wolf would get in anyway. It would break down doors and dive through windows. One horrible night it killed and ate an entire family: the father, mother, and four children all under the age of ten. The Hempstocks they were called.”
Henry braced himself against the counter as she spoke. He clenched his jaw. His eyes flicked to her, but only for a second before he was compelled to look away. She wanted him to tell her that he had heard the story as well. Everyone in town knew the story. She wanted him to say that it was just a silly myth, a tall tale to frighten children.
“She said that night was the last straw. The men of the village gathered together. They got their guns and torches and set a trap. They chose the sweetest looking white lamb and broke its back legs. They brought it to the center of town and left it on the steps of city hall. It was bleating and crying as the men set their trap.
The wolf came, as they knew it would. At first, they tried to catch it in a trap, but it was too big and it broke through the ropes. But while it was struggling they came out with tar and torches and they burned it there in the center of the town. They thought their nightmare was over, but when the smoke cleared they did not see the body of a wolf, but that of-”
“A man,” he finished. He grimaced and gripped the countertop as he glared at her. “The body was too burned for anyone to figure out who it was.”
He stared at her. There was a challenge in his gaze.
Agatha opened her mouth. She was actually going to do this. She was going to ask if her incredibly hot boss was a Shapeshifter. She took a deep breath, but before she could speak the doorbell rang.
Without a word, Henry strode to the door and threw it open. His painfully stylish assistant was standing there with a clean suit on a hanger in one hand.
“Grazie,” he said as he grabbed the suit and walked to Agatha’s bathroom, closing the door behind him.
“Come in,” Agatha said to Letizia. She was six feet tall and all legs and voluminous hair. She always had the perfect blowout and her make-up always matched her shoes. Even now, after her boss had called her unexpectedly, it looked like she had spent hours getting ready.
With her arms crossed, Letizia entered the house and walked to the bathroom door, where she began to speak in hurried Italian. Occasionally Agatha could hear Henry responding from the other side, his voice growing angrier with every second that passed.
“What’s going on?” Agatha asked. She was starting to get annoyed. This was her house after all. She hadn’t invited Henry over. She had just found him, possibly post-transition, in her own backyard. Her questions were only growing. She needed someone to tell her that Werewolves weren’t real and never had been. They needed to tell her that there was no magic in the world, only science. She needed to hear that or she just might very well lose her mind.
“We’re very sorry to trouble you,” Letizia said through a thick accent. “We will be gone soon.”
At that moment, Henry exited the bathroom. He looked like his old self again. He was wearing a perfectly fitting black suit with a black tie which he straightened as he glanced at her. His dark black hair was smoothed down and styled to the side. He spoke quickly to Letizia who glared at Agatha in response.
“You shouldn’t stay here,” Henry said, his voice crisp and clean. He was the boss again, which was a shame, she had liked seeing him in her bathrobe. “It isn’t safe. Those animals could come back. I think you would be better at the Thompson Inn. I’ll have Letizia book you a room and don’t worry, I will cover all expenses.”
“What?” Agatha demanded. “I’m not leaving my house. Wolves can’t get through doors. That was just a story my grandmother told to scare us. Unless there’s something else going on that I don’t know about.” Letizia and Henry shared a look.
Letizia opened her mouth to say something, but Henry cut her off with a raised hand. “Let’s go get some breakfast,” he said. “We can all think clearer with a full stomach.”
“I need to return to the house and prepare a few.... things,” Letizia said.
“We’ll drop you off on the way,” Henry said. “Come on,” he said to Agatha. He took her by the elbow and guided her outside. His voice and manners were so commanding, that Agatha offered no resistance as he led her out of her own house. There was a black town car sitting in her driveway next to her little red Ford. Once outside Henry was on high alert, his eyes scanning the tree line and the road as if he was expecting someone to be there.
He opened the back door and then Agatha felt his firm hand on the small of her back guiding her. A tingle went up her spine at his touch and she couldn’t look him in the eye once she was seated.
He drove with Letizia on the passenger side. She was speaking in rushed Italian and Agatha struggled to pick up on any familiar sounding words, but it was nothing but gibberish. He dropped Letizia off on Main Street and when she exited the car, Agatha got out as well.
“Where are you going?” Henry demanded. But Agatha was just moving to the front seat.
“You’re not my driver,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.