Chapter Five #2
“Everyone loved the scones,” Rowena continued, pacing around the room. I noticed she kept several feet of distance between us.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I passed them out to customers as samples. Told them the bakery section of the café officially reopens tomorrow.”
I raised a thick red eyebrow. “So my baking duties start tomorrow?”
“Yes. You’ll be paid the same amount for today, though.
” Rowena walked toward the back door, grabbed a black cloak from a hook and slid it over her shoulders.
It fit her perfectly, and I couldn’t help but admire her taste in clothing.
She was a strange witch, but she was also stunning.
Her curves were perfectly accentuated by her elegant purple corset, and the exposed skin of her collarbone was as fine as porcelain. “Now come along. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Yes. I already closed up the front of the shop.”
I craned my neck to look out the kitchen window. Sure enough, the café was completely dark.
“The café closes at 3 p.m.,” Rowena scolded, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. “Come on, walk with me.”
Rowena pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket, fiddled with the clunky lock, and swung the back door open. A cool breeze burst through the open door, filling my lungs with chilly air and making my exposed skin tingle.
We walked mostly in silence, which was both awkward and soothing.
I knew Rowena wasn’t one for conversation, so I assumed she was perfectly fine with the quiet.
But I wasn’t as reserved as she was. Back home, werewolves were bold, chatty, and outgoing, always prattling on and getting up in each other’s business.
My wolf half loved the quiet, since I spent so much time hunting in the peace of the woods, but my human half was accustomed to noise and laughter.
“So, Rowena…” I cringed as soon as the words tumbled out of my mouth. My voice sounded awkward due to walking in silence for nearly ten minutes. “Since the café closes so early, what time does it open?”
It took several seconds for Rowena to answer, with only the crunching of leaves underfoot to fill the awkward silence.
We’d left the main village square and were traveling down a long dirt path, just wide enough for us to walk side-by-side.
The fiery autumn forest was motionless, except for the occasional loose maple leaf that fluttered to the ground like snow.
It was magical, and it reminded me how much I loved this time of year.
“We open every morning at 6 a.m.,” Rowena replied. “Our hours are 6 a.m. to 3 p.m., Tuesday through Sunday. We’re closed on Mondays.”
I didn’t reply at first, but Rowena must’ve noticed the way my face paled at her reaction, because she let out a noise halfway between a scoff and a chuckle. “What, not a morning person?”
“Uh…”
That was a no. Werewolves were not “morning people”. We were night owls, prowling the forest until the early hours of dawn and sleeping in well past sunrise.
I could handle waking up a bit earlier than usual, but 6 a.m. was unfathomable. This time of year, it would still be dark outside.
“Well, I have bad news for you, human.” Even with Rowena’s stoic personality, I could tell she found this situation amusing. “Since you’re our new baker, you’ll need to have all the pastries done by that time. Which means you have a 3 a.m. wakeup call tomorrow.”
3 a.m.?!
I questioned if that was even physically possible for werewolves. But I needed this job, so I would have to make it work. Plus, this was all temporary. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town for more than a few weeks.
“Alright,” I replied, trying to squeak out the words with a pinched throat. “I guess I should go to bed early then.”
I grimaced, knowing since I was a werewolf, I’d most likely lie awake for hours; grumpy, restless, and desperate to shift into wolf form and go for a run.
“Speaking of beds…” Rowena stopped, pointing to a fork in the road.
It wasn’t even 4 p.m., but since it was Maine in the middle of autumn, the sky had already taken on the hazy orange glow of evening.
Through the dim light peeking through the trees, I could see two cottages, side by side, shrouded in foliage with less than twenty feet of space between them.
Although, as we got closer, I noticed one was significantly more choked by the trees. It was also dingier, with weathered wood siding and a roof that desperately needed replacing – the result of at least a few decades of disuse.
“It’s not much,” Rowena noted. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, as if she wished she had better accommodations to offer.
It was surprising, but also reminded me of how fiercely she declared she would protect me if something went wrong.
I still didn’t understand it, but I appreciated the feeling of having someone by my side in this harrowing new world.
“No, it’s plenty,” I insisted. I was fully prepared to sneak off in my wolf form and sleep in the woods if need be – simply having a roof over my head while staying in this town was a luxury.
Rowena led me to the front door. Up close, I saw further signs of decay. The windows were musty and cracked, and the bottom slats of the house were worn away. I gulped at the thought of a possible termite infestation.
“The lock is broken.” Rowena reached up and touched the deadbolt. It was rusted over, and so brittle it looked like it could fall off any second. “We have a locksmith in town who can fix it if you stop by.”
Despite the deadbolt’s decrepit state, Rowena was still able to turn the door handle, and the front door opened with an unnaturally loud, metallic squeal.
As soon as I stepped through the doorway, my sensitive wolf nose was hit with both the homey scent of old wood and the very unpleasant scent of mold and rot.
It was dark, with only the dim evening light from the doorway illuminating the dilapidated space.
It was a single-room, open-floor cabin, with a living space in front and the remnants of a kitchenette tucked in the back.
A small door was tilted off its hinges, and I assumed it led to the restroom.
The cabin was small, no more than a few hundred square feet, but the ceilings were unusually high for such a compact space.
I looked up, and tucked in the shadowy back half of the cabin was a set of stairs that led to a second-story loft; one just large enough for a bed and dresser.
I stepped forward, and the uneven floorboards lurched under my feet.
The cabin was mostly bare, but there were bits and pieces of furniture, signaling that someone lived here once.
The kitchenette was stripped of all appliances, with only the rotting bottom cabinets left intact.
The only object in the living area was an old kerosene table lamp, placed in the middle of the floor.
Once I grew accustomed to the dust-caked air, I made my way upstairs to the loft. There, I found a rusted bed frame with no mattress and an old vanity with a cracked mirror.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned around to see Rowena walking up the stairs. I noticed her nose twitching from the dust, and she chewed her bottom lip as she surveyed the space.
“It’s worse than I remembered,” she sighed. “It needs a good cleaning, and we can get furniture from the carpenter in the town square. But it’s a start.”
While I intended to deep-clean this place, my stomach recoiled at the thought of picking out furniture.
I realized Rowena didn’t understand I only planned to stay here a few weeks.
Does she really think I’m going to settle in this town long term?
I guess she doesn’t realize I’m a lone werewolf at the mercy of witches who hate her kind.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Rowena shifted awkwardly in place. “Have a good night.”
Goodnight?
A chill ran through my body, and it wasn’t just from the cold. Rowena’s farewell made me realize I was about to be very alone in a dark, decrepit cabin, all night, with no one but myself for company.
I hated to admit it, but I was scared of being alone.
It made me feel cowardly and childish, like being afraid monsters would pop out from under my bed while I slept.
But I’d never spent a night alone while I was on Hollenboro.
Our cottage was tiny, which meant my twin sisters and I had shared a room our whole lives.
Their bunks were always just a few feet away.
At least when I’d slept alone the night before, I’d been in the warm comfort of my wolf form, with the sound of the ocean to lull me to sleep.
But there was nothing comforting about this place.
And the possibility of being up for hours, not falling asleep until well after midnight like I usually did, made my blood burn with irrational but very real fear.
As I stood there, struggling to hide my internal panic, Rowena turned around and walked down the steps. Her hand slid gracefully down the handrail. Her pace was slow and calculated, and I had the inclination she had more to say but didn’t know how.
She was turned away from me, and I noticed the way her lacey black dress completely exposed her upper back. Heat prickled my cheeks as I studied the curve of her neck and the slope of her bare shoulders. I bit my lip with embarrassment as my mind contemplated what lay beneath that fitted corset.
Werewolves were known for being outgoing and boisterous. But we were also lovers of physical pleasure. I’d had my fair share of trysts with the younger males of Hollenboro, but this was the first time I’d been attracted to a woman.
And I liked it. Especially how it alleviated my anxiety about being left alone.
“Um, Rowena?”
She stopped, just as she reached the bottom stair and stepped onto the creaky hardwood floor.
“Yes?”
“Would you… like to stay for a bit?” I asked. “Just chat… maybe have tea? I’d love some company tonight.”