Chapter 8
Olivia
The weekend came fast, and The Blackwater Tap was exactly what I needed right now.
Warm light. Music low enough to talk over but loud enough to fill the silence between songs. The smell of spilled beer and beer nuts didn’t even bother me.
I sat at the bar counter in one of the few dresses I packed — casual, warm enough if I layered right.
Normally, the only clothes I carried around for “going out” were for company conferences, but I had this in my arsenal just in case.
There was the issue of “the cold,” but I preemptively wore thermal stockings and a shift dress to be safe. If that wasn’t enough, I had my parka.
Stella, even though she was manning the bar, looked even more spectacular. As she moved across the stretch of the counter, the tight swirls in her updo bounced. I envied her curling iron skills.dd
“Time for some proper fun,” Stella told me as she got back to me.
She poured me another round of a mocktail, lamenting the fact that I was driving, and promised me I wouldn’t get tipsy.
“But you will have a good time,” she said.
The bar was fuller than I expected for a town this size. Greyhollow didn't feel like a place that generated a crowd, but here they were.
“Lots of people pass through around this time of year,” Stella said. “Greyhollow’s a nice ‘pitstop’ town, and I happen to be very good at handing out booze that makes people want to stay.”
I laughed, but part of me thought about whether or not tourists were part of the “busy season” Maureen mentioned.
Once Stella served the existing people, she moved from behind the bar to the stool next to me.
She pulled herself a whiskey glass from the corner and sipped slowly.
"Okay," Stella said, leaning both elbows on the bar. "How are you actually doing? Not nurse-Olivia. You."
I picked at the salt at the edge of my own glass. "Honestly?"
Stella laughed in disbelief. "What else would I mean?"
The smile I put on before I entered faded. The grain of salt I was grinding between my thumbs dissipated.
“I don’t know,” I said. The words hung in the air. "I thought I'd feel more settled by now. Usually I know what I'm doing by week three. New place, new patients, new rhythms…”
Stella tilted her head. "But?"
"Every time I think I’ve figured something out,” I said. “Something happens that puts me back at square one. It’s like frickin’ Monopoly.”
“‘Go to Jail. Do not Pass Go’ sort of deal?”
“Exactly!”
I grabbed at the curly fries Stella put in front of me.
“It sucks,” I muttered. “Everyone’s nice, but the Ashwoods—"
"Oh, I know what they are," Stella said. She rolled her eyes. "Being around them will drive you crazy.”
“I think Jake told me something similar when I first got here.”
Stella played around with her stirrer. “Should have taken it more seriously, huh?”
“God, yeah.”
Stella giggled, but it felt harsher than the ones before the conversation. I thought back to her exchange with Donovan.
Was that what she’d been referring to?
The curly fries disappeared at an alarming rate between Stella and me.
"Does it get easier?” I asked. “Figuring them out?"
By this point, Stella was cleaning out the last thread of alcohol in her glass. "Here’s the thing, Olivia," she said finally. “You shouldn’t put too much energy into ‘cracking the Ashwood vault.’”
“You can care about them,” she said. “They’re not bad folk. Not by any means.”
“But?” I mirrored.
“But you need to be a person outside of them,” she said. “Have things to do, passions to bide your time.”
Her eyes looked toward the crowd. She stared at it fondly and smiled.
“My place is here, for instance,” she said. “I get to be around cool people, new faces, good food, good drinks…”
She shrugged.
“That way, if something stings, it feels the smallest bit duller.”
Stella’s anecdote reminded me about the wolf story Caleb mentioned. How the wolf’s mate didn’t leave because the bond made it feel like ruin.
Was I doing that to myself?
Was everything starting to revolve around them?
I knew I cared for them. That much was made clear when I almost fought with Caleb over Jake’s condition.
But how much of it was actually eating up my life?
I thought about how I usually went about assignments. I never got too close.
Maybe something about seeing everyone, every waking hour of my day, got past walls I thought would hold.
“What do you suggest I do?” I asked. “I’m not exactly in the position of having too many hobbies.”
That was another thing that hit me.
I had things I liked. I just didn’t make time for them.
I realized just how much of my life was simply moving around.
I turned to Stella. She smiled and touched my arm lightly. “You could start visiting more, for one,” she said.
I beamed. “Cheers to that.”
Our glasses clinked.
I said goodbye to Stella around eleven. This was after temporarily leaving the bar, eating sloppy joes at the diner, and taking in the evening air.
“Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” she begged as I unlocked my car door. “The real fun kicks in around 2 a.m. That’s when everyone starts getting tipsy, and betting on darts.”
I laughed. It felt so good to laugh without having to worry about anything else.
“I need to make sure Jake’s tended to first thing in the morning,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. I was still worried about a possible relapse from him.
Stella nudged my arm slightly. “Oh, fine.” She looked back at The Tap. I could tell she was thinking about whether they needed her back there already.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “You head back.”
Stella relented. “Same time next week, then?”
“Not even a question.”
I wasn’t a stranger to late night drives, but this was definitely the latest I ever drove back to the Ashwood estate.
The forest road was dark.
Trees flickered in and out of my headlights. Bobbing shadows identical to one another.
Frost built at the sides of my windshield and car windows. My heater was on, but it wasn’t doing much. I was suddenly regretting my choice of attire today.
I thought about turning on music. It was what I did whenever I traveled across the state, to keep from getting too distracted. I reached into the glove compartment to find it empty.
Damn it, I thought. I’d taken the CDs out.
My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.
I told myself the drive wouldn’t be long. I didn’t have to worry.
But before I knew it, it was happening anyway.
The memories came back.
“Go to the car, and don’t come out!”
The voice was right in my ear.
I remembered scrambling toward it. My lungs seized. Every inch of my body aching because I somehow crossed the span of the entire hiking trail.
I remembered waiting for the call. Buzzing static. A distress call.
“Wild animals — aggressive — do not approach.”
“Please, please, please! They’re still out there!”
I felt a lump in my throat — like I could feel the choked sobs I had that day.
I hated myself.
I would blame my memories on alcohol if I actually had any. But it was my own weakness.
If there was one thing the Ashwoods gave me, it was that I didn’t have to think of this. I didn’t have to think of the thing I’d been running from for seven years.
A sharp exhale escaped me. My eyes stung. The pain from my injuries that day somehow made its way back to me. I recalled the blood and its metallic smell. I remembered the shadow of a ranger hovering over me, trying to resuscitate me. And then, I remembered my outburst.
“I shouldn’t have gone!”
“It wasn’t your fault. Your parents —”
“They stayed because of me!”
My car hummed. It wobbled along the lane.
I snapped out of it and quickly adjusted my wheel.
Every part of me was shaking.
Damn it, Olivia.
I tried to think about other things. About work. About past travels. About my conversations with Stella.
Instead, I found myself thinking about the manor.
There was Jake, and his exceptional ability to make me laugh no matter the time of day. It didn’t matter that he was struggling with his own problems. He always made sure I was having as much fun as I could taking care of him.
There was Donovan. “A pain in the ass” as Stella remarked one time, but always responsible. For all his prickliness, I never got the sense he did it out of trying to hurt me or anyone else. He was operating in the way he knew best, and that was making sure things stayed in order.
And then there was Caleb.
I could be frustrated with Caleb as much as I wanted. I could hate that I had to guess his looks, how much he said was true, how something about him and his family’s history was as locked as the door he found me at.
But instead, I thought about everything good he did.
How he welcomed me in the kitchen on the second morning. How he always made space for me in the fireplace area, never wanting to be a bother. The apologetic look in his eyes that told me he knew where he was coming up short.
I told myself I would never get attached to people in my work.
But here I was…
And it didn’t feel as scary as I expected it to.
Something flickered in my headlights.
I looked up. Movement blurred across the front of my car.
My breath tore out of me.
The car lurched hard to the right, tires scraping against gravel. For a second, the slope beyond was only feet away from me.
I wrenched the wheel with both hands and all my weight and every instinct I had. The car shook violently as it veered off the road.
I slammed the brakes. The car jolted and then dropped hard.
“Oh god,” I whispered. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
I sat for one second with both hands locked on the wheel and my breathing loud in my own ears.
Footsteps padded in the distance.
I checked my rearview mirror. More movement.
I saw dark silhouettes, darker than the shadow of the trees, emerge from the fog. They moved closer. Together.
Howls split the dark. My blood ran cold.
I turned the key in my ignition.
The car hissed.
“Come on,” I said.
I tried again. And again.
The engine lights blinked and flickered. The car let out a dying screech.
The howls were now accompanied by growls.
My breathing narrowed. I reminded myself that I couldn’t freeze. Not in a time like this. I had to get the hell out of here.
The shadows went from walking to a full sprint. I kicked my car door open, heels off, and ran. My feet slammed against the asphalt. My stockings ripped. Sharp rocks cut across my soles, but I didn’t care.
I was not stopping. I was running for my life.
I cut off the road into the trees because I thought cover, distance — anything to break their line of sight.
Cold air burned in my lungs, but that kept me awake.
The growling closed in. The sound of footsteps turned into scratching. Claws against cement and dirt. They were running.
Don’t look back. Don’t you dare look back.
“HELP!” I screamed.
I looked around helplessly as the slope steepened.
A house. A shed. Something to tell me there was someone here.
“PLEASE!” I begged.
The growling was just within my ears.
I changed directions. In the dark of the trees, more shapes moved. I shrieked and turned left. I came across a rock. Two more shadows leapt up on top of it. I turned again, but realized there were even more approaching. It was no longer a one-way chase.
They were herding me.
I ran another twenty feet and stopped at its edge, chest heaving. I turned to face the dark because I refused to run blind. That’s when I clearly saw what I already knew was chasing me.
Three wolves, large and pale, stepped closer to me. They stared intently, baring their fangs. They were waiting for something. I did not want to know what.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and made myself breathe through my nose.
Stay still. I had to stay calm. I had to make no movement whatsoever.
The wolves drew even closer.
Tears streamed down my face. If I ran, they'd be close enough to pounce. If I stayed, they were going to attack anyway.
My hands shook.
I thought about my parents. I thought about the growls and barks followed by my parents’ screams. I cried without uttering a single sound. I couldn’t go anywhere.
All of a sudden, a fourth shape emerged from the dark.
A black wolf cut between me and them. It was larger than the ones in front of me. Bigger than anything I’d seen.
The black wolf howled furiously. I expected it to attack me. Instead, it moved in front of me.
The pale wolves growled back. One of them, the one on the right, finally pounced.
I pressed myself against the nearest tree and watched.
It was brutal. The second wolf engaged and the black one held its ground. The others bit at the intruder, but it stood there unfazed. Out of nowhere, the third wolf lunged toward me.
The black one crossed the clearing in three strides and planted itself between me and the third wolf. It was even closer to me now. And then I felt it.
A strong pulse from deep inside my body. It felt like one that happened not too long ago.
The wolves gauged one another. The black one was heavily injured, but the pale wolves were even more torn up.
Still, they tested it — snapping, feinting, circling closer.
Each time, the black wolf held its ground, absorbing the blows and striking back harder.
Blood matted its dark fur. A pale wolf yelped sharply and stumbled back. Then another.
After a moment, the pale wolves finally ceased their growling. They retreated.
The black wolf stood with its back to me. Its sides heaved. It did not move from the position between me and the trees.
Finally, it turned.
I saw what I thought I’d never see again.
Red eyes.
I stood still. I breathed.
The wolf growled. I flinched. I expected it to attack me. Instead, its growl turned into a whimper. It shook violently.
I watched as its fur quivered. Its body bent. What little moonlight there was showed me a horror I didn’t think I could fathom. Bone and mass and fur rearranged itself. The large creature narrowed. The fur retracted.
In the place of the wolf, there was a man with the same red eyes.
I knew who it was.
“Caleb?”
The oldest Ashwood brother stood in front of me — bare chested, blood on his hands and shoulder. His red eyes flickered back to their original color.