Chapter 9 Albert & Wendy Miller
Albert it hung a little saggy around the jowls, and a few lines crisscrossed her forehead.
To him, she was still beautiful. She caught him looking and smiled.
The sides of her eyes crinkled. She had the type of smile that lit up her warm brown eyes and made her look years younger. He felt a soft pang in his heart.
A wolf howled in the distance, a long, haunting sound.
“It’s back,” Wendy said, her eyes traveling to the noise.
Albert nodded. “It won’t be long now.” He took another long drag on his smoke.
The wolf had howled every night since the girl had arrived. There hadn’t been wolves in these parts for years, but he knew the legends. They’d been carefully passed down from generation to generation, so when the time came, they’d be ready.
The reappearance of the black wolf meant black magic had returned to Church Heights.
He took a final deep drag on his smoke, butted it out in the old seashell ashtray, and went inside to call the only person who could help. The biggest damn son of a bitch he knew.