Page 5 of Mafia Tales

The move to the city gave me an opportunity to get away from the Syndicate. It reminded me ofmy parents, although it isn’t as peaceful it is bustling with things that are new and exciting, bright, and fresh. I miss the comforting presence of the forest, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind, and the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. Life in the city is exciting even if my job is a little boring and the men are a little handsy.

Despite my concerns about Lillian, I have to admit to myself that she is probably fine. I’m not sure why I’m being such a worrywart. My worries are probably baseless. She has always been fiercely independent, and even if she is living alone in the forest, I know she can take care of herself. If she made me learn to handle myself, she is even more competent than I am. So, I push forward with the rest of my week, keeping my thoughts of her to the back of my mind for now, settling for that phone call later in the week.

However, when Tuesday rolls around and I dial the phone to make my regular call to her, she is the same — rushed and distant. It isn’t like her to rush our calls, or to not ask what I’m doing with my days or how I am, really. This makes me sound self-centered, but it’s not like that. In all my years, Lillian has never treated a single conversation the way she treats these. After this second phone call ends in the same way, my worries about her only grow. I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. She’s up to something or something is up. Lillian always encourages me to think of her like a grandmother and I really doconsider her family. She is all I have now, so I need to take care of her.

I decide that enough is enough. It’s time for me to go to see in person how she is doing (and what she is doing). I’m not entirely sure what is going on up there, but something is. Either she’s gotten back up to her old tricks — or she is in trouble. Packing a bag doesn’t take me much time and calling in to work is only a bit of a hassle. Knowing I am doing the right thing makes me feel better about the night drive. I know it’s a dangerous time to drive through the forest, but I can’t wait, and I stock up on the coffee before I go.

By dawn, as the sun is cresting over the mountain tops, I have made my way through the town of Holden and stop for another cup of coffee. Trying to be quick I pull my car up to a gas station doing just a cursory look to note that the lot is empty in the early light. The place is desolate; the dirt filled with tufts of weeds, an old forgotten car, and the occasional dandelion puffs. A small ramshackle building of assorted slate-colored boards is assembled off to the side of the pumps with hazy windows filled with assorted snacks. Heading over with money tucked into a front pocket I keep my keys in one hand and move quickly.

The clerk at the front counter doesn’t look up as I make my way in and edge through the stacks of goods. “I need fuel. Can I get 5 gold on pump 1?” I ask, trying not to breathe too much. The air smells a little foul, but I give the ogre a smile.

“Sure missy.” The ogre’s hand snakes forward to collect the money. “Go on then.” He makes a dismissive motion towards the door.

“Hold on. Do you have coffee?” My eyes sweep around the interior of the building.

“Sure, sure. Over there.” His face, the color of a dried prune, seems to maneuver its way around the idea of something, thinking. “Do you need me to help you?” He leverages his body up from his spot in the corner like he is going to get up.

I stop myself from making a face at the thought of the help that might entail, but I need my caffeine fix badly. "No, I can manage. Thanks," I say, sliding a silver coin onto the counter for the coffee and then making my way to the far wall where I can see what I hope is the coffee pot.

As I lift the glass pot from the brewer, an acrid smell infiltrates my nostrils. The bitter stench of scorched coffee beans mixed with a hint of something else - a pungent funk that lurks in thebackground. I quickly add some sugar and half-and-half, hoping to disguise the suspicious odor.

"Is this the only coffee you have?" I ask tentatively before taking a sip. I’m a little concerned as I peer at it.

The ogre’s chest rumbles with a deep belly laugh. "You could say that!" he wheezes. He rubs his stubby hands on the ledger before him and looks away. “My normal customers aren’t too picky, so you take what you can get.”

I nod gravely and decide to take the plunge. Taking a sip and trying to ignore the taste (or get used to it). As I turn to leave, the ogre clears his throat. Turning to me I wait. Ogres are on the thoughtful side. Some might think that they are stupid, but that is a mistake. They might take a few minutes to get their thoughts out and plan a response, but that doesn’t mean they are low in intelligence.

"Uh, missy? Be careful out there. The roads aren't safe these days." He wears thick suspenders over a flannel shirt, and his frame seems to fill the entire corner as he watches me with a stern eye.

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" My thoughts go to Lillian. Maybe this has somethingto do with why she is brushing me off. Perhaps things have gotten more dangerous in the Picmond, and she’s been worried. That’s probably doubtful, but I’m keeping my hopes up she hasn’t gotten herself into trouble.

The ogre shifts his weight, his eyes darting around the room. “There have been some... break-ins. The forest isn’t as safe as it used to be. That’s all. You should be careful.” His response seems a little cagey to me, but I say nothing else.

“Okay, thanks.” Taking my coffee and my warning back to the car, I think about what he said. The sky is drenched in an early sunlight but there are still deep shadows of purple around the edges of the lot. Hustling towards the pump, I get it started, balancing my coffee cup on the roof as I stare off into the forest. Holden is a small town with just the single road that winds up through it. The gas station and a small diner are all that is here. The diner isn’t even open yet. Just as the pump is clicking off, I notice a shadow separating itself off from the edge of the trees, slinking along the edges. The pools of inky black spill from the circle of foliage towards the clearing. Keeping my eyes on it, I rattle the pump handle quickly and sightlessly maneuver it back into its cradle. I’ve got a gun in the car, but if that’s what I think, it is better to just try to get out of here. Fighting isn’t smart, running is definitely the way to go. I haven’t seen a shifter in a few years, let alonean unfriendly one — I’m not looking to fight one.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper to myself. Praying to all the damn angels and demons, I sprint to the opposite side and launch into the car, almost twisting my ankle on the way in. I slam the door shut and lean over to engage the lock, fumbling with the keys.

A black wolf pads slowly forward on four legs, his eyes glowing in the darkness. He seems to hesitate on the perimeter of the pavement sniffing the air. His fur already bristling and his jaw opening to reveal long, razor-sharp fangs. Every muscle in my body is tense as I watch it approach the car, my hands shaking as they clutch the steering wheel. I consider reaching for the console, for the weapon that I have there. Heavy panting sounds through the car window, its breath hot and wet against the glass. It can easily break through the window, but it doesn’t try. The drops of saliva left on the glass are already dripping grotesquely. It just stands there, its claws digging into the dusty ground. My hands scramble to engage the keys into the lock and turn the tumbler.

My heart races and my lungs burn from lack of air. In theory, I have the gun, but that would be a last resort. Silver bullets aren’t loaded, and I think it would do more to anger the werewolf thananything. Honestly, I’m stunned that there is a rogue out and about at all. It is pretty unusual.

The engine fires and my hand trembles as I put my hand on the gearstick and shift the car into reverse. The werewolf's snarl is menacing, but there’s nothing else I can do but hit the gas and hope for the best. My eyes never leaving the beast, I mash the pedal and grip the steering wheel as the car fishtails in reverse. It follows, pushing itself forward on all fours, but I can tell the effort is minimal, it won’t give chase. Yet, its yellow eyes bore into mine with almost a primal hunger. As the car moves away from it, I barely keep the shaking of my hands in check from the adrenaline rush.

Suddenly, the werewolf surprises me and stops cold, its eyes still locked onto mine. It cocks its head to the side. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the werewolf turns and disappears back into the trees. Weird.

After a few moments, I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. I can't explain why the werewolf left or what it was listening for, but I'm grateful for it anyway. With shaking hands, I take no time at all to slow the car and spin it forward and put it back into drive and get back on the road. Literally moving myself as far away as I can from the wolf.

"Phew, crap," I mutter, firming my grip on the wheel. I had gotten lucky, no mistake. Rogue werewolves in the forest aren't terribly uncommon, but rogue werewolves approaching and attacking? That is uncommon. I'd never heard of anything like this happening before. I’m not sure why he left either or what I would have done if he hadn’t. Although chasing down the car would have been unlikely.

My mind races as I drive deeper into the forest. I pull the gun from the console and set it in my lap, checking that the safety is engaged. It was foolish to not have the weapon loaded properly, uncharacteristically careless of me. My mind flits to the only werewolves I knew, Marco and Riven. I shudder.

Thinking of Marco makes me want to vomit. Being pressed up against the back of the cottage with my skirt rucked around my thighs and his sweaty palm against my thigh. Marco made me want to puke. Thankfully, that day another man intervened. Not all of them would have. Riven. His name is like a brand, hot and wicked, bitter and sweet. I refocus on the road. This is not the time to be dredging up old memories.

As I drive through the forest, my mind can't help but wander to what the ogre had said. There are always strange happenings in the area, but I have never put much stock in them. I drive as fast as Ican, my eyes darting back and forth, searching for any signs of danger. Now, as the trees loom above me and the air grows thicker, I can't shake the feeling that something is watching me.

As I drive deeper into the forest, the trees close in around me, and the road becomes narrow and winding. The sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The beauty of the forest is breathtaking, but I still feel shaky and a little freaked out from the incident at the gas station.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I see Lillian's cabin in the distance. It is small and modest, but it has been my sanctuary in many ways. It is where I learned about magic and where I had tried to recover from loss.

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