The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) Page 18

  Who would do this? It would kill Carl if the evil, glinting ax fell on him. Wasn’t that how you killed zombies? Slicing off their heads?

  Who else knew about Carl? Guido? He was the only other person who knew of Carl’s whereabouts aside from the girls. And what was his motivation for killing him?

  Rage burned in the pit of Harry’s gut as his suspicions turned to the witch doctor. But Carl had something else attached to him, a rumpled note in the pocket of his dirty, torn shirt.

  Harry decided it was time to let everything else go and focus on keeping Carl from jerking the tightly wrapped chains. He hopped up, using his hind legs to anchor his feet before placing his paws on either side of the tree and willing Carl to look at him—feel his emotions—see Harry meant him no harm.

  Instead, Carl keened a high wail of terror. Harry licked his face to get his attention, forcing himself to forget it was dead flesh he was licking, willing Carl to understand. It’s me, buddy. Harry.

  He stared harder.

  Carl stopped attempting to release himself and cocked his head.

  Sort of. It was a slight shift to the left, but it was definitely inquisitive in nature. He thwarted all motion and stared intently at Harry for a brief moment, as though he got the message Harry was trying to send with his werewolf mind-meld, but then terror streaked his face again, and he began to wail.

  “Carl?” He heard Mara call out from the darkness, her voice full of anxious worry.

  “Where the fuck are you, Carl?”

  Nina. That was Nina. And some fear. Nina was afraid for Carl. He smelled it.

  Christ, this was crazy.

  Snow crunched beneath several pairs of feet as the women and Darnell hit the thick patch of trees where Carl was tethered. Harry hopped down, unsure how to warn them about Carl’s precarious position, seeing as he wasn’t quite sure how to shift back.

  Carl saw Nina first, his cries easing and his face going slack again, the relief on his face evident.

  Nina made a dash for Carl just as Mara and Marty approached, her feet moving in a blur of motion.

  “Harry?” Mara asked, surprise riddling her question. She reached a hand out to cup his muzzle, gazing into his eyes. He bumped her hip with his hindquarters, nudging her in acknowledgment.

  “You shifted? All on your own? Holy cow, look at you!” There was a hint of pride in her voice, and it made him want to stomp around and crush beer cans with his bare hands, shred a big steak with his teeth, howl with smug satisfaction.

  As he gazed into her beautiful blue eyes, something in Harry shifted. He got lost in the orbs, and he had no rhyme or reason for it. It just happened, deepening his earlier feelings until his chest ached.

  “Hold tight, buddy,” Nina reassured Carl. “I got this.”

  Alarm and panic seized Harry all at once. He tore his muzzle from Mara’s warm hand, whipping around in just enough time to see Nina begin to grab on to the chains tying Carl to the tree.

  And she wasn’t gonna like it, but he had to take her out.

  Or she’d kill Carl.

  Apologies in advance, Crypt Keeper.

  * * *

  WITH a deep growl, Harry went for Nina. His leap in the air, silhouetted by the buttery moon, executed to perfection. He arced up and over, ramming his enormous body into Nina and knocking her almost clear across the large group of trees.

  The sharp crack of wood reverberated through the trees, pinging against them, followed by her angry grunt.

  “Harry!” Mara yelped in surprise. If this was another one of his angry outbursts because he was a werewolf, blah, blah, blah, she was going to show him what being-around-for-as-long-as-she-had was like when she wiped the wooded floor with him.

  Nina rose like the Terminator, angry and snarling, her fangs sharp and gleaming. One minute she was down, the next she was up, launching herself at Harry and screaming, “I’m gonna cut a bitch!”

  Marty flew between them, catching Nina by ramming her hands into her chest. “Knock it off, night dweller!”

  “Hold up!” Darnell shouted, his large hand pointing upward. “Harry’s just doin’ right by Carl. Look up.”

  All eyes followed Darnell’s finger.

  Mara gasped when she saw what he was pointing out. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Goddamn it, who the hell has it out for my zombie? Swear to Christ, when we find out who’s messin’ with us, somebody’s gonna fekkin’ well die,” Nina seethed, shaking off her anger with Harry and stomping toward a petrified Carl.

  Mara gasped again when she saw the tree limbs above Carl’s head. Someone had rigged the chains binding Carl. If they’d tried to free him without seeing . . . She blanched, shivering harder. “Nina! Keep Carl still. I’ll get this.”

  As Harry paced and huffed and Nina and Marty stroked Carl’s hands, still high above his head, Mara scaled the tree. If she was nothing else, she was a proficient tree climber after having two brothers to keep up with.

  As the ax hanging over Carl’s head came into view, Mara cocked her head at the intricate, almost guillotine-like maze of chains and her brain raced. Who would go to this much trouble to hurt someone so helpless? What did Carl have to do with anything?

  She began to attack the mess, carefully pulling and unwinding. “Hold on, Carl—I’m almost done!” she called down to the whimpering zombie. Her hands, though ice-cold, managed to move quickly, unlacing the chains and yanking the ax up and off the limb above Carl’s head.

  Carl made a strange sound of relief when Nina pulled the remaining chains from his hands, lifting an arm and thumping Nina on the shoulder in his trademark sign of affection.

  Nina pulled him into a hug, stroking the back of his head, her voice holding a hint of a tremble as she consoled him. “Jesus, dude. Who the fuck did this?”

  Mara hopped down from the tree, reaching down to grab on to Darnell’s hand as he helped her off the last limb.

  Carl grunted upon seeing her, dragging his stiff foot behind him; he fell into her in his zombie embrace. She gave him a gentle hug, pulling back to look into his fear-glazed eyes. “You okay, Carl?”

  Carl tucked his head into her and snuffed against her shoulder before lifting it and giving her his lopsided grin. Then he set his sights on Harry; tripping and stumbling, he made his way to him, thumping him on the back, using the side of his hand to stroke Harry’s fur in jerky fashion.

  Harry’s big body began to tremble and quake and in mere seconds, he’d shifted back to his human form without so much as a protesting groan.

  And he was naked.

  Even in the height of this madness, Mara found a way to appreciate Harry’s gorgeous physique. It made her shiver.

  Harry, on all fours, didn’t even open his eyes, and he didn’t look up at the group. “I’m naked, right?”

  “Like the day you were born,” Marty said on a snort, averting her eyes.

  “Dangly bits and everything, dude. Look away, Carl—stranger junk alert,” Nina cracked, grasping Carl’s hand and using it to cover his eyes.

  “Shit,” Harry mumbled at the snow-covered ground.

  Darnell was the first to react. He yanked off his sweatshirt and covered Harry with it, holding out his hand to help him up.

  Harry tucked himself inside the sweatshirt, tugging it down over his muscled thighs as he rose.

  Mara fought a girlish sigh and instead smiled at him. “You were awesome! You found Carl.”

  Harry nodded and smiled back. “Yep.”

  She wrapped her hands together behind her back as they began to walk back toward her cottage behind the others. “And how ever did you do that, Harry Emmerson? Was it due to your uncanny powers of deduction?”

  “Nope,” he muttered low.

  “Your superior detective skills, Castle?”

  “No again.”

  Mar
a mock gasped. “Wait. Could it be it was because of those werewolf abilities you so despise?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Aha!” she shouted before giggling. Score one for lycanthropy.

  Harry paused, barefoot and almost naked, and grabbed her arm. “Look, Mara, I told you it’s no insult to you and your family, pack, whatever. It has nothing to do with this not being amazing, because it is, and under any other circumstance, I’d be all for it. I’m sorry if you feel insulted. That’s not my intention. And I don’t despise these abilities. I just don’t want them.”

  Mara decided they had bigger fish to fry tonight than Harry’s inability to accept his fate. “And I’m just saying it isn’t all bad. However, that’s all I’ll say for now.”

  Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. He looked down at her, a smile flirting with his lips. “Really?”

  “Really,” she confirmed, putting her hand on his chest. “And thank you. We were all so caught up with worry we forgot to listen for Carl. You, on the other hand, were brilliant.”

  Harry’s smile was warm. “I’m just glad he’s okay. He was pretty scared.”

  “None of this makes any sense. First the kids, and now Carl.”

  “You think they’re related?”

  “I think it’s pretty strange that there’ve been two instances so close together, and so similar, don’t you?”

  He shook his head, his lips thinning. “Yep, and I keep trying to make the connection between the kids and Carl, and I can’t. The only thing I can think of is Guido.”

  No. That didn’t add up. Guido didn’t even know about Harry’s niece and nephew. “But what does he have to do with Mimi and Fletch?”

  “That’s where I lose the connection, too.”

  “Hey, lovebirds!” Nina called out. “Step that shit up. We need to stay together, and we need to get back before Harry’s man parts freeze the fuck off.”

  Harry looked down at Mara, the crinkle of his eyes showing his amusement. “She has no filter.”

  Mara giggled. “Nope. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s always just said it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled, the deep vibration of it tickling her hand. “It’s rather refreshing, if obnoxious and crude.”

  “But you have to admit it’s better that she’s on your team. Imagine her on the opposing side.”

  Harry mocked a shudder. “I’ll take the zero on that. So, question?”

  “Make it fast, or she will get angry. Angry Nina is scary Nina.”

  “Are you upset that she knows what we were doing . . . you know, before? I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  She was a million things in the aftermath of their lovemaking, but upset that Nina knew what they’d been up to was the least of it. She almost avoided his eyes, then internally voted for complete honesty. How could she be ashamed of such an amazing experience? Mara shook her head. “No.”

  He let his head drop, lowering his lips and resting them just tantalizing inches from hers. “You’re kinda smart and hot.”

  Now she was embarrassed. Mara let her eyes fall to his chest, their cold noses pressed together. “I’m mostly not,” she denied.

  Bracketing her face, Harry lifted her chin, forcing her to rise on tiptoe, and claimed her lips in forceful possession, sending that same rush of heat straight to the place between her legs he had but an hour ago. He swept his tongue over hers before releasing her. “For the record,” he whispered, “I emphatically disagree, Mara Flaherty, and I don’t get how you can’t see it. But I want you to know I do. I see it. I see all of it.”

  His words, said with such forceful conviction, made her shiver, but her response was guarded. “Duly noted,” she murmured, taking his lead on the path back to her cottage, fighting the impulse to read too much into Harry’s words.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Upon their return, Carl safe and warm, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and pressed against Nina’s side, they all hovered over Mara’s kitchen table. Marty had gone home to keep Keegan from growing suspicious in her absence. Now, with Wanda and Archibald, her husband’s manservant, on Skype, silence prevailed.

  Harry’s good mood had turned sour when he’d remembered the note he’d seen tucked into Carl’s shirt pocket. He’d yanked it from Carl’s pocket, hissing his anger after reading it.

  After careful examination, including sniffing the paper and studying the handwriting, none of them could figure out what it meant. No scent on the paper that was recognizable, nothing special about the handwriting.

  It left them all not only stumped but on high alert. Everyone was edgy, but no one was edgier than Harry.

  “Who the hell is doing this?” Harry said between thin lips, swiping the note up with an angry hand.

  Nina flicked the note with two fingers. “Dude, somebody knows about you two, and whoever the fuck it is, they don’t like it. But I’ll tell you this, the dickknuckle responsible for stalkin’ kids and stealin’ my zombie’s gonna fucking pay.”

  Mara’s veins had turned to ice, the heat emanating from the nearby fireplace doing nothing to warm her. “Tell Mara and Harry I see them . . .” The words on the spiral-pad notepaper sent cold chills up her arms and alarm bells screeching in her brain.

  Nina’s hand slammed down on the table, the brunt of it knocking the vase of silk flowers over. “Bet it’s fucking Guido. Why the fuck he’d be doing this, I got no clue, but he’s the only other person who knows about Carl being with us. We need to go get his ass and shake it out of him.”

  “And if it’s not him?” Harry asked, his voice rising. “Then what?”

  Nina slammed her fist on the counter, making Carl bury his face in her neck. “Then we goddamn well do what we always do in every other case like this. We figure it out—together—and we don’t stop till we take a motherfucker out.”

  “Nina!” Wanda yelled from the laptop on Skype, her fuzzy pink bathrobe tucked around her chin. “Before we get too crazy, how about we poke around and see if maybe it’s an old girlfriend of Harry’s? Jealous or something.” Her eyes fell on Harry. “So you have any of those, Harry? Maybe someone who saw you and Mara together yesterday?”

  Harry shook his head. “I don’t date anyone at work for a reason. Secondly, whoever this was took Mimi and Fletcher before Mara and I introduced ourselves as a couple.”

  Mara sat silently. She didn’t want to know about Harry’s ex-girlfriends. Not if they weren’t important to finding out who’d taken Carl and the children.

  Archibald stuck his shiny head around Wanda’s shoulder and peered at them. “I’m Archibald, sir,” he addressed Harry with a smile. “Might I say your children are delightful. We’ve had a lovely time these past days. We’ve baked, we’ve indulged in song and even some dance, for which I’m no match for the lovely Miss Mimi. Then Mimi and I had a divine traditional English tea. Sir Fletcher and I battled the evil dragon with our makeshift swords made of cardboard and tinfoil. Truly, they are superb, precocious, well-mannered children. They have asked to call me Grandpa Arch, as the others do. Shall I give them your permission?”

  Harry’s hard swallow tore at Mara’s heart, his grief biting her hard. He loved those children, and despite their rocky start, he missed them. “Of course. I’m glad to hear that, Archibald,” he said, his voice husky and low. “They’re a handful sometimes. I appreciate your help.”

  Arch held up a finger with a refined chuckle. “Ah, you mistake a handful for insightful, curious minds. Their energy, if I might be so bold, is simply misdirected. And of course, there is the issue of the loss of their parents. My deepest condolences to you.” Arch bowed his head momentarily.

  Harry swallowed again, his fist clenching around the note. “Thank you.”

  “However, Sir Harry,” Arch said, his weathered face changing from light to dark
. “On one of our nature walks, wherein we chatted about things such as the dormant state of Miss Wanda’s vast gardens and the reason for said state during winter, as well as Mimi’s unwavering love of the color purple, we did discuss this woman who came to their educational facility and took the children.”

  Harry sat up straight, leaning toward the computer. “And?”

  Arch scowled. “As we walked, Sir Fletcher made mention of something I noted but made no impression on me until just this moment. He said the woman who took them on their walk had whiskers. Now, while I found that unusual, and of course, I wanted to remain calm and not cause greater concern for the young lad, I quite passively asked him what he meant. He said her chin had whiskers—bushy whiskers. I don’t think I quite understood what that meant, other than certainly, some women of a certain age,” he paused to clear his throat, “need more assistance than others in maintaining their grooming habits. Yet now, I question whether this is a factor, a paranormal factor, in your quest to consider all possible suspects.”

  “Whiskers?” Mara repeated, putting together what a child of eight would interpret as whiskers. “So potentially, she had unsightly hair?”

  Arch shook his head. “No, miss. I don’t believe it was simply a female issue. I did not press Sir Fletcher so as not to frighten him. Yet I firmly believe this was something he considered out of the ordinary. Not simply because it was so pronounced on a woman, but just that he’d made note of the very fact that they were bushy whiskers. Along with, as you already know, Mimi’s description of her ‘swingy’ hair. He said it as though he knew it was rude to speak of out loud, yet appeared to find it rather important, now that I reflect.”

  “So we’re lookin’ for a bitch who has a beard?” Nina crowed.

  “Oh, Miss Nina,” Arch said on a chuckle. “I do so miss your presence. Tell me, when will you bring me my sweet Charlie? Surely, she’s overdue for some of Grandfather Archibald’s spoiling?”

  Nina held up her knuckles to the screen for Arch to bump, her grin wide. “She doesn’t need another fucking toy, Arch. Jesus, you and the stuffed unicorns. She’s got a hundred of ’em in her damn crib. Promise, once shit cools off, I’ll bring her over, and Carl, too.”