Chapter 15: It’s My Job

CLARA

~From ~Founders of Melville~, page 394:~

~Local legend claims that when Burdock and Monte arrived in the area and began clearing the forest to build a settlement, they encountered a pack of abnormally large wolves that stalked just outside the ring of firelight at night.~

~Night after night, the wolves watched the small band of settlers, but during the day they seemed to disappear completely.~

~As the most skilled hunter in the group, Burdock decided he was going to try to find the wolves’ den to rid the settlement of their stalkers. He hid himself upwind of the pack, and as the sun began to rise, he followed them through the forest.~

~His journal reads, “I followed the pack to a clearing where a large cabin stood. Surprised, I remained in the shadows and wondered why this cabin existed in an unsettled area.”~

~“The pack gathered in the center of the clearing and, as the first rays of morning crept over the trees, they stood on their back legs and began to transform into men. A deep fright fell upon me, and I returned to our little band, vowing to keep what I had seen a secret for the rest of my days.”~

~The following winter was particularly brutal to the fledgling settlement. In the deepest depths of the cold months, food had become scarce. An unknown illness ran through the camp, leaving many of the men too weak to hunt, and it seemed none of the settlers would survive.~

~At the bleakest moment, dressed deer began appearing, hanging in the large tree at the edge of the settlement. The meat sustained the settlers, and when summer came, they began leaving offerings of their crops under the tree as thanks.~

~After a month of offerings, the settlers woke to find a small group of men standing beneath the tree.~

~Burdock recognized them and wrote, “It seemed we had gained favor with the strange wolf men. Our band and theirs became friendly with one another, to the point where our people began to intermarry. We supported each other through the hard seasons, and within five years we were one people.” ~

~While proof of Burdock’s claims has never surfaced in regard to the locals being werewolves, his journal entries have captivated Melville residents and sparked rumors of modern-day werewolves living among us still.~

I blinked and leaned in closer.

What this Burdock guy had described was so similar to what I’d experienced that I couldn’t stop reading the passage over and over again.

I threw myself into finding other references to werewolves in the area. The pages of my notebook filled with references and notes of interesting passages until I straightened—my sore back demanded that I end my study session.

***

For the rest of the week, I should have been thinking about the serial killer issue—or even my father and his family. But I couldn’t get thoughts of werewolves out of my head.

I felt crazy, but part of me was convinced Burdock really had seen his neighbors transform. What if there ~were~ werewolves in Melville, and ~they~ were behind the deaths instead of a serial killer?

I was tempted to confront Elias about it.

Friday passed like a kidney stone. I still struggled to frame the overview with Marius in a way that Perkins was happy about, and by the end of the day, I practically ran out the door.

Jason followed me, doing his best to act like my pace was entirely normal.

“So where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked, a nosy busybody as always. “Are you off to visit your boyfriend in the woods or something?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. But yes, I’m going to visit Elias. See you on Monday.”

Jason froze, and I barely glanced back to catch the look of surprise and disappointment on his face.

It seemed “we” were a topic of discussion for the future, but for now, I couldn’t be bothered. My brain was on fire with werewolf lore and excitement to see the muscle-bound artist again.

I’m proud to announce that driving through the woods didn’t even freak me out the tiniest bit this time. Progress, right?

I thumped and bumped along with the radio at full blast, singing along to ye olde Britney Spears. The music helped hide the strange whining sound my car had started making, that I ~definitely didn’t~ have the money to fix.

Elias was waiting for me on the porch when I rolled out of the trees and into the clearing. He still had a face as stoic as a cliff’s, but his eyes glittered when he saw—or rather heard—my car.

I pulled up next to his Jeep and killed my engine. Before I could open the door, he was next to it, opening it for me.

Rather than a greeting as I stepped out, he narrowed his eyebrows and said, “Your serpentine belt is slipping. How long has it been doing that?”

I looked at him, dumbfounded. How did he not only know something was wrong with my car, but also know exactly what?

“I could hear it squealing as you approached,” he clarified as if he could hear my thoughts.

Which, honestly, he might have been able to. How was I supposed to know what powers he might have if he really ~was~ a werewolf? I was pretty sure I’d heard ~his~ thoughts last time.

“Since this morning,” I said, a frown taking over my face. “Is that really bad? Because I really can’t afford to spend money fixing this piece of crap right now.”

I left out the part where I was still fighting my pride about calling the Goodwill guy to get a bed, and how I was taking food home from the office so I’d have something to eat for dinner.

Elias scowled, slipped around me, and popped the hood.

I watched as he poked around in the engine compartment. His face grew darker with every passing moment, and I felt my empty wallet crying.

He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and stood with one hand in his pocket and the sun shining on his bare chest.

Seriously, what did this guy have against shirts? Not that I was complaining, mind you. I’ve always been a chest kind of woman.

“Bring me a serpentine belt for a ’98 Corolla, an oil filter, and five quarts of oil,” he demanded of whoever he’d called. “And a disposal pan. Can’t mix this regular with our synthetic.”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. What part of “I can’t afford this right now” had he missed?

“Um, Elias?” I said, and he turned his head to look at me. “I really meant it when I said I can’t pay to fix my car right now—not even parts.”

Elias looked at me as if I had the intelligence of a goldfish.

“I’m fixing your car. It’s my job,” he replied simply.

Right. His mysterious “job.” Because that cleared everything up.

He walked toward a garage on the west side of the cabin that I hadn’t noticed before and returned with a set of tools and set about tearing my car apart.

I sat on the running board of his Jeep and watched, still baffled at why he was willing to fix the darn thing for me. Had he decided he ~was~ my boyfriend or something?

Whatever the reasoning may have been, it seemed Elias was not taking no for an answer. He was even pushier than Jason—albeit with a more dominant aura, so it came off as less demanding and more expectant.

“That’s all I can get done until Rocky gets here with the parts. Let’s go eat,” Elias said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

My stomach growled in response, and the corner of his lip ~definitely~ twitched upward. I saw it.

I could smell dinner before we even made it into the cabin. The savory smell of stew wafted through the air, only intensifying when Elias opened the door and ushered me inside.

“Go sit down while I wash my hands,” he instructed, showing me the black grease that coated his fingers.

I grimaced at the mess and took a seat at the dining room table.

“You can eat the bread now if you’re too hungry to wait. I can hear your stomach growling all the way in here,” he said and ~chuckled.~

So Mr. Stoic was telling ~jokes~ now? Well, that was a development.

But I didn’t take too long to think about it. I used the knife to slice myself a thick slab of bread, spread it with butter and preserves, and took a large bite.

Elias exited the bathroom, still drying his hands on a towel, and nodded approvingly.

“I’ll dish up the stew. I hope you like it—it’s elk.”

He tossed the towel back into the bathroom and went into the kitchen, soon emerging with two steaming bowls.

I’d never had elk before, but the stew smelled absolutely divine.

Elias set the bowls down on the table, and I managed to have the decency to wait to dig in until he was seated. But only barely.

“This is delicious,” I exclaimed after one bite.

Elias watched me eat with pride written all over his face.

“Your cooking puts mine to shame.”

“I can teach you,” he replied, spooning his own dinner down at a much more leisurely pace than I.

He tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and dipped it in his stew, which obviously I had to try as well.

Ten out of ten, do recommend.

But I shook my head at his statement. “I doubt it. I’m such a bad cook that I started buying premade meals and passing them off as my own cooking because Grant would have straight-up murdered me if he knew.

“But I also couldn’t make anything he didn’t complain about. Stopping the bitching was worth the risk.”

“I hate this boy more every time I learn something new about him. And I say ‘boy’ because no man would treat his woman that way.”

Elias clutched his spoon as if he were choking it, the knuckles of his large hands whitening slightly. “Laying hands on you—and complaining about food that you prepared for him? Unacceptable. I don’t care if it’s bad. Your mate cooks for you, you eat it.”

His use of “mate” definitely didn’t slip past me, but I decided to let it go. Yes, it could be proof of my werewolf theory, but it could also just be nothing.

I blushed at the look Elias was giving me and hid my face behind my hand. His eyes were so intense, yet so soft at the same time.

“I mean, I don’t particularly blame him. I’m a horrible cook.”

“That is fixable,” he insisted, and I let it go.