Free The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles 1) by Patricia La Barbera

tired, and I don’t feel like talking about it.”
    “I’m just—”
    “Shut up, you punk,”
Mr. Miller yelled.
    “Calm down, Pete,”
his wife pleaded.
    “And you shut
up, too, Ellen,” he yelled even louder.
    “I can’t take
this,” Tony said, getting up from the table with his plate and can of beer. He
walked to his room and slammed the door. After he finished his meal, he packed
the bag he’d bring with him that night. First, he put in his hunting knife.
Then he threw in latex gloves and a flashlight. Next, he included the duct
tape. He almost forgot the crowbar. Soon he’d be getting the satisfaction he deserved.
    ***
    Tala knelt on
the attic floor and glanced out a window with a black-curtain view. The wind
moaned through the cracks in the walls, and the single bulb hanging sputtered
its light. Maeve’s company, some consolation.
    Tala again scanned
the drawing that had frightened her so much. It still did. It seemed to
represent every angry, violent, and murderous tendency, though depicted through
a child’s eyes. She set it aside quickly. She’d try another box.
    That one
contained more photos. The first showed a picture of a picnic table laden with
food and with a backdrop of evergreens. The next one was a group photo, but she
couldn’t recognize anyone in the group with certainty. Her grandmother, her
mother, and her uncle Gregory were probably there.
    A photo lay facedown
in the box. She hesitated for a moment. Turning it over revealed a charming
cottage with window boxes brimming with flowers and a door decorated with painted
birds. If that was where she was heading, she doubted it would look the same
now.
    A noise like
something falling on the floor traveled upstairs. The cat walked over to the
doorway.
    “Maeve, come
here. It’s probably just the ice machine.” Maeve looked at her and growled.
    Tala’s skin
prickled. Maeve usually reserved that growl for something serious. “Maybe we
should investigate.” Tala rose and walked to the door. Maeve rushed down ahead
of her. Raucous caterwauling came from the kitchen, and she considered calling
911, but she didn’t want to if it were only a false alarm. She slowly walked
down the stairs, trying not to make any noise, an impossible task in an old
house with ancient woodwork.
    Tala crept down
the hall.
    Maeve alternately
spat and growled.
    Tala hesitated.
Maeve had been on her way to becoming feral when she found her, and she still
feared neither man nor beast. Tala had been surprised she hadn’t given Edgar a
hard time. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and stepped into the
kitchen.
    Maeve resembled the
traditional Halloween black cat with arched back and fierce eyes. Bottlebrush
tail. She still growled. The reason—she’d cornered a huge rat. Tala breathed a
sigh of relief that Maeve had recently gotten her shots.
    “Maeve, come
away from there.”
    Of course, the
cat ignored her.
    “Now what?” Somebody’s
name did come to mind. She resolved to put him on speed dial.
    ***
    A loud shot rang
out, and Maeve tore out of the kitchen and ran up the attic stairs.
    “Success. I’ll
clean up the mess,” Edgar called out.
    “Oh, thank God.
I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sure my friend Vanessa
wouldn’t have had a clue about getting rid of that.”
    When Edgar had finished
cleaning up, the kitchen didn’t have any evidence of the intruder. Tala sat
with him at the table.
    Edgar took a sip
of chamomile tea. “I knew this was going to be a strange night. The thing is, I
don’t think the strangeness is over. When I walked outside at dusk, I saw four
owls flying to a tree. When I see only one, it gets my attention. But four…” He
shook his head. “Something’s going on. And then the fact that the cat cornered
a rat. That gets me thinking, too. And to top everything off—the full moon.”
    “It’s probably
just all coincidence, Edgar. Now let’s not have our imaginations run away with
us.” Despite