Wolf Hunting (A Wolf in the Land of the Dead Book 3) by Toni Boughton

Author:Toni Boughton [Boughton, Toni]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Toni L.H. Boughton
Published: 2015-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

Book Two

Chapter Thirteen

She stands before the door which is outlined in light. The dark and bloodstained hallway stretches behind her. There is no need to look back; the black-as-night wolf stands next to her. She runs her hand over the thick fur and reaches for the doorknob. The door swings open on a blindingly white light in a clear blue sky.

She blinks against the bright sun and wishes again that she knew where her damn sunglasses had disappeared to. A car horn honks behind her and she realizes the street light is green. She hits the gas and squeals her old car through a right turn, raising a hand in a penitent wave. Another angry honk is her answer. She’s blushing, she realizes, and chides herself - yet again - for worrying what other people think of her.

Twenty minutes later she is hopelessly lost. She pulls into a gas station parking lot and fumbles for her hastily-drawn map. This is a decidedly bad-looking part of town and her stomach churns with nervousness. The ragged piece of paper on which she wrote her sister’s sob-choked directions trembles in her hand.

There is a gentle tapping at her window. She looks up and is startled by the dirty old man looking back at her. He smiles at her, showing missing and blackened teeth, and asks if she needs help. She rolls the window down just a bit and shows him her hastily-drawn map. He nods and smiles and points at the street in front of the gas station. She recognizes the street name and wants to slap herself for being so clueless. The old man smiles again and totters away. She heads for her destination.

With growing unease she pulls her car into a weedy and neglected rail yard. Big metal containers and junked cars and piles of trash are everywhere, and the faint glimmer of train tracks show through the high grass. There is no sign of her sister. She keeps her doors locked and beeps her horn. She tells herself not to get her hopes up that anything has changed with her sister.

As if summoned by her thoughts her sister steps out from behind a dumpster and waves at her. She motions for her sister to come over to the car. The other woman looks around nervously and shakes her head as she fades back behind the battered dumpster. She rests her hands on the steering wheel and wants to leave, just leave and get out of this city and go back north, north to Wyoming and home. With a sigh she turns off the car and steps out.

The evening is coming fast, the sky still clear but shading through orange and gold and violet as night approaches. She grips her purse with both hands, not surprised to find they are damp with sweat. She walks toward the dumpster, and even though the highway is not far away and traffic speeds along with a constant hum there is a curious silence here.

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