The Wolf at the End of the World by Douglas Smith

Author:Douglas Smith [Smith, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Heroka, urban fantasy, fantasy, shape shifters, shape shifter, shapeshifters, shapeshifter, werewolves, werewolf, wolf, wolves, award winning writer, environment, First Nations, Canada, Ontario, Cree, Ojibwa, Ojibwe
ISBN: 978-0-9918007-4-2
Publisher: Douglas Smith
Published: 2016-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29: Dogs and Cats Living Together

GWYN WAS WAITING OUTSIDE THE OPP station with Ed’s truck, Gelert in the back, when the door to the station flew open just past noon, and Leiddia bounded out like a wildcat sprung from a cage, her black parka unzipped despite the cold. When she saw him, she stopped and grinned, a hand on one hip, then strode to the truck and got in.

They stared at each other for a moment, then she leaned over and pulled him into a long kiss. She broke it off and sat back, smiling at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, smiling back. “Home?”

“Home. Most definitely, home.”

He put the truck into gear and pulled away. She considered him as he drove. “You look like shit.”

“You should talk.” She was paler than usual, with dark circles under both eyes.

“And you always said I was beautiful in the mornings,” she said, running a hand through her long black hair. “Well, being locked in jail with a mob out for your blood and a drunk screaming in the next cell doesn’t make for the best night’s sleep. What’s your excuse?”

He related last night’s events surrounding Mueller’s death, still omitting his strange encounter with Mahigan.

“Holy shit,” she said. “All they told me was that Mueller died like Mary did, and they’d caught the guy, so I was in the clear. Walter? Dead?” She shook her head. “Like I said, I knew he and Ed had a big fight. But this windigo shit’s a bit of stretch for me. He ate Mueller? Really?”

“It’s a stretch for me, too. But I can’t explain the tracks we followed or what I sensed the wolves saw. Or how he made it nearly a mile with six bullets in him.”

“It’s all too weird.” She shook her head, then shrugged. “I’m just glad for Ed and Vera that they’ve caught Mary’s killer, that this nightmare’s over.”

He didn’t reply. Given the similarities between Mary and Mueller’s deaths, he was ready to admit that Walter Keejek was Mary’s killer, windigo or not. But that still didn’t explain the similarities between what had happened at Cil y Blaidd and here, nor Mahigan’s warnings of some imminent danger.

He pulled up in front of her cabin, and they got out. She unlocked the cabin door, and he followed her in, telling Gelert to stay outside.

Beyond some different furniture and decorations here and there, the place was much the way he remembered it. A love seat, a worn leather armchair, and a low oval coffee table sat facing a large stone fireplace. A big-screen TV sat to the right of the fireplace. The hardwood floor was bare except for a white bearskin rug in front of the hearth. A small open kitchen stood off to the right behind a waist-high wall, with a white table, four matching chairs, and a food and water dish for the cat.

A rush of memories flooded him, most of them good. He swallowed, overcome by a sudden sense of loss, a realization of what might have been between them.

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