SECRET OF THE WOLF By Susan Krinard

The wolf chased them as far as the gate, turned about once to look at Johanna, and leaped the fence with breathtaking grace. In a heartbeat he had vanished.

Harper returned to her side. “Lord have mercy,” he whispered. “It’s real, then.”

She stared at him, wondering how long this state of perpetual confusion would last. “What is real, Harper?”

“You don’t have to worry, Doc. I know I’m not crazy, and neither are you.”

She had no energy left to pose sensible questions and interpret ambiguous answers. “You know?”

“I thought I’d seen all the wonders and terrors this world has to offer.” He laughed under his breath. “A dog came by to see me, before I came out of myself. Least I thought it was a dog. He spoke to me—not like people, but the way other things do, sometimes. Later I had the same feeling around Quentin. Then the Reverend started muttering about men changing into wolves… I just sort of put things together.”

Quentin was not the only remarkable man at the Haven. “And you accept this?”

“Don’t rightly have much choice, do I?” He scratched his chin and looked down the lane beyond the gate, where the dust was just beginning to settle. “I don’t reckon the folks from town will be back anytime soon. They’ll have other things to gossip about for a while.”

“No doubt. But after today, we can’t make any assumptions.” This entire conversation felt like a dream within a dream. She remembered what Quentin had said of Harper, urging her to rely on him. She badly needed his stolid dispassion. “How much do you know of what’s been happening in town?”

“I keep my ear to the ground. Irene gossips.”

And how did Irene know so much? That question must also wait until later. “There are many things I have been unable to tell you and the others. Are you aware that May’s father has come to the Springs to take her from the Haven, with the help of a man named Bolkonsky, and that I have opposed this reunion for the sake of May’s health and happiness?”

“I’ve watched May these past few days.” He motioned to the place where the mob had stood. “It has something to do with all this?”

“May’s father was assaulted in his hotel shortly before Ketchum was killed.” She swallowed. “Quentin has been very protective of May.”

He didn’t ask if she believed Quentin had done the assaulting. “Why would Quentin go after this Ketchum?”

Explaining Fenris and her tenuous theories about him was not an option. “Matters have gone terribly awry, Harper. I ask for your trust… and I may need your help, if you feel able.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Quentin’s leaving the Haven, isn’t he?”

She held back tears by sheer force of will. “He went to look for May. He must have found her, if he was able to—” She gestured wordlessly at the trampled earth. “May will be leaving as well, as soon as we can make her ready. Let us go inside.”

Mrs. Daugherty stood sentinel by the kitchen door, clutching a cast-iron pan to ward off potential invaders.

“What happened?” she demanded. “First that man was makin’ threats, and then I see him an’ his friends a’runnin’ like the devil hisself was after ’em.”

Thank God Mrs. Daugherty hadn’t seen the wolf. “They thought better of their behavior. Has May come back?”

“I saw her in the parlor with the others just a moment ago, but they been mighty quiet since. Haven’t seen Quentin.” She followed Johanna into the parlor. “I thought someone should stand guard—”

She broke off. The parlor was empty except for Johanna’s father, who was dozing in his chair. Johanna’s heart clenched in panic.

“I didn’t hear anyone leave!” Mrs. Daugherty protested.

“Please look through the house, Mrs. Daugherty,” Johanna said. “Harper and I will search outside.”

She rushed down the hall to the rear door, knowing that the others weren’t in their rooms. Harper found Lewis at the edge of the garden, sitting in the dirt. Blood matted the thinning hair at the back of his head.

“Someone hit me,” he said in faint outrage, accepting Harper’s support. Johanna knelt beside him to examine the wound, which was rapidly developing into a goose’s egg. He was lucky to have received such a glancing blow.

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