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Some of which, I’d have to confront face to face whether I liked it or not. Turning left out of the marina, I started down the road that followed the southern half of the bay’s crescent. I climbed the green hill, and then finally slowed to a stop at the end of the last road on the bay. Emerald Lane. Named in honor of the Emerald Isle, where most of the werewolves in town had come from before the founding of their little town.
The last house on the block was set off the road, on a large patch of grass, surrounded by a waist high white picket fence, and a massive garden, expertly tended to by Annie herself. No one else could touch those plants. Only her.
Walking up the stone path, I pushed my way through the front gate, and sighed. Nothing had changed. Sure, there were new flowers in the flower beds, and fresh water in the fountain to the right, but the layout, the statuary. It was all the same.
I picked up the small ceramic dog on the front step, and sure enough there was the same spare key she’d left out in case I lost mine. Even more proof that werewolves never changed.
The wooden porch creaked under my weight, and I let myself in through the front door, before I had to a second to think through what I was about to do.
Confronting the past head on is never easy. It hurts. More than I was ever ready for. The moment I shut the front door behind me in the foyer, I was assaulted by the overwhelming scent of my grandmother. Peppermint, and rose oil. It was so strong I half expected her to come walking around the corner.
Pressing a hand to my heart, I walked into the living room, and every muscle in my body tensed. Every drawer sat open; their contents strewn across the floor. The books had all been tossed off the shelves. Someone had gone riffling through everything.
The muscles in my back tensed, and I curled my hands into fists as I crouched down among the debris. Here the smell was different. Taking a deep breath all I could smell was Ronnie.
My stomach churned and I closed my eyes. “That sneaky, selfish bitch.”
I exhaled, and stood up, and padded my way down the thin hall that led deeper into the house. I passed the bathroom, the spare room, my old bedroom and then finally, the last door was dangling on its hinges.
I pushed it open carefully, and a growled ripped from my throat as I saw the divots my mother’s claws had left in the wood. The bed was covered in shredded clothes, pillows, and the pictures that used to sit on her dresser were smashed on the floor. Everything was destroyed. Everything.
Sinking down onto the side of the bed that faced the window on the far side of the room, I picked up a sweater that looked relatively intact and held it to my nose. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, and I felt the scream bubbling in my chest, rising and rising until finally I let it out.
She couldn’t leave anything for me. No memories. Nothing to hold onto. Gasping, I couldn’t breathe. The wolf inside me wanted out. I wanted to turn and run through the woods, to hunt, to get revenge.
A loud thud echoed from the front door, and in a flash Jamie Hart appeared in the hall. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
The shock of seeing him standing there was enough to knock me out of my spiral. Lowering the sweater to my lap I gaped at him. “J-Jamie? What are you doing here?”
“I heard you scream,” he said, his eyes searching wildly around the room. “Are you okay? What happened here?”
I cleared my throat. “Ronnie happened. She destroyed everything.”
“What?”
“My mother,” I said, enunciating my words. “I don’t know why, or when, but she came in here and destroyed everything. Every bit of Annie’s things. It’s all covered in her scent. She didn’t even leave her clothes.”
“Damn,” he sighed. “Eve, I’m so sorry.”
I wiped my fingers across my cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”
“Why don’t we go sit out on the back patio. Get out of here for a while,” he said. “Then, I can help you get this cleaned up if you want. Set things…as right as they can be.”
“Nothing’s right without Annie.”
“Hey,” he said, walking around to crouch in front of me. He put his hand gently on my knee and squeezed. “I know everyone says this all the time when someone dies, but I know Annie wouldn’t want you to be sitting here stewing in your memories.”
“I know.” I nodded. “She’d probably be pissed at me.”
“Probably. I stepped on one of her flowers once and she nearly killed me.” He chuckled.
I exhaled. “How did you get here so quick, what were you doing outside Annie’s house?”
“I wasn’t.” he laughed. “I was insidemyhouse, across the street.”
“Oh, I figured you were still living out on Pine Ridge.”
He smiled. “Not since I turned eighteen and my mom moved out of town with her boyfriend.”
