The Mountain's Shadow

“Nope. I’m going to find out why Peter Bowman’s son was kidnapped.”

Iain elected to catch a few hours’ sleep, his jet lag and the adventures of the past two nights having caught up with him. I put him in one of the guest rooms down the hall at the Manor, changed into clean clothes in my room, and ignored the siren song of my own bed.

I stood outside the apartment complex where Honey Jorgens lived. It seemed like I had questioned her a lifetime ago. The light in her apartment living room shone red through the curtains, and I thought I could see someone moving around.

I took a step forward to go up the stairs and knock on her door, but a large gray wolf bounded in front of me, its lips curled in a snarl.

“Easy there,” I said. “Matthew, isn’t it?”

The wolf sat back on its haunches and studied me.

I’m not as young as the others, so changing is tough, it said, and I recognized the voice as the wolf who had complained that they needed to figure out how real wolves hunted.

“It’s okay, I can hear you just fine.”

You have the talent. Your grandfather did, too.

I didn’t have time to talk about my family abilities. “Why won’t you let me pass?”

Because she’s been through enough. The shame of knowing that you figured her out may kill her.

“She knows her son is still alive because you told her. And you called Lonna up here because you knew what was going on, but you couldn’t report anything without outing yourself as a CLS sufferer. You wanted her to do the dirty work for you.”

I wanted her to find out with human methods. No one would believe me. I got close to the lab once, and they did this to me.

“So H.J. is Honey Jorgens? She got the records for my grandfather from the pediatrician’s office, and that’s why her son was taken and why her mother was killed.”

How did you figure it out? There are many people here with those initials.

It had struck me as strange the first time I’d been here that in a poor community, Honey wasn’t working—not even to take care of other people’s small children. It didn’t click until later that she’d lost her job and was probably having difficulty finding another one, especially if she was under suspicion by a powerful entity. Louise had wanted to talk to me about something, likely the tough time her daughter was having or to encourage me to become involved in the search for the missing kids in my grandfather’s place, and so had headed up to the Manor before work to talk to me in private. I bet she was being followed, and when They figured out where she was going, They ensured she would never reach the Manor alive. And then after she had, They took every bit of evidence she’d been there.

“I’m good at figuring stuff out.”

The wolf gazed at me with suspicious eyes.

“Fine, I’ll leave her alone. You’ve pretty much confirmed what I suspected anyway. Are you here on your own or did They send you?”

A little of both. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Them you were here. If you leave now. The intent behind the snarl was unmistakable.

I glanced up at Honey’s window one more time. Someone had to have tipped Them off that Louise and I had talked about meeting, and I knew just who that Someone was. Rather than try to fight my way through Matthew or risk him blackmailing me to keep knowledge of my snooping away from the sheriff, I decided to cut my losses and go visit a lawyer.

Dawn just tinged the sky as I walked up the circular Bowman driveway. I was afraid I’d have to rouse the household, but I saw a light shining from a bay window on the side of the house. A quick inspection showed me a library and a disheveled, unshaven, bleary-eyed Peter Bowman sitting at a desk in the middle of it. A green-shaded desk lamp cast unflattering shadows over his face as he struggled to keep his eyes open to pore over the documents in front of him.

I rapped on the window with my fingernail, and he sat up and looked wildly around. I tapped again, and he came over and scowled into the darkness. A third time brought his face to eye level with me. I had to stand on tiptoe and balance myself with a hand on the wall as his holly bush got fresh with my backside.

“Who’s out there?” he snarled.

I resisted the urge to intone, “The grim reaper.” Just the thought was almost enough to put me into a fit of giggles. Thank goodness for that holly bush. It’s hard to be funny when your rear end is getting pricked.

“It’s me, Doctor Joanie Fisher. I know where your son is.”

He scowled but pointed toward the rear of the house. “Back door’s that way. I’ll let you in.”

I found the back door just as the light came on, and he let me in through the mudroom. A small pair of galoshes and a little red wagon reminded me the house had been missing its youngest inhabitant for a couple of days. He looked at them and ran his hand through his hair in a gesture reminiscent of Leo.

“You said you had news of my son?” He kept his voice lowered, so I only nodded. “Come with me, and quietly. Marguerite has finally fallen asleep, and I can’t take any more of her shrieking and crying.”

“She’s taking it hard, is she?”

“She blames me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and I noticed his red-rimmed eyes. “Not that it matters who’s to blame. I could blame her for wanting this big house in the nice, new neighborhood.”

He led me into the library and shut the door. I made a quick inventory of the shelves and saw several legal books, leather-bound and thick, but also other things I hadn’t expected such as a Physicians’ Desk Reference and other medical manuals. I also spotted piles of familiar journals.

“Who do you work for?” I asked. “I thought it was the town’s developer.”

“I do. But that’s not my main job.” He gestured for me to sit in one of the overstuffed leather armchairs and picked up a square glass half-filled with amber liquid from the desk. It sloshed as he flopped in the chair across from me, and I wrinkled my nose at the burnt tire smell. Scotch.

“I’d offer you some,” he sneered, “but you don’t look old enough to drink.”

“There’s no reason to be rude. I’m here with news, remember?”

“What? You’re going to tell me that Lance is being held in a cave in the middle of the woods by the river? And that you can help me to free him if I only do one thing for you?” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Been there, had that conversation.”

“With whom?”

He snorted, and something came out of his nose and hung on the edge of his right nostril. “Wouldn’t you like to know? But they’re looking for you.”

“Who is?”

“See? Now you’re trying to trick me. Maybe you’re one of those wood spirits who’s only taken on the form of the sylph-like Doctor Fisher, PH fucking D who’s so smart and independent she can’t even let her best friend help her out.”

“They have Lonna, too.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?” His hand trembled as he set the glass on a side table with a checkerboard surface.

“They have Lonna. They got her yesterday just after she’d transformed back.”

“So it worked.”

“What worked?”

“The spell. And a little something in her drink. And a little nibble from someone with an attenuated version of CLS.”

“You have it too?” I flopped back in my chair.

“A partial expression. At least that’s how I explain the fact I can’t get enough of what my wife won’t give me.”

I remembered Lonna mentioning something about his dissatisfaction with his marriage. It sounded like bullshit to me, but then again, I wanted answers. I could sort out the truth later.

He took another drink of his Scotch. “They wanted me to try a spell, she presented herself. End of