Wolf Of The Present

Chapter 1

1

CONNECTICUT, PRESENT DAY

Meg closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Rain rushed down over her face and hair, soaking her clothes and school bag. She wondered absentmindedly if her books would be ruined, but didn’t care enough to move. The first rush of exhilaration faded and left a hard knot of nothing in her chest. No heart. No soul. No feeling or emotion. Nothing. She relinquished herself to an eternity of standing there, completely at the mercy of the torrential downpour. She laid one hand against the spot where her inner jacket pocket was, thinking of the note there. She didn’t have to read it to remember what it said.

The past never dies.

--Tammy Knight

Some yahoo left it under her front door, probably as a bad joke, several months ago – and yet it was still getting to her. She shouldn’t let it affect her so much, she chided herself. So what if someone found out that her mother had been put in a coma by some crazed boyfriend, who then tried to kill Meg? It had happened years ago. She was past it.

Meg sighed. She should have talked to Nicole about it, but didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. Besides, at the time Nicole had been busy trying to avoid getting killed by the psychotic, polluting, law breaking vice-president of Steagel and Company, as well as her crazy, shape-shifting uncle. She didn’t need to be bothered by some silly note. And Meg couldn’t talk to her now anyway, when Nicole was off enjoying her honeymoon with her hunk of a husband, David. It was for the best, she thought. Nicole deserved a break, and she and David were gloriously happy together. Meg was happy for Nicole, but she could use a friend to talk to right about now.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to David’s friend, Mark Stevenson. She’d met him the night Nicole almost died in a building fire, and again at Nicole’s wedding. He was a police office, and not bad on the eyes, either. With dark brown hair and the hint of a muscular physique, he could easily turn a few heads. The night they’d met, his hazel eyes studied her with unabashed concern, as if he really cared what happened to her.

Meg forcefully pushed him from her thoughts. He was a stranger. She didn’t need to run off and tell some stranger her problems. It wasn’t in her nature to do such a thing. Besides, Nicole was the only person she ever confided in. There was no reason for that to change now, just because she was a little lonely and vulnerable

Meg pushed her fingers through her soaked tresses, and water sloshed off her red-brown hair. Let it rain, she thought. This weather suited her mood.

The wind picked up, blowing the rain in horizontal sheets of needle-like moisture. Still, she didn’t move. Thunder elicited shrieks from nearby students, who huddled under the covered walkways. Meg didn’t even flinch. She didn’t care about the potential for lightning, even though she stood ankle deep in dirty rainwater.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the bell toll the hour and sighed. It was time for class. Opening her eyes, she headed to the psych building.

Mara pulled her cardigan tighter and closed the balcony doors. The rain was starting to dissipate after the midday monsoon a few minutes earlier. Strange, she thought to herself. Heavy rain wasn’t uncommon, but something about today’s weather seemed unnatural. Her thoughts turned instantly to the dark being she’d sensed influencing Artemis, Nicole’s uncle. He was powerful enough to evade her psychic probes, strong enough to be instigator of a complex set of events which stretched back at least two decades. She didn’t have any proof, but she was certain this being had been the reason Artemis killed Nicole’s parents when the girl was but three years old. Artemis had never been close with Richard, he’d always been jealous of his brother, but Mara never imagined things would turn so violent between them.

But that was neither here nor there currently. Artemis was a pawn. As powerful as he was in his own right – as was everyone in his family – Artemis was being manipulated by someone stronger than he was. Whoever the mysterious someone was, they’d killed couriers for the Council, in order to aid in Artemis’ escape.

Mara had only shared this bit of news with Mark. Nicole had suffered enough problems of late, and Mara hadn’t wanted to throw a shadow over Nicole and David’s wedding, but she would need to tell them, and soon. They needed to be prepared for the possibility of another attack.

Mara took a seat on the floor in the middle of the room and prepared to meditate. Across the room, candles lit in response to her burst of will. The rain had reduced to a drizzle, which left trails of water splintering in a hundred different directions on the patio doors and windows. She watched the movement dispassionately, letting it calm her thoughts and breathing. Taking a deep breath, Mara stretched out her senses, grasping for clues, information. She followed the thread of intense weather back to its source and sighed, relieved to discover it wasn’t malevolent. The source of the storm didn’t even know what she was doing. The currents of the weather had simply intensified and receded in response to the girl’s unstable emotional state.

Sensing something familiar in the girl, Mara stretched her senses further, seeking an identity. It was Meghan, Nicole’s friend. Many years ago, Mara would have been surprised by this discovery, but a long existence meant few things surprised her anymore. In all honesty, it made things fairly boring most of the time.

She was about to pull away when she recognized something else familiar in the girl. Mara tried to dismiss it and withdraw, not wishing to intrude farther, but some instinct wouldn’t let her back off. It was her own fault for indulging in this curiosity, Mara chastised herself. She hated to contact others, even without their knowledge, because there was something so deeply personal about it. Centuries ago, Mara had done so without any control, automatically sensing if there was another of her kind, anywhere within a thousand miles. The ability had progressed to the point where she could sense almost every one of her kind across the entire planet, without trying. It had been a disconcerting time. Thoughts and emotions inundated Mara constantly, on an almost daily basis. Many of the relatively inexperienced had felt her gentle touch and reached back instinctively. The older ones had already developed mental barriers to automatically repel any unwelcome contact. But the young ones, they’d almost destroyed her.

Consequently, she’d withdrawn again, believing it was the only course of action she could take. Any other path would lead to madness. Now, she only probed or interfered when she needed to, because she had no desire to return to the way things had been. Her mind couldn’t take the strain.

Fighting against herself and good sense, Mara delved into Meghan’s mind and found what had drawn her. Her eyes flew open. “She’s his daughter,” she announced softly to the empty room.

“What ya doin?” A melodic voice broke through the haze of Mark’s concentration. Across the room, the sounds of people talking, and phones ringing returned to his attention in full force.

Mark looked up to watch Susan sit down nonchalantly in the chair by his desk. Susan Anderson, the rising young star at the law offices in town, had helped Nicole tremendously during the entire Steagel fiasco. When the Smithsdale Environmental Society –SES for short – developed their pollution case against Steagel and Co., it was Susan who’d handled all the legal aspects of their investigation. To be fair, she was probably motivated almost as much by the SES’s work being a noble cause, as she was by her romantic relationship with John Markham, the current head of the organization. Regardless, she’d been a great help to the college kids who were part of the group, including Nicole. Nicole’s adoptive parents had founded the group, and Nicole’s investigation of Steagel had almost led to her death on several occasions.

But that was only one side of the Susan he knew. Being friends with several cops, she tended to show up at the bars and clubs the off-duty officers frequented. He saw her on many occasions, and she always tried to draw him away from his solitary corners, urging him to join the rest of the group. She was only ever moderately successful in the endeavor. Susan had meant well, but he eventually stopped socializing entirely. Despite this setback, Susan had remained a friendly, easygoing individual and for some reason, she counted him as a friend. Over the years, he’d started to feel the same way about her

Mark leaned back into the chair and gave her a pointed look. “Is that any way for a lawyer to talk?” he teased.

She grinned. “Nope, but do I look like I care?” Her long, brown hair was pulled back into an elegant clip, simple and efficient, and she wore a crisp, freshly-ironed suit. She looked the part of a high-powered attorney, ready to take on all the woes of the world. Her physical demeanor was the exact opposite, however, and completely casual. The juxtaposition of formal and relaxed should have appeared strange, but somehow, she pulled it off with finesse. Susan never pretended to be anything other than what she was. This was Susan Anderson, take it or leave it, and he respected her for it. “You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.

Mark shuffled through some paperwork and feigned a distracted tone. “Working. Paperwork. You know how it is.”

“Good,” she announced cheerfully.

He raised one, suspicious eyebrow. “Good?”

“Yeah, you should work hard now, get everything done, so you’ll be free to go out and have some fun tonight.”

Mark groaned, but before he could voice an argument, Susan launched a counterattack. “It’s a celebration, so you can’t back out. I just got promoted, and I want everyone to join me for a drink or two to toast my continued professional escalation.”

Mark gave a wry grin. “Maybe.”

Susan leaned in with one hand cupped to her ear. “What was that? Was that a ‘maybe’ from our illustrious town recluse?” She giggled and dropped her hand into her lap. “At least it’s not a flat-out rejection. Speaking of…” She rolled her eyes, her tone sobering slightly. “I just got a new case to go with my promotion. It’s the Smithsdale Strangler case?” She waited for Mark’s nod of recognition. “The thing is, some of the information in the file doesn’t seem to add up. I’m finding inconsistencies everywhere. I called the officer on file, and I keep getting stonewalled. He and his partner won’t return my calls, and when I do get through to them, they give me half answers and some macho, ‘Hey, don’t challenge us, little girl’ blow off.” She blew out a disgusted sigh, worrying at her inner cheek and staring thoughtfully at a spot on one of the floor tiles.

Mark considered Susan’s complaint. It wasn’t like those guys to behave like that, they usually tried to be as helpful as possible. It was one of the benefits of living in a pseudo-small town. It wasn’t small in the way that everyone knew everybody else, but they certainly acted like they did a lot of the time. Something about this situation didn’t feel right, these officers knew Susan and wouldn’t usually blow her off. Susan’s distracted foot-tapping and uncharacteristic fidgeting suggested she felt the same way. “Do you want me to look into it?”

Susan shook her head. “No, that’s alright. It’s sink or swim time. I need to do this one on my own. I guess I just needed to vent a little, and I can’t talk about it anywhere else. I’m not close with any of my co-workers, and I try not to talk about open cases with John.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t like the sound of this situation, but it was Susan’s call. He wouldn’t step on her toes and ruin her credibility by getting involved. Besides, he’d learned a long time ago that people needed to solve their own problems most of the time. He couldn’t stick his nose into everyone else’s business.

Susan pushed herself up from the chair to go. “Yes, for the time being, at least. If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” She bestowed a charming smile on him and leaned in slightly. “Don’t forget about tonight.”

Mark smiled as she walked away. She was persistent, he had to give her that.

“Here. You take this stack, and I’ll grab the other one.” John handed a pile of papers to Meghan and grabbed another dusty pile from the back of his car. Together, they walked into the small corner rental space off Green Street, the new home of the Smithsdale Environmental Society. Pushing her way through the front door, Meg walked across to an empty table and set down the stack of papers, a random collection of member lists, receipts, investigation paperwork and research studies regarding various environmental topics. In a fortuitous break for SES members, John often took work home with him. A few months earlier, an explosion had destroyed their old meeting hall. Because of John’s diligence, the majority of their supplies and paperwork remained intact. Otherwise, they’d have been starting over from scratch right now, instead of merely relocating to a new building.

John set his stack down next to Meg’s and walked past her into the back room. “I’m just going to let Katie know we’re here,” he told Meg.

Sighing, Meg dusted off her hands and perched on the edge of the desk. Katie was putting in a lot of hours to get the SES up and running again. Meg wouldn’t have suspected such devotion from her when they first met – Katie was the perfect image of a sorority cheerleader, right down to the blonde hair and floral ensembles she usually sported. She didn’t exactly evoke the image of a nose to the grindstone, workaholic type. But over the past couple of months, Katie had surprised everyone with her dedication, tenacity and intelligence. Taking charge of the office setup, she’d volunteered to scan all the paperwork into computer files, for easier storage and retrieval. She’d also been instrumental in finding the new premises and negotiating a fair rental price with the landlord. No one could figure out how she’d convinced the landlord to offer free electricity in addition to the low rent, but good looks go a long way, especially when the landlord is a middle-aged, overweight, balding man who was receiving attention from a pretty young woman. A properly timed smile and laugh worked wonders. At least, that was Meg’s theory regarding Katie’s success.

Meg shuddered, and a long shiver trickled down her spine. She glanced out through the front window, searching for the source of her unease, but she couldn’t see anything strange. A car drove by, but she didn’t think that would be what had set her senses on edge. On the grass across the street, a couple walked their dog, but they weren’t looking in her direction, and she didn’t sense anything suspicious about them.

It was probably her mind running away with her, she reasoned. She was on edge so often recently, she was imagining things. That was all it was. She needed to calm down, before she drove herself crazy. Meg took a deep breath and resolved to not let everything get to her so much. Just as she made the decision, a sudden noise behind her made her jump. Instantly feeling foolish for her overreaction, she turned to see John emerge from the doorway to the back room, jingling a set of keys. “Katie left some stuff in her car that needs to be brought in. Want to help?”

Meg blew out a relieved breath. “Sure”. John hadn’t noticed her irrational response to his sudden appearance, so she could pretend it hadn’t happened.

She jumped off the desk and followed John outside, staring blankly at the window’s reflective surface while she waited for John to find the correct key to open the door. Stray movement in the glass caught the corner of her eye, and she fixated on the movement. Blinking slowly to bring her eyes into focus, she stared closely at the mirror image of someone walking in the distance. About a block away she could see a woman with long dark hair, her back to Meg, and she was walking toward the park. Peering over her shoulder to observe the woman, Meg’s breath caught in her throat. As if aware of Meg’s gaze, the woman turned her head back and seemed to stare directly at Meg for a long moment, before looking away again. Meg grew lightheaded suddenly, and reached out blindly for support, coming in contact with John’s back.

“Huh? Meg, are you okay?” John turned and put a steadying hand on Meg’s shoulders examined her closely, concern visible in his gaze.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, looking back to where the woman had been standing. She was nowhere to be seen. Meg wondered, not for the first time, if she was really starting to lose it. Now she was seeing things that weren’t there.

John looked her over in concern. She certainly didn’t look okay. Her normally tan skin was several shades lighter than usual, and she was looking kind of spooked, with her eyes darting back and forth between him and an empty stretch of sidewalk in the distance. “Are you sure? You look kind of pale.”

“I’m fine, really.” If only that was true. She knew she hadn’t imagined anything, she wasn’t that far gone yet. The woman looked just like her mother, but that was impossible – her mother was in a coma, had been for quite some time. Unless… no, it couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. There was no way she could be awake, not after this much time passed. Was it just a coincidence, someone who happened to resemble her mother? What else could it be?

Her hand unconsciously moved to her pocket and she froze. The note. Could this all be someone’s idea of some sick joke? “Actually, if it’s okay with you, I think I should probably go home. I didn’t sleep well last night, and it’s starting to catch up with me.” She offered John a weak smile and hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Sure. I’ve got this covered, you go get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

The way John eyed her, she knew he was wondering if she was telling the truth but the rest would probably do her good either way.

“Okay.” Meg waved over her shoulder and began the walk back to her apartment. Pulling her jacket closed, she partially jogged the trip, glancing over her shoulder periodically. When her building came into view, she quickened her pace, noticing the first drops of new rainfall starting. It was almost as though the rain was following her, chasing her around town.

Refusing to be controlled by fear, she made herself stop at the mailboxes. Gathering up the stack of junk mail and bills, she forced herself to walk slowly to her apartment.

Once inside, she leaned against the door and started going through the mail, trying to distract herself. She tossed aside a couple of credit card applications, pizza coupons and furniture store ads and tore into a letter from the university. Her eyes stopped on two words, ‘Fee Rise’.

Meg didn’t bother to read the rest, there wasn’t any point. This was it, she would have to drop out. Her credit cards were already maxed out, paying off the tuition. She had no savings to draw from and financial aid was dry. There just wasn’t any more money. Maybe in a year or two, if she could save up again… she shook her head. Who was she kidding? This was it. How many second chances could one person expect, anyway? This was her last chance, and she used it up.

Meg moved on to the next envelope almost mechanically and ripped it open. Unfolding the page inside, she glanced over the contents and stopped cold, her eyes freezing on the name, ‘Edmond Marlay’.

The page slipped from her hands, along with the rest of her mail, falling in every direction. Kneeling down to retrieve the letter, she jumped when a clap of thunder boomed nearby, shaking the walls of the building and the lights going out a second later. Meg cursed. The natural light in her room was terrible. The windows overlooked the covered stairs and sidewalks, and the storm made even that little bit of light nearly nonexistent.

Barely remembering to lock the door behind her, she rushed from the apartment and ran back out into the rain-drenched streets where the lights remained on. Struggling to hold the page straight in the pounding rain and wind, she read every single word of the letter with deliberate care, reading one line over and over until the words stuck in her head.

‘As of fifteen hundred Thursday afternoon, Edmond Marlay has been released from the Black Park Correctional Facility.’

It went on to mention something about good behavior and rehabilitation, but Meg didn’t pay any attention to much beyond that single, devastating sentence.

How could they release him? How could they ever think it was reasonable to release a monster like him? After everything he did?

The logical part of her mind reminded Meg that Marlay couldn’t be expected to stay in prison forever. After all, he’d never actually killed anyone – though he might as well have done. Subjecting a person to a lifetime in a coma did not a killer make.

Meg ignored that logic. He’d ruined their lives and now Marlay was free. He could go about his business and do whatever the hell he pleased, while they had to live with the consequences of his actions. Where was the justice in that?

Movement caught her eye, drawing her attention from the letter. Not seeing anything, she carefully folded the rain-drenched letter and placed it in her pocket. She would have to deal with that later. Right now, she needed to go to campus and take care of her other problem. Glancing over at her car, a panicked laugh threatened to come up and Meg forced it back down. No sense looking over there, the gas tank on her car was empty, and there was no money to fill it. Meghan stared up at the grey white sky and let the water wash over her. “No sense putting off the inevitable.” Taking one last, deep breath, she started the long walk to campus.