Chapter 16

Zeke picked his way through the mist. Stark white, interrupted only by the birches, obscured any hope. Merely a yard into the expanse, darkness swamped the trees.

He honed in on Rosa’s sweet, soothing voice. Was it a lullaby she sang? The fog pulled back like a curtain, revealing her sitting on the ground with her back against the wishing well. A long, flowing white gown clung to her petite, feminine frame. In her arms, she held an odd creature.

Was he intruding? A wave of guilt washed over him. He stepped back. Something inside him wanted to remain hidden in the trees.

The creature snuggled against her. What was she holding? Zeke squinted, focusing to make out the creature.

A porcupine?

Why didn’t its quills prick Rosa’s hands as she stroked its head and back?

Suddenly a force clipped the back of his knee and he came down hard against a tree trunk. The smell of rancid meat turned his stomach, as a huge coyote rushed past him. Ice-cold air swept by with it.

Rosa glanced up just as it snatched the porcupine out of her tender embrace and shook it violently. Dark, red blood splattered across her alabaster face, and spotted the silk white gown.

“No!” She recoiled, pushing herself up against the stone well.

Zeke could hear her gasping for air, sobbing. He swallowed bitter bile as his stomach roiled.

The Coyote continued to shake the porcupine until it hung limp, covered in crimson goo, from the canine’s mouth. At that moment, it dropped the dead creature. A deep growl emanated from its throat and yellow drool spilled from its blood-stained teeth. It squatted at its shoulders and lunged for Rosa.

She screamed as the coyote veered off her crisscrossed arms shielding her face, and slashed her flesh through the snowy silk sleeves. It disappeared into the trees. Blood ran down her forearms as her body fell back against the wishing well.

“Rosa!” Zeke screamed and leaped from the trees. His distance was too great.

Her legs flew out from under her as the momentum carried her, bottom first, into the open shaft.

Zeke desperately grabbed for anything he could reach. She was too far gone. He helplessly watched her body slip from view. Her scream faded into the endless cavity. The sound filled his head. Its pitch grew higher and higher. It resonated from the mist and rebounded among the trees. He spun around and stared at the woods. There was a familiarity to the sound. He tilted his head.

“You’ve got a call.” Confusion drew his brows together tightly. Zeke squinted and strained, searching for the source. “Hey, hey, you, you’ve gotta call.”

He sat up in bed, desperately sucking air into his lungs. His phone continued to play its happy little tune. He hated that tune now. He struggled to pick up the offensive little thing. It fell on the carpet and he leaned out of bed to retrieve his cell phone. Finally, in his grasp, he touched “Answer.”

“Yeah.” He licked dry lips.

“Zeke?” Clifford’s voice scrapped his nerves. “Man, I’m always waking you up. I’m so sorry.”

Zeke took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “S’okay.”

Actually, it wasn’t okay. Not yet. Adrenaline still surged in his veins. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his hand down his face.

“If you want, I’ll call you back?” Clifford asked.

“No. It’s okay, really.” Zeke tried his best to push the foggy dream from his mind. Settle his drumming heart. Breathe normally.

“Listen, I won’t keep you. Go get some coffee.” Clifford chuckled. “I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I guess I was freaked out and I didn’t handle it very well.”

“That’s okay. I understand. It’s pretty weird to me, too.”

“Yeah, but I knew about it. I knew it was all part of the fo—”

“Don’t say folklore,” Zeke whined.

“Sorry. But I knew there would be...” Clifford paused. “Unusual things happening the closer you get to breaking the curse. It’s just that, it’s really freaky when you witness it happening right in front of your face.”

“Yeah. Listen, I don’t know if I’m going to stick around for all this curse-breaking craziness.”

“I hear that,” Clifford said. “I don’t blame you either. But I hope you do. Stick around, that is.”

Zeke stood, “Why?”

“Because man. Look, I love my aunt, but I’d really like to see the little guy win. For once,” Clifford said.

“Huh? What does that mean?” Zeke sat back down.

“Listen, I gotta go. I just wanted to apologize and see if you were all right,” Clifford said.

“I’m all right.”

“Good. Okay, so ... talk to you later then.”

“Later.” Zeke disconnected and stared at his phone. Clifford called from his personal cell. He saved the number and stood. What day is it? Saturday? Clifford must have been at his home. Was the law office open on Saturday?

“ ... listen to the small voice.” Whatever that means, Uncle Luther. But Clifford seemed all right. Zeke still wasn’t sure.

He scooped up his heap of clothes from last night and tossed them over by the door. He stepped into the closet and pulled jeans and a clean shirt from hangers. Dressed but barefoot, he lifted yesterday’s clothes and headed toward the kitchen.

“Coffee,” he mused.

He pitched the clothes into the utility room and kicked them into the pile he had already started. He opened the vertical door of the washer and shoved as much of his clothes in as possible. He searched the top of the machine, determined where soap could be poured in, and pushed start. He stood back and observed water flooding into the bucket. The front window made washing clothes interesting, like watching a kaleidoscope. Sort of hypnotizing. The cold floor against his bare feet broke the spell and he headed to the kitchen to brew some caffeine.

While the coffee maker groaned and hissed, he stared out the window. The garden’s muted colors were pretty when bathed in morning light, like a Thomas Kincaid painting. Rising sunlight cast stretched-out shadows, pointing long fingers toward the wishing well and the mist-filled woods.