The Last Werewolf (The Weres of Europe) (7 page)

The scenery hadn’t changed much for the past three hours from the wide open rapeseed and wheat fields with the occasional hamlet or farmhouse dotting the landscape. Birches had fewer leaves, but the evergreens were as deep green as ever. Summer had tried to let air in by opening the car windows, but cold air had assailed her immediately. The temperature couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve degrees Celsius, and she could see remnants of the past winter by the tiny blotches of snow in the shady parts of the ground by the woods. She smiled. The temperature wasn’t much different from back in
England
, but the difference was it was less damp here.

And there were a lot of woods. Both sides of the road were covered in mixed forests, pines, and birches alternating side by side. Summer had never seen this much wilderness in what felt like a continuous stretch. It was beautiful, and she felt a kind of longing for the now long-gone past when
England
, too, had had lots of forests.

“It sure is pretty out here,” she said to herself, admiring the view on both sides of the small winding road she was now on, having left the highway behind long ago. “Mum, you must’ve loved it here. Even though I was so young, I do remember you always loved the woods and anything green. Maybe I should’ve known you weren’t from
England
when you spoke of grand forests so lovingly. Silly of me not to realize, now that I think about it.” Shaking her head reproachfully, she discarded these thoughts in favor of driving.

She had passed the exit to Ruovesi about fifteen minutes ago, so she knew she was getting close to her destination. Fortunately, she had bought a route map from
Helsinki
to Pajuskylä from the car rental place. She had turned to Route 3481 five minutes ago, but she had yet to see the sign for Pajuskylä.

Jittery, she squirmed in the driver’s seat, continuously licking her dry lips and keeping her eyes wide open so as not to miss anything significant. Yet, when the view opened up to a long modern bridge,
Syvinki
Bridge
, she knew from her study of the road map that she had missed the intersection to the village. Cussing up a blue streak, Summer spotted a little side road immediately after crossing the bridge, so she swerved hard and fast, leaving a trail of dust behind her on the dirt road, causing the tires to squeal as she hit the pavement and then the tarmac, going back the way she came.

Letting out a deep breath, hoping no highway patrols had noticed her U-turn, Summer went over the bridge again, the metal rails shining in the mid-morning sunlight. Still, there was little danger anyone had noticed her reckless driving since the small streets were all but empty, maybe one or two cars having passed her during the last quarter of an hour.

Finally, inching forward, she spotted the blue sign reading Pajuskylä on the right side of the road. It was shadowed by willow and birch branches, so it wasn’t a surprise she had missed it. Turning onto the right road and driving slower than before, she searched for a grouping of buildings to indicate the presence of the village. What she saw was mixed farmland and woodland, and here and there a farmhouse, but nothing big enough to constitute a village.

“Is the damn thing invisible?” she muttered in frustration. She now regretted not asking Rik to accompany her, since the Finnish countryside really was far more sparsely populated than she had anticipated. And having the man with his witty tongue along for the ride would just have been a pleasant bonus.

Suddenly, after rounding a small bend, a tiny cluster of buildings opened on the right, and she quickly pulled up to a small bus stop, as indicated by a yellow plaque with a simplified black picture of a bus. After the dry dust had settled, Summer saw what looked like a village grocery store plus a few other buildings without signs. Yet, none of them looked like the fire-engine red Worker’s House of Syvinkisalmi, a kind of unofficial village meeting hall apparently, that she had Googled a picture of on the internet before departing
England
. At least there she might have gotten instructions to her grandmother, if she was still alive at all.

The letter had been sent so long ago, she could be dead of old age by now. Perhaps she should have tried an internet search of her before embarking on this trip, but she didn’t want to contemplate that possibility.

Well, it was far too late to worry about that now. Besides, even if her grandmother was no longer alive, the people here must have known her, and could tell Summer about her. That alone was worth the travel here.

Next to a small kiosk were two long wooden tables, and three men sat there with beers in their hands, talking and laughing.

Summer wasn’t sure if these people knew of Annukka Salonen, the woman who was apparently her grandmother, but they were better than nothing, whether they spoke English or not. She hoped for the former as she turned off the ignition, exited the vehicle, and swiftly made her way toward the men even though she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure if this was the so-called hamlet or just a farm.

All three men, rough salt-of-the-earth types, turned to watch her approach, their eyes raking her curvaceous, but firm figure. Used to getting noticed by men of all sorts, both in the good and the bad way, she remained focused on retrieving information and not getting all bent out of shape over unwanted attention.

“Excuse me,” she started politely, keeping her tone soft. “Do you speak English?”

One of the burly men with an unshaven jaw, brown thicket of hair, and blue plaid shirt nodded and said, “Yes.” His accent was heavy, and Summer feared she might not understand him if even one word was so hard to grasp.

Nonetheless, she courageously forged onward, speaking clearly. “Do you know of Annukka Salonen? I think she lives in this village.”

Two of the men looked at the one who had answered her query and who still kept his eyes locked on Summer. She had a sneaky suspicion that he did know Annukka, or of her, judging by the way his eyes narrowed when she spoke. He raised his face as if to smell her. Summer was certain he was contemplating whether or not to give someone’s exact whereabouts to a complete stranger, an obviously foreign one if her scent was anything to go by, and she suddenly felt excited that her grandmother might actually be alive.

“I have never met her, but I believe we are related.” Yes, it was more information than she had planned on offering, but they seemed to doubt her intentions, so she chose to tell the truth. And she was an honest person after all, with plenty of faith in the good in people.

Planting the sloshing beer bottle down on the wooden table, the man got up. “Annukka lives near. I take you to her. You have car?”

Relieved and wary of getting in a car with a strange man at the same time, Summer offered him her sweetest smile, hoping to get into his good graces, and nodded. “Yes, right over there.” She pointed behind her to the side of the road where she had haphazardly parked.

The man acknowledged this with a curt lift of his chin and walked past her toward the car. She followed, got into the driver’s side, and let him in the passenger side. The man was so withdrawn and brusque she could only think how much he differed from Rik who was open, funny and approachable. And she didn’t think this was a language barrier kind of bluntness either.

“Where to?” she asked, keeping her voice civil, and plastering her most endearing grin on her face.

Saying nothing, he merely pointed in the direction he meant for her to go, so without speaking either she started the ignition, pulled back onto the empty road, and drove off. They made no idle chitchat, and she was happy of that fact. The man made her uneasy. She was beginning to regret asking his help.

“What is your name?” he finally asked turning to face her.

She kept her gaze on the road. “Summer.”

“Pretty.” She wasn’t sure if he meant her name or her looks, but decided to play along, smiling kindly and thanking him. He responded, “I am Tero.”

“Nice to meet you.”

After that he said nothing, and silence fell again, although she could feel his creepy eyes staring at her. After passing by a large wheat field, mere minutes of driving, Tero pointed to their left at an unnamed, unpaved side-road surrounded by towering trees so tall the sunlight was dimmed. Steering the car to the pothole-riddled dirt path lined with spruces and birches, Summer began to worry she really might have been too trusting of the kindness of strangers.

“Annukka house is at end of road,” Tero said gruffly, watching the poor path intently, possibly looking for anything that might get the car stuck. “Slow. Careful.”

Summer didn’t need instructions for that, knowing that the car’s undercarriage rode far too low and one good bump might break the oil pan. Trees encroached on the road, leaning precariously over it, creating a greenish-gray canopy. The tire ruts were clear, but grass and flowers grew in the middle, and the soft thump against the undercarriage was a constant, noisy companion to their ride. She wondered why her grandmother would live down such an overgrown road, if she did at all.

It didn’t take long for the car to reach the end of the road, and there was no house.

Her blood ran cold, and her heart thundered in her chest. “There’s nothing here,” she said stupidly, not knowing what else to say. She felt the wolf within her start to awaken and stir, gearing up for an imminent fight.

She didn’t even have the chance to turn her head toward her passenger when there was a rush of movement and something hit her over the head very hard, causing her to grunt in agony. White stars danced in her field of vision, clouding over the red waves of pain, and then darkness fell over her.

****

Unfamiliar men talking roused her from her dreamless, aching sleep. Her head was the victim of a hammering pain she had never felt before, and she prayed she never would again. The men, whose voices she didn’t recognize, spoke in Finnish, and she couldn’t naturally understand them. Keeping her eyes closed, she focused on her other senses to give her an impression of where she was and what was going on.

The first thing she noticed upon opening her eyes was that she could see nothing but blackness. She was blindfolded with a black cloth that gave her no room to maneuver or to see even faintly through.

Something else she became painfully aware of was the ropes clasping her wrists tightly together behind her back, unyielding, as she lay on the cold floor. The bonds held strong, and it was futile to try and fight them in her weakened condition. The beast within would soon heal her and grant her more force, but until then it was better to gather up her energy and try to ascertain her surroundings.

“She’s awake,” a man spoke in English, almost snarling.

“Get her chair,” another man said, with an unmistakable voice of authority.

Summer was grabbed hard by her arms and yanked up on her wobbly feet. Struggling for equilibrium, she was tossed on her butt onto a rickety wooden chair that creaked beneath her. Sniffing, she smelled cold air, stale beers, and mildew, so she guessed she was being held in a confined space, perhaps underground. She heard a stony echo to their voices, so she was definitely indoors.

A sharp slap to her face startled her and brought her out of her reverie.

“We know what you are,” a man’s voice snarled at her. “No funny games.” Instantly she recognized the speaker as Tero, her less-than-a-knight in less-than-shining plaid armor.

“Why are you searching for Annukka?” This was the owner of the commandeering voice, and Summer realized he was the boss. “You said you are related to her. Is that true?”

Clasping her mouth shut by biting her teeth together hard, she refused to answer.

“You make this worse for you,” the leader continued, his tone menacing. “What do you want with Annukka?” Her hair was grabbed, and her head pulled back harshly, causing it to pound even more. “Speak.”

“You have no right to hold me prisoner,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t quiver. “I demand that you let me go this instant.”

The man laughed mockingly. “No one will find you here. No one will hear you. You will tell us, or you die.”

Swallowing past the fearful lump in her throat, she spoke hoarsely, “Why? I haven’t done anything to you.” She knew it was futile to say these things, so she changed tactics. “Do you know Annukka?”

The man grunted. “She is good woman. She lives in village.”

Summer could have cried with happiness. They used the present tense. Annukka was alive and well. Now, if only Summer could do the same. “I only wanted to meet her.”

“Why?” the leader asked.

“I…I think she is…my grandmother.”

There was a silence, thick with tension, and Summer shivered with trepidation.

The leader sneered with disdain. “That explains it.” Suddenly she felt a hot gust of air fan across her face as the man leaned closer and breathed a beer-scented breath over her. “No real wolf. Just half-blood little bitch.”

It was fortunate her eyes were covered by the blindfold because her green eyes would have opened up wide to reveal her utter shock.
They know about werewolves. But how?

Laughing with derision, the men made barking noises aimed at her.

“She must be Emma daughter,” Tero said, and Summer’s heart jumped upon hearing the familiar name.
They know about my mother
. She longed to ask questions. They dangled on the tip of the tongue, almost falling out through her lips. But she was positive the men wouldn’t open up to her. Their contempt of her came through loud and clear.