Chapter 2: Whispers of a Werewolf
Colette removed her heavy traveling cloak and set it on a peg near the door; then, as she crossed the room to the chair, she began to loosen her thick russet hair from its plaits. She had left London in a rush the evening before, having received her newest assignment shortly before she would have returned home for the night. Samson Berkley had called her into his office after most of her coworkers had left and had explained the assignment to her: she was to travel to Lachlan, Scotland, and uncover the truth behind the werewolf rumors that were beginning to spread.
The story was big, a potential landmine, and it could not only jumpstart her career as a serious journalist but also add prestige to the fledging magazine Eccentricity. Colette had hurried home to contact her mother with the news that she had to cancel their vacation to France to visit Grandpapa and Grandmama Lowell; she hastily packed and then caught a ride on the Knight Bus. She had spent the trip reading a few of books she had brought on werewolves.
Colette laid down on the bed and reread the notes she had taken during breakfast. It was short and did not really provide any insight into the rumors. She dug out one of the books she brought along and opened it to the chapter on werewolves. She scanned the section to refresh her memory on the subject, but as she read about the differences between a werewolf and a normal wolf, her eyelids began to feel heavy and slowly began to droop.
A few minutes later Colette decided to take a quick nap and was about to set the notebook and book on the nightstand when a knock resounded off her door. Wondering who would be at the door, Colette forced herself to stand, cross the room, and open it. She was surprised to find herself looking up into the dark, piercing eyes of Ethan the drifter. He was taller than she had realized, and his shaggy hair was just a shade lighter than black. He held a few thick logs and smaller tinder in his arms.
"Excuse me for bothering you," he apologized with calm courtesy. His voice was deep, clear, and pleasant to the ear, such a contrast to his cold, unapproachable appearance. "Shelley asked me to bring up some firewood and start a fire for you. Today is going to be a cold, wet day."
"Thank you. Please come in," Colette said with a smile.
She stepped back to give him room to enter. As he crossed the threshold, the sleeve of his worn, gray robe brushed her arm, and Colette involuntarily shuddered. She decided to leave the door open, and then followed Ethan inside. She noticed from watching his back as he walked to the empty fireplace that he was broader in the shoulders than she would have thought. He knelt and began to place the logs and tinder appropriately. She knew she could not have asked for a more perfect situation for discovering more about the mysterious man than then, but his standoffish presence caused her mind to pull a blank.
"Do you... need any help?" she asked hesitantly.
"No," came the short reply as he took a sleek wand from inside his robes and pointed to the fireplace. Sparks shot out of the tip and ignited the tinder, and within a few seconds, there was a nice fire blazing in the fireplace. Ethan stood, pocketed his wand, and turned around. He crossed the wooden floor without making a sound and wordlessly passed Colette.
"Wait," exclaimed Colette. He lingered in the doorway and looked at her with his unblinking eyes. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Finally she said, "I don't know your name."
"Ethan," he said after a short pause. "Ethan Wolfe."
"Thank you, Ethan," said Colette graciously. He studied her for a moment, and she was tempted to hold her breath under such a fierce, steady gaze.
"You're welcome, Miss Moon."
He pulled the door shut as he left the room, and Colette returned to the bed to record her observations of the man into her notebook. There was something different about him, and it bothered her a great deal. She needed to clear her mind and focus on her investigation; so she began to formulate a schedule in her mind. After her nap and before lunch, she decided she should pay Millicent Madsby a visit and ask a few questions about what she saw. She set her notebook and quill on the nightstand and was lulled to sleep a few minutes later by the soft crackling of the glowing fire.
Two hours and a fresh gown later, Colette locked the suite and went downstairs. The main room was silent and empty, but she honestly was not concerned. She pushed open the heavy door, pulling her cloak close about her at the drastic difference in the cold outside temperature. She went down the broken steps, evading the large holes, and stood for a moment on the dirt of the street, wondering which direction she should head.
At that moment, Ethan Wolfe came around the corner of the gray building, his robes replaced by worn muggle jeans and t-shirt. He was carrying an old metal ladder over his shoulder and a hammer in the other hand. His dark eyes spied Colette quickly, but he made no acknowledgement until he leaned the ladder against the wall of the inn.
"Heading out somewhere, Miss Moon?"
"Yes," answered Colette. "Shelley recommended that I speak with Millicent Madsby, but I have no idea where to find her."
He turned to face her, arms crossed over his chest and facial expression incomprehensible to Colette. "Ms. Milly is a nice but lonely old lady who lives alone in a small cottage in the next glen. She is an expert herbologist as well as potion maker, and it is from her gardens that the local folk get all their apothecaric needs."
"So you are not from Lachlan, Mr. Wolfe?" inquired Colette even though she already knew his answer. He gave a half smile and shook his head, causing his mane-like hair to fall into his face.
"No, I am merely passing through, doing a few odd jobs to earn enough money so I can move on," he replied quietly. "Just keep walking north, Miss Moon. The path dead-ends right into Ms. Milly's place."
Colette smiled. "Thank you very much. Have a nice day!"
The small village of Lachlan was as forlorn and deserted by day as it had been by night, and during her stroll down the street in the direction Ethan had told her, in search of Millicent Madsby's home, she did not see one person—wizard or muggle. She began to understand the deep longing for companionship that Shelley had displayed earlier, for the village seemed literally dead. She passed the Lachlan General Store and saw, to her surprise, that the sign on the dirty glass read Open in a scrawling hand. Perhaps on her return to the Inn, she would pay Mr. Cornwallis a visit and ask him a few questions.
As she continued walking, she found that the buildings began to grow smaller and more rundown than those before, and a few minutes later, the street narrowed into a dirt path. The moist dirt made soft crunching sounds beneath her boots, and she cast a weary eye up at the gray, overcast sky. She did not wish to be caught out in the middle of nowhere in a downpour. The temperature had dropped, and she snuggled deeper into her traveling cloak. Suddenly, her eyes noticed a small stone cottage nestled beneath a grove of trees with an old wooden fence forming the perimeter of a wild garden, and she approached.
"Hello?" she called as she reached the rusted gate. "Anyone home? Hello?"
"I hear yar hollerin', so ye can quiet down," came a gruff voice from just inside the cottage.
An old, stooped woman appeared at the doorway dressed in brown robes and with two long white braids draped over her shoulders. Her wrinkled, weathered face scrunched as she examined Colette, and then she gave an inviting wave. Colette pushed open the gate and strolled down the path to the cottage.
"Are you Millicent Madsby?"
"Aye, and who ye be, lassie?" the old witch inquired in a thick Scottish voice.
"I am Colette Moon, and if you do not mind, I would like to ask you a few questions," replied Colette with a polite smile. The woman's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Colette, and then, suddenly, she turned and disappeared into the cottage. Startled, Colette quietly followed her.
The inside of the cottage was small with barely enough room for the massive fireplace, table, and cot. Dried herbs hung from the rafters, and the stone walls were covered with magical paraphernalia. A large cauldron was boiling over a roaring fire, giving off a sickly odor.
"Ye can sit if ye liken," the witch said as she went to stir the contents of the cauldron. "Ye can ask me all yar questions, lassie, but there'll be no promises that I'll be answerin' them."
"I heard that a week ago you claim to have seen a werewolf in or around Lachlan," Colette began right off, for the woman did not seem one for small talk. She pulled out her small notebook and quill, ready to take notes.
"Aye, so I did."
"Could you tell me everything you remember?"
"Ye aren't one of those…Ministry aurors…are ye?" Madsby demanded suspiciously.
"Oh, no. I do not work for the Ministry," Colette answered with a smile. "I am a freelance journalist."
"Then, I guess, I will be tellin' ye about it." There was a long pause as Madsby gathered her thoughts, and then she began, "It would be Tuesday eve when I saw it first. I be gathering ladyslippers and moonglow from the forest, and as ye may know, those herbs can only be harvested at night. I be startled by a strange noise, and as I watched, a werewolf ran passed me into the woods. I've seen wolves in these parts before, and I knew the difference 'tween them."
"Tuesday was not a night of the full moon," Colette stated as she scribbled the woman's story.
"Aye, it wasn't," came the short retort. Colette glanced up at the old witch and found Madsby staring at her. "I've lived a long time, lassie, and I've seen many things thru' the years. I lived thru' the werewolf attack of 1902, and I know all about them."
"You are positive that it was Tuesday when you witnessed the werewolf?"
"Aye, I am. Werewolves transform at the full moon, I know, but I stand by what I saw," said the woman.
"I have another question, then," continued Colette. "I heard that you are the resident expert on herbs and potions. If a werewolf was in this area, is it possible to find the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion?"
"One would have to be an expert potions master to create a potent batch of that potion," responded Madsby slowly. "But, aye, most of the ingredients grow in these parts and those that don't are common enough to be bought at the general store."
Colette stayed only a few minutes longer before politely excusing herself. She told Madsby that she would be in town for a few more days and asked if the old witch minded if she visited again. Madsby did not hesitate to agree, and then she went on her way. The sky was considerably darker than when she had first traveled down to Madsby's cottage, but she arrived in Lachlan before the raindrops began to fall. Just as the drizzle turned into a shower, she slipped inside the Lachlan General Store, and a jingling bell announced her presence.