Chapter 5: A Puppet on Strings

When Colette was safe in the honeymooning suite, with the door shut and locked behind her, she threw herself on the queen size bed in frustration. Her mind was racing from irritation and anger; she knew that she did not have any comprehensible information, but with Grimshaw on the case, she had to find something and fast. Not for the first time in her journalism career she wondered why she had pursued journalism; after all, with her Outstandings N.E.W.T.s she had her pick of promising careers—auror, healer, professor, and many others.

She corrected herself; she did know why she chose journalism. Yet over the passed six years, she had been tempted more than once to give it up and pursue a different career path. Only one thing prevented her: she would have to give in to her father's pressuring to take on a job at the Ministry, to follow in his footsteps, to conform to the wizard standard, and to settle for a monotonous life.

With a deep sigh, she stood and slowly removed the heavy cloak. She pulled her notebook from the inside pocket before tossing it over the chair. She sat back down on the bed, folding her legs up beneath her, and using her wand to summon the books she wanted. Then she spread the materials out on the bed in front of her, and carefully began to peruse the notes she had taken, reorganizing them so that it made chronological sense.

"There has to be something," she muttered to herself. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, think. Sightings occurred in the passed two weeks; four individuals checked in during that time, but only one checked out. Three witnesses: a mad witch who claims to have seen the werewolf, a sensible old man who has a disappearing grandson and a grudge against Shelley, and a third mysterious man who left town. Three people have told me there is no story here, and two have warned me against danger. All in a town that is slowing dying. Ack, none of it makes any sense!"

With a groan of frustration, she left the bed and began to pace the honeymooning suite. After a few minutes, she froze.

"Maybe I am looking at everything wrong," she told herself.

She had been viewing the possible story based off a rumor of a werewolf, but what if the story ran deeper than just a werewolf? What if there was more to Lachlan than what met the eye? She rushed back to the bed and glanced over her notes one more time. Peterson had said that the strange things began happening ten years ago. That is what she needed to start with, not the werewolf but the disappearances.

What would make a thriving Scottish town suddenly fade from existence? Why would the inhabitants leave their homes and move elsewhere? Perhaps it was fear. But fear of what? Werewolves, certainly not. From both Madsby and Peterson she had learned that the village of Lachlan had survived a massive invasion by werewolves before. It would take much more than one single werewolf to frighten an entire town enough for people to move. What was worse than a werewolf?

She drummed her fingers on her notebook as she skimmed through an old Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Suddenly, she paused and began to read a specific chapter, and the blood in her veins ran cold. Her fingers gripped her wand tightly, wondering why in the world she had come to Lachlan in the first place.

Quickly, she moved to the door and conjured up the most thorough warding charm she could think of, one that would prevent anyone other than herself from entering into the honeymooning suite. Then inside the charm, she slowly built a second spell, one that would protect her from any harm. The charm extended to any other entryways into the room, such as the windows and the fireplace. After the charm was completed, she exited her room in search of Ethan.

He was not in the main room, but quite a few others were. The two patrons were sipping on steaming mugs and Shelley was chatting with Grimshaw. All eyes fell on Colette when she entered the room, and Shelley gave a warm smile.

"I was wondering where ye were, dear," the innkeeper's wife said cordially. "You went off without any lunch, and I began to worry so."

"Thank you for your concern," replied Colette politely. "Do you know where Ethan may be?"

"Ethan?" repeated Shelley, with only mild surprise in her voice. "I believe he is with Hugh, why?"

"Nothing important," she said as off-handedly as possible. "I just needed to ask him something."

Shelley gave a tight smile. "If I may say so, dear, I don't think it is right for ye to be pestering everyone with annoying questions. We Scottish don't appreciate prying people."

Colette noticed a tone in the woman's voice she had never heard before. "Oh, you don't have to worry, Shelley. After the interviews I had today, I came to the conclusion that the werewolf rumors were merely two old folk reminiscing on half-forgotten times. I am thinking about leaving tonight."

"Oh, you will be leaving us so soon?" murmured Grimshaw in a loud, mocking tone. "It would be a shame not to have you around, Colette. After all, Dad and Shelley were planning on a wonderful little party to celebrate my birthday."

Colette started then frowned at his broad grin. "Dad, did you say?"

"Oh, yes," Shelley spoke up in a slow taunting voice. "I thought since ye and Grims know each other so well that he would have told ye already. Hugh is his dad and I'm his step-mother. We would love to have ye for dinner."

"I don't know," said Colette as calmly as she could. A very bad feeling was creeping up into her mind, and she noticed that the two patrons had stopped sipping their drinks and were watching her with cold, unblinking eyes. She racked her brain for any believable excuse possible. "Berkley is expecting me to report in with the news, or lack there of."

"Oh, come now, dear," said Shelley with a smile. As she spoke, her slight accent grew thicker. "Ye know as vell as ve do that Samson is not expecting ye to report in for another two days. Ye cannot believe how difficult it vas for us to get ye to come to little forgotten Lachlan."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play coy with us, Colette," reprimanded Grimshaw sharply. He stood, his robes swirling about him and his sandy brown hair bouncing about his face. "I have spent the passed thirteen years of my life studying you, ever since I saw you at the sorting of your first year at Hogwarts. When I heard your name called and I saw you, I knew you were the one.

"Since that day I have carefully followed every step in the plan. Mind, it was not easy, especially when you nearly gave in to your father's pressure to follow his footsteps in the Ministry. That would have ruined all of our plans, so Dad spoke with Samson Berkley, an old friend of his, and you were immediately hired by Eccentricity."

Colette felt numb as Grimshaw's words washed over her; it was as if her entire life had been a lie. She had merely been a puppet while complete strangers had control of her strings. Then she felt incredibly dirty, realizing that the individual who had been pulling her strings was non-other-than Grimshaw. She felt nauseous.

"Has everything been a lie," she asked in a forced whisper. "My career? The werewolf sighting? The interviews?"

"Oh, no, dear," said Shelley with a grin. "Vhatever Madsby and Peterson told ye about a verevolf is very true. It vas providence that brought Kenneth Ethan Volfe to Lachlan at the moment vhen ve so desperately needed something to draw you avay from London."

"What do you want with me?" demanded Colette hoarsely, though her quick mind was already piecing together the puzzle.

"There is a reason why my surname is Moonsbane, Colette," teased the wizard in a low, menacing voice. In a move faster than she had ever seen him move before, he brought his wand up so that it was pointed directly at her. "And I know you too well, so don't even think about reaching for that wand of yours. Accio wand."

Before she could react, her wand flew from her sash, across the room, and into his outstretched hand. Shelley immediately took it and began to examine the slender wood.

"Villow. Poverful vood for complex charms," murmured the innkeeper's wife. She ran her fingers over the smooth wand, eyes closed and a thin smile on her lips. "Dragon heart-string core shows not only pover but the strength to control it. It is a good vand, a good match."

She gave the wand back to Grimshaw before turning to the two patrons. "You two, guard the doors," she snarled fiercely, and the two men, the same ones that had been present at her arrival, hastened to obey the command. She then placed a comforting hand on her step-son's shoulder while her now cold eyes peered at Colette. "Only a few minutes left, my son, then all vill be finished."

"Where is Dad?" Grimshaw suddenly asked as he glanced down at his stepmother beside him. "I want him to be present."

"He is taking care of a volf problem," hissed Shelley sharply.

The nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach transformed into cold numbness, and Colette no longer felt herself. "Where is Ethan?" she demanded torpidly.

"Verevolves are too hard to control," murmured the innkeeper's wife in a low, sensuous tone. "Ethan vas useful to us, but he nearly fouled all of our carefully laid plans because of emotions. It is a shame that Hugh must dispose of him, but at least he comes vith no extra baggage—no vone to mourn him vhen he is dead."

"You will not get away with this," stated Colette through teeth clenched in anger. During the exchange, she had managed to slowly move back a few feet towards the hall.

Her words caused both Shelley and Grimshaw to throw back their heads in deep, scoffing laughter. When they looked back at her, she noticed that their teeth had grown into long, pointed fangs. Their faces had gone suddenly pale, and their eyes seemed to glow red in the dim light.