*** This story contains some mild language, suspense, romance, and some frightening images and situations—13 and older, please.

In the Grip of Twilight

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Seventy Two:

Ezekiel's Cottage

The prospect of talking to Elena left me dragging my feet along the narrow path behind Muriel's house, which was hardly a path at all, since there was barely a space between the overgrowth; every few seconds, I had to stop to pull my sleeves and hair free from the thorny briars.

Thorns, Elena—was there any difference, I wondered? Both were prickly and drew blood.

Why Muriel would want me talk to Elena was heavy on my mind. When I had questioned Muriel further about talking to Elena, she had remained vague, which made me uneasy. Had Muriel failed at communications with Elena? Was that why Elena was staying with Ezekiel? I felt like Muriel should have at least come along with me to Ezekiel's home. But I had not asked her to, and she had not offered.

I thought of all the possibilities… Was this a part of the puzzle, or was Elena just having feelings of guilt after betraying her father? Did Muriel really think I could help the girl after all the animosity between us? I shook my head. It was so hard to imagine Muriel as Elena's mother figure; Muriel was good and kind, while Elena could be so hateful…

After fifteen or twenty minutes of fighting the brambles, I began to see Ezekiel's cottage peeking through the growth. Not surprising, I would have walked right past it had Muriel not told me what to look for. The cottage blended into the forest so seamlessly; it was the color of fern and covered with entwining trumpet vine. Only when I came closer did I see that the fern-green color was actually the moss that almost completely covered the stones of the house. Crude wooden shutters, with paint faded to the color of the moss, enclosed the two windows beside the front door. The trumpet vine had managed to weave itself through the slats of the shutters, and here and there vivid red blooms stood out against all the greenery creating an enchanting vision of a fairy tale dwelling.

To the side of the house, someone had fashioned a lovers swing out of the same faded wood of the shutters. It hung from two thick ropes from the overhead canopy and, like the cottage, was camouflaged into the background of the forest.

My eyes roamed the cottage's exterior, from the mossy gables to the mossy door mat. Nothing was ever as expected here in the Lycan Forest, as I called it; the fearsome renegade, Ezekiel, lived in the sort of quaint cottage I would have expected to find the seven dwarves living in…and somehow this made knocking on the weathered door both a little easier…and stranger…as I rapped my knuckles lightly against the door.

I imagined everything within the cottage going into a deep, shocked silence at the sound of my knock. In my mind, I saw eyes squinting through the narrow slats of the shutters, looking for signs of an ambush; after all, one could never be too careful in a time of war. Perhaps Elena wanted vengeance against me too, and they were preparing to ambush me…get me out of the way.

My overactive imagination conjured all of this and more as I waited for someone to answer the door.

Finally, the hinges creaked as someone pulled the door open just enough to see their caller.

With the shutters fastened, the light was dim and gloomy inside the small cottage. I didn't breathe for a long moment as it was impossible to see who was on the other side of the door beyond the long wedge of shadow in the opening. The cool air from inside the cottage drifted out onto the warmer air; it smelled musty and damp as if it had wafted up from a cellar.

Then, quite suddenly, the door was pushed open and standing there was a tall man. He was easily Demetri's height, more likely taller, yet brawnier. But despite his six and half foot height, his features reminded me more of Edward than Demetri. He appeared to be a few years older than Edward, perhaps in his early twenties or so. His hair was also the same bronze color, short and tousled; the two men's facial structures were also surprisingly similar. I tried not to stare so blatantly, but it was astonishing to see the similarities between them. Ezekiel could have easily passed as Edward's older brother.

This should have soothed my nerves, except there was no love in this one's eyes. Ezekiel's expression was one of extreme caution as his yellow-green eyes swept over me.

"Ezekiel?" I asked when it seemed as if the man was waiting for me to speak first.

He nodded once, warily. But then it was another voice behind him that captured our attention.

"Bella?" a voice thin and wane asked. Ezekiel halfway turned toward the voice, his expression a mix of conflicting curiosity and wariness. His nose wrinkled along the bridge and his nostrils flared. There seemed an underlining emotion there that I couldn't quite grasp. Whether irritation or protectiveness, he seemed to resent her interruption as I stood at the door.

She was right behind him, hidden until he had turned at the sound of her voice. I almost didn't recognize her. With her face bare of the usual garish cosmetics, she appeared younger, childlike; even her flame-red hair was single plaited and draped across her left shoulder. She wore a simple blue and white checkered dress that came to just above her knees; its hem in a few places was coming unraveled. There wasn't the slightest bit of arrogance in her face or stature…nothing to remind me of the Elena of a few days past.

There was, however, something disturbing about the way she stood there—arms limp at her side and green eyes dull—that sent shivers down my spine.

Ezekiel suddenly leaned over me and sniffed quite loudly at the top of my head—and although I knew he was in human form, the rush of his breath reminded me of the deadly potential of his other form.

"Zeke…" Elena said, sighing. Her shoulders seemed to slump uncharacteristically in defeat, leaving no doubt in my mind who was in authority here.

Patiently, I stood still as he continued to sniff at the top of my head. But when he stopped, yet still continued to lean over me, I tilted my head and looked straight into his yellowish eyes. "Muriel asked me to come."

We stood there for an endless second looking at one another, before he stepped back. I had the distinct impression that I'd just passed some sort of test…that he had been trying to intimidate me, seeing if he could make me cower or at least show some sign of weakness in front of Elena. If I was enemy to Elena, would that make me enemy to him as well, I wondered?

I waited as Ezekiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. And then, in a rich, baritone voice, he said, "Please, won't you come in?"

***

(Thanks for reading. OTM)