The Loup Garou Society, Julie Steimle [reading tree txt] 📗

shower.”

“And wash it off,” Margarete murmured, thinking of Rick and his smelly stuff.

The wolf tracking them had dug out his cell phone.

The sisters went a little faster to the gate and let themselves in. They rushed to the door, where they saw a paper tacked up.

It was in English.

 

Margarete and Genevieve,

I hope you two get this before the pack does. We decided to go on a picnic. Marie and I had little talk. And considering the way the pack works, we figured they would follow you here. So, if you could go inside and pack the following things into boxes and bags and set them on the front porch, a man will come and pick them up. Marie provided a list. Don’t hesitate. She and I both decided this is for the best.

Sincerely,

Your brother Rick

 

On the backside of the note was a list of household mementoes and things in French. The key to the house was taped to the note.

They took it off, unlocked the door, and stepped inside the house.

In the center of the room boxes were already laid out.

“What do you think he is thinking?" Genevieve said as she walked into her sister’s house, looking around.

Margarete peered over the list. It was in Marie’s hand. And at the bottom of it. She had scrawled a message in telling her that it was all right, that she loved them, and they should fill the boxes as quickly as possible. Margarete handed the note to Genevieve. “I think he is thinking he can rescue Marie.”

Genevieve pored over the note. Tears formed in her eyes. She looked to her sister. “Can he?”

Looking around, Margarete then quickly looked for the first item on the list. “Yes. He’s a multi-billionaire with connections outside the pack.”

They hastily gathered all the things on the list. It was not a long list, thankfully. But it was a sentimental list. Photo albums. Favored toys. Some clothes. A few precious things connected to precious memories. Paintings. Blankets. They heard a knock at the door, mid-packing. They hoped it wasn’t the Loup Garou.

“Hide the box,” Genevieve said.

Margarete threw a crocheted afghan on it. Then she opened up her shopping bags which she had left on the kitchen table, spreading out the foods they had bought out onto the kitchen counter.

The knock came again.

“What are you doing?” Genevieve hissed, wide-eyed at her sister.

“We came here to cook for our sister,” Margarete snapped back. “It ought to look like it.”

Genevieve shoved the box to the side near a couch so it looked like it wasn’t something they were filling but a part of the room. The afghan just wasn’t enough to hide it.

Before there could be a third knock, Margarete opened the door.

Henri marched right in. “Where is he?”

The sisters shared glances.

“You must have missed him,” Genevieve said. “Because we sure did.”

Mathieu plowed past them, followed by Remy who was practically dragging his feet, looking pained. His eyes silently raked over his sisters.

“Is Marie here?” Henri asked, bite in his voice.

They shook their heads.

“No one was here when we got here,” Margarete confessed. She tossed up her hands with a shrug. “Marie left us a note saying she had gone off on a picnic.”

“A picnic?” Henri’s voice pitched.

Remy massaged his forehead. “With him?”

They decided there was no harm in being honest, so they nodded.

“But she would have just met him?” Henri stared at the empty house, flabbergasted.

“He can be quite persuasive,” Margarete explained, almost giggling because it was entirely true.

“And charming,” Genevieve added with a nod. Margarete had a feeling that her sister was growing fond of Rick.

They stared at her.

“He was on the top of the Eiffel Tower!” Mathieu exclaimed, pointing at her. “I knew it!”

Genevieve shrugged, admitting it. She caught Margarete’s accusing stare, but she only shrugged more.

The brothers exchanged frustrated looks.

“And you intended to meet up with him here?” Henri growled.

They nodded together. He was gone either way, and they truly had no clue where he was now, so they couldn’t divulge it. A picnic. That could be anywhere in Paris.

Remy started laughing, hand over his face. For all they knew, he could be crying. His hand were shaking. Undoubtedly he was completely stressed to the limit.

The other two man-wolves glowered at him.

The sisters, however, looked thoughtful.

“Did she say where they were going?” Remy asked, wiping his eyes.

Both sisters genuinely shook their heads.

He laughed more, and loudly.

“What is so funny?” Henri rounded on him, hands on hips. He looked like he was posing for GQ magazine, his open shirt revealing all the way down to his navel.

Shaking his head, his eyes red from stress, Remy replied, “He really is a wolf who knows the tricks of the hunt.” He then pointed to a pair of open bottles of essential oils on the countertop. The sisters hadn’t even noticed them. They had just assumed the smell on Rick had lingered in the house.

Mathieu stalked over to them and read the labels. “Clove oil and creme the menthe.” He groaned internally. Rick was way ahead of them.

Genevieve shared a look with Margarete. “I guess he didn’t need to take a bath after all.”

Margarete nodded. And thinking it over, she realized that Remy was right. And Rick had said it. He was hunted every single full moon. He knew what it was like to be constantly tracked by skilled hunters.

Remy turned from the room and walked outside. He waited in the yard, shaking his head. He looked lost, though. Margarete almost felt sorry for him.

“The elders are going to be furious,” Henri murmured. “He completely lost us.”

“Well…” Genevieve cringed. “Not entirely. You do have his father.”

She then turned to the items Margarete had put out on the counter, deciding to prep the cookies ‘for Marie’s return’. She searched around for bowls and other baking equipment.

“What are you doing?” Mathieu sneered at her. “She’s not here.”

Genevieve made a face at him, leaning on the counter. “No. But I promised I’d make her some biscuits. So when she comes back from her picnic, they’ll be here for her and her children.”

Margarete nodded, joining her. “I’ll cream the sugar and butter.”

“Don’t forget the vanilla.” Her sister passed over the hard butter they had purchased at the market. It was already a little soft from their walk, but they need to soften it more.

Peering at them as they went about assembling and measuring the cooking ingredients, Henri closed one eye and asked, “Do you think he will come back here?”

Remy stepped back through the door, pondering that question.

Thinking on it, sincerely, both ladies shook their heads.

“Not likely,” Genevieve said, measuring the flour into a bowl. 

Using a fork to cream the softened butter with the brown sugar, Margarete shook her head. “We don’t really know where he is going now. And that’s the truth. Maybe he got a good map and decided to go tour the Louvre or something to that effect.”

“Or go skateboarding,” Genevieve said.

“Oh, no,” Margarete cut in, correcting her. “That was a prop so people would take him for a regular teen—along with that backpack. He bought both of them here.”

“Really?” Genevieve looked astonished. “He’s a lot more clever than I thought. Maybe there is something to being a lone wolf after all.”

“Oh please….” Henri groaned, and he walked to the doorway, shaking his head. He then turned to Mathieu. “We need to regroup and think where a punk kid American would go if he wanted to avoid the Loup Garou.”

Mathieu nodded.

“Or maybe we need to think outside the cliché that he is a punk kid from America,” Remy said. “And remember that he is the heir to Deacon Enterprises.” He peeked to his sisters. “I don’t think he is a foolish boy at all—but a dangerous lone wolf who also has a lot of power and influence in the world. I doubt his father would have neglected his education, despite how abysmal his French is.”

The sisters shared looks, still mixing the cookies they were making. Their brother Remy, as always, was astute. If anybody had a chance at catching Rick, it was Remy.

“I say we call into headquarters and have them track Marie’s phone.” But he said it with pain, as he really didn’t want to. He was just following orders.

“Why don’t you just leave him alone?” Margarete said, shoving her bowl to Genevieve. “Give it up. Honor our father’s request that his son not get involved with the pack.”

Remy cringed and advanced on her. “I am trying to protect you all. Especially Marie. Why do you think it is that she is living in this neighborhood? Because of you, and your interference. They are punishing her because of this.” He pointed to their cookie-making.

But Genevieve snarled, dumping the dry ingredients into Margarete’s bowl. “That is not why. They are trying to beat us all into submission. Look at you! You are their slave.”

He growled, closing his eyes.

But she also gestured to Henri in the middle of mixing the dough with her hands. “And they are your pimp.”

Henri colored, his teeth elongating.

“Go ahead. Attack me,” Genevieve said, spreading out her arms and lifting her chin to give a good shot at her jugular. Cookie dough all over her fingers.

Henri advanced on her, willing to oblige.

Remy grabbed Henri and pulled him from the house, shoving Henri outside. He spun around, snarling at his sisters, “Not helpful! Don’t think you are superior to him! Everyone has to make compromises.”

Genevieve huffed.

However, the man-wolves left the house and stormed out of the yard.

Margarete closed the door.

She and her sister exchanged looks.

They went back to making cookies, or at least Genevieve did. Margarete quietly finished their packing job. They didn’t say anything, a little afraid that some wolf was nearby, listening in.

As they waited for the cookies to bake, they made sure all the items on the list had been acquired. The house was still full of things. All of the cookware and tech such as computer, cell phone (which they noticed Marie had left at the house so there was no way she could be tracked), iPads and the like, as well as kitchen appliances, were not on the list. But they understood what the list meant. Rick was taking Marie and her kids out of France.

Both she-wolves had added it up. As long as Marie was in the grasp of the Loup Garou, her life and the lives of her children would be controlled. And Margarete had shared with Genevieve the offer Rick had given her—to leave with him to the United States. She only wondered how he would be able to sneak Marie and her children over the border without passports.

“He is a multi-billionaire…” Margarete murmured to herself. “With connections.”

Genevieve nodded. 

“But Marie would be too terrified to live outside a pack,” Margarete added.

Nodding more, Genevieve whispered, “She would not want to be a lone wolf, hunted every month.”

“Connection with the Deacon family would draw attention to her.”

Cringing, Genevieve sighed. “I don’t know how or why she would agree to just up and leave. Maybe it is just a picnic.”

But Margarete shook her head. “He did mention he knew wolf packs around the world. Maybe he arranged for her to join one of them.”

Genevieve cringed more. “But our nearest neighbors are the Germans. And that pack is savage. I don’t think he’d take our sister to a man-eating pack.”

“I don’t think he’s take Marie where she did not understand the language.” Right then Margarete recalled something Rick had said. “Canadian pack.”

“What?”

“I bet,” Margarete sat up straight and faced her sister, “I bet he sent her to Canada. He said there was a pack that was looking for new wolves. They tried to kidnap him once.”

Blinking at her, Genevieve said, “And he thinks that is a good thing for our sister?”

Shaking her head, Margarete rose from her seat. “He said it was a misunderstanding. His father—our father now helps that pack. I do believe he would bring her there, if he were to take her anywhere.”

They heard a knock at the door.

It was probably the wolves