The Loup Garou Society by Julie Steimle (ereader with android txt) 📖

up, and made the bed.

He went directly to the bathroom to wash.

 

He heard a bang of something metal in the room while he was showering. Quickly grabbing a towel, Rick had barely enough time to wrap it around himself before peeking around the open door edge to see the cause of the noise. The ladder had been knocked over. Margarete’s head poked in—without the heavy makeup this time. Though when she came all the way through the door, shoving the ladder further away from the door, he saw that she was in the same clothes.

She giggled when she saw him, her eyes widening on his wet hair and bare chest. “Sorry. Did I frighten you?”

“Uh…” Rick blinked at her in relief. “Startled, maybe. Uh, can you wait? I’m not done yet. I barely got into the shower.”

She nodded and stepped back through the door. “I will see you down in the cafe then. We can have some breakfast.”

He nodded and went back into the bathroom. It wasn’t big, and there was no door. Climbing into the shower once more, he quickly soaped up, washed, and rinsed off. He was drying himself when he heard noise again.

“Monsieur Rick? Monsieur Rick?” It was Vivienne calling in this time.

Blushing, Rick quickly pulled on his pants before she could look into the washing area. He didn’t have time to get on a shirt.

Vivienne smiled while blushing when she saw him. “Pardon moi, but Monsieur Rick, Margarete is asking…” Her eyes traced down the claw marks which dug through his skin in scars down his shoulder and front as if a gigantic bear had swatted him away. Her eyes whipped up to his face again, her breath speeding up. “…Uh… what do you want for breakfast?”

He blushed deeper, reaching for his shirt and pulling it on. “I don’t really… uh. I think her judgment is fine. I’m not picky.”

But she approached him. “What ‘appened to you? Did you get wolf attacked also?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Rick ducked his head. “Nah…” Then he lifted his eyes to her. “Did you get bit?”

She nodded, holding out her arm and rolling up her sleeve. There were three bad bite marks and evidence of deep scratches. He approached her, examining them.

“When did this happen?”

Vivienne quietly whispered, “Two years ago. It was bad. I was with my brother. And we were picnicking out in the countryside. And a pack of wolves came upon us. I don’t know how she did it, but Margarete chased them off.”

“Margarete saved you?” Rick murmured, remembering the story his sister had told him the night before about helping the family against the pack.

Nodding, Vivienne rolled her sleeved down. “Oui. And it was bad. We lost a lot of blood. But, thanks to Margarete, both of us survived. Those wolves were diseased. Crazy. And we had to get so many shots and stitches. And Margarete, she cared for us, so much that she checked on us daily. She even insisted that for good luck we eat an entire bulb of garlic.”

“Skins, core, and all?” Rick murmured, mostly to himself.

She nodded more, her eyes widening. “Yes. You know this cure?”

He did, and he nodded to say so. It was the cure for partial lycanthropic toxemia… so Vivienne and her brother would not manifest any werewolf tendencies near the full moon. Margarete truly had saved them.

“Margarete is an expert, somehow,” Vivienne said, gazing into space while thinking about it. “So, you were bit too?”

He shook his head. “No. It was… uh… I go camping a lot. Mishaps happen.”

She stared for a moment, wonder in her gaze as clearly his scratches had been caused by claws. He had to kill the suspicion which he could see growing in Vivienne’s eyes. “I hear garlic is really good against infection.”

She smiled, nodding. Then she headed to the door.

He followed her, snatching up his shoes and socks.

As they went down the stairs, she said, “Are you ‘ere in Paris as part of a tour? Backpacking Europe?”

Rick laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, no. Though that sounds fun. I’m here with my dad on business. I was supposed to be learning the ropes, but, uh, the high ups of the organization he is negotiating with still thinks I am too young. And to be honest, I don’t know enough French to really be of use.”

“Ah, really?” She smiled more brightly at him. “What kind of business? Wine? Technology?”

Chuckling to himself, Rick shook his head. “No, uh. I’m not exactly sure. I think we import different products to the EU through France. Tech, I think. Lots of it environmental preservation products. And we do animal preservation globally.”

They had reached the main floor and walked from the stairs out toward the café. She smiled back at him, nodding in approval. “That sounds good. What kind of animals do you preserve?”

He cringed, as he knew this was going to come up. “Not to sound insensitive,” he said, ducking his head a little, “But wolves, actually.”

Vivienne stared.

But he took a step closer to her and said, “No healthy wolf would have attacked you like that. And I am so sorry it happened.”

“What attacked you again?” she whispered, leaning away from him. “And be honest.”

He sighed, thinking about the incident where it had occurred—which was in a school gym at Gulinger Private Academy in New York City on Chinese New Year. It had been a shape-shifting demon from China who had been hunting his friend Bai Nian Chen with the intent to eat him. Rick closed one eye and said, “It looked like a bear.”

She stared, eyes wide.

And it had been true. It had taken a bear shape at the time. She didn’t need to know the rest.

He followed her into the cafe. The place was mostly empty.

Margarete waved him toward her table. Vivienne walked off to get breakfast, looking introspective.

When he sat down, Margarete said, “I think it is necessary that I take you to meet Genevieve. But I called her, and she said the house is being watched. Remy called her last night in search of me, so he most likely suspects that you are with me.”

Rick nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking.

“They were at your father’s hotel last night,” she said, watching him carefully. “Genevieve said she could hear it in Remy’s voice that Monsieur Blanc was nearby listening, and she could tell from the background noise they were at our large hotel.”

“She could tell all that?” Rick stared.

“She has a good ear.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ve got good ears too, but… oh, never mind. What should we do now? I could go back to the hotel.”

“They might drag you off to another party,” she said. “With drugs.”

Rick growled. “They can’t force me to ‘breed’ with other wolves.”

Cafe patrons nearby who understood English peeked over, staring at him funny.

Cringing, Rick lowered his voice. “Look. I was serious when I said I want to help you guys. But they are going to hunt you down, and me. This is the first time I have ever been to Paris, so I can’t lose them on my own without getting lost myself. Can’t we just meet up with Genevieve somewhere?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Margarete said, “…before you started into a rant.”

 He blushed, hunching his shoulders. “Sorry.”

“No.” She shook her head, a teasing smile on her lips. “They are the ones who should be sorry. And I am sorry this has gone all wrong. All of us make mistakes.”

Vivienne returned with a tray of croissants, fresh berries in cream, and a plate of crepes each. She also served frothy hot chocolate, which smelled marvelous. With a smile she quickly walked away to another table. Margarete began to eat, gesturing for Rick to dig in also. He gratefully helped himself to two croissants and the cocoa.

After one sip, he stared at the mug. “Oh, my gosh! This is the best hot chocolate I have ever tasted!”

Vivienne looked back from her work at the counter and smiled.

Margarete stared at him, wide-eyed. “Can you be a little louder? I don’t think the people on the street heard you.”

He covered his mouth and ducked his head between his shoulders, but he laughed. “Sorry.” But then he turned to Vivienne who was carrying out another tray for another table. “But this is really good.”

She smiled more and nodded.

Cocking her head to the side and eyeing him, Margarete asked, “As rich as you are, you have never tasted food this good?”

His mouth was too full to answer. Rick shook his head, politely devoured his croissant and the crepes, though he looked around for some meat.

“Don’t worry,” Margaret said. “Eggs are coming.”

He sighed, stuff-cheeked.

“Most French just have a coffee and a croissant,” she said, her eyes turning toward the door, watching the movement on the street. Her expression was thoughtful. “But I suppose, you being a growing boy tend to eat a lot more than that.”

Chuckling, Rick nodded, finishing off the cocoa and digging into the crepes with his fork. “Yeah….”

Margarete nodded to herself. They ate in silence for a while. She let Rick eat most of the croissants as she quietly sipped her cocoa in thought. Then she said, just as he ate the second to the last strawberry, “How would you like to go on a Paris tour with me? We can meet Genevieve at a baking shop or someplace she regularly goes.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. But won’t she be followed by…” he peeked at Vivienne, “…you know.”

Margarete nodded while pulling apart a croissant with her fingers, eating a piece. “But they can’t grab you in a public place. It would be too visible of a kidnapping.”

 Rick laughed. “Are you so sure? It’s happened to me once before.”

“Pardon?” Margarete stared at him. She peeked to Vivienne to see if she was listening in.

Nodding, Rick said, “A pair of Canadian w—um, Canadians,” he peeked at Vivienne also, “…tried to pick me up in Times Square when I was sixteen…” He lowered his voice. “…for the same reason the Loup Garou want me.”

She stared more.

Nodding, Rick added, “So, it is possible.”

“Then we’ll just be careful,” Margarete said, straightening up.

Rick shrugged, deciding there was no point in arguing.

Once they finished breakfast, Rick insisted on paying for the meal—through many objections from Margarete.

“It is my pleasure to do this,” she had argued.

Rick shook his head, paying for everything. “But I have more money.”

She frowned at that.

“And I don’t want you to go in debt because of me,” he said. And he added, “And I don’t want there to be any money trail pointing out where you are. I bet the pack knows the serial numbers on all your cash. But they don’t know ours.”

 Margarete pulled back and let him pay.

They paid their respects to Vivienne while Margarete reminded Rick there was no tipping in France… which he had been inclined to do. But he paid generously for the room and thanked her profusely for the use of the shower and bed. Vivienne blushed as she told him to think nothing of it.

“I’ll bring my father back here someday,” Rick said as they headed to the door. “So he can have your marvelous hot chocolate.”

As they walked out of the cafe together, Margarete said to him, hooking her arm in his, “Alright little wolf, you can pay to keep the pack off our trail. But this city is my home. I guide you.”

He nodded. “Ok.”

But after they walked few steps down the road, him glancing at security cameras and the like, he said in a whisper, “I’d hate to be a killjoy, but… do I stand out? Or do I look like a rich American in these clothes? Because I don’t want to give us away.”

 Leaning back from him, Margarete looked him up and down then nodded. “I see what you mean.” She then peeked to the cameras. “Maybe both of us need to change clothes.”

Rick smiled. It was what he wanted.

 

Margarete took them both to a street not far from the