Ruby: A Retelling of Red-Ridinghood (Thistle Grove Tales Book Book 3) Read online

  Once fully dressed, Ruby peeked out the bedroom door. The living room was warmer but only marginally so. The fire had died down to just a few flaming coal remnants.

  After stepping around the wolf curled up on the braided rug, Ruby put a few dry logs on the remaining pile of ashes and coals and waited until they came to life. Red and gold, the flames licked the charred inside of the chimney. Ruby held her hands out to warm them as the heat pushed back the chill which had invaded the cottage.

  Wolfe stirred, letting Ruby know he was waking up. Leaving him in front of the now-roaring fire, she went into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

  While filling the kettle with water, Ruby heard Wolfe shift back into his human form. She cringed at the popping sound his bones and ligaments made as they morphed. Ruby stared at her own hands, wondering what that would feel like. How she would cope if she could take either form.

  Wearing a pair of low-slung pants and still putting on his shirt, Wolfe entered the kitchen. His sharp gaze took in the scene.

  “Scrambled eggs good?” Ruby asked.

  Wolfe nodded silently and began toasting the left-over bread. “Do you remember your birth parents?”

  Ruby grew sad and wistful as she cracked the eggs into a bowl “I can’t remember much. Nothing before I was five. Grandmother said that was normal, though.”

  “What’s your first memory?” Wolfe moved around the kitchen and placed dishes on the table. He wasn’t looking at her, but Ruby still had the feeling of being watched.

  Ruby closed her eyes and scanned back through her stubborn mind, seeking answers to questions she didn’t often ask. An image suddenly popped into her head, so real she was sure it would still be there when she opened her eyes.

  Only, when she did open them, it wasn’t.

  “My mother had red hair. My father’s hair was brown. He wore a beard!” Her voice was full of excitement as her soul recognized the truth of her memories.

  Wolfe closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her while she cooked. “Is that the first time you’ve been able to picture them in your head?”

  Tears threatened to clog Ruby’s vision as she nodded. Wolfe pressed a kiss against the sensitive length of her neck. “You did good, Ruby. I’m proud of you.”

  Ruby preened at his words, but more importantly, she was proud of herself.

  After a full breakfast, they agreed to head to Ruby’s house first to check on her grandmother.

  The sun was already out, leaving last night’s snowstorm as a near-distant memory. Ruby laced up her boots, cringing at the thought of cleaning the mud off them at the end of the day.

  “What do you think we’ll find?” Ruby asked as Wolfe fell in beside her.

  “Hopefully, Mathilda will be hale and hearty and not yell at you for spending time with me.”

  Ruby snorted. “The hale and hearty part, yes. The second part is too much to hope for, I think.”

  They were closing in on the house when a gust of wind sent the tree limbs into a gentle sway. Ruby stared in disbelief as a limb-full of snow landed on Wolfe’s head. His open mouth and shocked eyes sent her into a fit of the giggles.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” Wolfe growled, making her laugh even harder. Wet trails of melting-snow dripped down his shaggy brown hair and collected on his whiskers.

  She doubled up as she fought for a full breath. Wolfe shook his head, sending little droplets of water into the air.

  “Hey!” she cried when one of them hit her in the cheek.

  “Not so funny when it’s you, is it?” Wolfe challenged with an eyebrow raised. He pulled a nearly melted clump off his shoulder and aimed at her.

  “Nooo,” she protested, still laughing but picking up speed. “I didn’t hit you with the snow!”

  “But, you laughed!”

  Still chuckling, Ruby only nodded. “It was funny!”

  “Help!”

  The voice came from the distance. For a heartbeat, Ruby and Wolfe only looked at each other before racing to be the first on the scene.

  Wolfe

  By calling on the power of his ancestors, Wolfe tapped into an extra burst of energy. He was pleased, but not surprised, when Ruby kept pace with him. He had a theory about her he was hoping to explore. Maybe once they found the missing boys and her grandmother, he could solve the mystery of just who Ruby was.

  It felt right, having Ruby beside him as they faced whatever battle lay ahead. Whether they were guarding each other’s flank or standing beside each other in solidarity, everything felt better with her. They were two puzzle pieces fitting together in harmony.

  The child calling for help echoed off the woods, not letting Wolfe get a good bead on it for location. He wasn’t sure if it was safe to call back, to alert whoever may be hurting the child that help was on their way.

  Bad guys were funny that way. When they thought they held all the cards, they toyed and let the terror of the moment draw out. While scary for the victim, it gave the savior time to formulate a safer plan of extraction or attack. But when assistance might be heading in, they could grow scared and even more dangerous.

  The acrid smell of wood burning filled the air and changed the dynamic of the situation. Gritting his teeth against the unexpectedness of the shift, Wolfe shifted mid-leap and landed in his wolf form. Picking up a preternatural speed that left Ruby gasping behind him, his sensitive nose caught the exact location of the emergency.

  Paws barely gracing the melting snow, Wolfe raced through the woods in search of the source.

  Muttering, behind him, Ruby paused for a breath before beginning to jog after him.

  It took only minutes but felt like an eternity until Wolfe found the cause of the fire. Smoke poured out of the sides of the dressed-up Victorian cottage in the middle of the woods as Wolfe skidded into the clearing.

  It looked like this expedition was going to solve two mysteries at once. The location of the Bernard boys and Mathilda’s cottage, he thought with a smirk.

  “Let go of me. Help!”

  “No one can hear you,” shrieked the voice from inside. Moments later, Mathilda filled the doorway with her bulk. Gone was the frail, elderly grandmother Ruby took care of. In her place was a regal crone, long white hair blowing in the breeze.

  One little boy ran around a clump of bushes while Mathilda chased after him with an apple. “Another bite, boy. Do it, or your brother dies!”

  “Never,” he called, feinting one way and darting the next. “I’m a bear-shifter! I am, and you can’t make me otherwise!”

  “I can do more than you realize,” Mathilda said with a cackle.

  Wolfe admired the boy’s stamina but knew it wouldn’t last. His experienced eyes took in the scene. Already, the little guy’s feet were slowing. He must have been drugged, but it hadn’t worked fast enough to suit the hag.

  The boy gasped when he spotted Wolfe. Wolfe could read in the little boy’s eyes he wasn’t sure if Wolfe was a savior or a bigger threat. Wolfe wanted to tell him he was both, but couldn’t in his current form.

  When Mathilda glanced past the child and caught the narrow gaze of the wolf standing by the trees, she grinned with unholy glee. “Is that a Fable I see before me, soon to be six feet under?”

  The little boy, Barret or Oberon, Wolfe wasn’t sure which, darted off in the direction opposite Wolfe. Good, Wolfe thought. Tarron had taught his children well.

  He circled Mathilda, still not sure where the smoke was coming from, but seeing she was just as big of a threat as the fire. Wolfe didn’t smell a forest fire, so he relegated that to a secondary position.

  First came dealing with Mathilda.

  She threw a spell at him, but it was weak. It could probably have taken down a small child but a full-grown wolf shifter? Not so much.

  Don’t get too cocky, Wolfe, he thought as he felt his confidence surge.

  Wolfe shook his head, trying to convince the witch he was affected by her magic. Mathilda’s magic mu
st be in potions and poisons, Wolfe realized. Trust in his ability to take her down surged within him, and he reminded himself not to let his guard down despite her apparent lack of skill. If she was powerful enough to stop a child shifter from remembering who and what they were, she was capable of great evil.

  Around them, the birds chattered, calling out. In fear or for assistance, he couldn’t be sure. A cloud slid in front of the sun, lighting the area in a ghostly glare.

  Wolfe stalked her. Old hunting memories fell into place as he found his prey and let his attention narrow in on her. Other distractions vied for his attention, but he shook them off. Instead, he put his laser focus on Mathilda.

  When the little boy came back, his brown eyes dilated and drugged looking, the old crone grabbed hold of him and hid behind him. Her cruel eyes dared him to attack while holding a child.

  Wolfe scoffed at her sign of cowardice. She was afraid to pit her magic against Wolfe’s…what? What did he have that she was so fearful of beside a pretty decent set of teeth?

  When the little boy stomped on her foot, Mathilda’s concentration broke. It wasn’t much, but it was the break Wolfe needed. Digging into the ground, he tore large divots of the damp, softened earth as he ran no-hold-barred at the witch.

  Forelegs extended, he barreled into her and knocked them both to the ground. Mathilda pushed at his muzzle, but Wolfe found himself in an odd position. He couldn’t kill her, and he wasn’t quite sure how to subdue her in his wolf body.

  He was already sheriff of Thistle Grove. He didn’t want to be judge, jury, and executioner, too. But as Mathilda fought him for all she was worth, sending her spells out like an array of birdshot, Wolfe wasn’t sure she would give him a choice.

  He clamped his sharp teeth over her shoulder, trying to force her to submit, but instead, she clawed at his eyes. First, her fingers dug into the sensitive area, but when his sharp teeth nipped at her fingers, she moved them away. Instead, she made giant clumps of dirt and grass dug up by her grasping fingers.

  Wolfe howled as he blinked away the dirt, using his instincts over eyesight to block Mathilda’s retreat. The old witch was going nowhere, not if he could help it.

  Wolfe knew Ruby was behind him but wasn’t sure how much he could count on her in the battle. This was her grandmother, the woman who had helped her. Would Ruby be able or willing to see Mathilda defeated?

  “What—What’s going on?” Ruby’s voice trembled as she entered the clearing around the little Victorian.

  Chapter 6 – A Battle

  Ruby

  The scene before her played out like the third act of her worst nightmare. Wolfe had the witch pressed to the ground, his teeth only bearing down slightly to cause submission but not death.

  “Now we’ll see who wins,” the crone shouted. Ruby blinked as recognition hit her. That wasn’t some old witch. The long-haired woman Wolfe was fighting was her Grandmother!

  The witch’s face morphed, lost focus, and then became the one Ruby recognized as her grandmother. But then the glamour was gone, leaving a bitter hag in its place.

  Smoke continued to billow out of Grandmother’s she-shed. Movement caught her attention, and she focused on it. There was a little boy by the woods miming something, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to say at this distance.

  “You think you’ll have her after you kill me?” Mathilda cried out, her voice rising in shrill power. “You think you can go to her with my blood dripping from your disgusting muzzle, and she’ll still have you?”

  Another spell shot from her hands, and the wolf whimpered in pain. The two combatants broke up and began circling again. A wind took Mathilda’s hair, lifting it away from her face in a free-form tangle while saliva and blood mixed on Wolfe’s fur.

  “Look at her, bzou! She’ll never love you now!” Her laughter rose, becoming a cackle, and a dam Ruby hadn’t even known lived inside of her came crashing down.

  In striking relief, Ruby saw her parents cradling her. Loving her. Warning her away, not from the darkened woods around their home but from the brightly colored witch’s cottage in the clearing.

  The memory of her fifth birthday came with glowing candles while her parents and family sang songs to her. She had sneaked out afterward, drawn inexorably to the candy-bright cottage.

  “Would you like some chocolates?” the old crone had whispered once she saw Ruby playing in the yard.

  Ruby had shaken her head. Despite determinedly not listening to her parents regarding playing in the witch’s house, she knew she shouldn’t take candy from witches.

  As though from a distance, Ruby heard the battle raging around her. The grunts and cries as different blows caught and were parried. A child cried in the distance as memories assaulted Ruby with the power of a blow to the mid-section.

  Ruby cried out when she saw the image of herself as a little girl reach for the apple the old woman offered. Because, apples, right? There was nothing wrong with accepting fruit from a stranger, was there?

  Only it hadn’t been just any apple. Adult Ruby could see what her younger counterpart hadn’t. Ruby had become paralyzed and had been taken into the candy-covered hut. Once inside, Ruby had been thrown into a cage. It was all part of the witch’s wicked plan to destroy the Fables by killing their children.

  Another cry came from inside the hut. Ruby’s eyes focused as every puzzle piece in her life fell into place—the witch, the war, the memory lapses, the avoidance of apples, and her grandmother’s warning to keep away from the sheriff.

  Now focused, Ruby tugged at the ribbon on her cloak and let it billow behind her like a blazing cloud. She saw Wolfe holding back, afraid to kill the witch because she was Ruby's grandmother. Because Ruby was his mate, and Wolfe needed to please her.

  Ruby’s advance was fueled by rage. By the memories of being taken by Mathilda, the fear that Mathilda had possibly killed her parents. By the fury that Ruby had been poisoned, her memories dulled, and her body paralyzed. By the wrath of a human enslaved who was now free to face her captor.

  Ruby gave out a warrior's cry, the ululation echoing back off the trees surrounding them. The sound gave her strength as she hurtled feet first into the fray.

  And gasped at her new form.

  No longer at the same eye-level as the crone, she marveled as she looked down, stunned to see paws where her hands and feet had once been. She was a wolf! A shifter!

  With no time to pause, Ruby growled and joined the fight. Acting more on instinct than knowledge, she nipped at Mathilda’s ankles, hoping to hamstring her.

  Ruby sensed no surprise from Wolfe as they circled the old woman. Mathilda was bleeding, her spells growing weaker and with far less focus. No, Ruby realized as she nipped at the woman’s legs again. Mathilda’s skill had been in her potions and tinctures. Spellwork was left for more powerful witches like Paulina and Nora.

  The witch went down just as the child who had been hovering in Ruby’s peripheral vision came closer. Thinking about her own abduction, her parents, her poisoning, Ruby lunged and attacked the witch’s throat.

  The woman went down with a thud, and Ruby stood over her, panting, unsure what to do or how to finish the job. If she should finish the job. Her gaze went to Wolfe, who stood beside her, sides heaving with exertion.

  The small boy raced past the witch’s prone body and back into the cabin. Ruby exchanged a glance with Wolfe, and he nodded as if to acknowledge her decision. Mathilda remained motionless on the ground, her life’s essence dripping out of her.

  Ruby wasn’t sure, exactly, how to shift back into her human form. Didn’t even know how she had shifted into a wolf’s body. But she concentrated and soon felt her spine bend and neck arch as the metamorphosis took place.

  Going back to grab her cloak, Ruby covered her nudity before rushing into the cabin. There was a boy in a cage, weak and motionless.

  “Where are the keys?” she demanded, her eyes scanning the room in a wild search.

  The other litt
le boy only cried harder. “I dropped them in the woods,” he admitted with a little whine. He touched his brother’s hair through the bars. “Will he be okay?”

  “Okay. Think, Ruby. Think,” Ruby muttered to herself panic growing as the odor of the poisoned boy wafted over her. She pulled at the bars, but it was no use. Her strength was no match for the steel.

  She heard Wolfe enter the cabin. “The keys. He dropped them in the woods. Can you find them?”

  Still, in his wolf form, the sheriff nodded.

  “Show him.” Ruby scoured the room in search of a possible second set. Her voice sounded rough in her throat, and Ruby massaged her neck, hoping the soreness wasn’t permanent.

  The little boy nodded, gripped Wolfe’s muzzle, and, bypassing the prone form in front, they left the cabin to retrace his steps.

  Wolfe

  Wolfe wanted to take a dive in the river and wash the stain of Mathilda’s spells and blood off his body, but he didn’t dare risk it. There was no time. The little boy in the cage needed every second they could give him to get better.

  “I’m Barret. That’s my brother Oberon in with the lady.”

  Wolfe blinked in acknowledgment. He sniffed the boy’s hands and then let the child lead as they retraced his steps. There was the crisp scent of apples on the boy’s hands, but they were overlaid with something else. Something far more sinister. Poison.

  It didn’t take a genius to realize that Mathilda had also kidnapped Ruby as a child. Judging by the woman’s existing MO, by poisoned apples, too.

  Memories had flooded back into Ruby’s mind, and for a while during the fight, Wolfe hadn’t been sure Ruby would recover. But then he had heard that bone-chilling scream as she forged into the battle.

  Wolfe wanted to howl with pride and beam with joy. His mate was a warrior. A deserving woman to have by his side and one he would continuously strive to be worthy of.

  He saw the shock in Ruby’s eyes, but she’d hidden it well. They were both still in crisis mode, and the children came first. He wanted to hold her and allow them both to fall apart, but that would come later. After this crisis was past.