The Wolf's Daughter (The Tala Chronicles 1)

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

WCP

World Castle
Publishing

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © Patricia La Barbera
2013

ISBN: 9781938961991

First Edition World Castle
Publishing March 15, 2013

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

Licensing Notes

All rights reserved. No part of
this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and
reviews.

Cover: Karen Fuller

Photos: Shutterstock

Editor: Eric R. Johnston

Chapter One

“She’s dead, isn’t
she?” Tala tightened her grip on the cell phone. “I knew it as soon as I heard
your voice. And that means I’m supposed to go back to the house, right?”

“You have
responsibilities that—”

“Vanessa, don’t
tell me about responsibilities after what happened there.”

“Blackthorn Road
is a street like any other now, and the house is just a run-down Victorian needing
a coat of paint. It’s time you faced your fear and realized the truth, Tala.”

“Whatever helps
you sleep at night.”

***

“That one stinks.”
The words conquered the heavy drone of the travelers who thronged outside the
newsstand. A woman in a leopard jacket motioned with her platinum-blonde head
toward the book Tala held and then moved closer. “Typical airport terminal stuff.”

Magnolia perfume
hit Tala, and her stomach cramped. “It’s just a light read.” She gave the woman
a half smile and continued reading the back cover: “An absorbing novel about the
heartfelt journey of a broken woman who returns home to face her past.” The
front cover, though, had no weapons, bodies, or blood. Just a hazy, dreamy
scene of a woman walking through a field of wildflowers.

“What a stupid
ending.” Leopard Jacket stuck out her tongue, pointed to it, and made a gagging
sound. “You’re better off watching the in-flight movie.”

Tala raised her
eyebrows. “How do you know I have a movie to look forward to?”

“I heard you at
check-in. We’re on the same flight.”

“Oh, we are?”
She put the book back on the shelf. “Maybe a mystery would be more appropriate.”
Tala grabbed one whose cover had a man lurking under a streetlight in a park.

Leopard Jacket
winked. “That’s more like it. Won’t put you to sleep.” She paused. “Here, let
me help you with your carrier.” The woman picked it up and scrutinized the
contents. “Never did like black cats.”

A spit and a low
growl answered her.

“Thanks, uh…”

“Gladys. It
means ‘lame,’ and I’m
glad
most people don’t know it.” She let out a
belly laugh.

Tala glanced
down at her Frankenstein boot. “Well, that would be a perfect name for me. I’m
Tala. It means ‘stalking wolf’ in Native American.”

***

Eight, nine,
ten
. Counting clouds as the plane rose, Tala tried to ignore her pain. If
only she hadn’t broken her foot. And that monster black boot… At least she didn’t
have to use the crutches anymore. The man and woman on either side of her white
knuckled the armrests. Was fear of flying contagious? Her stomach churned. She
rubbed the beads of sweat off her forehead. Why did she always get a middle
seat? And what was that smell? Garlic and curry? Maybe if she closed her eyes
she’d stop thinking about how crowded the plane was. But when she did, it just
made her more nervous.

Tala peeked into
the cat carrier under the seat in front of her. La-la land. Too bad she wasn’t
there yet with Maeve. She smiled, thinking how
glad
she was that Gladys
sat several rows behind her. Although being slammed with magnolia would be
better than what swirled around her.

After climbing
through the ceiling of clouds, the Valium numbed her, and she closed her eyes,
drifting off. The gray clapboard house loomed. How did she get there so soon?
And why didn’t she remember getting off the plane? She floated up the stairs and
onto the porch, where empty chairs rocked. Crosses she’d carved into the door frame
had grown larger. The sky turned purple. Tala hesitated a moment and then
knocked. First, nothing…then footsteps on the other side. The door creaked, and
a bloody hand held it open.

“You’re too
late,” her mother rasped.
T A L
in dripping letters ran red on her
apron. She turned and weaved down the hall. Tala followed. The grandfather
clock sped up its ticking as her heartbeats hammered. A metallic smell grew
stronger as she approached the kitchen. Her father, framed in crimson, sprawled
on the floor. She rushed to his side and shook him.

“You’ll never
get the chance to tell anyone about this.” Her mother, reeking of alcohol, grabbed
Tala, nails digging into her arm, and pulled her up.

Blood stained Tala’s
hands. “No!” she kept on screaming.

The plane
lurched. She opened her eyes. The Fasten Seatbelt sign glowed. Where was she
now? What was happening to her? She had to get to her father. Maybe it
wasn’t
too late. Maybe her mother was lying to her. Was it a dream? Was she losing her
mind? She needed... She had to... Sleep overtook her again.

“Why?” she
screamed at her mother. “Why?”

Shrill laughter
shot through the room. Her mother drew closer. “Don’t you know?”

Backing up, she
shook her head. Tala swallowed hard, tasting her fear.

“So I can
finally kill you.” Her mother smiled. “You’re now a full-fledged Violent Maker,
and I’m a Violent. The beatings up to now were just practice.”

“Wh-what are you
talking about?”

Her mother shoved
the body with her foot. “I’m surprised he never told you about the strains that
run in the family.” Her face contorted with disgust and she spat. “He was a
weak man. Not that any of this matters now. You’ll never learn the truth about
the strain.” She sneered and drew a bloodstained knife from the apron’s ripped
pocket. The blade flew to Tala’s neck, its point pressing in under her left
ear.

“No, No, please—”

Thunder on the
door made them both jump, and the knife clattered on the chipped tile.  

“Police! Open up!”

Tala grabbed the
knob and swung open the door. Two officers rushed in.

Her mother ran
and hid behind one of them. She screamed. “Please, help me. Oh God, please...
She’s trying to stab me.” Then she pointed to Tala. “She killed him. I just
caught him after she...” Her mother shrieked. “Don’t let her k-kill me.” She
fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. “Oh God. Oh God.”

Tala woke to the
sound of her own screams. “I didn’t kill him.” She glanced at the man and woman
beside her, whose eyes widened with fear.

A flight
attendant ran down the aisle. “What’s wrong?”

She drew in
ragged breaths. Her eyelids were so heavy. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t... She
closed her eyes.

Then cement-block
walls surrounded her. She looked down at her hands. She wore the silver ring
her boyfriend Matt had given her in high school. But how.... It had been stolen
after she moved away from Wolfeboro.

“How old are
you?” The detective’s scar zigzagged from the left side of his mouth up to his
ear. A faint accent, maybe Russian or German. Eyes half shrouded like a lizard’s.
He leaned forward in the straight-backed metal chair and held his pen like someone
would hold a knife.  

The interrogation
room’s atmosphere of violence and sadness threatened to suffocate Tala. Her
eyes darted past him, and she stared at a wall stain resembling an open-mouthed
animal. “I’m seventeen. Why are you questioning me? How many times do I have to
tell you? I didn’t do anything.”

“Okay, then tell
me exactly what happened.” He pushed the tape recorder’s On button and leaned
back in his chair.

“I…uh…” Tala put
her elbows on the scratched metal table and rubbed her forehead. “Don’t you
understand how hard this is for me? I’m afraid.” Then she grabbed the arms of
her chair, squeezing them until her knuckles whitened. “It hurts too much to
remember.”

“I can’t help
you unless you tell me the truth. How did you get along with your father?” The
detective stared hard at her. He set his jaw, and the scar flinched. “Don’t
think you can lie to me. I have a built-in you-know-what meter.”

Tala
concentrated on the table edge’s designs—a swastika, a knife, a faint word, maybe
Diesel
. No hearts. “Fine. I mean…he never beat me if that’s what you’re
talking about.”

“What about your
mother? There’s no record of your being brought to the emergency room. Did she
ever hit you?”

Tala tried to
control her breathing, but lost the battle, her chest heaving, and her heart
racing. “Yes, but my father would stop her. Sometimes he’d give her more liquor
to make her fall asleep.”

“But he never
reported her?”

“I-I guess not.”
She turned her head away from him and toward the photograph on the desk behind
him. His happy family. Maybe they’d only forced themselves to smile for the
picture. They might be even more screwed up than her family. Maybe Scarface
beat his wife. She could have had bruises she hid with makeup. Maybe his sons
were afraid of him. Wished he were dead.

The detective
leaned closer to her. “How did that make you feel? Were you angry at him?”

“No, he told me
there were lots of things I didn’t understand, and my mother couldn’t help
herself. He made it sound as though it were my fault, as though I had some kind
of effect on her.”

“What kind of
effect?” He tapped his fingers on the table. He may as well have been hammering
it.

Cut it out, she
wanted to scream. Cut it out. “He said something once about a strain, but I was
too afraid to ask him anything else.” Did she just imagine he rolled his eyes?

“How could you
put up with it all these years?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t you ever
try to run away?”

“My father said
if I left, someone would wind up killing me.”

Tala’s eyelids
flew open.

The flight
attendant stood next to her with the beverage cart. “Something to drink?”

Her mouth was
dry, and she swallowed hard. “Black coffee, please.” She looked at her hands.
No silver ring.

The attendant
handed her the coffee, and she sipped from the Styrofoam cup. Would the house
reveal secrets? And did she want to learn them? She remembered Vanessa’s words,
although she probably didn’t even have a clue to the real situation. It
was
time
to face her fear and learn the truth.

Maeve meowed,
clawing at the carrier’s window.

“Oh, poor thing.”
Tala pulled the box on top of her lap and opened it. The cat crawled out and
curled up against her arm.

“Okay, Maeve,
can we do this together?”

“Meow.” The cat
reached up and patted her face.

Tala fished
around in her roomy tapestry tote and pulled out the mystery. She read the last
page as though it held a fortune-cookie message. Evidently, the mystery had
been solved and the bad guy had been caught. And even…a hint of romance.

Too bad she didn’t
believe in fortune cookies.

***

Tala stood at
the curb in the cold air of Manchester, New Hampshire. Punctuality wasn’t one
of Vanessa’s good points, but she could always depend on her. When Vanessa finally
drove up at the passenger-pickup area, the cold had pierced her bones.

Vanessa jumped
out and hugged her. “I’m so happy to see you. What’s with the circles under
your eyes? I mean...they’re still that beautiful amber color, though.”

“I guess I haven’t
been sleeping very well. Too many memories…”

“Well, I’ll just
have to help you get rid of those memories.” Vanessa stepped back slightly and
frowned. “You’ve lost the weight I gained.”

“It’s not like
it’s cause and effect.” Tala took a painful step toward the Mercedes.

 “Is this all
you have with you?” Vanessa picked up the carryon bag and the matching cat
carrier. “And look at you with that heavy black boot.”

Tala glanced
down at it. “I named it Frankenstein.” She leaned on the heel and picked up the
front.

Vanessa laughed.
“Lovely pose. Well, you still look glam. Green was always your color. It makes
your red highlights glow. And I like that longer length on you.”