The light from a pair of headlights came upon us as a car drove up the driveway and came to a stop behind the truck. I tried to stay on my feet, but wobbled and fell to my knees. Without a word, the werewolf – if that’s really what he was – gathered me up and carried me toward the car.
“Is she alright?” A man’s voice came from somewhere to my left. He had an accent that was familiar to me, that of a native Spanish speaker. His question was so full of concern, I wondered if I was supposed to know him somehow.
“Yes.” I felt the werewolf’s answer reverberate through his chest. Looking up at him, I saw him nod his head toward where Dominic had fallen. His lips were set in a grim line, saying so much without another word.
The other man drew a cross with his fingertips, head to chest and shoulder to shoulder. The reverence of the gesture put a tightness in my chest and brought tears to my eyes.
He walked to my husband’s body and looked for a moment before nodding his head. Coming back to us, he explained his decision.
“Listen closely. This will have to be reported to the police, and this is what we’re going to tell them . . .”I tried to focus as the dark-haired man told me how to be secretive about what had just taken my husband’s life, but I was preoccupied by the horror of what I had seen.
Up until then, I had been content to accept the world around me at face value and never think twice about it, just like any other person. Of course I had seen creepy creature movies and read the legends woven in popular stories, but like almost everyone else, I believed the stories to be nothing more than mere fantasy. Entertainment.Well, it sure as hell wasn’t entertaining anymore.