Falling For Henry by Beverley Brenna

all Gran had ever said about London was that it was a dangerous city, especially after dark. She and Willow were always telling her to be careful, to be cautious, to be sure and lock the door at all times!
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Kate blurted.
    â€œOh, not anything, really,” Gran said, her voice a bit uncertain. After a pause, she went on: “I’ve just been busy, luv. Selling a bit of old furniture and other trappings I don’t really need. Wore myself out just a bit, I think …” Her voice trailed off and then she added, “And there … well, there’s been some funny goings on here at night, you know. Wild dogs, or something, running in a pack, taking people by surprise and such.”
    â€œTaking people by surprise? You mean attacking people?”
    â€œWell, not exactly. There haven’t been injuries, but we’re all being a little extra wary. Not to worry, though. It’ll all work out. You just have to believe and it’ll all work out. But I’d best go now, dearie, so if there isn’t anything else … I’ll go and put the kettle on. I’ll tell Patch you said hello. Ta for calling.”
    â€œWait,” started Kate. “What year was—” but she heard the line go dead. Gran had hung up before she could ask the question about her father’s birth date. It didn’t matter, anyway. What use was history? It couldn’t bring him back. Nothing could bring him back.
    As she hung up the phone, an odd feeling of dread filled Kate’s stomach. She’d never heard Gran sound so distant. It was like she wasn’t really thinking about their conversation at all. And it wasn’t like Gran not to try and cajole Kate and Willow into a visit. She’d been after Kate to learn bridge so they could play as partners with a couple of neighbors. Kate looked out the window into darkness and a shiver ran down her spine. Wild dogs … or wolves? Had they been seeing wolves in Brighton? Martin Brown’s words came back: “You can’t be a hundred percent certain about anything.”
    Wolves. Wolves. Kate scanned her memory for what she knew about them, hoping to piece things together in a plausible way. Maybe she had stumbled into an excavation site that wolves had extended by digging. She remembered that wolves lived in dens, and possibly what she’d found was a wolf den. As soon as this idea occurred to her, she discarded it. What she’d been in was certainly not a den—it was much too large.
    Wolves live and hunt in packs, led by the dominant alpha male, she recalled. Wolves are fierce and bloodthirsty. In some countries, Norway for example, people think they’re a harbinger of death. Kate thought of her dad, but harbinger meant predictor , and Dad was already gone. And he wasn’t, she added silently to herself, ever coming back. She thought of her mother and felt again as if a stone were lodged in her throat. Caught in a swirl of gray thoughts, Kate suddenly remembered her tracks earlier that day across the soft damp grass of Greenwich Park. They had lasted just long enough to give her a sense of direction back to the Naval College. But by now, the tracks would have vanished.
    She took a deep breath and wandered in and out of her bedroom, and then into Willow’s room. Willow had some freaky masks hanging on the walls and lots of bright, gaudy jewelry strewn on the bureau. Her closet was stuffed with clothes. Tall leopard skin boots poked out, along with a short purple miniskirt, a filmy white blouse, a Hawaiian shirt, a black leather jacket, and two mismatched tennis shoes.
    Kate felt the blueness of another memory when she saw those shoes. She and Willow used to play lots of tennis together when they were younger. Willow had won a scholarship to a dance academy when she was thirteen, but she’d been home on weekends and for longer holidays, too, when they’d often had time for a