The Last Werewolf (The Weres of Europe) by Jennifer Denys, Susan Laine Page A

apparently, that she had Googled a picture of on the internet before departing England . At least there she might have gotten instructions to her grandmother, if she was still alive at all.
    The letter had been sent so long ago, she could be dead of old age by now. Perhaps she should have tried an internet search of her before embarking on this trip, but she didn’t want to contemplate that possibility.
    Well, it was far too late to worry about that now. Besides, even if her grandmother was no longer alive, the people here must have known her, and could tell Summer about her. That alone was worth the travel here.
    Next to a small kiosk were two long wooden tables, and three men sat there with beers in their hands, talking and laughing.
    Summer wasn’t sure if these people knew of Annukka Salonen, the woman who was apparently her grandmother, but they were better than nothing, whether they spoke English or not. She hoped for the former as she turned off the ignition, exited the vehicle, and swiftly made her way toward the men even though she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure if this was the so-called hamlet or just a farm.
    All three men, rough salt-of-the-earth types, turned to watch her approach, their eyes raking her curvaceous, but firm figure. Used to getting noticed by men of all sorts, both in the good and the bad way, she remained focused on retrieving information and not getting all bent out of shape over unwanted attention.
    “Excuse me,” she started politely, keeping her tone soft. “Do you speak English?”
    One of the burly men with an unshaven jaw, brown thicket of hair, and blue plaid shirt nodded and said, “Yes.” His accent was heavy, and Summer feared she might not understand him if even one word was so hard to grasp.
    Nonetheless, she courageously forged onward, speaking clearly. “Do you know of Annukka Salonen? I think she lives in this village.”
    Two of the men looked at the one who had answered her query and who still kept his eyes locked on Summer. She had a sneaky suspicion that he did know Annukka, or of her, judging by the way his eyes narrowed when she spoke. He raised his face as if to smell her. Summer was certain he was contemplating whether or not to give someone’s exact whereabouts to a complete stranger, an obviously foreign one if her scent was anything to go by, and she suddenly felt excited that her grandmother might actually be alive.
    “I have never met her, but I believe we are related.” Yes, it was more information than she had planned on offering, but they seemed to doubt her intentions, so she chose to tell the truth. And she was an honest person after all, with plenty of faith in the good in people.
    Planting the sloshing beer bottle down on the wooden table, the man got up. “Annukka lives near. I take you to her. You have car?”
    Relieved and wary of getting in a car with a strange man at the same time, Summer offered him her sweetest smile, hoping to get into his good graces, and nodded. “Yes, right over there.” She pointed behind her to the side of the road where she had haphazardly parked.
    The man acknowledged this with a curt lift of his chin and walked past her toward the car. She followed, got into the driver’s side, and let him in the passenger side. The man was so withdrawn and brusque she could only think how much he differed from Rik who was open, funny and approachable. And she didn’t think this was a language barrier kind of bluntness either.
    “Where to?” she asked, keeping her voice civil, and plastering her most endearing grin on her face.
    Saying nothing, he merely pointed in the direction he meant for her to go, so without speaking either she started the ignition, pulled back onto the empty road, and drove off. They made no idle chitchat, and she was happy of that fact. The man made her uneasy. She was beginning to regret asking his help.
    “What is your name?” he finally asked turning to face her.
    She kept her gaze on the road.