Mason's Mate

by Abigail Raines

  “I’m thinking of how you’re sappy,” I say, leaning on his shoulder. “Sappy and sweet.”

  “And...badass,” Mason says, the corner of his mouth turning up. “You were also going to say ‘badass’ right?”

  “I mean, you are,” I say. “In fact, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit for how tough you can be. But that’s not what I love best about you. You’re not like any guy I knew from Hardwidge because you don’t need to prove you’re the hardest wolf or the toughest man. You’re kind and gentle. That’s the kind of man I want.”

  “I guess I can live with that,” Mason says softly, but I see that he’s pleased.

  Portland takes about three and a half hours. We get there just in time to have a lunch and Mason wants me to pick the place as we drive around but I have no idea how to pick a restaurant so he lets me off the hook and we end up at a cute diner. Diners are something I always saw in TV shows when I did get a chance to see them. They always seemed so cozy to me and our table has one of those little jukeboxes. Mason gives me quarters and he lets me choose the song and I go for something by The Beatles just because I’ve heard of them.

  How we’re going to find my mother in a city the size of Portland, I have no idea. I know exactly how half-baked the entire idea is, although Mason was able to find me on that mountain just be sniffing me out, a city is much bigger than driving up a single road. The last time I smelled my mother, I was ten-years-old, but I still have a scarf that smells like her in my backpack so we do have a scent to go by.

  Mason and I eat breakfast for lunch because he claims breakfast is always the best thing to eat in a diner. I order French toast and lots of sausage and I think he must be right.

  After we eat, we roll down the windows and just start driving and sniffing. If nothing else, Mason says Xander’s P.I. is on the job and that searches these days are pretty instantaneous unless somebody really knows what they’re doing because it’s so difficult to stay off the grid.

  We drive around for hours. I think it’s a testament to Mason’s patience with me, since it’s such a crazy thing to try. By eleven at night, we’re exhausted, and all we’ve learned so far is that Portland has plenty of shifters living in it, but none of them appears to be my mother.

  Mason finds us a motel and we sleep like we usually do, with him spooning me. It’s getting to be so that I can’t imagine how I would sleep otherwise, if I didn’t have Mason to hold me.

  That night I don’t have any nightmares at all. I have good dreams that seem so real, I wake up a little heartbroken. I dream I can shift and that I’m running with Mason in the forest behind his house. I dream we hunt together but because it’s with him and I’m not fighting to survive, it’s actually fun and satisfying. I dream he chases me and it only makes me happy when he catches up. I dream of the wind in our fur, the scent of him making my wolf happy when he tackles me and play bows and we wrestle in the mud. When I wake up, I’m a little sad that I’m missing that part of us. But I only smile when he asks me how I slept.

  When we wake up in the morning, Mason has messages on his phone. Apparently, Xander’s guy did already find something. My mother is living in Mount Shasta. Xander even has an address for it.

  I really didn’t think it would be that easy. But I guess since she was exiled, it’s not as if she had to worry about men from Hardwidge coming to find her since they didn’t want her anymore. Part of me really thought she was dead. When Mason reads me the messages that she’s very much alive and living in a house by a lake, I’m somehow simultaneously happy and let down. I can’t help but wonder how hard she ever tried to get me back. The thought gives me a dark feeling that I don’t want to touch, not when I’m so close. It almost makes me not want to find out. But we came this far and I’ve made Mason come all this way already. If I don’t find out, I’ll be asking myself forever.

  “Let’s go to Mount Shasta,” Mason says calmly. We’re pulled over by a gas station, the familiarity of it sort of comforting. Gas stations were such a little oasis for me when I was a kid. And I didn’t even need gas. “I’m ready if you are. My work can wait. What do you think?”

  I nod and pretend to be surer about it than I am. “Let’s go.”

  The drive to Portland was about four hours, but the drive to Mount Shasta is more than six. I don’t know how to drive and even if I did, I wouldn’t have a license. Mason assures me we’ll “get to that” soon enough along with school and everything else. For now, I make him stop every couple of hours so he can at least get out and stretch and if we’re anywhere near some wilderness, I walk around while he goes on a little run. His shoulder is doing much better anyway. He says it’s just a little bit sore and his muscles are achy from the fight.

  We make such good time to Mount Shasta, it’s only three in the afternoon. I’ve never been to California. It’s not like I ever imagined it but then looking at the maps Mason keeps in his car, it’s huge. And we’re not farther south than Los Angeles and San Francisco which I guess is where lots of TV shows are made and which would probably be more familiar to me.

  We stop in the little town littered with camping gear stores and tourist trap shops to eat. This time we just have quick burgers. The only time I ever had burgers before was when we’d get to walk down into town and go to McDonald’s. But a lot of times Andy was with me. I make a note to myself to try to get in touch with Andy when we get back to Quinton. I’m guessing he was placed with a new pack. I hope it’s with kind people. He was the only person who I could count on for any kindness in Hardwidge, even if most of the time I was the one looking out for him.

  The whole thing makes me think about how another Hardwidge needs to be prevented. The clan does have some rules for packs, but not many. If you were to look at the rules of being a shifter, not having a human for a mate would appear to be much more important than the treatment of shifter children. At least it seems so to me, because the clan never interfered with how Hardwidge was run and they must have known how brutal it was to its pups and mates. I wonder if they’re even considering that now.

  “Has Xander ever mentioned what the clan is going to do about Hardwidge?” I ask Mason. “I mean the alpha and elders and all of them?”

  “Well, the people who were left were sent to new clans or facing some punishment for holding Luna and Micah hostage,” Mason says. “But the pack itself was disassembled. There is no Hardwidge anymore.”

  “Well, I know that part, but have they talked about preventing another Hardwidge from forming? I say. “Hardwidge was murderous and besides that they mistreated the pups and mates terribly. You know that. I mean what are they going to do about that? Nobody ever stepped in because packs are allowed to follow their own rules. Unless they want to mate with humans. As if that’s the worst thing in the world.”

  “I think you’re onto something,” Mason says thoughtfully. “Packs can be so resistant to new rules but they already have rules that the clan thinks of as so important-”

  “Not mating with a human-”

  “Yes,” Mason says. “And… I don’t think they are? At least not compared to how we treat our people. And there are hardly any rules to that at all. Certainly nothing that ever could have protected you at Hardwidge.”

  “I mean there’s loyalty to the pack,” I go on. “And the clan which is vague and doesn’t have anything to do with that, and if anything it could be harmful if there’s mistreatment and abuse and things like that. And we’re so disconnected from the human world even as much as we assimilate into it. Which means there are no rules to protect those who need it within a pack… Maybe you should talk to Xander,” I say, gazing out the window out to the road. The more I think about it, the more necessary it seems.

  “Maybe you should talk to Xander,” Mason says, the corner of his mouth turning up. “It’s your idea and I think it’s a good one.”

  “I can’t…” I scoff at him, shaking my head. The idea seems laughable. “I can’t go talking to your alpha big brother ab
out a bunch of new rules of the clan! I’m nobody! I’m uneducated and…”

  “You’re not nobody,” Mason says, all but growling. “You’re not uneducated, you’re very well educated in the way a pack can mistreat its people. Which someone would need to be to come with those kinds of rules. And you’re more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. As soon as you’re ready, you’re going to school and prove it. Mostly to yourself.”

  “Well…” I throw up my hands but I can’t help smiling. “Fine then. I will. Maybe.”

  “That’s my girl,” Mason says, kissing me on my temple.

  The last hour of the drive to Mount Shasta and directly to the lake where I now know my mother is living in a house by a lake, happy as a clam, I can’t sum up any conversation. It’s starting to become real and I’m starting to get so nervous, my palms are sweating as we drive up a winding road through the valley. At least the scenery is pretty. I always find the woods calming.

  Mason pulls us over when we’re just minutes away and says, “Are you sure about this?”

  It takes me a minute but I finally say, “Yes.”

  “Because we don’t have to do this right now,” Mason says. “I know we drove all the way up here, but don’t worry about that. We can drive back right this second if you don’t want to do this.”

  “I want to do this,” I say firmly. “I dreamed about her coming to find me for a long time and then I finally gave up on it. I always wondered how she built a life for herself after she was exiled. Maybe...maybe she can tell me how to do it too? I don’t know. I just know I need...I need..”

  “Closure,” Mason says.

  I squint at him. The word is unfamiliar. “Closure? What’s that?”

  “It’s like, you need to deal with this part of your life before you can move on to the next part of your life.”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. “That makes sense. Closure.”

  Chapter Thirteen: Mason

  It hasn’t taken very long for Alice to impress me. It was just a few days that I realized that the scared, helpless girl I found in the cave was not even close to the person Alice really is, which is fiercely intelligent and passionate. When she talked about how the clan should have rules for its packs in how their people are treated, I began to picture having a serious sit down with Xander. Hell, she could have a serious sit down with the alpha and elders and I think they’d be forced to listen given what she’s been through. All she needs is a little bit of a confidence boost. I wonder to myself if we should get Luna involved. It might be good to have a voice from someone else who grew up in Hardwidge, even if Luna was able to escape as a teenager.

  “Oh,” Alice says suddenly. “We’re here.”

  Or rather we’re on her mother’s street, according to the GPS. We’ve been driving so long, it’s almost easy to forget the destination. But I’m glad I double-checked on Alice’s willingness to see her mother. I couldn’t blame her if she came all the way up here and then didn’t want to go through with it.

  “Should be, right up here,” I mutter as I make another turn around a bend and then suddenly there it is; the address in bold black metal numbers attached to a white wood sided house that sits back on an unfenced lawn looking out on the lake across the road. There are pretty trees looming over the house which is modest but not tiny. There are potted flowers along a walkway and a pinwheel by the door. It looks like a homestead that’s cared for. Somehow...that pisses me off. Why didn’t Alice get this life too? But since Alice wants to give her mother the benefit of the doubt, I guess I can go along with it.

  “Let me have a minute,” Alice says quietly, when I pull over in front of the house. It’s a quiet little street, not exactly bustling. And the nearest houses are several yards away in each direction with trees between each yard. We’ll be noticed pretty quickly, but Alice gets out of the car and stands on the lawn, with her hands in her pockets, just staring at the cute white house with the pinwheel in front of it. I watch her stand and stare and she finally spins around and wipes her eyes.

  “Am I coming with you?” I ask, mildly embarrassed that we didn’t plan this before.

  “You better,” she says, her voice crackling in the quiet.

  I follow Alice to the door, standing just behind her. When I see her raise her hand to knock and drop it, I get the feeling that she does want this. She’s just having trouble getting her nerve up. I reach up and squeeze her shoulder and she squeezes my hand once before knocking; three sharp raps that disrupts the silence of the pretty front yard across from the lake.

  “Just a sec!” The voice come from far back in the house, a faint echo. I hear Alice breathe in. She rolls her neck and wipes her hands on her jeans.

  The door opens and blows our hair back a little and an attractive woman in her late forties with pretty laugh lines and gray blonde hair stands smiling in overalls and a t-shirt, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Alice seems to be working up to say something but I watch the woman look between us and then look back at Alice, her brow furrowing in recognition.

  “Oh my God, it’s you,” she blurts out. “Alice.”

  “Um...yeah,” Alice says softly. “Hello, I mean yes. It’s me.”

  There’s an uncomfortable bit of silence but I can see the woman sniffing slightly and she smiles. “I'd now my daughter’s scent anywhere. Uh, please come in…” She stands back and we step inside, relaxing maybe one degree.

  “Oh uh, Mason,” Alice nods at me. “So this is my mother, Christine.”

  “Hi there,” she says, laughing a little as she sticks her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Christine Lawson.”

  “Lawson?” Alice says. “Are you remarried?”

  I wince at that. Xander’s P.I. had found Christine and mentioned the name change and the marriage, but I’d only really been paying attention to the address and the fact that she was actually alive. I should have told Alice. I guess I wasn’t thinking that part was very important. Normally I’m pretty careful about such things.

  “I’ve been married…” She glances away and ushers us into a small living room with a cozy amount of clutter. Everything is in whites and pastels and looks sort of pleasantly used. There are wind-chimes hanging in the window. Christine sits on a white floral couch where a long-haired gray cat jumps down and runs off. She grabs a pile of mail on the steam trunk of a coffee table and scurries off to leave it in another room then comes back and hovers in the doorway. “Please, can I get you some coffee or juice or something? Iced tea?”

  “Coffee,” I say, smiling pleasantly. Alice still seems a bit on edge and I rub her back.

  Alice and I sit in the awkward silence of ten endless minutes listening to wind-chimes. The cat comes back to introduce itself, rubbing up against our legs and Alice pets its head. Christine comes back with a tray of mugs and cookies and sets it down on the trunk.

  “I knew this day would come,” she says, smiling fondly. “Eventually. I hoped it would really.”

  “Are you still married?” Alice says.

  “He died,” Christine says, with a sad little shrug. “Three years ago. Left me this house. He was a good man. You’d have liked him.”

  “I’m sure…” Alice stirs cream and sweetener into her coffee and just stirs it slowly for a while. I can see her trying to ease into things.

  “It’s a lovely house,” I say to her, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s very cozy. Has a lot of character.”

  “I’ve made it my own,” Christine says proudly. “Always wanted to live in a city and I tried it too. But...I needed the woods. Need to be able to go outside and just run.”

  “Oh, me too,” I say, nodding. “My house is right by the woods. Up in Quinton? Washington?”

  “Did you two come all the way from Washington?” She says, her eyebrows raising. “That is… Well, I suppose you got out of Hardwidge, sweetie? If you’re here? Thank God…”

  Alice frowns at her, her gaze flicking over Christine’s face, looking for something. “I guess you didn�
�t hear about Hardwidge? It’s...gone. It’s been disassembled by the Washington clan really. They attacked the Tremblays.”

  “Ho!” Christine laughs at that and even slaps her knee. “Idiots. Went all the way to Washington to attack the Tremblays? I guess they had a death wish.”

  “Yeah…” Alice chuckles and rubs her neck, glancing at me.

  “They did,” I say, sighing and setting down my mug. “They went after my brother. I’m Mason Tremblay.”

  “Oh!” Christine blushes a little, glancing around her house. “And me so proud of my little shack here-”

  “No, no,” I say. “I was serious. It’s a lovely home. Anyway...Alice here was instrumental in saving my brother. So I’ve been...we’ve been looking after her. She wanted to find you.”

  “Of course,” Christine says. “I’m glad you did. I’ve dreamed of it all these years.”

  Alice smiles at that. “Yeah?”