Mind Mates (Pull of the Moon Book 2)

by Mary Hughes

  He urged the lady out with one hand while snaring Emma’s wrist with the other. Yanking her inside, he slammed the door, quickly locked it, and heaved a dignified but definitely relieved sigh.

  Emma found herself in a cheery cluttered shop filled with books, love—and an argument.

  “Why did you let a customer into the store?” Gabriel stood behind the register to her right, his tense back to her, shirt and vest askew as if hastily donned. “You knew we were going to have to come out soon.”

  “Actually, I thought you’d show good sense and stay hidden,” a woman returned tartly. Emma recognized Linda Blue’s voice, though only her waving hand, rattling with antique bracelets, was visible behind Gabriel’s big body. “At least until I sorted things out on this side.”

  “Yeah, well, she nearly ate us up. If Mr. Kibbles hadn’t dragged her away, I don’t know what she’d have done.”

  “It was that idiot Enforcer,” Linda retorted. “Once inside, he wasn’t going to leave. Having a customer in the store helped him change his mind. So I phoned her—”

  “You called her deliberately? The woman is nuts! She tried to…” He waved in the direction of his groin.

  The auburn-haired man cleared his throat. “We have company.”

  Linda Blue’s head poked out from behind Gabriel’s mass. A delighted smile plumped her apple-cheeked face as she bustled out. “You must be Emma. I’m Gabriel’s Aunt Linda.”

  “Owner of this bookstore, I know. A lot of the library books I borrowed were donated by your store. Pleased to meet you.” Emma held out a hand as the round woman approached. Though she was in a hurry to find her father’s journal, it was always good to be polite to a witch.

  Eyes twinkling, Linda took Emma’s hand. But instead of shaking, she used it to pull her in for a smothering hug.

  “Auntie, let her breathe.” Gabriel’s voice was muffled.

  “Of course, dear.” Linda released her.

  Gasping, Emma tottered until Gabriel’s big hand found her back and began to make warm circles. It steadied her. Slowly her gaze rose to his.

  His star-shot eyes were filled with compassion and something that looked like hope. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Maybe just now. She fell into his gaze.

  A throat cleared. From across the room came Pan’s voice, sounding amused. “What was she looking for?”

  Blushing, she stepped back. The assistant manager sat on a couch in a large carpeted section center-store, a tome as big as a dog on his lap. She said, “I went to get my father’s journal, but it’s missing. I’m searching for any clue to its whereabouts.”

  Pan raised a brow at her. “You should be looking for a change of clothes. Get her something that fits, Gabriel.” He switched his golden gaze to the big witch, snapping orders as if he were the manager instead of the assistant.

  Gabriel winced. “Aunt Linda, would you do the honors?”

  “Of course, dear.” She waggled her fingers at Emma. “Zip, zip, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is!” On is, she stiffened her fingers into a fan of digits poked straight at Emma.

  The weight of canvas lifted, Emma’s spirits with it, and she was in jeans and T-shirt with slim athletic shoes on her feet.

  Gabriel said dryly, “Watching old commercials on YouTube again, Aunt Linda?”

  “A treasure trove of good, short rhymes. Better, dear?”

  “Much,” Emma said. “Look, I don’t mean to rush anyone, but I’m in kind of a hurry—”

  “Haste begets errors. My name is Goodwin, by the way.” The older gentleman shook her hand, then gestured toward the arrangement of chairs and sofas on their big Aladdin carpet. “Shall we sit?” Taking Linda’s elbow, he steered the witch toward a plump sofa. The closeness between the two made Emma wonder if Goodwin was Linda’s familiar.

  “You do look pale,” Gabriel said softly to Emma. “Sit, let us help. Okay?”

  She needed to get out of town before Edge sold her, but somehow, simply being near Gabriel’s bulwark of a body made her feel safe. Protected. “Well…okay.”

  He rewarded her with his gentle smile. “Good.”

  As he moved to follow his aunt, he seemed to unconsciously snare Emma’s hand.

  Her fingers having already automatically reached for his.

  Their hands met. She burrowed fingers into his strong, reassuring clasp. It felt natural.

  She walked with him hand in hand, realizing only after the fact that the we’ve-always-done-it-this-way feel in fact was quite unnatural. Never mind that he was attracted to her but suppressed it; this was a wizard prince to her iota wolf, boss to her employee, her superior in so many ways, including his towering height.

  Leaning down, he murmured, “Did going home clear your head?”

  But they were also friends. Her heart warmed. She gave him a rueful smile. “Only made it worse, actually.”

  “I’m sorry.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

  A yawn fought its way out her mouth. She covered it, realizing suddenly she’d been up since yesterday, with only a brief nap on the ferry. “Sorry.”

  He yawned too. “’Sall right. Catching, though.”

  Another yawn rose in response to his. “It really is.” She stretched with it.

  “So, dear.” Linda picked up a bag and extracted a mass of knotted yarn on a needle. She began flashing the needle in and out of the yarn, crocheting what looked like a baby bootie. “What were you and my nephew doing that he had to magic you clothes?” Her apple-cheeked smile suddenly looked a whole lot less innocent.

  Emma froze mid-yawn, her entire face heating. What happened between her and Gabriel in the jail dimension seemed beautiful and right at the time, or at least instinctive. But now she looked at it from Linda’s perspective.

  An iota wolf and a wizard prince? Gabriel’s aunt must think Emma the magical community’s equivalent of a gold-digger.

  “Auntie. Mind your manners.” Warning laced Gabriel’s tone and, as if to prove both his aunt and Emma wrong, he dusted the sofa across from his aunt and Goodwin then lowered Emma onto it like a princess. Sitting beside her, he reached for her hand, again seemingly without thought.

  An idea teased at her, how to avoid Bruiser reclaiming her for his harem. What if we—?

  “We need to get Emma out of town,” Gabriel said. “That’s top priority.”

  “Not top.” Emma shook her head. “I need to find my father’s journal—”

  “We have bigger problems than finding some old book.” Pan turned a page.

  “It’s not simply some old book to me,” Emma bristled.

  “And you, Gabriel.” Linda’s expression tightened with worry, her needle jabbing faster in response. “You should hide too.”

  “Not until Emma’s safe.” Gabriel’s jaw was set.

  “The boy will go.” Goodwin patted her arm. “He, Pan, and Emma will be safe in a pocket dimension.”

  “Leaving Noah to finesse his wife out of jail?” Pan’s sarcasm was acid. “That’s sure to go well.”

  Goodwin flashed a glare at Pan. “I don’t hear you having a better idea,” he said, as Emma objected, “I have to find my journal.”

  “That damned journal,” Pan growled. “It doesn’t matter—“

  “But Gabriel,” Linda pleaded with glistening eyes. “You have to be safe.”

  “Are you proud of yourselves?” Goodwin jabbed an accusing finger at them all. “You made her cry.”

  “Oh, please,” Pan said. “Get over yourself.”

  Goodwin leaned forward. “You dare—”

  “Enough.” Gabriel’s roar was louder and more commanding than an alpha wolf. They all stared at him. Even Pan stopped turning pages. Gabriel went on in a calmer tone, “We’re not getting anywhere by arguing. We need to work together.”

  “How do we do that, oh fearless leader?” Pan flipped a page. “We all have different agendas.”

  “No, we have different priorities. We have the same agenda�
�free Sophia, placate Noah, help Emma, kick that little shit Enforcer in his big fat ego.”

  “You forgot the prophecy.”

  Emma remembered Noah saying something about a prophecy. “What’s that?”

  Pan began, “A long-term puzzle—”

  “Which means we can table it for now.” Gabriel glowered at Pan, wasted because the man’s dark head was buried in his book. “Here’s what we’ll do. Pan, you call Noah. Let him know about the latest hitch. Arrange for him to come here so we can talk. Then give the Choice Buy store a call. They’ll be open by now. Find out how they’re doing and see if someone can phone Carol for help.”

  “Not Brandt,” Pan muttered.

  “Hopefully we can get back home before things go too pear-shaped.”

  The assistant manager shot Gabriel a golden stare from beneath black brows. “And while I’m doing all that, what will you be doing?”

  “While we wait for you, we’ll have time to try to help Emma find her book.”

  Emma’s spirits lifted. He’d taken her request seriously.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Wizard Prince, sir.” Pan set down his book, unfolded from the couch, and ambled toward the front of the store to make his calls. Linda’s hook started flashing again as Goodwin settled back on the sofa.

  Gabriel turned to Emma. “Tell us about the journal.”

  “It was my father’s.” She explained about the heirloom, ending with, “The Misses suggested I ask Linda to try a divination to locate the journal.”

  “Oh, dear.” The needle and bootie fell to the plump witch’s lap. “Divination isn’t very useful for finding things, only for telling their fate. Goodwin?” She exchanged a glance with her handsome companion.

  “If we have a starting point, you can do a simple Locate Object.”

  “Of course!” She beamed at him. “You’re always so brilliant.”

  He gave her a soft smile in return. Emma realized this might not simply be a gentleman, he might be Linda’s gentleman.

  “Starting point,” she said. “Well, the book was at my mother’s while I worked in Michigan.”

  “That’s good,” Goodwin said. “Even better, magically speaking, would be a person associated with the journal.”

  “My mother touched it last, but she probably wouldn’t cooperate in magic.” Besides, Edge might still be there, ready to grab Emma for Bruiser.

  Gabriel’s aunt asked, “Who owns the journal?”

  “It was my father’s. It’s mine, now. Or it was.” Emma deflated. “Before my mother sold it.”

  “But you were the last official owner.” Linda’s hands fluttered like happy little birds. “I can use your blood for the spell.”

  “Blood magic?” Gabriel’s hand tightened on Emma’s. “Absolutely not.”

  “Only a few drops.” Linda set aside her crocheting and hefted herself to her feet, Goodwin helping her.

  “But blood…that’s for complex finds. All we need is a ‘where’.”

  “And all we have is a ‘who’,” Goodwin said. “Your aunt is counting on Emma’s blood tie to the book being enough to tell us where.”

  Linda added, “Unless you want to try to coax Shalla’s cooperation, dear. But I don’t. The woman tried to zone out the yarn shop next door. Said it attracted the wrong type of people to town.”

  “Knitters?” Emma asked.

  “Cat lovers.” Goodwin sniffed.

  “The bitch.” Pan’s voice came from the front of the store.

  Gabriel staunchly shook his head, glasses flashing. “Blood magic is risky. I won’t let you do it. Either of you.”

  Linda leaned in and touched his shoulder. “I’ll be careful, dear. If we want to find that journal, it’s our best chance.”

  “Please, Gabriel?” Emma tightened her fingers around his in return, trying to communicate her deep need. “That book…it’s the only thing I have left of my dad’s. If I lost it without at least trying to find it, I’d never forgive myself.”

  His mouth opened as if he’d argue. She pled wordlessly with her eyes. Mouth slowly closing, he sighed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll help however I can.”

  “Thank you.” Emma’s heart swelled.

  “Good.” Linda bustled to a side countertop where she began assembling items. Over an unlit tea candle, she placed a small pot in a stand.

  “Shouldn’t we do this in the kitchen?” Rising, Gabriel glanced at the front door. “In case a mundane peeks in?”

  “No need.” The apple-cheeked witch grinned over her shoulder, and Emma saw where her nephew had picked up the quick, bright expression. “You would have to pay a stiff fine. But this is a bookstore full of mysterious old tomes. I’ll say I’m simply doing a re-enactment.” She winked. “Pretend magic.”

  “Pretend magic that’s real.” Emma nodded. “Hiding in plain sight. That’s smart.”

  “Thank you. You’ve chosen a good one, Gabriel.”

  A flush of pleased embarrassment rose in Emma’s cheeks as the round little witch fetched a gallon of water from behind the counter. Gabriel had “chosen” her, like a mate…

  The idea flashed again in her mind, at the edge of consciousness.

  “So, the Enforcer.” Gabriel watched Linda pour water into the pot. “Why was he here?”

  Goodwin said, “He wanted to reverse Linda’s muddle spell, and needed frog farts for his potion. He demanded we give some to him. Free.” The familiar rolled his green eyes.

  “The nerve.” Linda lit the tea candle. “Most Enforcers are good people, and I’m happy to provide a few freebies for the work they do. But this one is a self-entitled ass.”

  “My grandmother thought the same of me,” Gabriel said mildly.

  “Your grandmother was a fool. Bless her heart. I told the Enforcer I only carried toad toots. But he’s definitely gunning for you. I do wish you’d reconsider your pocket dimension. You’d be safe there. Undetectable.”

  “Yes, except…” Goodwin frowned. “I seem to recall a footnote of some sort.”

  “Well, dear, while you’re recalling your footnote, could you scrounge up a pricker? I’ll make sure I have everything else.”

  “Of course.” The dapper man reached into his jacket and drew out a small paper packet, which he ripped open.

  Gabriel’s aunt touched the pot. “Cauldron, check. Water, fire, check. Blood.” She held out a hand.

  Goodwin placed what Emma recognized as a sterile lancet flat in her palm. The little witch waved to Emma. “I need your finger.”

  Emma went to her side and offered her pointer.

  “This will only hurt a little.” Linda’s hold was firm, her aim practiced and precise. With a quick poke and tiny sting from the lancet, Emma’s blood gathered in a ruby tear, dangling from the pad.

  Linda held it over the pot and intoned, “The book is tied to Emma’s heart.”

  Her heart? She tried not to think of Gabriel as the bead of blood fell and dispersed in the water. An excited tingle dispersed through her breastbone with it.

  “The book is in Emma’s mind.”

  A second drop gathered and fell, hitting the water with a burst and a dazzle. The tingle in Emma’s chest simultaneously burst, singing along her nerves to light up her brain. She clenched down on her muscles to avoid jerking her finger out of Linda’s grasp.

  “The book calls to Emma’s soul.” As the third drop fell, the round little witch pressed a thumb against the puncture to stop the bleeding.

  Blood filtered into the water. A feeling of calm settled inside Emma as it did, like a comforting blanket, or being in Gabriel’s arms.

  Releasing Emma’s hand, Linda reached into a pocket, drew out what looked like a silver knitting needle, and flicked it at the pot like a wand. The flick sent her bracelets clacking.

  The flame under the pot danced higher. The witch flicked again and drew the tea candle’s yellow-red flame onto the wand. Flick, flick, wrapping fire around t
he wand like cotton candy on a stick.

  “Find.”

  With the word, she flung an arc of golden fire into the pot. Water and blood lit with a foomph. Air and fire began to swirl and coalesce.

  A ghostly living room wavered above the pot, with bookshelves and chairs and sofas and counters full of charms and jewelry… Not a living room.

  The bookstore.

  A red spot glowed near an oval mirror. Linda straightened in surprise. “The journal—it’s right here! How strange.”

  “A coincidence?” Goodwin said.

  “I don’t like coincidences.” Gabriel was using his nobody-hurts-my-employees voice.

  “Let’s see, shall we?” The round little witch swirled her wand in an “off” motion. As the flames died, she trotted toward the back of the store.

  Emma sagged, yawning hard. Gabriel’s arms came to support her, and she leaned gratefully against him.

  “This is the problem with blood magic,” he growled at no one in particular. “It’s as exhausting as if you’d actually run around town to find the thing.”

  “I’m fine.” She yawned again. “Well, except for not much sleep last night.” She paused. “Gabriel, I felt…tingly during the spell. Is that because I was the center of it, or should I be worried?”

  He frowned down at her. “Tingly? That sounds like you sensed the magic. But that’s—”

  “Impossible.” Goodwin shrugged. “Only witches can recognize power traces.”

  Another yawn welled in Emma’s pit, but she suppressed it. “Oh, then it probably wasn’t the spell. Probably I was just excited about finding my father’s journal.”

  “Here it is,” Linda sang out.

  “Maybe,” Gabriel said. “Let’s go see what Auntie discovered.”

  Gabriel and Emma walked hand in hand—how had that happened again?—to the back of the store, followed by Goodwin. Pan’s end of a heated conversation floated to her ears from the front.

  Linda had set a cardboard banker’s box atop a showcase of wands that included a child’s sparkly pink fairy staff. She dug into the box and came out with a small, leather-bound book.

  Emma’s heart beat faster. It was her father’s journal.

  “I remember now how I got it.” Linda handed the book to Emma. “Your mother sold me a box of things at her rummage sale, but the journal seemed to…I don’t know…to miss its owner. So I kept it.”