“It’s even better than that.” Marigold was glowing with satisfaction.
“Better? What’s better than you and Henry and makeup sex?”
“Winifred and the handyman. Sittin’ in a tree.”
“Okay, explain this to me, without the use of nursery rhymes. I could desperately use some good news.”
“Yesterday Winifred came to ask me if there was any hope for her and the handyman. I looked in her future and saw Winifred crying in her room and the handyman driving off in frustration.”
“Okay. And this is good news because?”
“I was about to tell her that, but then I thought about what you told me. Winifred was asking me for a reading, in her own barely comprehensible geek speak, because she was afraid that it wouldn’t work out. She was afraid that they were too different. And you were the one who told me that when you expect the end of a relationship, you end up unconsciously sabotaging yourself.”
“True.”
“So I asked her if she wanted it to work out with him, and she said yes. I asked her what she saw as the potential barriers to it working out, and she told me. Then I told her to pretend she was writing a thesis on why it could work out, and to come up with solutions to all of the problems that she found.”
“And?”
“And then I looked into my crystal ball again and I saw them, I am not kidding you, with wedding rings, and each of them holding a twin baby in their arms. And I told her it would work out. And this morning she told me that apparently you don’t have to connect intellectually with a person to be happy, as long as you connect emotionally. Well, she said it much geekier, but that was pretty much the gyst.”
Her smile grew mischievious. “And she had bite marks on her neck this morning. And her shirt was buttoned up wrong.”
Ginger gasped. Winifred was an obsessive neat freak. “It must be love!”
“I know, right?” Then her face fell. “But Ginger, if I can affect the outcomes of my readings, than I’ve ruined relationships for no reasons. I’ve broken up people who might have gotten married! Oh, my God-“
Ginger quickly made a shushing motion. “Don’t do that to yourself, Marigold. There’s no guarantee that you could have talked those people into trying to work things out. Most of them probably would still have probably gone on to ruin things for themselves, and you know what? People can survive a breakup. The question is, what are you going to do with your new found powers, now that you’ve found a new approach to your love readings?”
“Well, Henry would like me to stay here and give things between us a try. And Winifred told Imogen about how well things worked out with my reading, and Imogen spread the word, so I’m getting a lot of requests.”
“Would you miss New York?”
“Sure. But it’s not like a prison sentence. I can visit. And there’s things that I like about it here, too.”
Marigold looked at Ginger through narrowed eyes. “And you’re staying, right? Because you’re not a complete fool?”
“It’s not that simple,” Ginger said.
“This is ridiculous,” Marigold grumbled. “What does that bitch of a council member think that she’d get if she broke up you and Sheriff Hot Stuff? It’s not like he’s suddenly going to turn around and marry Portia.”
“Maybe she’s fooled herself into thinking that might happen. Or maybe it’s just spite; if Portia can’t have him, she doesn’t want anyone to have him.”
“Maybe.”
The next day…
At 11 a.m., Ginger glided to a stop on the street in front of Willie’s house and parked Imogen’s pickup truck behind a patrol car. There were dozens of cars there already.
Everyone had congregated behind the house. As she strolled up, she could hear country music blaring from a boombox, and a happy babble of voices. There were easily a hundred people there.
As she walked up to a table laden with plates of corn on the cob and biscuits and bowls of fruit, she was surprised to see Cletus and his younger brothers and sisters there, sitting cross-legged on the grass hunched over their paper plates. Their faces were smeared with barbecue sauce and there were piles of gnawed bones on the plates.
He looked up at her and flashed her a big grin. “The sheriff invited me,” he said. “That was real nice of him. I guess he’s not all bad.”
“Not all bad,” she agreed. “He has his good points. Wipe your faces, kids.” She winced when Cletus obligingly wiped his face on his sleeve and his younger siblings followed suit, but she decided to give it a pass. He’d done what she told him to, hadn’t she?
She headed over to Lola, who was standing with her arm around a Goth-looking Coyote shifter.
“Hey, Ginger. Beer?” Lola said, holding up a bottle of Corona with ice chips clinging to it.
“Give me that.” Ginger grabbed it from her hands as a group of wolf shifters headed straight for her. “I’m going to need it. And more. Are they all going to interrogate me?”
“But of course. His parents will be here soon.”
“What?” It came out in a squeak. She downed half the bottle in one gulp.
“Remember. Bridesmaid. And don’t be picking any butt ugly bridesmaid’s dresses, either. I don’t look good in yellow. Washes me out.”
“The world has gone mad. You must have something better to do than planning my non-existent wedding for me.”
“Not really, which is actually kind of sad when you think of it,” Lola said cheerfully.
The wolf shifters crowded around Ginger, peppering her with questions.
“Are you moving in with him right away, or are you going to live somewhere in town?” A heavy-set woman with a bouffant asked her.
“Are you going to marry my uncle?” a little boy said, yanking on her skirt.
“Can I be your flower girl?” a little blonde girl piped up. “I like flowers. Will you pick me some flowers?”
“Oh, my goodness. Look, is that Dora the Explorer standing over there?”
When they turned to look, she turned and ran.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind, by two strong muscular arms. She didn’t need to turn around; his familiar scent sent a wave of delicious heat sizzling through her.
Smiling, she spun into his arms.
“That was a dirty trick,” he grinned.
“It was a matter of survival. It was them or me. I had to escape.”
With a huge smile, he added, “How’s this for a dirty trick?” And then he said very loudly, “Ginger Colby, will you dance with me? Please?”
Everyone turned and stared. Everyone held their breath.
Ginger Colby was no fool. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
She made a big show of doing a graceful half curtsy and answered loudly “Of course, I will dance with you.”
He swept her into his arms as Wilhelmina turned up the boom-box, and the two of them spun around on the grass. Ginger loved to dance, but Ashmont had always acted as if he were afraid she’d fall on him and break him.
But Loch spun and twirled Ginger as if she were light as a feather. He dipped her backwards until her hair brushed the grassy lawn. He spun her like a top.
And when the music stopped, the crowd burst into applause.
“Ginger Colby, there’s something else that I want to ask you,” the sheriff said loudly. Ginger froze.
Seriously? Was he going to ask her what she thought he was going to ask her?
And how would she respond?
“No, you don’t.” A shrill voice cracked across the lawn.
Ginger turned, her heart sinking in her chest. Portia Sinclair and an elegantly dressed woman who looked like an older version of Portia were walking across the lawn towards them. Portia wore jeans, strappy high heeled sandals, and a clingy, silky t-shirt, and her lip curled in disgust when her eyes lighted on Ginger. The woman wore a tailored linen suit that fit her narrow frame like a glove, and she carefully picked her away across the grass in high heeled pumps.
There were two Werewolf Enforcers with them, in uniform, tall muscular men with buzz cuts and grim, expressions stamped on their faces. The Enforcers worked for the council.
“Aurora Sinclair, you were not invited. Get off my property,” Willie snapped, eyes blazing with anger.
“I’m sorry, Willhelmina, but this is council business.” Aurora turned to Loch, who looked as if he were about to explode with anger.
“She is a red wolf. You are a gray.” Aurora spoke in clipped tones. “If you two mate, your pups will not be pure. For the good of the council, if you insist on continuing this relationship, I will be forced to order your removal as Alpha and replace you with Jax.”
Ginger gasped in horror. Hot-headed Jax? That would be an utter disaster. He would have the Blue Moon wolves at war with the panther nation before the week was out. Every wolf shifter in Blue Moon County would be in danger.
Her parents, Loch’s pack…she couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. There were too many good people that she’d hurt if she selfishly insisted on staying. There was much more at stake here than her own happiness.
As Loch started to protest, Ginger spoke up, eyes filling with hot tears.
“Stop!” she shouted. “I’m going back to New York, tonight. It’s over, Loch. That’s my choice.”
She turned and ran back to her car.
Behind her she heard howls of rage, and snarls. It sounded as if Loch was clashing violently with the Enforcers. She knew he’d be all right, because he had dozens of his relatives there.
But she had to get out of there right away, she knew, before she changed her mind.
She drove down the road blindly, tears streaming down her face, her heart aching. She’d been so close to happiness.
Loch was right, he was her fated mate. Every time he came near her, her heart sang. How could this be? How could she find her fated mate and be torn away from him? Why was fate such a cruel bitch?
Crying so hard she had to gulp out her words between sobs, she called Marigold to tell her what happened, and asked Marigold to pack her bags and meet her in an hour at a gas station on the edge of town. She couldn’t bear to set foot in the boarding house again, couldn’t bear to face Loch if he came to the boarding house and tried to change her mind.
Chapter Fifteen
She turned off her cell phone and drove aimlessly, down country roads she’d never see again. She rolled down the windows so she could feel the breeze caress her face and hear the birds sing one last time.
When she showed up at the gas station, she was shocked to see that Marigold and Brenda were both waiting for her, and Brenda looked frantic.
“I found this under my door,” she said, and thrust a note at Ginger.
“Jax and a gang of wolves started a fight with the panthers, and a bunch of them are at the hospital now,” Marigold said at the same time. “And the panthers grabbed Jax and kidnapped him.”
“What?” Ginger’s jaw dropped. “Slow down. What the hell is going on?”
She looked at the note. “The professor told me not to tell anyone, but I had to let you know so you wouldn’t be sad any more. He’s not dead. He asked me to come with him and be his bride. Don’t worry, Brenda, you’ll find your own true love some day. I’ll tell you more when I can.” It was signed, Tallulah.
Ginger felt an icy chill radiating from the note, and her heart dropped to the bottom of her shoes. She closed her eyes and concentrated, opening her mind.
Tallulah was dead, and she had died violently. She could sense it.
She blinked hard, tears burning her eyes. She didn’t want to tell Brenda and Marigold until she was absolutely sure, but deep in her heart she knew.
“What happened with Jax?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“We drove to the sheriff’s station with this note and gave it to Jax,” Marigold said. “He said he’d take care of it himself, because the sheriff never does anything. I guess he rounded up some wolves and they went to the Panther Nation and tried to muscle their way in, and it started a huge fight. The wolves were injured, and they ran off, and Jax was dragged away by the panthers.”
Ginger’s heart sank.
She didn’t dare go talk to Loch. She might weaken. Or Aurora might see her talking to him, and take away Loch’s position as Alpha on the spot.
“I’ll go try to talk to Montgomery,” she said. “We’ve got to find out what happened to Tallulah. And if the professor’s still alive, maybe he’s hiding out on panther territory still. Maybe he had help. If Montgomery actually let people on to his territory to arrest Tommy Deerkiller, I think he’s coming around and he’ll listen to reason.”
“I feel like something really bad’s happened to her,” Brenda said. “Has it?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Ginger lied.
“I feel terrible for all those times that I said mean things to her.”
“You were both victims of the professor. He’s been alive all this time and letting both of you suffer? He manipulated you both. He played you against each other.”
“I see that now.” Brenda nodded, and tears filled her eyes. She put her hand on Ginger’s arm. “Be careful, Ginger. I’m sorry I’ve been such a naggy, annoying pain in the ass.”
“You weren’t at all,” Ginger assured her.
Yes you were, Ginger thought.
With her heart aching for poor Tallulah, Ginger quickly headed out to panther territory. Her head was in a whirl; what the hell was going on here? What would she find there?
When she arrived at the gates that led into their territory, she identified herself to the shifter in the guard shack.
He spoke to someone on the radio, and then came back and nodded to Ginger.
“Wait here,” he said to her.
A few minutes later a car pulled up, and the panther in the car gestured to her to follow him. With shaking hands, she followed him down a narrow country road.
There were no telephone poles out here, no electric poles. The trees loomed like ancient giants, dark and swaying in the wind, and she had an uneasy feeling churning in her stomach as they reached a sprawling wooden structure that was more like a compound than a house.
She parked and climbed out, and with every step she took she felt more and more certain that she’d made a terrible mistake coming out here by herself.
She paused at the front door, hesitating. Should she just turn around and leave?
Before she had a chance to decide, Montgomery opened the door. “I’m glad to see you,” he said, grim-faced. “We’ve got a problem, and I don’t know what to do about it. I need to talk to you.”
“Is Jax here?” she asked him anxiously.
“He’s here. I’ll let you talk to him in just a minute.”
She swallowed hard, her palms damp with perspiration. If Jax was there, she had to go in. He was probably injured. She might be able to sweet talk Montgomery into letting her take Jax with her.
She followed him into the house. Hand woven rugs in geometric patterns adorned the floor. The walls were plaster, and paintings of panther shifters decorated the walls without frames.
Something felt very wrong here. Somebody was trying to speak to her from the other side, pounding at the edges of her consciousness. Tallulah? She wondered. But how would Tallulah have reached her here? She needed to be touching something that had belonged to the dead, or in their home or a place they’d spent a lot of time, before she could communicate with them.
Jason Strikes True and Richard Iron Claw were standing in the spacious living room, still as statues, with their arms by their sides. They had odd expressions on their faces. A ripple of alarm ran down Ginger’s spine as she noticed that the curtains were all drawn. It made the house feel like a dim, closed-in prison.
“Hello, Jason. How are you?” she said.
He stared at her, his eyes bulging, and his lip quivered, but he didn’t speak.
Suddenly Montgomery’s radio crackled.
“Sheriff Armstrong
is at the gate. He’s asking to speak to you,” a voice said.
“Perfect. Send him back here,” Montgomery said.
Perfect? Ginger thought with alarm.
What did he mean by that? Why was it perfect?
“Come with me,” Montgomery said. He nodded at Jason and Richard. “You come too,” he said.
Well, at least Loch would be there, she thought with growing unease. She followed Montgomery down a long hallway, with Jason and Richard right behind her.
Montgomery led her through several doors and into a large library with books stacked high on the walls, and as she walked through the doorway, the coppery tang of blood filled her nostrils.
She froze on the spot and spun around, but before she could run, Montgomery nodded his head at Jason and Richard. “Grab her,” he said. “Bring her in the room.”
They both leaped forward and grabbed her by the arms, dragging her across the floor. She struggled and screamed, but it was useless. Their grip was like iron
The smell of blood was overpowering. Glancing at the back of the room, she saw where it was coming from. A body lay on a wooden table, wrapped in a tarp. Flies buzzed around it. There was a bloodstained knife resting on top of the body, with a cruel curved blade.
It was Tallulah. She could sense it.
Ginger wanted to scream, or cry, but the sound died in her throat.
She suddenly realized with shock that Jax was sitting in a chair by the table, his arms by his side. He was staring straight ahead with a blank expression on his face. His lip was split, one of his eyes was blacked, and the right side of his face was swollen.
“Jax!” Ginger cried out. “What are you doing? Help me!”
He blinked hard but didn’t move.
“I’m afraid he’s not capable, my dear,” the professor’s voice said. “I own his mind now. I own his will. And soon I will own yours.”
Montgomery walked around to stand in front of her. His face began to melt. The professor’s wavy hair appeared, his face…
The Alpha Claims A Mate Page 12