by Anna Leonard
“It was an impulsive move on their part, clearly, to not tell anyone, to simply up and leave. But their belongings are still here, they did not transfer the title to their house.” No need to tell anyone about the recipes and deed to the bakery his men had retrieved, before the new owners could discover it. “They will be back, I assure you.”
“Yes, but...” Stephan, the newest member of the Elders, elected to fill Ray’s place when he was elevated, frowned in concern.
“I have asked Jordan to watch over them until they do return,” Ray said, giving his final spin on the situation. Jordan was highly regarded in the Community; a seventh-grade math teacher, he had been born in the Community, which was important even to people who said it didn’t matter. Ray bit back the rush of anger he still felt over that, and smiled gently instead, feeling his mouth strain at the effort. “He has orders to clear their path and give them time to do whatever it is they felt the need to do—see old friends of their parents, perhaps, or visit Disney World, whatever it is that young girls do. And then he will make sure they come home safely.”
In fact, Jordan was under orders to bring them home, period. No matter what means were needed. Ray had plans for the Community, plans that were years in the making, and that required little Ms. Maggie to be home, safe and under his control.
She was the reason the Community existed, even if none of them realized it, yet.
“I wish they’d told me,” another man said wistfully. “I’ve never been to Disney World, either. I’d have gone with them!”
Ray smiled as the others laughed again, but his hand, held out of sight at his waist, clenched. Andrew, the speaker, had been one of the few to object to his selection as the Old Lady’s successor, had raised questions about someone not born in the Community leading it. Andrew and Sean Sweet, and their allies... There were too many people who questioned him.
The vote had gone his way, and he had confirmed his position formally, but Ray never forgot a challenge...or a challenger. Especially a man like Andrew, whose grandfather had been one of the original Founders, along with old Cab Sweet. Such a man was either useful—or dangerous. Ray hadn’t decided where Andrew fell in the scheme of things yet.
Useful, he would be used. Dangerous...he would be removed. By force, if illness or accident did not take care of it for him.
But for now Andrew was in the undecided camp, and so it was still time for Ray to use the velvet glove, soothe his opponents into thinking they would get their way.
“Maggie and Elizabeth are our friends, our neighbors, our family. That allows us the right to worry, and to watch over them. But the genesis of the Community was in self-removal from the world, not forced removal.”
The other Elders nodded at that.
“The girls will be back. They know where their home is. We simply need to trust them...and be ready with assistance, should they require it. And, of course, to welcome them home with our love, our compassion and our understanding, when they return.”
It was a pretty speech, one he had rehearsed that morning, and it worked. Most of them, reassured, left the meeting room, heading back to their daily chores and lives. They might be the Elders, but they were just as happy to let him handle everything, in the day-to-day running of the Community. After all, if it was important it would come to a vote, right?
Ray was about to relax when he realized that, in addition to himself and his assistant, Glen, Judy’s husband had remained behind.
“Yes, Mark?” Ray looked expectantly at the older man. Most matters were raised in public, in the weekly meeting, so this had to be something Mark wanted to keep private, away even from his own wife.
“I’m curious why you sent Jordan. He’s our best negotiator, and the Dantern buyer is supposed to be here tomorrow, to price the wool. We needed him here.”
Ah. The Community tried to be self-reliant, selling or bartering within their members to handle most daily needs, but many of the crafters sold their wares to the outside world, as well. Dantern was a nationwide shop that had a yearly contract with the small farm outside town. As Judy had said, they might have removed themselves from the daily technological impositions of television, internet and other forms of mass media, but they were still part of the larger world. Mark was one of their best businessmen, but he would not want anyone—especially his wife—to see him putting money before people. This was easily dealt with.
“Jordan knows Elizabeth and Maggie, he was friends with their parents. He wanted to go.” Ray made a gesture with his hands, the perfect image of a man who gave in to familial ties over commerce, but only reluctantly, and aware that it was foolishness. “Truthfully, I am hoping that he will be able to convince them to come home right away. Elizabeth is a grown woman, but Maggie... I don’t like someone as delicate as she being out there with only her sister to protect her. I try not to be sexist, but...it’s a cold place for two girls without experience or money.”
Elizabeth had cash, of course. The bakery did a steady business both within the Community and outside, so there would have been easy access to cash in the till—but they had no credit cards, no ATM cards. If they ran out of money, they would be dependent upon strangers, and Elizabeth was far too practical a girl to trust someone she didn’t know.
Then again, he had thought she was too practical a girl to run, too. He had misjudged her, underestimated how spooked she had become, after the boy’s unfortunate accident with the rope. He would not make that mistake that again.
“I hope that you’re right,” Mark said now. “I love the girls as though they were my own, but we have an obligation to keep everyone else running smoothly, too.”
“Indeed, I couldn’t agree more,” Ray said, taking the older man’s arm and walking with him toward the door. “The Community has been self-supporting for almost fifty years now, and I don’t want a thing to change, I assure you.”
The door closed behind Mark, and Ray turned to look back at the man remaining. Glen’s cool gaze met his evenly.
“No, indeed,” Ray said. “I don’t want a thing to change...yet.”
Chapter 5
It took Josh all of ten minutes, heading back to the campsite where he’d let his charges sleep, to start wondering how long it would take those men to find the girls again. The search had been called off, yes, but why, and for how long? He still didn’t know why those men had wanted to take them—maybe they were escaped mental patients, and those were doctors or orderlies come to retrieve them?
He discarded the thought as soon as it appeared. Maggie was a little odd, perhaps, but they were both as sane as he—maybe more so, he thought ruefully, feeling the burn of the rut start again, just under his skin.
So why had the search been called off, when they were almost within range? If they knew the girls were in here... Were they even now blanketing the area, waiting? Their leader didn’t seem to be the sort to give up, and he would probably be holding a grudge. Who was he to them? Not father, and not brother... Could he possibly be Elizabeth’s lover? Any lover who treated a woman like that would be ex-lover in a heartbeat, and rightfully so. An ex-lover, then? If so, Josh wished he’d kicked the guy harder.
“Not your problem, Mustang,” he told himself. “You need to get home, and deal with this rut once and for all, and get your life back in line, not caretake two complete strangers.”
The rut was inevitable, undeniable and a pain in the... He swore, and adjusted his jeans for comfort as he walked. A pain in the everywhere. The itch to shift was shivering over his skin, coaxing him into taking his four-legged form again. Another time and place he might have given in, but not here. Not now. In that form he thought with his instincts more than his brain, and the rut made that—made him—too dangerous, especially out here, surrounded by strangers.
The itch didn’t care, crawling around inside him like an entire farm of fire ants.
To distract himself, he kept thinking about Elizabeth and Maggie. He wondered how much cash the girls had on them, if any—they had been dressed well, but not that well, and their backpacks were hardly stuffed with bills...and did they know enough not to use credit cards, so they couldn’t be traced? Did they have a plan, someone they were running to, rather than simply running away?
Not your problem, he reminded himself, kicking apart the branches that had been their bedding, and moving on to where he had left his pack. It was still there, as expected. Not that he had much—a bachelor stallion traveled light, and when the rut had summoned him, a few changes of clothes had seemed enough weight to bear. He regretted the books and knickknacks he had left behind; hopefully he would be able to reclaim them from storage when he was done.
Or, he wouldn’t be worrying about them at all if the rut wasn’t dealt with, soon. Days, he estimated.
No, Maggie and Libby were not his problem anymore; he had his own crap to deal with, and the clock, as the clichés went, was ticking. He had waited too long already.
Mustang had been minding his own business up until fourteen days ago, working on a fishing boat, the sea air as unlike his home as possible, when the need hit him. He woke in his bunk, sweating, a hard-on that could break cement pulsing between his legs, the sound of feminine laughter echoing through his dreams, and dread in his stomach.
Rut. Every member—every male member—of the herd went through it. But you never quite believed it was going to get you, until it did.
He had finished out his contract, and when the boat docked, tossed his belongings into storage and set out for home. It was purely bad luck that found him within Maggie’s reach; the itch to change had gotten so bad the night before, he’d been afraid he would make the shift in his sleep. The thought of waking in a motel room, the bed broken around his hooves, was not a pleasant one. He’d chosen to sleep outside, rather than risk that and the inevitable discovery. Because of that choice, he had, apparently, been within calling distance.
Maggie. Sweet, tired-looking Maggie. And Elizabeth—he preferred that to the earlier Libby—of the long legs and the firm hands. They were on the run—why? Because of Maggie, he guessed. Magical Maggie. The danger came from those men? From whoever sent those men? Either way, there was little chance they could escape, not without help.
He hoped they had help, somewhere.
The thought stayed with him, no matter how much he tried to dislodge it. Barely an hour later he stopped in his tracks, blew out an exasperated sigh and turned around, heading...not west, the way his rut was telling him to go, not back toward home, but south into town, after his runaways.
The need to go home, the urge to find an appropriate mate along the way, could wait a little while longer. At least long enough to make sure that Elizabeth and Maggie were safe.
* * *
“Baby, stay here, all right?”
“I’m not a baby,” Maggie said, but it was an automatic objection. Elizabeth would be calling her that when they were both ancient. “And yes, I’ll stay right here—” and she stamped the pavement with her sneakered foot in emphasis “—until you give me the all clear or a truck barrels down like it’s gonna hit me. Or a forest fire blazes at me. Or a bear...”
“All right, all right, I get it. You’re smart enough to stay out of trouble. Sit.”
Maggie sat, clearly pleased at having made her sister smile, despite their worries.
They had walked several miles down that county road into Patsmilling, a small, traditional-looking New England town, and found the local police station without too much trouble. It was on the aptly named Front Street, across from the post office and town hall, and down the street from the two-engine fire department.
Elizabeth looked up and down the street, her heart beating faster than it should have. There were a few people out, running errands or heading back to work, but nobody was looking at them, nobody pointing or making furtive cell-phone calls. The police station didn’t look very impressive: a two-story redbrick building with a small wooden sign outside that identified it, and two squad cars parked at the curb outside. Still, they didn’t have to be an armed fortress to do their job: anything larger than a break-in or vandalism case, and the cops probably relied on the county to handle it, but Patsmilling looked and sounded sleepy enough that it was likely they didn’t have anything larger very often....
“Libby?”
The one word in her sister’s voice said, clearly, Why are you standing there? Why haven’t you gone in yet? Is something wrong?
Elizabeth risked looking over her shoulder. Maggie was sitting, as she had promised, on the bench outside the post office. One woman was forgettable. Two females, obviously sisters...someone might remember that. Maggie should be perfectly safe here, in full view of government employees, right? There wasn’t anything to stop Elizabeth from going inside and asking for help Nothing excerpt her own nerves and uncertainty, anyway.
Maggie talked to animals. Elizabeth dreamed. Unlike her sister’s ability, Elizabeth didn’t put much stock into her dreams. Yes, they told her things that were going to happen, or might happen, but dreams were tricky things and she wasn’t comfortable trusting them. And this wasn’t even a dream, just a feeling that going into that building would be a very bad idea. Involving the police had not been her original plan. She had no proof to give them, only fear and coincidence, and she was terrified that they would think that she was the crazy one, unfit to care for Maggie.
But what were their options? Ray, and maybe all of the Elders, wanted Maggie back at the Community, and were willing to snatch her in a public place to accomplish that. Elizabeth had cash, but not an endless amount, and no way to access their bank account without Ray using that to track them down—the Community didn’t rely on computers and such, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t and wouldn’t use them when needed. And just running as fast as they could wasn’t an option anymore, not with Jordan and his goons so close on their heels—he shouldn’t have been able to find them so easily, but he had. Why should she assume tomorrow would be any different? Anywhere they went, he could find them.
They needed something official standing between them—someone with the ability to hold Jordan off, make life uncomfortable for the Community if she and Maggie weren’t left alone. Her instinct, honed by Community tradition, was to never involve outsiders...but she was about to become an outsider herself. So it made sense, didn’t it?
Yes. This was a smart move. Three generations of good public relations, being known as “that little village of the folk who live off the grid but don’t make trouble,” would be gone if the media picked up a “runaway returned against her wishes” story. No matter how much they wanted Maggie back, the Elders would never let Ray cause that sort of trouble. Once she walked into the police station, she and Maggie would be safe.
Still, she stood there, aware of how rumpled and tired she looked, and couldn’t seem to make her feet move.
“You’re getting a bad feeling, aren’t you?” Her sister’s voice was small and worried, and something inside her shriveled at the sound.
“No. It’s all right, Maggie.”
She forced herself to take a step, then another. Not for herself. For Maggie. Maggie could not go back to the Community. Maggie could never go back there....
She heard Maggie give a chirp, and then an answering chirp from one of the trees that lined the street. Even in plain sight, her sister couldn’t help herself; she would call the birds to her. It was okay. So long as she didn’t call an eagle or a bear, or...
“Stop thinking. Keep walking.”
Another step, and her feet locked, still on the sidewalk, in the shadows of the post office. A car pulled down the street, and parked on the curb, just behind the second cop car. A man got out, and Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat, and a wave of betrayal flooded her.
Mark. An Elder, a man who had been friends with her parents, a man she had thought untouched by Ray’s schemes... He might be there to find them on his own, he might have been worried enough about them to leave town and come here...but how had he known to come here? Who had sent him, and why? How had they known?
He stopped, as though hearing her thoughts, and looked up and down the street, thankfully on his own side, before continuing into the police station.
Panic took over, and she turned and strode back to the bench, catching Maggie’s hand in her own, practically dragging her sister off the wooden bench and scattering the handful of sparrows that were eating crumbs from her pocket.
“Libby?” Her sister’s voice was hushed, not carrying beyond the two of them. Scared, and uncertain. She sounded like she was on the edge of tears.
Elizabeth felt the same way.
“We have to go. Now.”
They walked along the sidewalk, keeping their heads down, moving past the occasional pedestrian, trying to look as casual as strangers in a small town could. They had to get out of there, had to leave town. If Mark was there, there might be others, and if so where were they? Her thoughts fluttered like startled pigeons, and her feet took her down a side street without her having made a conscious decision to turn. There was a wide alley off to the right and, following that same instinct, Elizabeth tugged Maggie into it without looking, only to give a gasp of surprise when a pair of strong arms caught her by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
A voice, recently familiar, came with the touch, and her panic died down even as her heart rate sped up at the contact. His hands were just as firm and strong as Jordan’s, but the feeling they inspired was completely and totally different. Instead of fear and rage, she felt calmness and strength, energy surging inside her, as though she had a host of angels at her back.