by Mary Lindsey
“Slavery?”
He tugged his gloves back on. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not from where you’re standing, anyway.”
Grant grabbed two more boards from the rack. “Fair enough.”
Rain wanted to trust the guy. He desperately needed an ally, and although his instincts said Grant was on the up and up, he remained on his guard. “So other than Petra, the Weavers were opposed?”
“Most.” Crash went the lumber onto the stack.
“Who wasn’t?”
“Petra, Brigitte, and I are the only younger Weavers in this region. Our numbers are carefully controlled.”
So the Watchers weren’t the only ones with a breeding program. “Who controls that?”
“It’s complicated.”
Rain waited, both of them adding boards to the piles.
“There’s a finite pool of magic,” Grant said. “When too many Weavers or Watchers are born, it strains the magic because there is less to go around. Our numbers are regulated to keep the magic constant.”
“That makes sense.” Sort of. He thought back on the question. Evidently, the younger Weavers had been on board with Hans’s plan. “Why did the older Weavers oppose a trade-off with the Watchers?”
“It’s all about the fear of change. It’s hard to let go of the old ways and relinquish control. That’s why this generation of Watchers is so important and a new male has to be created.” Grant ran a strap through a cleat on the side of the flatbed and pitched the nylon strap over the top of the pile of lumber. Following that lead, Rain threaded it through the cleat on his side and snapped the buckle, then tightened the ratchet to secure the boards.
“So, what happened to Gerald? He seemed messed up,” Rain said over the bed of the truck.
Grant shook his head, and an expression of genuine regret crossed his face. Maybe the guy wasn’t a complete asshole after all. “In the old days, a senior coven member would weave the shifting spell into a wolf belt. The Watcher candidate would wear the belt either voluntarily or not—sometimes he was forced to wear it. If he was bitten by a wolf while the belt touched his skin, he would turn.” Grant threaded another strap through the cleat closest to the cab of the truck and pitched the end over to Rain. “For the last few decades, an elder casts a spell, but it’s not woven into material. The Weavers feel it’s too risky to have a physical belt. It would be evidence against us if a human found it, and since the magic follows the item, not a person, it could get into the wrong hands. Too risky. After what happened to our ancestors in Bamberg and Wurzburg, Germany, four centuries ago, we’re careful. Personally, I think doing it without the physical belt is a mistake. A spell that’s cast and not woven is fragile. Seems to me, safeguards could be put in place to ensure the belt doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.”
“Do you do this a lot? Make new Watchers?” Rain threaded the tie-down strap though the cleat on his side of the truck.
“No. The only other one in my lifetime was Gerald Loche.”
“Who turned him?”
Grant tugged off his gloves and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Wanda Richter cast the spell. It didn’t work. His bones were too soft when he transformed, and his hair never came in right. She feels awful about the outcome.”
Sure she did. Rain fought an eye roll as he picked up his backpack from the pavement. Play dead, he heard Chief Richter’s voice say in his head as he got in the truck cab and shoved his gloves into the center section of his backpack.
Thirty-Four
Bouncing over the dirt road to the Carter Ranch, Rain watched the sun rise to a spot in the windshield where it was too low to be blocked out by the visor. Grant had put on a pair of Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses, and Rain held up his hand to block the rays. When he squinted, the place Grant had punched him throbbed. Hopefully the guy’s gut hurt as bad.
“What did Helga Goff tell you?” Grant asked. “Did you eat a cookie?”
“She didn’t say much. And yes.”
He slowed the truck and looked over, his eyes invisible behind the dark lenses. “What did you see?”
None of your damn business. “It was jumbled. I saw a starry sky.”
“That’s weird.”
He didn’t know the half of it, and Rain had no intention of ever telling him. “Yeah. And the cookie tasted terrible on top of that.”
Grant laughed. “Yeah, they suck.”
“You’ve eaten one?”
“I have.”
“What did you see?”
“You and Friederike…um…” He pulled back to the center of the dirt road and picked up speed. “You know.”
Well, that was awkward. They rode in silence for a while, and Rain stared into the side-view mirror at the red dust from the road billowing in a cloud behind them.
“It was two years ago,” Grant said. “I was beginning to think that for the first time ever, Helga’s cookies were wrong and you weren’t going to show up.”
“They’re always right, huh?”
He pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. “Yep. One hundred percent.”
Well, that sucks.
They rode without speaking for a while longer until Grant broke the silence. “What did you really see?”
Rain hated this. Knowing how he would die added a whole new edge and intensity to things. Sort of like that timer shaped like a chicken on Ruby’s counter—only he didn’t know how many minutes were set on it. It could ding at any time. Minutes, days, weeks, years. He had no idea when he would see that wolf standing over him, so he had to plan for the worst. “I need a favor from you.”
Grant pulled over to the side of the two-lane dirt road and put the truck in park. “Name it.”
“I need you to promise me you won’t kennel or kill Freddie.”
“That’s not solely my decision.”
After hearing Grant’s dad through the bathroom wall, Rain knew that was the truth. “Okay, then. Promise me you’ll do everything in your power to keep her free and alive.”
“You saw something when you ate Helga’s cookie. What was it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Grant gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles paled. “It matters if you saw Freddie hurt. Please tell me you didn’t see her hurt.”
Whoa. The guy was intense. “I didn’t.”
A puff of air left Grant’s lungs with a whoosh, and something clicked into place in the huge puzzle Rain was trying to solve.
Grant loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll make a trade with you. My promise to keep her free and alive in exchange for information.”
Well, Rain hadn’t expected that. “What information?”
“My mom and dad said that Freddie’s cousins are planning something. I need to know what’s going on. Wanda called it a ‘blood-in,’ which she thinks is a hit of some kind. I can’t keep Freddie safe from outside, but you can. I don’t want her caught up in this.”
The guy seemed genuine. Rain hoped to hell he was right about him because ordinarily, he’d have just blown the guy off. Again, the urgency of knowing he would die at any minute made him uneasy enough to throw away his usual caution. “Merrick told me that Kurt and Thomas were up to something but didn’t know what. I’ll look into it and let you know what I find out.”
Grant put the truck in gear and pulled back to the center of the road. “Stay with Freddie twenty-four-seven until we know what’s going down. Make sure you’re seen together. Give her an airtight alibi in case those guys do something stupid. There are some folks who would love to see her out of the way.”
“Like your dad.” Rain knew that statement could cause Grant to punch him again, but he needed information fast, even if it meant getting some bruises. To his surprise, the guy simply answered.
“Yeah, my dad and every other Weaver over forty, as well as half the Watcher pack.”
“Why?”
“Well, she’s a girl for starters, which doesn’t go over well with the o
lder crowd. Add to that her temperament and her dad’s agenda, and people oppose her for every reason imaginable, from bigotry to fear.” The truck rattled and shook over the cattle guard at the Carter Ranch entrance. “But she’s the best candidate for Alpha. She’ll be fantastic if they’ll just give her a chance. She’s smart and powerful and born to lead.” Even with those sunglasses covering a good part of his face, it was as if Grant glowed as he talked about Freddie.
Yep. The puzzle piece totally fit. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Rain asked.
Grant’s lips drew into a tight line, and he placed a hand over where Rain had punched him as they pulled into the parking area in front of a huge barn. “I always have been.”
“Does she know?”
“No. She hates me, and I keep it that way.” Grant snapped the gearshift to park. “It’s best for everyone, especially me.”
Rain swiveled in his seat to face him. “Why especially you?”
He didn’t turn off the truck. “Relations between Watchers and Weavers are strictly forbidden. The ultimate taboo.”
“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Rain said, unfastening his seat belt. Petra had mentioned this, too. “Why can’t Watchers and Weavers date?” Not that he wanted Grant to try. In fact, he’d do more than punch him in the gut if he so much as touched Freddie.
Grant shrugged. “Tradition.”
“Or prejudice, maybe?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe. Freddie’s different, though. She has to be with a Watcher in order to pass the torch.”
“Pass it on to kids, you mean?” Rain asked.
“Yeah. Mixed progeny are all non-magical. A Watcher and a Weaver would have a human baby, which would be a nightmare for everyone involved, especially the child.”
“So Freddie’s kid will be the next Alpha.”
“Alpha presumptive, like Freddie is now. Freddie could still be overturned before she turns eighteen. Being the Alpha is like being king, but it’s not a concrete birthright. A vote of no confidence can cause an overturn in leadership if the challenger is successful.”
God, this was a screwed-up system. “You lost me.”
“Anyone who wants to contest Freddie’s position as Alpha will join in a fight to the death for it. It’s called a culling. The weak are culled from the pack. Anyone willing to challenge will either die or become Alpha.”
Totally screwed-up system. “You think that’ll happen?”
Grant took off his sunglasses and put them in a case under the visor. “I’m certain of it. And that’s where you come in. You keep her safe until then, and during the fight and forever after that, you watch her back.”
“What if she doesn’t want me?” Not to mention forever would never happen based on the cookie.
“Like I said before: I ate Helga Goff’s cookie…more than one, actually. Trust me—Freddie wants you.”
Rain cringed at the thought Grant had seen a vision of him and Freddie together. What he saw wasn’t proof, anyway. Freddie wanting him physically was not the same as wanting him forever. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d be dead soon. He needed to keep her safe and be sure she was in power before that happened. He might be way wrong, but everything in him told him that this guy was legit and might be the only ticket for her safety once he was dead.
Grant killed the motor. “I’ll go find the foreman so we know where to unload this stuff. Be right back.”
Rain grabbed his backpack from the floorboard and pulled his phone from the outer zipper pocket. Freddie had texted saying she’d be at Ruby’s for dinner at seven. He grinned and unzipped the main compartment to pull out the work gloves Grant had given him. His fingers touched crinkly paper, and he remembered the cookies Goff had slipped him last night. Grant had said he’d eaten more than one of them. Maybe if he ate another, he’d see more of his future.
Grant was nowhere in sight, so he pulled out the bag and unrolled the top. When he reached in, his fingers touched leather, not cookies. He tipped the bag and looked inside. It was the sewing project Mrs. Goff had been working on. He pulled it out and examined the long leather strap, running a finger over the intricate needlework that was in tiny X patterns from one end to the other. There was no doubt in his mind what this was: It was the wolf belt Petra and Grant had mentioned. Looked like Mrs. Goff wanted him to transform old-school style.
All he needed now was a wolf bite. He smiled. He knew a wolf and knew she bit. His smile turned into a grin. Maybe this transformation business wouldn’t be that bad after all.
He stuffed the wolf belt back in the brown paper bag in his backpack and zipped it up. Hopefully, tonight after dinner and Ruby’s surprise, he and Freddie could explore that possibility firsthand.
Thirty-Five
“Hey, will you bring me a dish towel from the clean laundry pile on the couch?” Ruby called from the kitchen when Rain arrived home.
“Sure.” He pitched the bike keys next to Ruby’s car keys and locked the door. It bothered him that she always left it unlocked. She put way too much faith in the safety of her small town. If she only knew how deadly it really was.
He scooped up a dish towel and strode into the kitchen to find her hefting a big pot onto the stove. “Need help?” he asked.
“No. Making pasta. I’m a terrible cook, but I can boil water.” She smiled and took the towel. “Sometimes, anyway. One time, I forgot I had water on, and it boiled dry. Ruined the pan and the house stunk like burned Teflon for a week. Your dad thought it was hilarious.” The stricken look that crossed her face was familiar to him now. It happened every time she mentioned his dad. Poor Ruby was dredging up pain every time she thought of him, and Rain ached right along with her.
With jerky movements, she turned her back to him and grabbed a package of spaghetti. With a harsh tug, she ripped the cellophane down the side instead of on one end, sending dried sticks of pasta skittering across the floor in all directions.
“Well, crap,” she said. “So much for this fool pulling off a foolproof dinner.” Before he could react, she dropped to her hands and knees and began scooping up the pasta with shaking fingers.
“Hey,” he said, joining her on the floor. “Aunt Ruby…”
“I can’t believe I was so clumsy.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Been like this my whole life.”
“Ruby.” He took her hands in his.
“Really, I don’t know why it still bothers me when I drop stuff. I’ll just clean this up while you go get ready for Freddie to arrive.”
He spoke louder this time. “Ruby.” He gave her hands a squeeze around her fists full of dried spaghetti. “I know.”
She said nothing. Frozen, she raised her eyes to meet his.
“I know about my mom and Roger. I know he was your husband and that he cheated with her.”
The pasta she clutched fell to the floor.
“I know you loved him and he hurt you. They both did. I know that seeing me, you see him and what he did to you, and that hurts.”
Tears filling her eyes, she shook her head. “No, you’re wrong.”
“I read the letters. I know what happened.”
“Not about that. You’re right about his being my husband and my loving him—I did. I still do. And you’re right about my sister…my sister doing what she did. But you’re wrong about what I feel when I see you.” She shifted her grip so that she held his hands instead. “You are the only good thing to come out of this. The only good thing in my adult life.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he chanted in his head, because although he was watching a tear zigzag its way down her cheek across the same constellation of freckles his mom had, all he saw was the black wolf with a hunk of his flesh in its bloody teeth.
“I love you, Aaron. You’re the son I could have had…would have had if things had been different.”
For the first time since seeing the vision of his death, a jolt of panic and remorse flared, causing his skin to prickle and his heart to r
ace. Moving here had given him purpose and a reason to live, just in time to die.
Fate was a heartless bitch.
At almost any point in his life before coming here, his response would have been, “Whatever,” but somehow, that was the last thing on the tip of his tongue.
He wiped her tear from her jaw with his thumb. “It’s gonna be okay, Aunt Ruby.”
“Roger got into some kind of trouble. I don’t know what it was. One day he just up and quit his job at Ericksens.”
“My dad worked for the Ericksens?”
“For his last two years of high school and his first year after graduation, which is why his quitting was such a surprise. He begged me to leave New Wurzburg with him. To move to a new town and start a new life.”
Are you going to run away now? Grant’s little sister had asked. Cowardice is genetic.
“I didn’t think he was really serious. Besides, I couldn’t leave here. My folks…my sister…” Aunt Ruby stood and dumped the spaghetti into the trash can. “That’s when I was offered a job at the police station. Chief Richter called me out of the blue, asking if I’d like to leave my receptionist job at the electric company and train to be a cop.”
Out of the blue, my ass. They were looking for leverage to keep him in town so they could change him into a Watcher.
She stooped and picked up more pieces of pasta. Rain joined her cleanup efforts. Her hands trembled as she swept a small pile together with her fingers. “Of course I was thrilled. I mean, how often does a police chief recruit a total newbie like me? And with him having no job, it was a godsend.”
Rain concealed the anger rolling through him. What a young woman had perceived as a step up had actually been a setup.
“When I told Roger I was going to start working with Wanda Richter and train to be a cop, he lost it.” Her brow furrowed. “I still can’t make sense of it. The money was good. Twice what I made as a part-time receptionist.”