by R. J. Blain
“Maybe,” I conceded. “Maybe I’m mad because he didn’t even give me a chance to propose properly before buying rings.”
“I don’t think they’re new,” Evelyn said, freeing her band from the journal, squinting at the inside of the band. “It doesn’t feel new.”
“Feel? What do you mean?”
“Old things have a weight to them. Silver’s the worst, but even gold has it—and gemstones. These feel old. They’ve been passed down.”
“It doesn’t hurt you does it?” I asked in alarm, chilled at the thought of what a silver bullet had done to her.
“No, no. It’s not like that. It just feels old. Is it really a diamond, Jackson? This big stone?”
I took the ring from her, staring into the depths of the gem. Unlike with the dead, sensing gemstones took a little effort on my part, but I could feel the stone’s strength and purity as warmth in my hand and a tickle in my head. “It’s real.”
“Wow.”
The stone hidden in the pouch under my shirt shared the ring’s warmth, sending a shiver racing down my spine. Unlike the ring, there was a taint to the blood-red gem, something that went beyond the imprint of the dead. I shook my head, recoiling at the slithering sensation associated with the jewel.
“I won’t wear it if you don’t want me to,” Evelyn said, tugging at my sleeve.
Instead of answering, I took hold of her left hand, massaging at her palm. If my father wanted to throw me under the bus, it was a suicide I had already dedicated myself to. I’d be angry with him—and at myself for not acting faster to stake my claim on her before someone could edge in on my turf—but I wasn’t going to throw away my chance to make certain the world knew she was mine. Before I could second guess myself, I slipped the ring onto her finger.
It fit.
I was going to hunt my brother and father down and beat them both.
Evelyn held out her hand, admiring the ring. “Your father is a stalker. You know it means you’ll have to beat him now, right?”
“I’ll make sure to thank him for that—with my fist,” I swore.
“It’s okay. I have to beat him, too.” She retaliated by grabbing the other ring and shoving it onto my finger. “Mine.” Grinning at me, she said, “Your father is a stalker. They both fit.”
“Normal people would be calling the police,” I muttered.
“Okay, settle down back there, kids. We’re almost to the daycare. The owner said he’d be waiting for us.”
I sucked in a breath. What would I learn at the daycare, if anything? All I would likely come away with was a glimpse of Jacqueline’s life. It hurt thinking about it.
Gerald parked in front of a red bricked, two-story building. A fence shielded the front yard playground from the street. A concrete sidewalk led to the front door. I was the last out of the car, wondering how many times Jacqueline had played out on the grass with other children.
Evelyn handed me the gray cell. “Looks like he already had both put on a plan, though they’re a little low on battery.”
“How convenient,” I muttered, stashing it in my pocket. I’d decide how to deal with the phone—and the various liberties my father had taken with the gifts—later.
After straightening my collar and tie to her liking, she kissed me on the cheek. “There. You’re ready.”
I wasn’t, but I doubted I ever would be.
“The owner’s a Fenerec,” Gerald warned in a whisper. “It’s not public knowledge, so let’s keep it that way. He and his mate take care of some of the more… troublesome children in the area.”
“Troublesome?”
It wasn’t until Evelyn jabbed me in the ribs that I realized I was growling.
“I’m just telling you what I was told, Jackson. Chill. You’re about as bad as Richard today. I’m going to have to tell him to stop being a bad influence on you,” Gerald replied, knocking on the door.
Moments later, a young man in jeans and a t-shirt with his long dark hair tied into a braid answered. A beaded headband with a pair of feathers attached to it circled his brow. Maybe a Normal would have believed his eyes were hazel, but I met the gaze of a wolf. Instead of animalistic fury, there was something gentle and quiet about the way he regarded me.
Evelyn sucked in a breath. “Omega.”
The two Fenerec stared at each other before the man smiled. “You suit him far better than that witch. Come in.” His attention focused on me. “You must be Jacqueline’s father.”
Stepping out of our way to let us in, he closed the door after us. When he held out his hand, I shook with him. While the wolf lingered in his eyes, I couldn’t find any other evidence of the predator lurking under his human skin.
The place with its child-centric furniture and scattering of toys and books felt more like a home than a daycare. A sense of safety and security enveloped me. I took in the crayon art plastered to the wall, along with the framed pictures of untamed forests and mountains.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” I said, wondering if I would ever be comfortable with the idea of acknowledging I was a father. How could I?
I had failed Jacqueline in every way possible.
“Melanie told me you would be going to the lodge to see her tonight. She was the closest to little Jackie. I’m afraid if you’re looking for a happy story, you will be disappointed,” he warned, gesturing for us to follow him down the hall, passing by a sprawling playroom filled with tiny tables and chairs, toys, and cushions. “I am called Nirliq. My father was born of an Inuit tribe. My mother was a settler. Be welcomed in my home, and may the spirits safeguard you.”
“I’m Jackson. This is Evelyn and Gerald,” I replied, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets.
Nirliq regarded Gerald with a slight frown. “I know of Gerald. You are a man of many pursuits and talents, Mr. Leclerc. You are both an enemy and an ally of my people, which makes yours an interesting presence. I’m afraid your reputation precedes you, Mr. Anderson. Jacqueline’s mother was not well liked, and I’m afraid you carry a worse reputation than she. Your daughter, however, was much loved. I see the child favors you in the things of import. I hope you find her, Mr. Anderson. We were dismayed when she disappeared. As for her mother? No true loss there. In her time with us, your daughter was a radiant sun.”
After glancing at me, Gerald asked, “Why do you dislike Suzanne so much?”
Leading us into a small kitchen with a table barely big enough for four, Nirliq leaned against the counter. “Please, sit. Allow me to make us some tea.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn replied, taking a seat and patting the chair beside her. While I wanted to stand so I had an outlet for my growing nervousness, I sank down beside her.
Filling a kettle with water, he turned on the stove. “Miss Suzanne was not a good mother. It didn’t help matters that little Jackie disliked her so much. She was young, but she was wise for her age. She believed that her mother had done an unjust thing to you, her father. Jackie would throw tantrums when her mother came for her. Once, she demanded her father. That was when Miss Suzanne slapped her. Little Jackie disappeared the next day.”
My rage ignited, burning hot and fast before chilling me through to the bone. “Suzanne hit Jacqueline?” I growled, and for a brief moment, I wished I were a wolf, so I could bury my fangs deep into my wife’s throat.
I couldn’t hurt the dead, and that only served to make me angrier.
“Only once that I know of. I apologize, Mr. Anderson. This must be difficult for you. If I had reason to believe that Miss Suzanne would strike your daughter, I would have intervened. I told Miss Suzanne that it would be wise if she restrained from hitting her little one, be it in public or otherwise. She had seemed sincere in her apologies.” Nirliq pulled down four mugs from the cupboard, before he turned to me, his dark eyes boring into me.
Forgiving the man for not protecting my daughter was one of the hardest things I had ever done. It wasn’t his fault, and I told myself that until I believed it, and
could speak without my turmoil leaking into my voice. “It is not your fault. I appreciate you telling me of this.”
“Melanie has pictures of Jacqueline. I do have one question for you, Mr. Anderson.”
When the kettle whistled, Nirliq poured the tea, sliding one of the mugs in front of me. It smelled of citrus and mint with a hint of spice. “Ask.”
“Many children who are angry with their parents will say unkind things. Jackie was often calling her mother a bad witch. You, on the other hand, were always a good witch. Miss Suzanne had always been adamant that you had walked out on them—”
I dropped the mug. Before it slid out of my fingers, Evelyn caught it from the bottom without spilling it, setting it aside. The sound I made was the strangled cry of a dying animal. I shook, unable to say a coherent word.
The wolf in Evelyn’s eyes burned bright, devouring all but a sliver of her stony jade. “Lies,” she snarled.
Nirliq held his hands up in surrender. “So I see. He is, perhaps, almost as much of a wolf as you and I, for all he stinks of witch. I want to know why she lied. Perhaps it is important.”
I couldn’t force any words out through my tightened throat. The last betrayal, the claim that I had been the one disloyal, that I would even consider leaving Suzanne, drilled a hole into my chest. A spot of warmth grew, numbing the pain.
My daughter wasn’t alive, but she was with me.
Evelyn took hold of my hand, pressing my palm to her cheek. “Jackson, tell him.”
I drew a shaking breath and nodded. It took every bit of my will and courage to whisper, “She faked her death. She had been six months pregnant. I didn’t know Jacqueline had been born until this week.”
My voice sounded broken.
Nirliq’s eyes widened. “I had not thought the situation so severe. I apologize for upsetting you. It isn’t uncommon for mothers to win custody even when it is obvious they are not fit to be mothers. It explains a lot. Jacqueline did not like her mother, not at all. It makes me wonder, however. She always spoke kindly of you. Yet, you did not ever meet?”
“If I had known…”
I couldn’t finish the sentence. The number of possibilities overwhelmed me. Maybe Suzanne had been wise to fake her death. Had I known I had a daughter, I wouldn’t have stopped from trying to have her in my life. That Suzanne would go so far to cut me out infuriated me even more.
Sliding into the chair across from me, Nirliq stared at Evelyn. “I think I understand why you chose him, Miss Evelyn. Mr. Anderson, your fury is understandable, as is your grief. Do not let it fester.”
I clenched my teeth. “Easier said than done, Nirliq.”
Evelyn gave my hand a squeeze. “Do you know anything about Suzanne? What was she doing here? Do you know why she hated Jackson so much?”
“I’ll admit that I’m baffled. Jacqueline didn’t share her mother’s last name—she has yours, Mr. Anderson. She also seems to carry more than your last name. Were you wed? She went by her maiden name.”
“We were.” If Suzanne hadn’t died, if she still somehow lived, that wouldn’t last long.
“How odd. If I were to judge from her attitude, you had a casual relationship at best. You are nothing like I expected.”
“Which was? Nothing good,” I muttered.
“Frankly speaking, Mr. Anderson, a bum.”
With my free hand, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Excuse me, but did you just say a bum?”
A hint of the predator emerged in Nirliq’s smile. “A hobo, street rat, general layabout, and a scavenger. A bottom feeder,” he replied, pushing my mug towards me. “Drink, Mr. Anderson. It is calming.”
At a loss of what I could possibly say in reply to his words, I obeyed. The tea had a strong citrus flavor with undertones of mint and a lingering teasing of spice. “I feel like I need to call Elliot and get him to text me a photograph of my taxes to prove my worth.”
“Elliot?”
“My younger brother. I assure you, I am not a bum.”
“She was a whore though,” Evelyn hissed.
“I try to avoid such name calling,” Nirliq said, his tone of disapproval.
“Oh, no,” I replied, setting the tea down. “It’s not name calling if it is the truth. Suzanne was a prostitute—a whore. She was trying to pay her rent and for her schooling. I took her home with me one night and told her she could stay if she stopped selling herself for an evening’s thrill.” I growled at the memory. “I paid her what she would have otherwise made, since she refused to accept the money outright. We got married a while later.”
“Interesting. And you could afford this? Forgive me for being so forward, but I was under the impression that you were not financially stable.”
Gerald reached over and tapped the back of my hand. For a moment, I wanted to resist his attempt to keep me quiet, but I relented, nodding to him.
“Mr. Yazzie,” my longtime friend began. There was a slight rumble to his voice, betraying his anger. “I assure you that Jackson is not under any form of financial duress—now or then. He was wealthy long before he met Suzanne. He simply chooses to live within the means of those who work for him.”
“I didn’t mean offense. It surprises me, that is all. I’m afraid I was not expecting such a well-dressed gentleman. We were given a far different impression of you. I really do hope that you are able to find your daughter. I feel responsible for her disappearance. Suzanne was a very skilled liar, it seems.”
Evelyn snorted. “Jacqueline knew.”
After a long moment of silence, Nirliq nodded. “So it seems. I forget how honest children can be, if we choose to listen to them. In that, I failed your daughter as well as you. I think you will learn the most about Jacqueline with Melanie. I will make some calls and ask around; others may know more than I. Is there a number that I can reach you at?”
“Yes.” I pulled out the new cell phone, opened the contacts, and located the number, sliding the phone to Nirliq. Picking it up, he went to the counter. “If you could add your contact, I would appreciate it.”
He did so. “I will call you soon. When do you leave Thunder Bay?”
“We have an eleven o’clock flight out.” Gerald hesitated. “We might be able to delay if needed.”
“Two hours,” Nirliq replied, handing the cell back to me. “I will call you then, Mr. Anderson.”
“Thank you, Nirliq.” We shook hands.
“I will pray for your success.”
I forced a smile but couldn’t speak. If I did, he would hear my lies. No prayer could bring the dead back to life.
Chapter Nineteen
It took us a little over an hour to reach the lodge, which consisted of log cabins hidden deep in the woods. I stared out the window at the only building with lights on, wondering how much more I could handle. I clung to the tattered ruins of my temper, holding my irritation and anxiety at bay by clenching my teeth.
“Are you okay, Jackson?” Gerald asked as he shut off the engine.
“No.”
“I can talk to Melanie if you’d like.”
“No.” It was a lie, but Jacqueline was my child, not his. I turned away from the window to stare at my left hand.
Neither the watch nor ring weighed that much, but everything they represented smothered me. Everything I had pushed aside in my anger at my father became clear, like the stilling of a pond after a long rain. They were more than peace offerings.
They were hope in a future, not for me, but for my father.
I was alive.
Jacqueline was not, and because of that, I understood. In the morning, I’d do what I should have done years ago. On the phone he had given me, I would call him.
My anger dissolved and slipped out of me on a sighed breath. I got out of the car, holding the door open for Evelyn.
“I’m here,” she whispered, taking hold of my hand.
“I know. Thanks,” I whispered, pausing to rest my forehead against hers.
So long as she was wi
th me, I’d keep myself together somehow.
Following after Gerald, we headed to the largest of the cabins. The door opened before we had a chance to knock.
While the man standing before us had gray hair, he had an ageless look to him. The plaid flannel shirt and tattered jeans suited his squared features. Wolf-yellow eyes focused on me. “You the Anderson fellow?”
The Fenerec growled, and something about him made me want to bust my knuckles on his face. I met his gaze and replied, my tone cold, “I am. We’re here to see Melanie.”
“Melanie doesn’t want to see a scum sucker like you,” the Fenerec replied.
“Chris, back off,” someone said from within the lodge. The voice was deep and sharp with annoyance. “Let’s see what the creeper has to say for himself.”
I placed my hand on Evelyn’s stomach and gave her a gentle push back. She didn’t move far, but enough I could get between her and the Fenerec. I wanted her back in the car, but she wouldn’t go, even if I begged her to—which I wanted to do.
Instead of backing away, Chris stood as straight as he could in his effort to match me in height. All I could think about was that the other man prevented me from learning more about my daughter’s fate.
If he wanted a fight, I’d give it to him, Fenerec or not.
“Move,” I whispered.
Behind Chris, there was a gathering of at least ten men, who stood around a large couch capable of sitting six. They tensed, their yellowed eyes focused on me.
“Who is going to make me? You?”
Evelyn twisted her hand free of me, stepped forward, and before I could stop her, she slammed her fist into Chris’s gut. When he bent over with a wheezed gasp, she hopped and smashed her knee into his face. “Me. No one touches my mate.”
“You’re a fucking idiot, Chris.” The dark-haired man who stepped forward reminded me of Nirliq, sharing similar chiseled features. Instead of a headband, he wore a beaded necklace. “Excuse him, he’s new to the pack and hasn’t learned his manners yet.”
When Chris reached for Evelyn’s ankle, my hold on my temper snapped. I didn’t know what I snarled as I cracked my foot into his ribs, but the native flinched. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”