by MJ Compton
Abby’s control was slipping. She had no reserves left. “Nope, but your Uncle Dougie friend is.”
“I don’t want him to be in trouble.”
“He’s a naughty man, Libby. He took advantage of your being so young.”
“I don’t want him to go to jail.”
He will if there’s any justice in this world. “He may be the person who killed Gary.”
“Oh. I thought Luke killed Gary.”
“Luke wanted to kill him.”
“Will Luke get in trouble?”
Please. No. “I don’t think so.”
“Do you like Luke? Do you like being married to him? He’s really nice. So are his mom and dad.”
“I don’t know,” Abby carefully replied. “Life hasn’t been exactly normal since we got married. Luke went on tour—”
“But he came right back.”
“Yeah. He came right back. And Gary was murdered.”
“It’s a good thing we weren’t there at home. We could have been murdered, too. That’s why I like staying with Colette and Marcus. I feel safe there. They told me no one can get to me.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you could live with me and Luke at Granny’s house.”
“I don’t know,” Libby said. “Did you know Marcus has wolves guarding his house?”
Abby chose her words carefully. “No, I didn’t know that. But I think there are a lot more wolves around Loup Garou than there are in Oak Moon.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
Libby might be slow, but she wasn’t stupid.
Abby felt exposed standing in the lobby with its acres of glass sucking in the sunlight. She drew Libby away from the door. Out of the light. Into the shadows. There were so many windows she wouldn’t have any problem watching for Luke.
Who arrived a few minutes later, although it felt as if they’d waited for hours.
“How did everything go?” he asked once Abby and Libby were in the truck and buckled in.
“I didn’t like it,” Libby declared. “The doctor asked too many questions.”
Luke shot Abby a sideways glance.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she said. “The results could have been a lot worse.”
Luke narrowed his eyes and nodded.
“How about you? Did your meeting go all right?” Abby changed the subject. Thinking about what Dr. Holster had said about Libby’s attitude toward Uncle Dougie, that Libby might like being with him made Abby dizzy and nauseated.
“Yeah. I start my new job tonight.”
“Delilah said . . . guys tend to be nocturnal. So you have a new job?”
Luke laughed. “That’s us. Fans of the moon. And yeah. A new job doing the thing I told you about at the lake.”
Working for the feds. Putting his disgusting hobby to good use. After the fact.
“Like ‘Full Moon Lady’,” Libby said from the back seat. “I love that song.”
“It’s everybody’s favorite Toke Lobo song,” Luke said. “He wrote it for Delilah.”
Abby knew the song. It was really popular. The band’s breakout hit. The lyrics sounded simple, but were more complex and clever than the average drunk crooning along would realize. More compelling than anything she would ever be able to write.
Why had she ever thought she could sell her inept rhymes to someone like Toke Lobo?
Luke drove to the mall. Libby was out-of-her-mind excited when she realized where they were headed. There was a small mall outside Oak Moon, and like most teenage girls, Libby loved it. The mall in Fort Collins was easily three times the size of their home mall. All the usual suspects were in residence, but there were a few specialty shops. Luke checked the directory, while Abby did her best to contain Libby.
“It’s not as if we have any money to buy anything,” she whispered to Libby.
“Luke will buy us stuff,” Libby whispered back. “Marcus asked him if he needed any cash, and Luke said no.”
“When did Marcus see Luke?”
“Last night, after the wolves went crazy howling.”
Right. Someone had tried to get to Libby. Abby sidled closer to Luke. “Do you think it’s safe here?”
Luke kept his gaze on the directory as if searching for something specific. “We’re over one hundred miles from Oak Moon. No one followed us.”
“You checked?”
“Constantly.” He finally looked at her. She never before realized how clear a blue his eyes were, not the same shade as her own, but more like crystals. Like the sky on a cloudless May morning. And his dimples. A woman could fall into the dimples in his cheeks and never come out. Looking at him standing in a shaft of sunlight from the overhead skylight it was hard to remember that only last night she’d seen him morph into a four-legged fanged creature with a terrifying sneer. He looked like someone whose poster a teenage girl would hang in her room. Luke Omega was cute. And hot. And married to her.
He casually looped his arm through hers. “Let’s go. Anything in particular you want or need?”
Libby started babbling a list of things, including getting her ears pierced. “Now that Gary isn’t around to tell me no. Please, Abby? I want to wear little gold hoops to school. I’m the only girl in my class who doesn’t have pierced ears. If I had pierced ears, I’ll bet Madison and Isabella would let me sit with them at lunch.”
Luke scowled. Since he was paying, Abby wasn’t going to undermine him.
“You have pretty earlobes. If they were meant to have holes in them, you’d be born with holes in them.”
“If I was meant to wear clothes, I would have been born in them,” Libby retorted.
Abby recognized the tone of voice. That inflection never meant anything good.
“Well, I don’t like women with pierced ears and since you’re now my sister, I get some say so. Especially since you’re going to be living with me and Abby.”
“I’m staying with Marcus and Colette.” Libby’s lower lip protruded ever so slightly as her eyes narrowed.
Abby dreaded that expression and tried to derail the usual outcome. “Maybe another time. Let’s look around before we decide on anything.”
“I. Want. My. Ears. Pierced.” Libby’s voice turned shrill.
“We can always turn around and go back to Loup Garou,” Luke suggested. “I was hoping to have a nice time with a couple of nice girls, but hey. Abby and I can always come back alone another time.”
Abby held her breath. Libby had been extremely well-behaved since their mother died, which meant she was overdue for one of her ‘spells.’ Gary called them tantrums. All Abby knew was that they were dreadful. And if in public, embarrassing.
Libby’s eyes were mere slits as she engaged in a staring match with Luke. Maybe he was the lowest of all in the pack, but a barely teenaged girl was no match for him. Her chest hitched once or twice, as if getting ready to bellow out a sob.
Abby held her breath.
Libby’s scowl remained, but she nodded.
Wow. Luke was good. Their kid wasn’t going to get away with anything.
“Now,” Luke said, “instead of earrings, want to look at necklaces, bracelets or rings for your fingers?”
“No.”
Luke had averted a scene, but Libby was definitely pouting.
After seeing Luke in action, Abby wondered how many of Libby’s alleged issues were from being spoiled. Abby was ten years older than Libby, and remembered when things were normal. When their father had been alive they’d done normal family things. Mama had been pregnant a lot, but that didn’t stop her from trying to give Abby and later on Libby wonderful childhoods. Several miscarriages and two stillbirths between Abby and Libby made her parents treat Libby like a miracle. She’d been denied nothi
ng. Even after their father had been killed, Mama had continued to coddle Libby. But like the chicken and the egg, which came first: spoilage or issues?
“Good. Too much jewelry on a girl makes her look cheap.” And with that, Luke led them away from the directory.
They strolled at an easy pace, peering into shop windows whenever something caught their eye. Abby kept turning to make sure Libby was following.
Luke stopped in front of a maternity boutique. “Here’s what I was looking for.”
Abby knew she was going to need some winter clothes, but she’d figured Wal-Mart would do. It wasn’t as if she was getting out of bed and going to work every morning. She lived in the mountains. With werewolves. She stumbled when she remembered that last bit. “I don’t need anything this fancy,” she said in a low voice.
“You don’t need any clothes at all, far as I’m concerned,” Luke replied. “But I want to see you in something pretty. Like the first time I saw you.”
“This store is for pregnant ladies,” Libby said.
“Congratulations.” Luke grinned at Libby. “You’re going to be an aunt. Rosie Dawn is going to love you.”
“Who’s Rosie Dawn?” Libby sounded suspicious.
“Abs and my baby girl.” He patted Abby’s stomach.
Libby glared at Abby. “I hate your baby. I hope the wolves get it and eat it.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“All anyone talks about is your baby. Like it’s a big deal. Like it’s important.” The venom in Libby’s tone shocked Abby.
“That’s enough.” Luke’s voice was a blade slicing through the animosity.
Libby’s glare shifted from Abby to him. “You want me to live with you instead of with Marcus and Colette so you can have a built in babysitter. I’ll be your slave.”
“I want you to live with me because I love and I miss you,” Abby protested.
“I’m changing my mind about that,” Luke snapped. “I knew I should have bought the clothes online and had them shipped. Libby, I don’t want to hear another word out of you until you’re ready to apologize to Abby and me. Now stay with us and behave yourself.”
He grabbed Abby’s arm and pulled her into the store. “Tell me her issues aren’t genetic,” he muttered.
“Like you’ve got a right to complain,” Abby snapped.
Unlike most mall stores, the elegant little boutique into which Luke dragged her had thick, luxurious carpeting on the floor. The din from the mall was almost nonexistent in the hushed atmosphere. The only sound was from Libby clanking the hangers together as she flipped through a rack of nursing bras.
Luke led Abby directly to a display of sweaters. “This,” he said. “I saw this online and it reminded me of you. But I don’t know what size you wear. I mean, I could have looked in your clothes, but I wanted to do this in person. Make sure the colors were right. That kind of stuff.”
The sweater he indicated was stunning. A heavy knit, but not in the usual black or tastefully muted colors most sweaters of its kind came in. This one was pink. Rose pink. Bright yellow swirls broke the expanse of pink like miniature stars bursting in an otherworldly sky. The display paired the sweater with thick pink leggings.
“Do you like it?” Luke whispered.
Abby flipped over the price tag. The blood rushed from her head.
“I have a vision of you playing your guitar to the baby bump while wearing this sweater,” he said.
“Luke—”
“Don’t argue. What size?”
Abby prayed the sweater didn’t come in a size four, but God hadn’t been listening to her much lately.
Luke insisted she try on the outfit. Abby glanced over her shoulder to locate Libby, who had moved from the bras to a display of teething necklaces.
Abby took the sweater and leggings into the dressing room. Luke was right. She did look good in the outfit. And it was deliciously thick, so it would be warm for the brutal months ahead.
The price tag—she could have bought groceries for a month for the cost of the sweater alone. Her frugal conscience couldn’t justify that kind of expenditure, even if Luke apparently had money to burn. And she didn’t want to be beholden to Luke. In any way.
She rubbed the tingling spot on her neck as she hurried from the dressing room. The sweater and leggings were going back on their racks. Luke was at the checkout desk, flirting with the clerk.
Libby was nowhere in sight.
“Bag ‘em up,” Luke said. “I just finished paying for them.”
“Where’s Libby?”
Luke turned. Scowled as he surveyed the store. “She was just here. I bought her an amber necklace.”
Abby’s stomach clenched. “She wanders, Luke. You need to keep an eye on her.”
“The girl you bought the necklace for?” the clerk asked. “She went into the mall.” Abby dropped the clothes on the desk and started to sprint toward the door, but Luke caught her arm.
“We’ll be back to pick them up in a few minutes,” he said in a terse voice to the clerk.
“Do you want me to call mall security?” the clerk asked.
“Not yet,” Luke called over his shoulder as he escorted Abby from the shop.
“Why not call mall security?” Abby knew her voice was shrill, but she couldn’t help it.
“Calm down,” Luke said. “Give me a second. There are advantages to my mixed heritage, you know.”
His nostrils flared. If she hadn’t been watching him so closely, she might not have seen it. He was scenting Libby to track her. In other circumstances, Abby might have run screaming, but if Luke could use his allegedly superior sense of smell to find her sister, Abby could get over her phobia.
He took off, leaving Abby to bob and sway her way through the pedestrian traffic.
He found Libby in the food court, where she sat with a large, familiar-looking woman in a blue and purple flowered dress, who also wore too much perfume. Abby’s nostrils burned. The fragrance smothered any food smells that might have enticed anyone to eat. How Luke had managed to sniff out Libby under the stinky mask was a credit to his werewolf genes.
“Elizabeth Ann,” Abby scolded. “You took ten years off my life. You were supposed to wait in the store and not go running off with strangers. What were you thinking?”
“Oh dear,” the woman said.
That’s when Abby recognized her. “Mrs. MacDougal. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Libby had come with you.” Abby turned to Luke. “Luke, this is Mrs. MacDougal, Libby’s former Sunday School teacher. I think you met her at Mama’s funeral.”
Mrs. MacDougal offered her hand to Luke, who shook it with obvious reluctance.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. MacDougal said. “Libby didn’t tell me she was here with you.” Mrs. MacDougal’s makeup was nearly as thick and heavy as her perfume. It caked in the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. It flaked when she spoke.
“Who else would she be with?” Luke asked.
“Luke and I were shopping, and Libby was supposed to wait for us to finish our transaction,” Abby explained.
“I’m so sorry.” Mrs. MacDougal apologized again. “I saw her sitting on a bench, looking all sad and alone and invited her to have a soft drink with me. I didn’t mean any harm. I thought she might have run away from home.”
“Of course you didn’t mean any harm. We’ve all been a little on edge since Gary’s death.” Abby wanted to keep things right with the people of Oak Moon. She didn’t know when she might need their kindness again. Especially since she still wasn’t sure whether or not she was going to stay in Loup Garou. Wasn’t even sure of her marital status with Luke. Sure, today he was acting like a loving husband, but back in his hometown?
Abby kept her smile pasted on her face. Her cheek mus
cles ached with the effort. But Charmaine MacDougal was an important person in Oak Moon. She practically ran the church, which was second to the brewery in the role it played with the populace.
“The whole town has been on edge,” Mrs. MacDougal said. “I can’t recall another murder in all the years I’ve been living there. Scares an old woman living alone.”
Luke made some kind of low noise, but Abby ignored him. “Did you drive to Fort Collins on your own?”
“Oh, no. Dottie Lou Stetson and Crystal Blaser are with me. I can’t keep up the way I used to. They’re doing some early Christmas shopping. Only two more months.” Mrs. MacDougal sounded chipper about the prospect. “What about you, Libby? We miss you in Sunday School. Don’t you want to be part of the Christmas pageant? You always liked being in the choir.”
Apparently Mrs. MacDougal had forgotten Libby was kicked out of choir for biting the pianist.
“I miss Oak Moon. I don’t want to live in Loup Garou, but Abby is making me. I’ve never even seen a church there. And there are wolves howling all night long. And Luke’s mom is going to have to drive me down to school every day. What’s going to happen when it starts snowing? I hate Loup Garou.” Libby glared at Abby.
“No church?” Mrs. MacDougal asked. “I’m sure that can’t be right. This is America. We’re a Christian nation.”
“We haven’t had a chance to go to church. So much has happened, what with Mama, then Gary—” Abby said. She braced herself for a lecture on why her excuses were all the more reason to attend services.
But Mrs. MacDougal missed her opening. “There are Dottie Lou and Crystal.” Mrs. MacDougal waved her arms at someone in the distance. “You’re always welcome to come back to church in Oak Moon. In fact, I hope to see you there soon. Goodbye, Libby. Thanks for keeping me company.”