Omega Moon Rising (Toke Lobo & The Pack)

by MJ Compton

  Mrs. MacDougal lumbered off. Abby looked around for other familiar faces, but all she saw were strangers. There weren’t that many shoppers on a weekday afternoon in October.

  “That’s odd,” she said.

  “What?” Luke’s voice was tight.

  “I know Dottie Lou Stetson and Crystal Blaser, but I don’t see them anywhere.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Luke muttered. “I’ve got things to say and trust me, they’re better off said in the truck.”

  Oh, boy. Libby was in for it. As well she should be.

  “Libby. Come on.”

  “I’m finishing my lemonade.”

  “Your lemonade is finished,” Luke said. There was a terrible tone in his voice.

  Libby’s eyes widened, then narrowed to frightening slits.

  Abby was about to tell Luke he had no business talking to Libby like that when she realized he did. He considered Libby part of his family, in his own warped way, and he was dead serious about protecting his family. Dead being a very important aspect of his attitude.

  “Up.” He gripped Libby’s arm.

  “I’ll scream,” Libby said. “I’ll tell everyone you’re trying to kidnap me.”

  Luke bared his teeth. “You do that. Do you know how fast you’ll be in child protective services? Is that what you want? Your sister has been trying to do right by you, and you’re acting like a spoiled brat. If Child Protective Services comes for you, I’ll let them take you. Your choice, Libby.”

  Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and started to protest, but Libby lurched to her feet, assisted by Luke’s hand.

  Luke released her. “Let’s go.” His voice shook, and Abby realized exactly how furious he was. Oh, this wasn’t good.

  Luke rushed Abby and Libby through the mall, stopping only at the maternity boutique to retrieve their purchases. He assisted Libby into the backseat of his truck, then tossed the plastic bags containing Abby’s new clothes behind her. He was more careful boosting Abby into the truck. His hands were shaking and the urge to shift lingered below his skin. He wanted to howl in Libby’s face. Abby could insist on issues all she wanted; the whelp needed discipline. There were so many things she’d done wrong that day. Okay. She was a victim—no, a survivor—of some pretty nasty crap, but that did not give her a license to behave like a brat. Reality check time for Miss Elizabeth “Libby” Grant, and he was the werewolf to do it.

  He focused on driving. On getting them as far away from the mall and witnesses as possible. Tension hummed in the cab of the truck. Abby was upset and that was the last thing he wanted. She should be calm and happy—that was the best way to grow a baby.

  He’d wanted a nice dinner out—a date with Abby—before he started working on the FBI task force, but Libby ruined his plans.

  Now, he needed to lose his temper.

  He found himself driving toward the park where he’d met up with Jasper. The place closed at sundown, which was pretty soon, so he’d have to make this as quick as instilling the fear of the Ancient Ones in a snotty human teenager could be. He drove to the pool house, parking in the same secluded maintenance area he’d used for his earlier meeting. He made sure the doors were locked and left the engine running.

  He twisted in his seat to glare at Libby. “Care to explain what that was all about?”

  The ugly expression on her face didn’t reveal a scat-eating thing.

  “You scared Abby half to death when you disappeared.”

  “I only went with Mrs. MacDougal for lemonade.” Sullen. Smug.

  “Someone tried to kidnap you last night.” Maybe she hadn’t known that’s what all of the hullaballoo was about. Well, reality check meant exactly that. Abby was good at not telling her sister a lot of things.

  Libby laughed, but not with humor. Luke caught a thread of contempt. He wondered how many of Libby’s supposed problems were real.

  “And there will be consequences for what you did,” Luke said. “You could have asked permission to take off with Mrs. MacDougal.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Just like I didn’t need Abby’s permission to go with Uncle Dougie last night.”

  “What?” Abby and Luke spoke at the same time.

  “Uncle Dougie texted me right after Gary’s funeral and asked me where I was staying. So I told him. Then he said he was coming to get me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell someone last night?” Luke shouted. His wolf struggled to burst free. He was going to throttle the brat. He’d never been so angry at anyone in his life, and considering his position in the pack, he’d had lots of provocation.

  “Uncle Dougie told me it was our secret.”

  Luke stuck out his hand. “Give me your cell phone. Now.” With any kind of luck, the FBI would be able to trace the message.

  “No. It’s my phone. Mama bought it for me.”

  “Luke.” Abby’s voice was low. “Calm down before you burst a blood vessel.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. That’s the problem with Libby—nobody’s ever held her accountable for her actions. Well that stops here. Things are way different in Loup Garou than they are in Oak Moon. There are expectations of behavior and consequences for carelessness. Now hand over your phone.” He extended his arm even further into the backseat.

  “Don’t threaten my sister.”

  “You want her to go live with her Uncle Dougie?”

  “No, but bullying Libby isn’t going to get you any answers.”

  “Don’t undermine my authority in my own house,” Luke snapped.

  He withdrew his arm and pulled out his super phone. Swiped in the number Mitchell Jasper had given him. “This is Luke Omega. I’m still in Fort Collins with my wife and her sister. There’ve been a couple of new developments.”

  “What are you doing?” Abby asked.

  He scowled at her. What did it sound like he was doing? “Where shall we meet you?” he asked Jasper. “We’re at the spot where we rendezvoused this morning.”

  Jasper told him to stay put.

  Luke put away his phone. Drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel.

  “What is going on?” Abby asked. “Who did you call?”

  “Jasper Mitchell. You met him the other night at Tokarz’s house.”

  “I didn’t like him,” Libby said.

  “Tough,” Luke snarled. “You don’t want to turn over your phone to me, fine. The FBI will confiscate it. And then there’s the matter of your good friend Mrs. MacDougal.”

  Abby’s eyes grew wider with each word. “No harm done there.”

  “Really? Well, think on this. Your Mrs. MacDougal is a man.”

  “What?” Abby’s tone was sharp. “That’s ridiculous. She’s been teaching Sunday School practically since the pioneers built the church.”

  “She wears a lot of perfume to cover her natural odor and trowels on the makeup to hide her beard. She is a he.” Luke’s nose wasn’t as good as Stoker’s, and he didn’t have Restin’s vision, but he was almost certain he’d stumbled across Libby’s Uncle Dougie.

  Abby’s hand raised to her mouth.

  “Anything else ring a bell?” he asked.

  “MacDougal,” Abby said.

  “Meanie MacDougal,” Libby muttered.

  “It’s pronounced differently, but—”

  “It’s spelled the same.” Luke heard the grimness in his tone.

  “But we’ve known Mrs. MacDougal for eons—all our lives,” Abby protested.

  “Wait a minute,” Libby said. “You think old Mrs. MacDougal is Uncle Dougie?”

  “Why else would she try to get you away from Abby?” Luke asked.

  “She offered to buy me lemonade, not help me run away,” Libby retorted. “We were talking about the interfaith Ch
ristmas pageant. I’ll bet you don’t have one in your stupid town. You don’t even have a church. I want to be in the Christmas pageant.”

  “You want to know why we don’t have a church?”

  “Luke.” Abby’s voice held a warning.

  “Because we’re all werewolves.”

  “What?” Libby started laughing. “You really expect me to believe that? You ought to write books, Luke, instead of working for the FBI.”

  Abby stilled. “Who told you Luke worked for the FBI?”

  Libby shrugged. “I overheard Marcus and Colette talking. Something about how mated males aren’t supposed to do government work. Mated males—do they think you’re all werewolves, too?”

  Luke turned to face the front of his truck. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He counted to ten. Four times.

  Libby tried to climb out of the truck, but Luke had overridden the manual locks. “I don’t want to be here,” she said. “Let me out.”

  “Where are you going to go?” Luke asked. “Abby and I are your family now. And Rosie Dawn, once she gets here.”

  “Uncle Dougie wants me,” Libby said. “You don’t.”

  There was nothing Luke could say to that except, “He can’t have you. And if he tries to take you, I will kill him.”

  “You’re not really an FBI agent or a werewolf. And Uncle Dougie isn’t afraid of you.”

  “Right. I’m Toke Lobo’s drummer.” Such an easy, carefree persona. No dark places. Picking up a different girl every night, spending time learning about women. Except those women never taught him about people like Abby and Libby Grant. Women with agendas other than having a good time. Like survival.

  “I’m hungry,” Libby said. “Are we going out to dinner? Or do we have to wait until your friend gets here?”

  Luke had lost his appetite. But Abby needed to eat. For the baby. She had barely touched her breakfast, picked at her lunch. He hated acquiescing to Libby’s demands. “Are you going to behave yourself?”

  “Are you going to feed me?”

  “That’s enough, Libby,” Abby said. “Luke tried to make a nice outing for us and you’re behaving like a spoiled brat.”

  “Luke brought us to Fort Collins so I would have to go to that creepy doctor. I’m hungry. I want to go home. Home to Oak Moon. Abby, you’re a grownup. We can live in our Oak Moon house by ourselves.”

  “We can’t.” Abby sounded miserable. “Not for a while, anyway.”

  “Don’t even think about it.” Luke swallowed a growl. He was weary of this. Weary of Libby. He wondered how his parents dealt with her. “Loup Garou is your home now. Both of you.”

  “Why can’t Abby and me live in our Oak Moon house together?”

  “Because we need money,” Abby explained in a weary voice. “For electricity, heat, food. I can get a job for a little while, but then what would I do with my baby?”

  She sounded as if she’d been seriously considering moving back to her mother’s house. Luke didn’t like that at all. The only place she was moving to was his house, once the expansion was done.

  “Leave the baby with Luke.”

  “He goes on the road with the band too much.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. The sisters ignored him.

  “Then leave it with Marcus and Colette. They’re excited about it.”

  “I’m not going to abandon my baby.”

  “Maybe you’ll be like Mama and have miscarriages.”

  Miscarriages? Luke didn’t like the sound of that. He’d noticed two names on the marker at her parents’ gravesite, but hadn’t given them any thought other than the sadness of dying the same day you were born. Maybe Abby needed more of Granny’s squaw tea.

  Abby’s hand fisted against her stomach. “Don’t say that.”

  “Maybe,” Libby continued, “your baby will be a malformed mutant like Mama’s were. Uncle Dougie told me all about them. Our sisters. They were monsters, not babies. If yours is like they were, you can leave it out for the wolves to get.” Fortunately, another vehicle pulled into the lot next to Luke, preventing him from—he didn’t know what. There was nothing he could do about Libby other than killing her, and that probably wouldn’t go over real well with his wife.

  He put his arm around Abby and hugged her. “Don’t listen to her. She needs her meds. Rosie Dawn is healthy and beautiful.”

  Abby was shaking. Probably not with fury, but it should have been. Maybe Libby needed more than meds. Maybe she needed her bottom smacked with an aspen switch.

  Luke’s phone rang. He released Abby to answer it. “That you parked next to me?”

  Jasper confirmed his arrival.

  “Come on over,” Luke said. “Get in the back seat. We have things to discuss.”

  Abby rested her cheek against the cool glass of the truck window. She closed her eyes and tried not to listen to Luke and Mitchell Jasper argue with Libby about surrendering her phone.

  “Libby,” Abby finally said. “If you don’t turn the phone over to Mr. Jasper, don’t expect any of us to buy more minutes for you. When you’re done, you’re done. And it’s not as if it works in Loup Garou anyway.”

  “But Mama wanted me to have a phone for emergencies,” Libby wailed. “And we’ll be moving back to Oak Moon soon.”

  “Mama is dead. I’m in charge now. I don’t know when we’re moving home.”

  Libby handed over her phone.

  Abby tried not to listen to Luke’s theory about Mrs. MacDougal. Even when Luke dragged her into the discussion.

  “Yes, she said she was there with Crystal Blaser and Dottie Lou Stetson, but I never saw them,” Abby admitted. “It’s a mall. There were a lot of people. I’ve known Charmaine MacDougal all my life. She’s not a man. She just wears a lot of perfume and make up. Her son works at the brewery, in the IT department. He was my stepfather’s boss.”

  Then Mr. Jasper said something about a safe house. That it would take a couple of days to arrange for one.

  Luke bristled. “Abby and Libby are safe in Loup Garou.”

  And they proceeded to argue about that, but Abby shut out the words.

  Most of all, Abby tried not to think about what Libby had said about their stillborn sisters. Gabriella and Tabitha. Two names. Two sets of dates carved on the gravestone shared by their parents. Monsters, not babies. That’s what Libby had called them. Because Uncle Dougie had told her about them.

  How would a stranger know about two stillbirths happening fourteen and eighteen years earlier?

  Mrs. MacDougal would know. Abby had vague memories of Mrs. MacDougal regularly descending with hams, casseroles, and green Jell-O salads.

  Abby’s stomach bubbled. Or maybe fluttered. She wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. Luke’s dinner plans had evaporated with Libby’s tantrum, so maybe Abby was hungry after thinking about Mrs. MacDougal and her battalion of meal-bearing church ladies. Abby rubbed her belly. It had been forever since she’d had an appetite.

  The movement came again, but this time, she could feel it against the tips of her fingers.

  Was it possible she was feeling the baby move? She wasn’t far enough along . . . for a human pregnancy, but who knew what being pregnant with a werewolf meant.

  Monsters, not babies.

  No. Luke wasn’t a monster. He was a werewolf. Their baby wouldn’t be a monster. Despite what Libby said.

  Chapter 19

  Luke dropped Libby and Abby at Granny’s house. “I have to get to work,” he said. “I’ll be at my cabin if you need me.”

  His head hurt, he was tired from lack of sleep, and he was still pissed at both Libby’s brattitude and Abby’s indulgence of the same. He didn’t care if Libby was acting out or whatever. He didn’t need that crap. Abby didn’t ne
ed that crap.

  He stopped the truck long enough to help Abby and Libby climb out and walk them safely to Granny’s door. He needed alone time. Desperately. For a pack animal like a werewolf, that was unheard of. The day had tapped into his human heritage.

  He should have been worried about Uncle Dougie, but Jasper was passing the newest information to the FBI. All Luke could do at this point was make sure Abby and Libby were out of harm’s way. Libby’s revelation that her mother—Abby’s mother—had stillborn babies bothered him. Scared him. He wanted to rush Abby to a doctor and have his baby checked. The impulse wasn’t a lack of trust in Granny, but because there were many things out of her control. Out of anyone’s control. Luckily, he wasn’t a superstitious man; otherwise he’d believe Libby had cursed Rosie Dawn.

  His house was silent. Dark. Work was progressing nicely on the bedroom addition. From what he could tell, he might be able to move Abby in after the next full moon.

  He set up his workspace on his bed for the time being. The loft would eventually become his office.

  Stretching out on his mattress felt good. He’d often surfed the ‘net on his lap from exactly that position.

  The first thing he did while waiting for the unit to boot up was snap on the light to read the file tucked into the laptop case. He was supposed to be a fifty year-old Boulder man pretending to be sixteen-year-old boy from Salt Lake City named Chenz. Short for Vincenzo. There was a list of chatrooms Chenz should attempt. Luke read the instructions with a healthy dose of contempt. He knew a lot more about these sites than some accountant in Quantico. But he didn’t know about buying kiddie porn, and that was his task.

  He used Chenz’s password to log on to the laptop. Jasper had warned him it was a dedicated laptop—he wasn’t to use it for anything other than Chenz’s illegal activities.