by Tasha Black
He knew how bad it was. He also knew it wouldn’t last forever. Maybe he could be some help after all.
Had Ophelia known that when she sent him here? Maybe she did have a heart inside that glass exterior.
“Well,” Bonnie said with a smile. “Jake Miller certainly never checked out anything like this.”
“More of a Stephen King fan?” Erik asked.
“Actually,” Bonnie said, one eyebrow lifted. “he was fond of romance novels.”
“Really?”
Erik tried to picture his own fallen alpha, Michael Connor, in his tweed blazer, holding a book with a shirtless hunk on the cover.
“Oh yeah,” Bonnie nodded. “He always tried to pretend like they were for LeeAnn but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He’d be in here once a week, like clockwork. Until about two weeks ago.”
“What happened two weeks ago? I thought the mine collapse was two days ago?”
Bonnie bit her lip. She set down Erik’s books and leaned forward, conspiratorially.
“He came in and asked for something very different,” she said. “He wanted books on Native American myths and symbology, and on eastern European folklore. Not his cup of tea. At all.”
“Why did he want books like that?” Erik asked.
He found himself leaning forward just as Bonnie was. It popped into his head that the text book had mentioned body mirroring behaviors but he already forgot why. Some psychologist he was.
“No idea,” she said, her clear green eyes wide. “I wouldn’t have thought much about it, but he seemed... nervous when he was checking them out. Jake was always confident, as an alpha should be. I’d never seen him nervous about anything.”
“Which books were they?” Erik curiosity was getting the better of him. “Could I see them?”
“He never got a chance to return them,” Bonnie said solemnly.
“If I see them around the house, I’ll bring them back,” Erik said, straightening up.
“Thank you, Erik, I appreciate it,” Bonnie said, standing tall again too. “Or should I be calling you Dr. Jensen?”
“Erik is fine,” he told her with a smile.
“Erik it is.” Bonnie smiled back. “Come back anytime.”
It was a nice smile, a warm smile, and it made him miss Ainsley.
“See ya,” he said as he turned to go.
He opened the door and the sunlight temporarily blinded him. When he could see again, he was struck by the beauty of the changing leaves on the mountains across the street from the tiny library.
But questions burned his mind, so instead of losing himself in the view, he stuffed the book in his jacket and hurried back to his truck.
Chapter 18
Ainsley crouched, the muscles in her legs tensed to spring.
The door swung open to reveal the familiar silhouette of her best friend, Grace Kwan-Cortez framed in the day’s first light.
Sucking in calming air, Ainsley eased her body upward and managed not to shift. Unspent adrenaline coursed through her veins.
“What’s wrong?” Ainsley asked.
Grace shuffled in with a nervous look. She held Camilla Parker Bowles in one arm. It was a funny picture - Grace wasn’t exactly a dog person, but she cradled Camilla as though they had been besties for years.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” Grace said. “I’ve been calling and texting you. I was afraid something had happened. You never sleep this late.”
“It’s fine,” Ainsley said, thinking of the dream and feeling like nothing was fine. “What’s going on?”
“Owen called, so we had to get Sadie back right away. It was a very close call.”
“Oh my gosh, Grace, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you! How did it go?”
“Oh, no worries, it went really smoothly,” Grace said.
Ainsley could see by the traumatized expression on Grace’s face that her friend was trying to hide that it had not gone smoothly.
“I can’t believe you got her back in all by yourself,” Ainsley said in wonder, as they headed for the kitchen.
Grace put Camilla Parker Bowles down and she trotted after them.
“Julian helped me,” Grace said.
What?
Ainsley noticed the familiar smell clinging to her best friend. She would have picked it up right away, despite the shower and scented lotions Grace had used in the interim, but she had been shaken by the vestiges of the dream.
Julian.
Ainsley was scandalized, thrilled, and even a little jealous. Grace would say something if she wanted to talk about it. Ainsley didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. But her curiosity won out over her discretion.
“Julian,” she breathed, as Grace sat down at the table.
Grace blanched. She must have guessed Ainsley would sniff out the truth right away.
“Is it weird?” she asked, looking down at Camilla Parker Bowles.
The little dog flopped down at her feet and went right to sleep.
“A little, I guess,” Ainsley admitted. “But mostly it’s just unexpected. I thought you guys hated each other.”
A smile played at the corners of Grace’s mouth. “We do,” she said, “but I guess not enough to make up for how much we like each other.”
“What happened?” Ainsley asked.
“I’m not really sure,” Grace replied.
“Was it good? Are you going to do it again?”
“It was good,” Grace said, but she had a sort of shell-shocked look on her face.
Ainsley swallowed a giggle. Maybe Julian had done that dominating business with Grace. It was sort of fun, but it was never really Ainsley’s thing. From the look on Grace’s face, it was hard to tell if it was her thing or not.
“Ainsley,” Grace said. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but I have a feeling there’s something else we need to talk about first. You almost attacked me just now. What’s going on?”
The dream.
Ainsley busied herself putting on the kettle. It would be easier to talk about this if she didn’t have to see the concern on Grace’s face while she was telling her.
“I had the dream again,” Ainsley said, pulling their favorite mugs out of the cupboard and placing them on the counter.
“No,” Grace said.
“Yes. I never thought I’d see him again.” Ainsley grabbed the peppermint tea and placed a bag in each mug. “The dream was different this time though. Instead of making out until the bad stuff happened, he dragged me to the old field house.”
“On the construction site?” Grace asked.
“It was. And it wasn’t” She ignored the puzzled look on Grace’s face. “But when we went in, we weren’t in the field house. We went down this tunnel and then we were in a room. And when I turned to him, he was wearing a yellow raincoat, and he was covered in blood--”
“--A yellow raincoat?” Grace interrupted.
“Weird, right? It looked like something a woman would wear.”
“Could it be the coat that went with the belt I showed you?” Grace asked. “The one Lilliana was wearing when she disappeared?”
“Yes,” Ainsley said thoughtfully. “Same shade. Maybe that’s why it was in my mind. Do you think it means something?”
Grace shrugged and urged her to continue.
“Anyway, Brian was wearing the coat and his blood was flowing into this grooved pattern in the floor and going down a hole and... feeding something below. It was evil and it was banging on the floor. Then you started banging on the door, and here we are. What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Grace replied with a troubled expression. “Abuela has always been better at finding the meanings in this kind of stuff. When there is meaning - she says there usually isn’t. It could just be a bad dream, Ainsley. You’ve been under a lot of stress. And it was the full moon.”
Ainsley let the air out of her lungs between pursed lips. Grace was right. She was under strain. Things weren’t exactly going well.
“Start with the magic, Ainsley, it will make everything else easier when you accept that part of yourself.”
“Magic is not going well,” Ainsley said. “As a matter of fact, it’s going terribly. I can’t control it at all.”
“You did fine in the fight. You need to stop over-thinking it. Just do it,” Grace said. She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Do it now.”
“Now?” Ainsley asked.
“Why not?”
Ainsley couldn’t think of a good reason why not, so she shrugged and lifted her hands, palms up. Closing her eyes and straightening her spine, she took a measured breath and pushed.
She could feel a droplet of energy hopping between her palms. She opened her eyes and the light spluttered out before she could get a good look at it.
Camilla Parker Bowles growled softly, then flopped over and went back to sleep.
“Ainsley, I feel like you’re tensing up so much it’s a miracle you can squeeze anything out,” Grace said gently. “Let’s try something different.”
“Okay,” Ainsley said. What did she have to lose?
“Let’s go out back, it’ll be easier out there.”
Ainsley nodded and they headed out the back door. The backyards up and down Princeton were quiet. It was getting colder outside, so the kids weren’t out as much. Not to mention that the leaf collection trucks weren’t coming for another week, so the yards were slippery with fallen leaves.
Camilla Parker Bowles trotted out and immediately began sniffing at the gate to the side yard.
Grace followed Ainsley down the steps of the back porch and out to her mom’s old vegetable garden. The veggies were long gone but there was still an old watering can tucked in the corner of the picket fence.
“So how do you usually get the magic to work?” Grace asked.
“I’m not sure work is exactly the right word,” Ainsley said, eliciting a scowl from her friend. “But Julian says to visualize the energy, then will it to project.”
Grace’s brow furrowed in disapproval.
“When you made us tea just now,” she said. “Did you will the water into the cups?”
“Um, no.”
“What did you do?”
“I poured it.”
“Exactly. And did you have to think about it?”
“Of course not,” Ainsley said.
“That’s the problem,” Grace said. “It needs to come naturally to you. Try it now. Pretend you’re just throwing a softball, like in high school. Okay?”
“You don’t really think I can throw this stuff, do you?” Ainsley laughed out loud. “I can barely evoke it at all.”
“You can do anything you want, Ainsley. It’s your magic and you have plenty of it whenever the you-know-what hits the fan. Now just pitch it over to the watering can.”
Ainsley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It turned to steam in the cold air.
“No!” Grace admonished her. “No weird breathing, no stiff posture. Just throw it, like you’ve done all your life. Send that watering can back to the dugout!”
Ainsley laughed. The tension drained from her frame. Without a thought, she threw.
A perfect sphere of energy flew at the can, blue light trailing behind it like the tail of a comet.
The watering can fell over neatly with a small metallic crash as it hit the gate.
Ainsley saw the change in her friend’s expression a few seconds after she smelled the new presence approaching from the side yard.
She had to hand it to him, he was getting quieter.
Ainsley turned to see Julian standing at the gate, holding Camilla Parker Bowles in his arms. The little dog was trying to wrest herself out of his grasp. But he appeared not even to notice, he was so transfixed by the sight of Grace.
“Hey, Julian,” Ainsley called.
“Well done, Ainsley,” he said. “Have you been meditating?”
“Nope, just mixed in a little cottage magic,” she said. What did you think?”
“I think you have a fantastic teacher,” he said with a smile.
Grace looked down modestly, but her lips lifted slightly at the corners. Ainsley wondered if Julian would notice the dash of I-told-you-so.
Chapter 19
Grace’s heartbeat sped up and warmth flooded her cheeks.
She wasn’t ashamed. Julian had seen what Ainsley could do under her instruction. And when she had performed better under Grace’s tutelage than his own, he hadn’t been angry. He was a mature man, the real deal.
And he was hers.
By the time Grace shook her giddiness, Ainsley had already opened the gate. Julian put down the dog and headed over.
“I’ll grab the dog some water,” Ainsley said, heading up the steps to the house. “Be right back.”
Julian stood close to Grace. Too close.
“Hi,” she muttered shyly.
“Hi, yourself,” he said with an arched eyebrow. “Does Ainsley know?” he whispered.
She nodded.
“Is she okay with it?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” she asked coyly.
“Isn’t there some sort of code?” he asked.
“Sisters before misters?” she teased.
“Something like that,” he said.
“She doesn’t care. She has Erik.”
A strange look crossed Julian’s face. Not jealousy, but something dark.
“What?” Grace asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” he said, kissing her lightly on top of her head.
A shiver went through Grace. His slightest touch was capable of igniting her fiercest desire. She looked up to see him shake his head slightly.
When he caught her looking, he smiled ruefully at her. He must be feeling it too.
Before they could acknowledge their feelings, the back door closed and Ainsley came out. She bent over to put a metal mixing bowl down on the porch floor.
“Camilla Parker Bowles,” Ainsley called.
The little dog trotted over and sniffed at the bowl.
“Where was she?” Grace asked, looking at the dog.
“She was digging under the rhododendrons by the front porch. She probably got distracted by a chipmunk on her way home. She must feel odd being so close to her home, but not allowed in.”
“Ainsley, can you watch her today?” Grace asked. “I’ve got a double shift on call and I hate to leave her in a cage for so long.”
“Sure, Grace,” Ainsley smiled, then turned to Julian. “What brought you here, Julian?”
Grace’s best friend had become so direct since taking leadership of the pack.
“It’s not easy, but there’s something I need to come clean about. To both of you.”
“I knew it,” Ainsley said. “You’re gay.”
“It’s not that. Wait, what?” Julian stammered. “Why does everyone always-“
“I’m kidding,” Ainsley interrupted. “What’s on your mind?”
“It might be better if we sat down,” he suggested, motioning to the picnic table on the back porch.
Grace took a spot next to Ainsley, a hollow feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. Julian sat on the bench across from them. His jaw tensed. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Ainsley, Grace, I’m a member of an Order,” he began. “As such, I have been sworn to secrecy regarding certain matters. What I’m about to reveal to you would mean my life if my brothers knew. May I rely on each of you to keep my secret, no matter how you feel about me at the end of this conversation?”
The hush of the frigid breeze shivered through the trees. Grace shuddered in sympathy and shoved her hands into her coat pockets.
“Grace,” he turned to her. “You are a member of an Order yourself. And you are sworn to protect and to serve.”
“You mean the Tarker’s Hollow Police De
partment?” she asked.
“The Tarker’s Hollow Police Department is different from other police departments,” Julian said softly. “And my Order is unusual as well.”
“Are you with the FBI?” Grace asked.
“I’m with a magical order, Grace. An order that is sworn to protect the very evolution of mankind. I’m in Tarker’s Hollow for a reason. And that reason is not to teach Russian Lit.” He turned to Ainsley, “Though I do love the Russian masters, that part is real.”
“Why are you in Tarker’s Hollow?” Ainsley asked. Her voice sounded brittle to Grace.
Julian studied the grain in the wooden table. Then he looked up. His eyes were so intense Grace could hardly bear it.
“I want you to know that I respect and care for you both. Now that I know you and the pack, I intend to do all I can to help you.”
“Why. Are. You. Here.” Ainsley repeated. And Grace could see that her friend wouldn’t ask again, at least not with words.
“I belong to the Order of the Sanguis,” he replied.
Grace hadn’t taken Latin since high school, but she was pretty sure he was talking about blood.
“What does that mean?” She asked, hoping to stave off Ainsley’s fury.
“It means... I am trained to fight creatures of the darkness, that feed on the essence of the innocent.”
It was like a bad horror movie. For a minute, Grace wanted to giggle.
“Julian,” she said, trying to sound serious. “Are you talking about vampires?”
“For lack of a better word, yes,” he said. “Although probably not how you imagine them. It seems incredible, I know--”
“--yes, yes, it does,” Ainsley interrupted. “But in the context of the people sitting at this table, it isn’t. So what’s your deal? Why are you here?”
Julian paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. He must have sensed the same anger that Grace sensed, too close the surface in Ainsley.
“The Order was formed a long time ago, with the sole purpose of protecting mankind from the Dark Ones. But recently we’ve had to increase our numbers. Our mission has become more urgent.”
“How recently?” Ainsley asked.
“I’m one of a wave of new recruits. I was brought onboard in 1892, hastily trained, and sent into the field undercover.”