by Lori Drake
Cathy nodded, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow and her solemn green eyes.
“Catherine,” Ethan began, his tone that of a parent speaking to an errant child.
Chris turned back to the High Priest, irritation warring with concern for his missing friend. “Don’t take that tone with her. Show some respect.”
Cathy pushed to her feet, using the arms of her chair for balance. “It’s fine, Chris. Ethan leads the coven here. I’m just a member.”
Chris pressed his lips together. It might be true, but he still didn’t like it. Cathy was a powerful witch in her own right. The former High Priestess of the San Diego coven. Sure, she was in a sort of forced retirement now, but he still didn’t approve of Ethan speaking to her that way.
The man of the hour nodded slightly to Cathy before turning his attention back to Chris. “As I said, a coven matter. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Wait.” Chris grabbed Ethan’s arm before he could make for the door. “How long?”
“Pardon?” Ethan said, glancing at Chris’s hand and arching a brow.
“How long has Naomi been missing?”
“About thirty-six hours,” Ethan said, pulling his arm free.
That wasn’t long. But long enough for concern. “Has anyone called the cops?” Chris glanced between the two witches.
“Yes,” Cathy said. “And we’ve exhausted every magical avenue to search for her and Rachel—the other missing woman. She’s been missing for almost a week.”
Chris knew a few things about Cathy’s magical avenues. Her power and experience was broad. If Cathy couldn’t find the women with magical means, that meant no one could. It meant the women were either magically protected against tracking spells, or they were dead. Neither was a comforting prospect.
“I’m with Cathy,” Chris said. “You should tell everyone now. Don’t wait. If there’s someone—or something—out there targeting witches, everyone is in danger.”
Ethan loosed a heavy sigh. “Your opinion is noted, but as I said, this is a coven matter. Your involvement is neither required nor welcome.”
Chris lifted his brows and set his untouched coffee on the low table in front of the couch. Every protective instinct in his body told him to pursue the matter, and yet he’d enjoyed friendly relations with the Seattle coven so far—at least to the extent that they didn’t have unfriendly relations. He’d never even met most of the local witches. He saw the folly of that now, but Ethan’s isolationist tendencies meant if Chris had reached out previously, it might not have gotten him anywhere to start with. He wasn’t eager to clash horns with a powerful witch, but if there were a good reason this would be it.
“I don’t know if we can be of any help, especially since my pocket research assistant is out of town, but you have the full support of my pack. Whatever will help protect the coven or bring home Rachel and Naomi safely, you’ll have it.” Pocket research assistant was a serious understatement where Adam’s hacking abilities were concerned, but he wasn’t about to come right out and say what the young man could do. And since he’d gone with Dawn—Chris’s dear friend and Cathy’s apprentice—to Nevada, that at least meant she was out of harm’s way. For now. That was fortuitous for more than one reason, because it was difficult to report an escaped con hiding from authorities with the help of a magical disguise as a missing person.
“I doubt that’ll be necessary, Mr. Martin. But thank you.” Ethan turned to Cathy. “A pleasure as always, Catherine. I’ll see myself out.”
Chris watched the man cross to the door, scratching his unshaved jaw and frowning to himself. He was still standing there when the door closed behind Ethan, and Cathy approached to put a hand on his arm.
“You look like hell, my dear.”
“I’m fine. Long night.” Chris’s personal troubles had faded into the distant background, but they came rushing back in response to his friend and mentor’s gentle words. They seemed far less important now, and he fumbled his phone from his pocket to try calling Joey again, hoping against hope that this time she’d fucking answer.
3
Joey leaned against the wall beside the archway that separated the living room from the foyer. There were a surprising number of people at Sara’s baby shower, considering Sara hadn’t gotten another teaching job after relocating to Seattle. With the baby on the way, she’d decided it was a good time to take a year off, and it’s not like her teacher’s salary was keeping her and Jon afloat. Technically, neither of them needed to work. Nor did Joey. But Adelaide and Reginald Grant didn’t raise their children to be idle rich. No, they all had strong work ethics and pursued things that interested them or inflamed their passions.
For Jon, that was law. Joey wasn’t sure he’d ever been anything but an attorney. Sam, on the other hand, had been a jack of many trades. Joey had never thought much further ahead than opening a dance studio when she and Chris inevitably needed to retire from competition…
Steering her thoughts away from dangerous territory, Joey re-focused on the main event. In truth, there hadn’t been much for her to do when she’d showed up the night before. She had Sara’s cousin, Melinda, to thank for that. Joey’s eyes sought out the willowy blonde who was ferrying gifts back and forth from the gift table to Sara so they could be opened. Melinda had turned up several weeks ago to help Sara out as she grew closer and closer to term.
Melinda and Sara had been two peas in a pod ever since. The shower had been Melinda’s idea. She’d been aghast that Sara hadn’t had one, and had spent the last week planning this particular fête. To her credit, the event had gone off without a hitch so far. The food was fabulous, the decorations were on point, the games had been fun without being completely ridiculous, and even the playlist Melinda had put together was the perfect background music, neither too much nor too little. It was perfect. Just like Melinda.
Bitch.
Joey caught herself grimacing and smoothed her features into a more pleasant smile. It helped that Melinda was making a show of hauling Joey’s rather large gift over to set at Sara’s feet amongst the crumpled and torn gift wrap from the other gifts. The big box wasn’t that heavy, so Joey wasn’t sure if Melinda was hamming it up for the crowd or downplaying her strength in front of the human contingent. Maybe a combination of the two. While Melinda peeled the card stuck to the crisp white and silver gift wrap off to hand to Sara, Joey detached from the wall and wandered closer.
Sara opened the card and smiled as she read, sniffling a little and lifting her eyes to seek Joey out afterward. “This one’s from my sister, Joey. Thank you.”
Joey’s lingering irritation melted away in the face of that word. Sister. Not sister-in-law. Sara was the closest thing Joey had ever had to a sister, but it was the first time Sara had ever named her as such. It actually choked her up, and she had to clear her throat before replying, “You’re welcome.”
Sara shifted closer to the edge of the sofa and bent over awkwardly, trying to reach the big gift. Joey and Melinda both sprang into motion. Melinda was closer, but Joey shot her a look and she backed off, letting Joey push the box closer and help Sara tear the paper off before she could tip over and fall off the couch.
“Oh my gosh, this looks amazing!” Sara beamed as the paper was torn away to reveal a big picture of a fat, happy baby in a car seat. It wasn’t merely a car seat. It was the freaking Lexus of car seats and had cost Joey a pretty penny. The guests ooh’d and ahh’d.
“The seat is detachable and converts into a carrier. It’s got a five-point safety harness, steel-reinforced frame, a machine-washable cushion with infant insert, bottle holders, and a built-in white noise machine. Oh, and I got gray because it’s neutral, but if you don’t like the color I can exchange it. It also comes in maroon, navy blue, and forest green.” Joey stopped rambling when she caught Lucy giving her an amused look from across the room.
“I love it,” Sara said, opening her arms.
Joey leaned down to give her a hug, and whis
pered, “I love you. You’re going to be such a great mom.”
Still sniffling, Sara pulled her down to sit beside her on the couch, displacing a mammoth pile of tiny socks, bibs, shirts, and rompers. “So will you. Eventually.”
Joey laughed and held up her hands. “Not anytime soon.”
Especially not if I keep screwing things up with Chris.
Sara giggled, well aware of Joey’s reluctance to start a family at the tender age of twenty-seven. In wolf years, that was nothing.
“Was that the last gift?” Joey asked, craning her neck and leaning over to peer at what appeared to be an empty gift table.
“Not quite,” Melinda said. “I didn’t put mine out, because it was too hard to wrap. Hang on a minute.”
While Sara’s cousin hurried out of the room, Joey put herself to work rearranging the pile of gifts that she’d knocked over. The act of folding and arranging put her in something of a zen state, much like cleaning usually did, so she didn’t realize that Melinda was back until Sara gasped and went rigid beside her.
Joey looked up to find Melinda wheeling a battered old bassinet into the room. There was a big white bow tied to it, but it didn’t have the look of a new piece of furniture about it. The wood was polished to a gleaming shine, but there were numerous dents and nicks in it.
“Oh my god. Mel…” Sara’s shocked whisper drew Joey’s gaze. Her sister-in-law’s blue eyes were wide and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “Is that…?”
Melinda grinned. “Paw-paw’s bassinet.”
Sara struggled to her feet and waddled over to stroke her fingers along the side of the bassinet reverently. Tears dripped down her face. “How did you get it? I lost my place in line for it d—” She barely stopped herself from saying something that would raise the brows of the humans in attendance. “A long time ago.”
“I stole it,” Melinda said, then laughed when Sara’s shocked eyes locked on her. “Kidding. But there were negotiations involved, and you’ll have to return it to your sister once the kid outgrows it. But for now, it’s yours.”
Sara flung her arms around her cousin, tears of joy flowing freely. While the two women hugged, Joey looked from the ancient-looking bassinet to her own gift and back again, then sighed and started gathering up all the discarded wrapping paper.
A pleasant hum of conversation rose around the room while Sara and Melinda continued to speak quietly over the bassinet. Joey crumpled piece after piece of paper in her hands, holding on to as much as she could until a pair of thick-soled, perilously tall heels stopped in her line of sight. She looked up to find Lucy offering an open trash bag and a sympathetic expression.
“What?” Joey practically snapped, stuffing her handfuls of paper in the bag and going back for more.
“Jealous much?” Lucy asked.
Joey grumbled softly and shook her head. “I think I liked it better when you suppressed your alpha tendencies.”
Lucy snorted softly and stooped to help her collect bits of ribbon and paper, leaning over to snag a bow that’d found its way deep under the coffee table. “She’s going to get way more use out of your gift than Melinda’s. It’s probably going to take a couple of years for the kid to outgrow that car seat.”
Joey shrugged. “Hard to compete with a family heirloom. It’s fine.”
“It’s not supposed to be a competition, you know.”
“I know.”
Between the two of them, they got the mess cleaned up quickly. Far too quickly, as far as Joey was concerned, because now she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
She took the trash bag from Lucy and scanned the room. “Looks like the punch bowl is getting low. I’ll go get a fresh pitcher and take this out.” She turned without waiting for a response and headed for the kitchen, but once she crossed onto the tile she was fully aware of the click of Lucy’s heels behind her.
Joey stashed the bag of trash by the back door before heading for the fridge, but Lucy wasn’t dismissed quite so easily these days.
“Is this really about Melinda, or is it about that blow out you had with Chris last night?”
Joey snorted softly, opening the fridge door. “Melinda’s fine. Everybody loves Melinda.”
“Chris doesn’t. He loves you, for some reason. God only knows at this point.”
Joey tensed and shot Lucy a small glare over her shoulder. “Do us both a favor and butt out.”
“No.”
Joey slammed the door shut and turned to face her friend and packmate, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is when you’re shouting at each other loud enough that the whole house can hear.”
“Considering how well you all hear, it doesn’t take much.”
Lucy shook her head, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m worried about you. You didn’t come home last night.”
“Chris and I will be fine, okay? We’ll work it out.”
“I know. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you. Are you okay?”
Joey sighed. Chris was her best friend and the love of her life, but she missed her other best friend more than ever right then. It had been a struggle, letting anyone in since Cheryl’s death. Joey’s “show no weakness” alpha instinct didn’t lend well to opening up, especially with other wolves. Chris was the one she usually talked to about her problems, her hopes, dreams, and fears. But what about when Chris was part of the problem? She pinched the bridge of her nose and took the plunge. “Of course I’m not okay. I’m an impulsive idiot and a coward. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Only if it’s what you need to say.” Lucy pushed off the counter she’d been leaning against and walked over to give Joey a hug. The soft hint of spearmint from her shampoo tickled Joey’s nostrils.
Joey leaned into the embrace, suddenly fighting tears. Being abrasive was easy. Vulnerability was hard. “I fucked up. You don’t even know the half of it. I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Avoiding him isn’t going to make it easier.”
“I know. But I don’t know what to say to him.”
Lucy stroked soothing circles on her back. “Start with ‘I’m sorry’ and go from there. Hell, knowing him that’ll be enough.”
“Not this time.”
Lucy pulled away and framed Joey’s face with her hands. “Repeat after me. I’m Joey Grant.”
Joey rolled her eyes and gave Lucy a look.
Lucy firmed her grip. “I’m Joey Grant.”
Joey sighed. “I’m Joey Grant.”
“I’m a badass bitch, and I’m not afraid of anything.”
Joey grumbled, “That’s certainly not true.”
“It’s called an affirmation, dumbass. I’m a badass bitch, and I’m not afraid of anything.”
“I’m a badass bitch, and I’m not afraid of anything.”
Lucy moved her hands from Joey’s head to her shoulders. “Again. Like you mean it.”
“I’m a badass bitch, and I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Louder.”
“I’m a badass bitch, and I’m not afraid of anything!”
Lucy smiled. “Great. Now go kiss and make up with Chris somewhere I don’t have to listen. God, it’s been too long since I got laid.”
Joey smirked but took her phone out of her pocket and turned it back on. “I’m not leaving early, but I’ll text him. Will that make you happy?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. Get out of my way, that punch is tasty.”
Joey moved away from the fridge door and stared at her phone while she waited for it to boot up. When it did, the device started lighting up with missed notifications. The last one, a text message from Chris, sent a chill down her spine.
Call me. 911.
Chris let his phone drop to the coffee table with a noisy thud and leaned back on the couch with a sigh. At least Joey’d apologized for leaving her phone off for hours when she’d finally called him back, and she’d promised sh
e’d come home after the baby shower so they could talk. He wasn’t looking forward to that talk, but it needed to happen. She needed to know that running off after a fight, not coming home or sending him a message, turning off her phone and avoiding him… none of that was okay.
But for now, it was enough that she was up to speed on Naomi being missing. She’d sounded as concerned as he was, but he wasn’t sure if that was possible. Joey would always be grateful for Naomi’s help in getting him out of that compound, but for Chris… it was different. Naomi hadn’t been Marcus Madrigal’s prisoner. She’d been there of her own volition, gathering information to pass back to Cathy, giving Chris the gift of an ally in a situation where he’d thought he was entirely on his own. She may have given him freedom, but she’d also given him hope when he direly needed it.
Chris rubbed his forehead. There was nothing he could do without pissing off Seattle’s High Priest, but he couldn’t sit by and do nothing either.
“Everything okay?” Cathy asked, trundling back into the room from down the hall.
“Not really. But so it goes.” He watched her as she returned to her seat. “I know Ethan said he didn’t want our help, but there has to be something we can do.”
Cathy tapped her chin with a finger. “Hmm. Well, there is one thing that comes to mind.”
Chris straightened. “What?”
“Search for her on the astral plane.”
Chris could’ve smacked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “That’s a damn good idea. I can see why he keeps you around.”
She snorted softly and shifted in her chair, getting more comfortable. “Hop to it, child. You came here to practice, after all.”
Nodding, Chris sat back again until he was reclining on the couch. His hands shifted into his lap, fingers of his left hand automatically seeking out the ring on his right. He never left his body without Cathy’s anti-possession charm, at least not since she’d perfected it so it wouldn’t keep him from returning to his body. He never took the damn thing off unless he needed to change forms. He even showered with it on. But the impulse to check for it was as deeply rooted as his need to breathe.