Hemlocked and Loaded

by Annabel Chase

  I accepted the glass of juice. "Nobody understands clothes like Ricardo. In fact, he's designing my wedding gown."

  Henrietta broke into a wide smile. "You're kidding. That's wonderful. When’s the big day?"

  “Six weeks to go," I said. "I can’t wait."

  She sighed happily. "I remember our wedding day like it was yesterday. Bob and I got married at the Mayor's Mansion, which was highly unusual back then for shifters. You know we tend to do things within our own groups, especially ceremonial events.”

  I’d learned that not long after I arrived in town, when I investigated the death of a werewolf named Jolene.

  “What a coincidence. The Mayor’s Mansion is my next stop after this," I said. “I need to speak to Mayor Langtree about my wedding. How long have you been married?"

  “Thirty-seven years next month," Henrietta replied.

  “That’s a long time,” I said, impressed. "Tomlin is only thirty-five years old. You’ve been married longer than he’s been alive.”

  She looked sympathetic. "He’s still young? I couldn't tell from the house. My eyesight isn't that good anymore."

  We moved from the kitchen to the living room, where I was overwhelmed by pictures on the wall. It seemed like every inch of wall space was covered by the image of a family member’s beaming face.

  “How many grandkids do you have?” I asked, incredulous.

  Henrietta stopped to think. “Is it awful that I’ve lost track? I think twenty-two.”

  I whistled. “Holiday dinners must be quite an undertaking.”

  “Bob and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Wereferrets are such a small shifter group. Twenty-two grandkids are a badge of honor.”

  Henrietta seemed sweet and the pictures on the wall reflected a huge, loving family. It made me feel worse about what they were putting Tomlin through.

  “Why didn't you say anything to Tomlin when you saw him in your field?” I asked. "He seems very nice. He didn't know he was on your property. I'm sure if you had just told him…”

  Henrietta set down her glass. "You don't understand, Miss Hart. You're not a shifter. Bob and I are wereferrets. We smelled a predator near our home. When we realized it was a werelynx, we got nervous. We’re not as young and spry as we used to be. If he chose to attack us, we wouldn't have been able to defend ourselves."

  "So this is all because he’s a werelynx?” I asked. "If he’d been a wererat or even a pixie, would we be having this conversation?"

  "Probably not," Henrietta admitted. She sniffed the air. “I smell Bob. He'll be here any moment."

  The front door swung open and Bob appeared in the foyer, looking just as slight and wiry as his wife. "I see we have a visitor."

  Henrietta smiled reassuringly at her husband. "Bob, this is Emma Hart. She's defending our trespasser, the werelynx.”

  "His name is Tomlin," I said quickly. The sooner they could stop viewing him as a predator, the better.

  Bob frowned. "Does he say what he wanted from us? Why has he been lurking around our property? We felt like he was stalking prey.”

  "It isn't what you think at all,” I said. “The only thing he was stalking was vegetables for a stew. He's been adjusting to a new lifestyle." I didn’t want to divulge the details of his personal life. They seemed too private. "He didn't realize he was on your property. He said if he'd known, he would've left with no problem. He feels terrible about the whole misunderstanding.”

  "I wanted to go say something to him," Bob said, "but Henrietta wouldn’t let me. She thinks I'm too old to defend myself." He shot an accusatory glance at his wife. "Doesn't do much for a wereferret’s ego, I'll tell you that much."

  "He's only thirty-five,” Henrietta said. "I was right to be concerned. He could overtake both of us with no problem."

  "Except he wasn’t here to overtake you," I said. "He was on the hunt for wild vegetables.”

  Bob pointed a finger at me. "See? Hunt. You just said it yourself."

  I swallowed an exasperated sigh. I could see I had my work cut out for me with these two. Their prejudice against larger shifters ran deep.

  "I didn't mean to come and upset you,” I said. “I only wanted to ask a few questions so that I could better understand the situation. I get it now. You saw a werelynx three times on your property and believed that he was drawn to the smell of prey. Is that about it?"

  Bob shoved his hands in his pockets. "I know that it isn’t typical these days for shifters to come after each other. It doesn't mean we don't get nervous, though. We’re not in the center of town. If there was trouble out here, we’ve got no access to magic and no close neighbors to ask for help."

  "I understand, Mr. Akers. Thank you for your time." I set my empty glass on a coaster. "The starmark juice was delicious. Thank you for letting me try some."

  "My pleasure," Henrietta said. "And if you have any more questions, feel free to come back any time."

  "As long as you don't plan to press charges against me for trespassing," I joked.

  She rested her hands in her lap. "I don't smell anything on you except goodness, Miss Hart. Bob and I certainly aren't afraid of that."

  I banged on the door of the Mayor's Mansion and was intercepted by two large security guards. "Hello there, is Lucy…I mean, Mayor Langtree around?"

  "Do you have an appointment?" Tweedledee asked.

  "No, but I never have an appointment to see the mayor," I said. "I'm here on personal business."

  Tweedledum squinted at me. "So which is it? Personal or business?"

  "Personal business," I repeated. "Okay, I can see where you may be confused. It is a matter of a personal nature. Not business at all. Does that help?"

  Tweedledum nodded. "Your name?"

  I folded my arms. "Seriously? How many times have I been here? It's always you two. Do you really not remember or do you have to pretend so that we don't get too familiar with each other?"

  The security guards looked at me blankly.

  “Could you just let Lucy know I’m here?” I asked, my impatience growing.

  “Yes, Miss Hart," Tweedledee mumbled. The guards disappeared together, and a moment later Lucy's assistant, a young werewolf named Nichole, hurried into the lobby to greet me.

  "Many happy returns," she said excitedly. "Can I see your ring? Is that rude to ask?” She grabbed my hand to inspect my finger before I had a chance to respond. "It's amazing. Gosh, I love jewelry. I could wear a ring on every finger and toe. You must be walking on air right now.”

  "Well, I feel pretty good, but I’m still walking on the ground because that's where I like my feet." Anyone who knew me well knew that the air was the last place I wanted to be. "Is Lucy available?"

  "Yes, yes," she said. "Come this way. I was so excited to see the ring. I heard it was stunning and it is. Deacon has done his best work yet. I’m totally using him when the time comes.”

  Talk about free advertising for Deacon. No wonder he offered such a steep discount.

  “Are you dating someone special?” I asked.

  She tipped her head back and laughed. “Not yet, but the day will come eventually and I want to be ready.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the day didn’t necessarily come for everyone. Less than a year in Spellbound told me that much. Lots of singles by choice or by virtue of a broken heart. Yet one more reason to be grateful for Daniel.

  I followed Nichole to the mayor's office. Although the location in the mansion was the same, Lucy had completely transformed the room. It no longer reminded me of Mayor Knightsbridge. Lucy had removed all traces of the previous mayor. She’d replaced all of the bookcases with artwork and had exchanged the old desk for a pink lacquered desk that reminded me of nail polish.

  Lucy fluttered over to hug me. "I'm so glad you're here. I’m sorry I haven't been by to see you. I've been insanely busy.” Lucy’s fingers brushed against my engagement ring. “I have been desperate to see this fabulous ring."

  It dawned on m
e that I was in dire need of a manicure. I don't think I’d ever shown my hand to so many people in such a short span of time in my entire life. I had no doubt my cuticles were a mess because I’d only recently learned what they were.

  Lucy sucked in a breath. “That sparkler is absolutely gorgeous. I cannot imagine a more perfect ring for you."

  "Thank you," I said. "Deacon is making our wedding bands, too. We chose simple matching bands with an inscription." Only Daniel and I knew this, but we chose the simple gold bands because they reminded us of halos. We still hoped to one day restore Daniel's good name.

  "Can you tell me what the inscriptions will say or are they a secret?" Lucy asked.

  “If you live to be a thousand, I want to live to be a thousand minus one day so I never have to live without you,” I told her.

  "That's so romantic," Lucy said. “And a little long for a ring. I hope it fits! Anyway, I’m thrilled for you. I almost feel like I'm the one who got engaged."

  “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I didn't actually come here to show you the ring," I said.

  Lucy released my hand. “No?"

  "It is related to the wedding, though," I said. "Daniel and I discussed it, and we’re hoping that you’ll agree to officiate the ceremony." I held my breath and waited anxiously for her response.

  Lucy appeared stunned. For a moment, I thought she might decline, until she let out a shriek of pure joy. The sound echoed in the office and likely reverberated throughout the entire mansion. She squeezed my body against hers and planted a wet kiss on my cheek.

  Tweedledee and Tweedledum appeared in the doorway, summoned by her shriek.

  “Everything okay, Madame Mayor?” Tweedledee inquired.

  She swatted them away. “I’m fine, Bertram. I got overly excited by Emma’s question.”

  Bertram? I resisted the urge to laugh.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bertram said. “Sorry to interrupt.” The guards disappeared as quickly and quietly as they’d arrived. Lucy turned her attention back to me.

  "Are you nuts?” she asked. “Do you really think you need to ask? I'm out of my mind with excitement. This is the best question you could possibly have asked me."

  I was relieved to hear how pleased she was. I found it difficult to gauge how certain friends would react to my request. I’d worried that Lucy would rather be a bridesmaid. Glad to know that wasn’t the case.

  "Give my assistant the date and we’ll put it straight onto the calendar," Lucy said, back in business mode. "And make sure whoever is throwing your shower and bachelorette party send a message to my assistant. I'll need to block those days as well."

  I saluted her. “Aye, aye, Captain Mayor.”

  "Please tell me you have not gone to Ricardo for a dress yet," Lucy said. "You know I need to be involved in that."

  "I have not gone yet, and yes, you will absolutely be my number one shopping companion."

  Lucy's wings fluttered furiously. That was how I knew she was truly excited. "This wedding will erase Elsa Knightsbridge from everyone's memory," Lucy said. “And, this time, the guests will make it to the reception. We’ll deserve a good meal after sitting through two sets of Daniel’s vows.”

  “Our vows will be better,” I said. “Promise.”

  She twirled around me, giddy with happiness. “Oh, Emma. It’s going to be the most perfect day. Just you wait and see.”

  From her lips to the gods’ ears.

  Chapter 4

  When I arrived at my therapy appointment, Dr. Hall wasted no time grilling me about my upcoming nuptials. She had zero interest in the ring. Instead, she was hyperfocused on the ceremony.

  “What do you mean you don’t want to take a blood vow? It’s a wedding!” She blinked at me in disbelief.

  From my place on the therapist’s sofa, I took a hesitant sip of my drink, a new cocktail called Crimson Rush that Dr. Hall referred to as ‘delightful.’

  “I’m not a vampire and neither is Daniel,” I said. “Why would we do blood vows?”

  She devoured the liquid in her glass like it was actual blood. “Because it’s the done thing, darling. The real question is—why wouldn’t you?” She leaned back in her chair and awaited my insightful response.

  “Maybe I don’t want to risk red stains on my white wedding dress?” I mused. “Or maybe it’s plain gross?”

  “Bite your tongue,” Catherine admonished me. “No, seriously. Bite your tongue. You might draw blood.” Her fangs poked out just enough to remind me why she was so enthusiastic about blood.

  “Stop,” I said. “You’re supposed to calm me, but you’re freaking me out.”

  Catherine cocked her head. “I’m supposed to calm you?” She threw her head back and a deep, throaty laugh escaped her. “My darling Emma, when have I ever calmed you?”

  True enough. Catherine wasn’t exactly the warm, fuzzy therapist I’d expected to have. That was apparently Thalia’s domain, her therapy competition. Still, I enjoyed our sessions and was grateful to have an impartial ear. Catherine’s best quality was that she didn’t sugarcoat things—she got right to the marrow of a situation and sucked it out. I shivered. It was probably best not to equate my vampire therapist with sucking anything—the thought was too disturbing.

  “You’ve been a big help to me,” I said.

  Catherine’s expression softened for a brief moment. “Well, don’t let word get around. I don’t need to be as busy as Thalia. That muse is too devoted to her clients. She has no life of her own.”

  “I hear she has no bar either, not in her office anyway.” Although it was unorthodox, the weekly cocktails seemed to have the desired effect.

  “Bah! A bar?” Catherine scoffed. “She needs a nursery in her office. She’s too busy dedicating herself to crybabies.”

  I smiled. “Is that what I am to you? A crybaby?”

  She went behind the bar and poured herself another drink. “Sometimes. Mostly not, though.”

  “Fair enough,” I replied. As always, Catherine held no punches.

  “So what’s the latest on the search for your crazy mom?” she asked.

  My head jerked toward her. “My crazy mom? Why would you say a thing like that?”

  She maintained a poker face. “Because she gave you up. Clearly she’s nuts.”

  I sat up straighter. “That’s a horrible thing to say. We don’t know what her reasons were. She obviously wanted to keep me, but circumstances forced her to send me to safety.”

  “Oh, so you’re Moses in the basket now, are you? Being sent up the river? Way to inflate your importance.”

  I gaped at her. “Okay, sometimes I really do question your methods.”

  “Need I remind you that I have a degree from an accredited vampire university,” she replied coolly. “My methods are sound.”

  I ignored her lame attempt at a defense. “My biological mother wrote me letters that my parents hid from me. In my dream, my mom was upset when my biological mom came to see me. She said that her visit endangered me. Then my mom died under suspicious circumstances. I don’t think I’m overreaching to suggest that I was given up for my own safety.”

  Catherine tapped on her glass. “I honestly hope you’re right, Emma.” Her usual cold tone thawed. “But you need to remember that not all reunions are happy ones. Even if you manage to manifest these letters, they may not say what you want them to say. Are you prepared for that?”

  My hands fidgeted. “Truthfully? Probably not.”

  “And what do you imagine the letters to say?”

  Did I want to admit the truth out loud? I drew a deep breath and decided to go for it. “That she loves me. That she didn’t want to give me up, but she had no choice. That if she had to do it all over again, she’d make a different choice.”

  “But then you never would have met your parents,” Catherine pointed out. “Would you trade those relationships for a woman you don’t even know?”

  A good question. I loved my parents with every fiber of my being and now
I felt guilty for wishing them away.

  “No,” I said in a quiet voice. “You’re right. I wouldn’t trade them for anyone. I guess I just want to know my biological parents. Who they are and why they left me. That’s all.”

  “And what if the letters don’t say what you want? What if your mother was simply checking on your welfare out of guilt, not love?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose that would be better than complete disinterest.”

  Catherine leaned forward and peered at me. “Is that what you ultimately hope to get out of these letters? To know that she cared?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I want more than that,” I said. “I lost my mother at a young age, so I guess I feel like I’ve missed out twice.”

  “You’re overthinking it,” Catherine said. “You need to get back to basics. Deep down, everyone wants the same thing. We just don’t necessarily acknowledge it.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “We want to know that during our time here, someone in the world loved us.”

  I said nothing.

  Catherine drained her glass dry and set it on a nearby coaster. “Have I ever told you the story about my cousin, Elena?”

  “The one that refused to marry?”

  Catherine nodded. “So you do pay attention when I speak. She was beautiful and had many offers, but she refused them all.”

  “Because she was a feminist ahead of her time?” I asked.

  “No, because she fell in love with a prince who was already married to someone else.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like an upside down fairy tale. What does it have to do with me?”

  Catherine held up a finger, her signal for patience. “Elena met Kristoff in the woods one day. They were both fans of archery. Of course, Elena did hers in secret because she was a woman. When she first met Kristoff, she didn’t know he was a prince.”

  “They fell in love shooting arrows?” I asked. Not the most romantic activity in the world unless you were Cupid.

  “They fell in love doing something they both enjoyed,” Catherine corrected me. “For months they met in the woods and Kristoff told her all about his life in the castle.”