by Elsa Jade
Since Gin had won, she felt obliged to be magnanimous. “Why don’t you delete it? It’s your jukebox.”
“It was my grandmother’s favorite,” Gypsy grumbled. “She gave me this place, this name, and she’d kick my ass if I deleted her song.”
As the descendant of a strong matriarchal lineage, Gin found herself sympathizing. “Does she come back often to check?”
“Yeah. But it’d be worse if she was still alive.”
Gin choked on a shocked laugh, but the bartender was already turning to deal with the thirsty dancers. She paused only long enough to sling a brimming tumbler across the bar. The glass slid to a halt perfectly centered in front of Gin. She squinted at the dark red liquid, realizing Gypsy had been sneakily pouring the drink during their stare-off.
With a chuckle, she grabbed the tumbler and turned to survey the room.
“It’s huckleberry vodka.” A lanky, brown-haired woman sidled up to the bar. “We harvest off the mesa in August. That’s the ripening berry moon.”
Gin took a sip. “It’s good. Not too sweet.”
“It’ll hit you hard, so watch out.”
Taking another mouthful, Gin studied the woman who had the look of a local—the true locals who’d predated all the current inhabitants of Angels Rest. “Dena, right? Sorry, we didn’t really get an intro at the garden club.”
Dena gave her a toothy grin. “You didn’t come to the second meeting.”
“Yeah. Turned out to not be my thing.”
“Too bad. Our Ben’s been looking to be somebody’s thing.”
Gin sighed. “Does everybody know about that?”
With a wider grin, Dena nodded. “It’s a small town, ya know.” Her smile turned more calculating. “And now you’re looking for bigger game? Thor is definitely that.”
Setting the tumbler down on the bar with a hard click, Gin narrowed her eyes at the nippy tone. “If Ben is yours—”
A bark—an actual bark—of laughter escaped the other woman. “Nah. I’m mated to one of the Domingo brothers. East is a professor in Cali.” She gave a proud little wiggle of her shoulders. “We’re actually only back in town for the summer break. Running in the Hollywood hills is fun, but the mesa feeds our bodies and our souls.”
“Cool,” Gin sighed. “I just need to talk to Thor. I know he’s a king or whatever, and important and I’m sure a really busy guy—”
“And really dangerous,” Dena said.
“Which is kind of why I need to talk to him.” Gin took a breath. Brandy was always saying how much the shifters valued family bonds; maybe she could use that to her advantage. “I need to know my sisters and my nephew are going to be okay here, and he seems to be the one who holds that key.”
Dena nodded slowly. “And he’s questioning your presence because of the witch blood.”
Gin groaned. “Is nothing a secret?”
Taking a breath as if to demure, Dena shook her head instead. “Not from a coyote nose anyway.” She dragged one fingertip down the somewhat aquiline arch of her own nose.
Coyote? Gin eyed the other woman with renewed interest. “There’s a lot of mythology about coyotes.”
Another one of those flashing white grins. “All true,” Dena admitted. “Except the ones that are dirty lies.”
Gin huffed. “Living in this land of apex predators, I think you’d understand the need to come to some sort of peace with them.”
Dena made a noncommittal voice. “If you’re going to be smaller, you gotta be faster and more clever. And maybe take a mate from the big boys.”
And Ben was definitely big… Gin squelched the memory. “Well, that last thing isn’t going to happen,” she said resolutely. “At least not for me. But I need to know that my sister isn’t making a fatal mistake.”
“Mac is a good man and a fine bear,” Dena said. “As for his cousin—”
“I already told you I’m not interested in Ben,” Gin reminded her.
Dena rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, sure, sure. But I meant Thorburn Montero. He decides the fates of all the bears of Angels Rest.” She frowned. “But it’s his fate that’s in question, like the sanity of his bear.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “Maybe he could use someone peeking into his future.”
Gin had no interest in explaining that she wasn’t some carnival fortuneteller. If waving a magic wand or lobbing a crystal ball at someone’s head would find Thor, then okay. Except, in the mythology she knew, coyote was always a trickster.
She just wondered if the trick would be on her or Thor.
“So where’s the mighty bear king hiding on the mesa?”
“Er, you might want to ditch the attitude.”
“It got me this far.” She tapped her toe. “So do I just drive up there and honk the horn, or…”
Dena snickered. “That’d be fun, but no. Okay, listen close…”
She proceeded to outline what sounded like the invasion of Normandy. Luckily, the traditions of the circle demanded memorization of spells with even more steps. When the coyote shifter got to the last part—“And stop when you see the huckleberry bushes”—Gin nodded and handed over the remainder of her drink.
“Wait,” Dena said. “You sure?”
“I never drink and charm under the influence.”
“I meant, you sure about facing the rex ursi? You think you can find him?”
Gin swallowed back the burn of the two sips she’d already had. God, she wanted a third. “Good thing Ben showed us all the native plants the first day. I can find the huckleberries at least.”
Whether she could take on Thor, guarantee her sisters’ futures, and finish off her last spell… Well, she’d been called wicked, weird, and worse, but no one had ever accused her of taking the easy way.
Chapter 10
In the dark, the steep road up the mesa was scarier than anything that might be waiting for her at the top, and she was white-knuckled by the time she found the little sideroad that Dena had told her would lead to the huckleberry fields where grumpy bears apparently liked to hunker down.
Gin flapped her elbows to air out her sweaty armpits. Between the anxiety of the steep drop-off and the AC crapping out as the bus labored up the road, she was glad to have chosen the sleeveless dress. She drove as far as she could, the headlights gamely winking from trunk to trunk of the towering ponderosas that crowned Mesa Diablo. Somewhere among the rocky spires, she knew petroglyphs carved into the rock told the ancient story of how shapeshifters had claimed the wildlands, but Gin wasn’t focused on history or shifter secrets; she was here for her sisters’ future and her own magic.
For an instant, the headlights seemed to black out, and her pulse lurched as if she were about to drive right over one of the cliffs to tumble headlong back to the town below. Then she realized she’d left the trees behind, and the headlights were falling on nothing. Only stubbly bushes remained, with the dark, glossy leaves of huckleberries.
She guided the bus to the side of the narrow track. Too narrow to turn around. If she had to make a quick getaway here, she’d be doing it in reverse.
Climbing out from behind the wheel, she wanted to stretch, but if anything, her tension was worse. In the silence, the overheated engine ticked like a time bomb—or a disapproving auntie.
God, these bears were the worst. The last time she’d been out on a night like this, she’d been boning Ben.
A sudden longing for his easy smile and easier hands swept over her. He would’ve been up for another midnight adventure. Plus, he probably would know exactly where his cousin was.
But as she stepped into the gleam of the headlights, she had to think that maybe Ben would’ve been against this idea. Not to mention, she’d basically told him to kiss off last time they saw each other.
She’d always gone her own way, and proudly, but for the first time, she had to admit maybe it was because she kept pushing everyone out of her way.
Well, too late now. She was up here by herself.
She leaned th
rough the open window of the bus and gave the horn a little courtesy toot. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t. The friendly cartoony beep sounded like some sort of wimpy prey animal begging to be put out of its misery.
“Thor,” she called, hoping her voice sounded stronger than the VW. “I changed my mind. I want to make that deal.”
Gah, Ben was running a bachelor show, and now she was all “let’s make a deal”ing with Thor. As entertainment went, she supposed this was the best Angels Rest had to offer.
“Thoooor.” She took a few wandering steps away from the bus, but the bushes were too dense to go far, even if she had lumberjack boots. “Where are yoooou?”
When he rose out of the huckleberries not even a crystal ball’s throw from her, she managed not to flinch. But it was a close thing. He was tall, and the bushes weren’t… She swallowed hard.
He’d been on all fours.
Seeing Aster in his bear cub form—at least once she and her sisters had figured out what was going on with him—had been all squees of cuteness overload. With his rounded ears and fluffy butt and the strawberry highlights in his fur, her nephew was adorable.
Thor was…not.
Half shifted between man and beast, he was a nightmare. Did this happen to all shapeshifters as they matured? Or was it because he was king?
Or because he was crazy, as Dena had warned?
Gin lifted her chin. “I need two things from you. First, your word that while my sisters and nephew live here in Angels Rest, you will defend them as your clan.” She waited, wondering if he could even speak with his jaw extended into a rough muzzle.
“The boy is clan by blood.” Though his voice was mostly growl, she understood. “Your sister will be clan by bite.”
Gin frowned. As far as she knew, Brandy hadn’t decided to risk the bite that could change her into a bear shifter like Mac and Aster. While a strong mate bond could lessen the danger of a bad reaction, surviving a bite wasn’t a sure thing, and Brandy wouldn’t voluntarily repeat their mother’s mistake and abandon her child.
Still, Thor sounded sincere, and Gin knew shifters were disinclined to lie considering most of them could sense the emotional tension that went with an untruth.
“Second, I want to know what you know about an anti-love potion.” The information wouldn’t just help her ordination, it would give the circle insight into the shapeshifters’ magical traditions. Ben might claim that their preternatural power was what they were, not what they did, but considering the world they all lived in, a better understanding of each other’s strengths was important, whether they used that information to grow closer…
Or to war, as had apparently happened with the Kingdom Guard.
Thor was silent, as if he too was weighing the possible outcomes of their discussion.
Finally, he rumbled, “Turn off the headlights. It hurts my eyes.”
She did as he asked—ordered—and then swiveled back to face him. Though the moon hadn’t risen yet, the mesa was awash in a silvery light from more stars than she’d ever seen, even more stars than shone on the town at the foot of the cliffs. Her skin prickled a warning—this place was more than it seemed.
“In the spirit of negotiating in good faith,” she said, “I feel I should tell you that as a follower of the shadow path, I don’t mind the dark.”
“How nice for you.” He didn’t move from his position. “You’ve stated your demands. And what do I get in return?”
“The loyalty and support of the shadow circle in Angels Rest for as long as you honor and defend the Wick women and their rights and freedoms.” Considering she was the sole representative of the shadow circle in Angels Rest, she felt confident in making this promise at least.
“I also said you must leave my cousin alone.”
Gin opened her mouth on a testy agreement.
But nothing came out.
It was as if her tongue had frozen to a block of ice in her mouth, less nimble even than Thor’s half-animal grunts. She scowled, hoping he’d read that as a scoffing of course I want nothing to do with your cousin geez I hardly remember his name. “Out of curiosity,” she heard herself asking instead, “why are you cockblocking your cousin?”
Thor stiffened, which sent him towering higher than before, which was already quite imposing. But he didn’t object to her word choice. “The mate bond is so strong that it overpowers all else,” he said at last. “A king must be bonded only to the clan, putting the common good above all else.” He skimmed one big hand over the huckleberries, and the inhuman claws gleamed like yellowed ivory in the unfocused beam of the headlight. “Even himself.”
She frowned in confusion. “But you are rex ursi—”
“Not for long,” he interrupted. “I’m… fading. I doubt I’ll last to see the ripening berry moon. Ben will be king when I’m gone.”
Gin stiffened too, although the stance didn’t give her anywhere near the outraged height and presence that it gave Thor. “He’s going to be king of the clan?”
Thor jerked his shaggy head once in a nod. “It is our way.” He made a fist, and the points of his claws shredded the dark leaves of the huckleberries, releasing the sharp, sour aroma of under-ripe berries. “He knows this.”
Scorning the summer night, the chill that had stoppered her tongue spread its poison through her veins.
Ben had known he’d be king, known he’d never take a mate, and yet he’d been throwing around words like forever, as if she was the heartless witch who didn’t believe in love.
Good damn thing she didn’t, or his careless teasing might’ve actually hurt.
A hot rush of righteous fury shattered the frozen sludge that held her in place. Even if she didn’t care how he strutted his lies in his too-snug denim, how dare he entice the garden club ladies with all his innuendo about growing something beautiful together? And all along he knew he wouldn’t be around for the summer, much less forever.
He was worse than she was—at least she’d been honest and clear about not wanting to get too close.
Ooh, she wasn’t so jaded as to blame #allmen for Ben’s lies… Nah, she’d blame all bears too!
Wrestling down her wrath, she gave the for-now bear king a sharp smile. “He’s all yours.”
Thor nodded. “Follow me.”
If he’d planned to off her or merely terrify her into doing what he commanded, he could’ve done it already, so she stepped into the huckleberries as he turned away. Once she pushed past the first clawing branches, a myriad of paths opened between the bushes. The field was not so much an impenetrable tangle as a crazy maze, with every turn leading to more and more not-quite-ripe berries.
Long grasses tickled at her ankles, and a fresh breeze whispered through her hair, as if it had something to tell her. With someone else—she refused to think of whom—it might’ve been an enchanting evening stroll. But with Thor, she kept part of her attention on Aunt Tilda’s VW behind her, so she didn’t lose her sense of direction. Fortunately, the lemon-yellow paint that had been so excruciatingly embarrassing when she was kid was impossible to miss.
A muted gurgle, almost a giggle, alerted her a moment before Thor turned aside at a rippling creek. The dance of water reflected the starlight a hundredfold so the flow looked like quicksilver. The sight of so much free water in the high desert sent a strange rush through Gin, as if the mesa itself was showing her a lovely secret and wanted her to laugh along.
Following the slope of the bank grew a different sort of shrub, airier than the huckleberries, and the spindly branches were clustered with white berries that glistened like thousands of little moons.
Thor paused in the midst of them. “Do you know these?”
She shook her head. “I’m, uh, a little behind on some of the Four Corners flora.”
Maybe if she’d stayed with the gardening club… But she was done with the fauna too.
Stripping off a handful of berries with one swipe of his claws, Thor held out his paw. Gin hesitated only a split seco
nd before opening her palm. A glimpse of white teeth—whiter than the berries—flashed behind his curled lip. He hadn’t missed her infinitesimal dithering, but he sprinkled the waxy little orbs into her hand.
“Corpseberries,” he rumbled. “Sometimes ghostberry, though they have other names.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Charming.”
“Because of the color, mostly, although they are toxic to humans. Grizzlies eat them. Birds will too, though not as a first choice. The first folk and early settlers used them to treat cuts and burns.”
“Interesting. But you mentioned a possible element for my potion, which is anti-love, not anti-life.”
His amber eyes glinted at her. “Is that not the same?”
“No, it is not,” she shot back. “As romantic as it sounds.”
She couldn’t tell from his rumbling noise if he agreed or not. But it didn’t matter. “One of the toxic compounds in the corpseberry is the same as the poppy family.”
Now she saw where he was going with this. Poppies were a symbol of sacrifice, even to death. Which he’d said was a king’s burden. Opium from poppies ended pain.
And also gutted the libido, a convenient side effect for a shifter denying the mating instinct.
“So it’s anti-sex,” she mused. “But that’s not really anti-love either.”
“The compound was just part of a chemical brew created by the Kingdom Guard to control shifters. Detaching the mating bond left us isolated, more easily broken.”
Was he offering her spoils from the war with the Kingdom Guard? She stiffened, knowing how the shifter community felt about that human-led terrorist organization. “The shadow circle doesn’t want to break or control anyone,” she said in a low, unyielding voice. “That is not our way. We value self-control, self-discipline, yes, but not wielding power over others. I don’t want your poisons in my potion.”
“I destroyed the other components anyway,” he said. “But the corpseberry has long been a part of shifter lore, used for centuries to dull the mating urge. If you could refine a version of your potion that gives us more influence over the beast inside…”
