Mind Mates (Pull of the Moon Book 2)

by Mary Hughes

  “I’m so sorry.” Emma took a hand from the wheel to give her mother’s arm a squeeze.

  “When my father died we were shuffled to the rear of the pack. Last to get paid. Last to eat. If there wasn’t enough money or food…we went without.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It was reality. I managed to find a job near Matinsfield, and that made us useful, raised us some in the pack hierarchy. We got food, more resources. Emma, I’m sorry I seemed class-proud to you, but I never wanted you and your brother to worry where your next meal was coming from.”

  “But after you mated…Dad had status. Food. Right? Weren’t you happy?”

  “Happy?” Her mother gazed out the window as if the past played there. “I was too young to know what that meant. And the way I was traded, like a piece of meat…it hurt.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Emma said. “It’s an archaic, stupid tradition.”

  “It hurt mostly my pride.” Shalla turned from the window to give Emma a wan smile. “I would have known I was happy, eventually…but when Ezra was killed I panicked. I had two young pups and no skills. I was afraid we’d find ourselves on the outside looking in and worse, starving. Starving again. I couldn’t stand the thought of my pups enduring what I’d had to. I made an alliance the only way I knew how, by going to bed with Dickie’s beta. I didn’t handle your interruption well, and when you reacted as a young iota might, I blamed it on you. I could have—should have been more understanding. You probably don’t remember, but I wasn’t much older than you are now. It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.”

  “Mom, it’s okay. I understand.” Emma took a hand from the wheel to touch her mother’s arm.

  Shalla blinked glossy eyes. “When you bloodied Dickie’s beta—and frankly, the way he pawed me, the jerk deserved it—I had no place to go but Matinsfield. But Scauth was even worse than I remembered. Bullies preyed on the weak, killed them… Emma, that was why I tried to beat the iota out of you, so you wouldn’t look weak. Wouldn’t attract Scauth and his depredations.”

  Emma swallowed a lump of regrets. “I wish you’d explained that to me then.”

  “You were a teenage girl. Had been a pampered daughter. How did I explain and make you understand, make you believe? You’d never met monsters before that.”

  Emma swallowed a bigger lump, contrition. She remembered the mass of hormones raging through her blood at the time, as bad as any berserker. She saw the impossibility of it from her mother’s viewpoint. “I guess things were bound to go badly.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Mom. I’m sorry too. So sorry, for everything.”

  Her mother’s hand snaked out and gently touched hers. “Thank you.”

  For the first time in a long time, her mother smiled at her with warmth.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Emma saw Gabriel a half-mile off, the sports car roaring toward Bruiser’s pickup like a bat out of hell. Linda sat placidly crocheting beside him, and a black panther streaked far behind.

  “Live,” he’d said. “We’ll deal with the consequences later.”

  She’d started dealing with the consequences. Now it was the “we” part. She hoped he really meant it.

  I’m somebody. Even without Gabriel.

  Though that would be infinitely sad.

  Emma pulled over, not quite brave enough to get out and meet him. Gabriel’s family was with him. Royals who’d never gone berserk on him, never killed or even almost killed anyone.

  What can’t we do, together?

  Destroy the berserker, for one. She sighed. Thanks to Gabriel’s awful, wonderful humor, she hadn’t killed this time. But what about the next, or the time after that? She’d always heard bad things got easier the more you did them. Well, now she had proof. She’d gone twenty years without accessing the berserker, then let it free three times in twenty-four hours.

  There was an anti-drug campaign: Berserker. Not even once.

  But the thing was part of her, and she’d deal with that. She’d finally accepted her talent, but would he?

  Maybe she should simply put the truck in gear and drive off. Even if Gabriel accepted her, beast and all, there was the whole Witches’ Council taboo. If there’d been no future for an iota wolf and a witch, what could she expect for a wizard prince and brand-new alpha?

  Don’t know unless you try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  And a bunch of other words that didn’t move her muscles, either toward Gabriel or away.

  Noah and Sophia had made the intermagical thing work—for all of a month. Then they’d both nearly died.

  She couldn’t stay.

  She put her foot on the clutch.

  And stopped. When it came down to it, she couldn’t leave, either.

  The door flung open, so hard the glass rattled. “Emma!”

  She was swept into strong arms and hugged so hard she felt crushed to a diamond. Alpha or iota, she kept forgetting how big and strong this wizard prince was.

  “Grrp,” she managed.

  “Let her breathe,” Pan’s dry tones, panting slightly, came from behind.

  “Oh, you poor dear.” The moment Gabriel released her, Linda Blue’s plump arms came around her, not quite as tight but almost as suffocating, and squeezed her until the fight drained from her.

  Only it wasn’t fight, it was tension, and she hadn’t known how bad things were until her muscles released and her fears drained away.

  “Come back to the bookstore, dear. I’ll make tea while Gabriel cleans you up. Something nicer than that tent thing, dear.” The last was flung toward Gabriel.

  His star-shot eyes, naked of his glasses, were wide on her blood-soaked clothes.

  “Um, you should see the other guy?” Emma said.

  “I do see the other guy.” His gaze rose over her head as Edge tossed Bruiser out of the truck onto the concrete shoulder, the compact ex-alpha making a meaty thump. “What happened?”

  “Long story.”

  “What is your will for the deposed, my liege?” Edge leaped down next to Bruiser.

  “Really long.” Emma sighed. “Exile him.”

  “Very good, my liege.”

  “Should be interesting.” Gabriel watched her brother throw the ex-alpha over his shoulders and start to stump west.

  She wondered where he thought he was going. “Edge, wait. Get back in the truck. I’ll drop you off in town. You can clean Bruiser up and pack him on his way there.” Hopefully never to return.

  “No,” Gabriel said. “You’re coming with me. Pan can drive the pickup.”

  “Emma?” Her mother emerged, trembling, from the truck.

  “Oh, you poor darling.” Linda clucked, bustling to help her mother. “You look exhausted. Whatever we’re doing, we’re doing it now,” she scolded Gabriel. “So I can put this poor dear to bed.”

  “Okay, Pan, once Edge has Bruiser in the back, you take Auntie and Emma’s mom in the pickup. I’ll take Emma.”

  “I’ll drive.” The little round witch shooed both Pan and Shalla into the cab of the truck, sliding into the driver’s seat herself. Edge had barely gotten himself and Bruiser into the bed when she squealed away from the emergency lane, shrieked a U-turn into oncoming traffic, missing them by the skin of her teeth, and tore west.

  Emma watched the truck disappear. “I thought I heard your voice. In my head. I didn’t think witches were telepathic.”

  “We’re not. I used earth and air magic. A variation on the Roman trick of listening to the ground to hear enemy forces, combined with whispering-gallery principles…oops, I’m lecturing again.”

  Emma smiled. As if that was the worst thing she’d had to deal with today. “Let’s go get some tea. And fresh clothes.”

  Gabriel wasted no more time shoveling her into his sports car. “Sorry it took so long to come after you. Auntie tried finding you but something magical was interfering. Once we turned Ryder over to another Enforcer, I got the lim
iter off and was at full power, and I got the communication spells to cut through. Then whatever was interfering finally lost power, and I located you and came right away. I’m sorry I was too late.”

  “No. You were just in the nick of time.” She snaked fingers toward his hand…which was reaching for hers. They clasped hands on the center console and drove the rest of the way in a poignant silence.

  At the Uncommon Night Owl Bookstore, while Linda escorted Shalla inside, Emma took the amethyst necklace and bracelet from her pocket and stared at them.

  Power and consequences, and not all choices were black and white.

  But they all had consequences.

  Gabriel magicked the blood away and produced new clothes, soft and clean, for her. She stuffed the purple jewelry in her new pants’ pocket and asked to borrow a bathroom. Gabriel led her to his aunt’s personal bathroom and waited outside while Emma scrubbed her face and hands—three times, though she might never feel clean again. When she finally emerged, he escorted her to the couch area where he sat her down with a hot cup of tea. She felt surrounded by a sea of concerned, curious faces.

  Gabriel sat next to her, his bulk comforting, and slung an arm around her shoulders. Shielding her. Showing he was still with her, despite everything.

  She cleared her suddenly thick throat. “Aren’t you worried the Council will think we’re you-know-what?”

  “No. We told them Ryder lied. Sophia and Noah, you and me, it was all slander.”

  “Why should they believe you instead of him?”

  “We have that recording as proof, thanks to Auntie.” He grinned. “And Sophia made a statement that he was trying to blackmail her into going to bed with him.”

  “But she’s pregnant! The disgusting slob.”

  “That’s why her jail portal was in Ryder’s room at the B-and-B.” His scowl promised dismemberment for the ex-Enforcer if the Council didn’t get there first.

  Pan said, “We showed that Ryder was jealous and he trumped up the intermagical cavorting charges against Sophia. We think it’ll be a slam-dunk when it comes up for trial, but Noah’s going to go into temporary hiding so he won’t give it away.”

  “By the way.” Gabriel stretched the arm around her to reach a nearby table, snaring a small brown book. “This is yours.”

  He handed her Fezz’s journal—or what had been his journal. She clutched it to her a moment for comfort. She dreaded opening it.

  Gabriel’s arm tightened around her. He knew what she was feeling. Paradoxically, it gave her the courage to face her fears and open the book.

  The pages were blank. All of them.

  Her father’s art, the last thing she had of his, was gone. She felt numb.

  Goodwin said, “We’re certain the Council will drop all charges and suspend further investigations.”

  “For now,” Pan said darkly. “But it’s only a temporary solution. I wish things had played out differently with the key.”

  “What happened?” Emma closed the book, closing her eyes briefly against hot prickling.

  “Sophia’s jail cracked, but the rest cracked open too.” Gabriel gave her shoulders another squeeze. “Death magic leaked from the Infinite Ones’ jails. Jayden showed up, showed me how to close the cracks…then when I did, he enigmatically spouted, ‘Night—cut off’, and fell into a coma.”

  “We think Night’s jail must’ve been ajar all this time,” Pan said. “But the reset meant when the other cracks closed, it sealed too.”

  “So at least one unexpected good result,” Linda said. “Drink your tea, dear. And welcome to the family.”

  Family. Her father’s journal was gone, but her mother had smiled at her, and even Edge wasn’t so hostile. Linda was welcoming her, and most importantly, Gabriel had seen the result of freeing her berserker in the bloody body of Bruiser, and he wasn’t pushing her away.

  Emma got a glow in her middle.

  Gabriel knew…but Linda and the rest didn’t. Emma quashed the glow. “Yeah, about that…I have to tell you something about myself. Something…horrible.”

  “Yes, dear. You released your iota talent, went berserk, and got all medieval on your alpha’s heinie. Gabriel told us.”

  “What?” Her surprised eyes flew up to him.

  He was busy sneaking the journal from her limp hands, sliding a warm mug into her fingers to replace it. “I told them you fought back.”

  “But I lost myself, Gabriel. The berserker took over. Totally. Right, wrong, life, death it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the blood, the violence.”

  “You lived.” He kissed her brow. “Your berserker saved you. That’s what’s important.”

  “You don’t understand. I accepted the berserker. I’m responsible for the things we did.” Her jaw tightened. “And there are consequences.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Goodwin patted her shoulder as he went to sit next to Linda, a cup of what smelled like warm milk in his hand. “There are consequences from any large act. What matters is how we deal with those consequences.”

  “You lived,” Gabriel repeated. “You’re the Scottville alpha now, and I no longer have to worry how to lure you back to Michigan. Consequences aren’t always bad.”

  “My mother’s in emotional pieces. My brother is a criminal escaped from prison because another criminal released him. I nearly murdered a man and could still kill everyone around me if I Hulk out and your bad humor doesn’t rein it in. Consequences aren’t always so good, either.”

  “We’ll work it out,” he insisted. “Together.”

  “It won’t be easy—”

  “No, but it will be right. Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe some of my battle mage meditation techniques can help you control the berserker…or if not control, then work with it. And if not, we’ll find another way. We will.”

  She gaped at him. Was it possible he still wanted her…or even more impossibly, wanted a future with her?

  “If you’ll have me,” he added, as if he’d read her mind. “What happened wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Yes, your iota talent may have ended it, but it was my need to show off that started it.”

  How could he possibly think a bit of flamboyance was worse than a butchering machine? “That doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Gabriel, dear,” Linda said. “Why would you think that?”

  “Grandmother.” He swallowed hard. “She said so.”

  “What exactly did she say?”

  Emma saw him replay that day in his mind. Knew the moment he recalled his grandmother’s painful words. Without his glasses, the sheen in his eyes looked even more naked.

  “The day of the funeral, she said…she said Mom and Dad wouldn’t have died if I weren’t such a damned show-off.”

  “Oh, my poor boy.” Linda leaned forward to give Gabriel’s arm a quick squeeze. “She was blaming you for her own mistakes.”

  “What?”

  “The poor dear idolized the Shootingstars. She made the mistake of thinking Ryder’s grandfather would have to marry her, just because she slept with him.”

  “What?”

  Emma reflected that Gabriel seemed to say that a lot around his aunt.

  “It was before the sexual revolution.” Linda grinned. “Thank goodness for the Sixties.”

  Gabriel stammered, “My grandmother went to bed with…she slept with…she did that with Ryder’s grandfather?”

  “Yes dear. They had sex. It’s perfectly natural, you know. But that wasn’t her mistake. Her mistake was telling everyone they were to be married. Well, the Shootingstars called her a hussy and a gold-digger. The matriarch said their precious family line would never mingle blood with such an exhibitionist. She meant whore, but would never sully her lips with such a vulgar term, so she used that word, exhibitionist. That’s why your grandmother abhorred all forms of showing off.”

  “Is that how our family ruined Ryder’s?”

  “Hardly,” Goodwin said. “The blame for his family’s ruin rest
s squarely on the Shootingstars themselves.”

  “It was brewing for decades,” Linda said. “Generations, in fact.”

  “The Shootingstar family used to be the crème de la crème of witch society.” The cat familiar held out his cup to Linda, who rummaged around in an end table drawer beside her. “But the years diluted their power.”

  “Inbreeding.” Linda winked, pulling a whiskey flask from the drawer. She opened it with an expert twist and poured a slug of amber liquid into her familiar’s cup.

  “Perhaps.” Goodwin swirled the cup then lapped quickly. “Ah. Perfect. Of course their matriarch insisted they were still a virile family and a force to be reckoned with. But some of the more ambitious Council families disagreed—and set about to prove it.”

  Linda poured a bit of tonic into her own cup then offered the flask around. “The Council instituted the Contests—a sort of magic Olympics where witches tested their prowess against each other.”

  The cat familiar said, “The ambitious families taunted the Shootingstars until they competed in the multi-element games—and surprisingly were soundly defeated.”

  “Surprising only to the Shootingstars, I think.” Linda sipped tea a bit smugly.

  “It opened the way for the Council to legislate a testing policy for Nostradamus University, so children couldn’t automatically get in based on their parents having been royals. Led by the Lower House, but after the Shootingstar embarrassment, the Upper House had to give in.”

  “Matriarch protested, of course,” Linda said. “She managed to close down the Contests—but not the legislation.”

  “Shootingstars were demoted from the hereditary Upper House. Of course, they hadn’t had a High Minister in generations.”

  “If they’d had one whit of ambition or drive,” Linda said tartly, “they would have done quite well in the Lower House. But they didn’t.”

  Gabriel frowned. “So our family was one of the ambitious group who pushed them out?”

  “Oh no, dear,” Linda said. “The Light brothers hadn’t even participated in getting the testing instituted—they never were terribly political. But they did benefit by it, the first royals in the family.”