My eyes began to well with unwelcome tears. No. An engine repair was more than I could afford. I might as well buy a new car and wipe out my measly savings.
“Oh honey, don’t cry,” Millie exclaimed. She threw her skinny arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. A sob escaped me. She patted my back gently, mumbling assurances.
“We can work something out, Luce. I can try to get you a good deal. You can borrow Nelly in the meantime.”
“I can’t do that,” I sniffled. “Nelly’s your baby.” She’d been working on restoring the 1954 Chevy Bel Air for years. She’d already taken a few days off to take it out for the test drive with her father.
She finally let me go, and her face was a mask of concern. “Lucy, you shouldn’t get bent out of shape like this. You’re going to make it, you know that right? I know you’re going to get that degree. What’s a few more years?”
A few more years would put me at twenty-six or twenty seven. That was edging too close to thirty for my comfort. I didn’t want to attend college as a non-traditional student. How many more years would it take if I settled down, had a mortgage to pay, and a few kids to juggle? I needed out of this place in the worst way, if I was ever going to have a life.
“I need to get home. Can you give me a ride?” I asked, nodding to her motorcycle. She gave me a grin, and for the first time since my impromptu dinner, I felt my spirit lift. She pulled her coat on and handed me her extra helmet.
She mounted the bike with an assurance born of years of habit. I followed suit with much less grace, slipping the helmet on as she started the engine.
“Hold on tight.”
I wrapped both arms around her waist tightly as she gunned the engine, sending us flying halfway across the mostly empty lot. Gravel spat from beneath the tires as we sped down the long drive that led up to Pete’s. We went rocketing onto the asphalt and sped down the main road that led through town. The houses looked like dark smudges of charcoal as we passed in a roar of sound and speed.
The journey was too short. We reached Elm Street in no time at all, and then Millie was parking the bike behind Aunt Carol’s minivan. Millie and I walked to the door, and I was surprised to see the porch light still on. Aunt Carol must have been waiting up for me.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Millie said confidently. “We’ll get your car fixed in no time, alright?”
I nodded once, my throat constricting again with unshed tears. No matter what she said, this wasn’t going to go well. She gave me another brief hug before walking back to her bike. I waved a halfhearted farewell.
I could hear voices inside. Was Uncle Mack up, too? What was going on? They were habitual early risers. They turned in at nine or ten most nights, and woke when the sun rose in the morning.
The scent of coffee and eggs hit me when I opened the door. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Lucy, is that you?” Aunt Carol’s gentle voice drifted from the kitchen.
“Yes, it’s me. What’s going on?” I said, putting the helmet Millie had loaned me on the table. Drat, I’d completely forgotten that I was still holding it. I’d have to return it to Millie when I saw her later today.
“Sit down.” Uncle Mack was pacing in front of the stove. His normally red face had taken on a tinge of purple. His beady brown eyes were narrowed. I could imagine an artery inside of him waiting to burst. He only got this way when there’d been a scandal in the church, one of our extended family members was coming to visit, or an election didn’t go the way he’d wanted. And since it wasn’t an election year, I assumed it had to be one of the former.
“What’s up, Uncle Mack?” I asked, keeping my tone polite. The last thing I wanted was to irritate him further by exercising my sarcasm muscle, or as he called it, “my damned sassy mouth.”
“Your brother.” He grunted. Aunt Carol slid a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs across the table to me. Aunt Carol’s solution to any problem was to cook until it went away, or to pray. Sometimes she did both at the same time. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I speared a bit of egg on my fork and dutifully swallowed.
“Is Luke okay?” I asked, suddenly worried. I’d ignored the two missed calls I’d seen on my phone. I knew I was one of his three emergency contacts. Had he been hurt?
“Your brother has dropped out of college. He left a message on the answering machine this afternoon, saying he was sorry for God knows what, and telling us he was never coming home.”
I stared at his wide, purplish face for a moment, not comprehending. No. That wasn’t right. Luke had loved college. He’d been irritatingly proud of the football scholarship that earned him a position at a top university while I’d still been in traction. He wouldn’t just quit.
“Why?” I asked, finally taking a seat next to Aunt Carol. She took my hand and squeezed it gently.
“He didn’t say.” Uncle Mack hadn’t sounded this irate in years. “But he’s dropping out. No consideration to how it looks. I thought I taught that boy manners. Thinks he can just walk out on his obligations? Well, when he comes crawling back he won’t be welcome here.”
“Uncle Mack,” I began slowly. “He’s not obligated to finish college. If he wants to drop out, he can.”
Though I’d go clear to Ohio to kick his ass if that was the case. He had to have a reason, even if Uncle Mack didn’t want to hear it. I wasn’t letting my baby brother ruin his life on a whim.
He jabbed a finger into my face. “See, that’s the attitude that got you stuck here, Lucy Elmsong. You’ve got a lot of quit in you. I never pegged Luke as someone to lay down and die like that.”
For a moment I thought about biting the finger nearly touching my nose. Is that what he thought I’d done? Lay down and die? Didn’t he see how hard I’d been fighting to be free of this town?
“I’m going to bed,” I said shortly, batting his hand away from my face.
“You need to eat your eggs first,” Aunt Carol protested. “Protein is good for you.”
“So is reading the Bible,” I snapped. “Why don’t you both do something useful and talk to Jesus? I think there’s something in there about not trying to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
I stalked out of the kitchen and into my bedroom. The small wood-paneled place had never looked less like home to me. I grabbed a suitcase from my closet and threw it onto the bed. I began rifling through my drawers, trying to hastily compile a mental list of what I’d need.
“You listen here young lady-” Uncle Mack thundered, stomping into the room after me.
“No!” I shouted back. “No. I’m not going to listen to you lecture me about what Luke and I should or should not be doing with our lives. I’m leaving in the morning, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t get in my way.”
“Where are you going?” Aunt Carol fretted in the doorway.
“To Columbus. I’m going to talk some sense into Luke.”
“But that’s eight hours away!” She exclaimed.
“I’ll rent a motel room along the way,” I said, throwing a handful of socks and underwear into the suitcase.
“You can’t just leave,” Uncle Mack spluttered, some of his fury draining away.
“Watch me.”
Chapter Two
Chance
Ursula’s right tit, why did I have to find my mate here? Why had it been this little town?
I’d known better than to follow her to her home, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted to know more about the bright-eyed Lucy. I wanted to know the story behind her injured leg. I wanted to know who I needed to hunt next. My bear rumbled its agreement within me. Whoever had crippled our mate was going to pay dearly for it.
But thoughts of the hunt were finally what brought me out of the semi-murderous state I’d been in most of the night and allowed me to concentrate. I was already on a hunt and I could pursue Lucy at a later date. I rolled over, retrieving the m
anila folder from inside my duffel bag. I removed the rubber band that held the thing shut and let the photos spill onto the crisp white bedding.
The evidence arranged on the bedspread was the only thing that could draw him away from Lucy, with her enticing scent, her perfect curves, her- Damnit Chance, focus. I’d been on the road for nearly a week, cutting my vacation with family short to come deal with the renegade. Technically, the case wasn’t in our jurisdiction. Luke Elmsong hadn’t lived in the area for over four years. He hadn’t lived in any of the three states I patrolled as an enforcer, either. So technically, I hadn’t needed to leave my father’s cabin to track him down.
But I’d wanted to. Tracking was the only thing that soothed my bear and kept me from devolving into the same sort of psychotic monster I hunted. I walked the dagger’s edge of sanity if I tried to go for much longer than a few weeks without a mission.
And increasingly, I was the odd man out at home. Both my sisters had found their mates early on, one at university, and the other when she’d gone ice fishing in Minnesota. There was nothing that could drive a wedge between my parents.
The sun would be up in an hour, and it would be the third sleepless night in a row. My bear rumbled inside my chest, ignoring my body’s plea for sleep.
We can come back for her, I assured it. She hadn’t smelled like another male, and she’d worn no rings. She was single, fertile, and mine for the taking. I just had to track down Luke Elmsong, and drag him back for trial. Then I could pursue Lucy at my leisure.
There was nothing for it. I wasn’t going to get to sleep. I picked up one of the crime scene photos that had been slipped discreetly to my home office from the bedspread and examined it. As always, photos like these had an odd sort of dissonance. The blood and viscera were made somehow less gruesome when neatly delineated, sorted into piles and examined by a coroner.
I was almost certain it hadn’t been anything less than a nightmare for Keith Page.
“You poor dead bastard,” I muttered, flipping to the next in the pile. Keith’s ruined carcass looked only marginally less sickening in the autopsy photos.
The only mercy was that he hadn’t suffered long. Luke Elmsong had gone straight for his throat. After that, he’d probably lost consciousness after twenty seconds, and bled out in less than two minutes. Twenty seconds wasn’t a long time to ponder your imminent demise, but time was relative. I’m sure they’d seemed like an eternity to the dead boy.
I’d gone over the evidence on the way down, but I reviewed every item in the envelope again. This was what I was meant to be doing here. This was the reason I had to leave Fairchild, Tennessee behind and proceed further east. Luke Elmsong had become a monster, and for three nights a month he’d be an unstoppable killing machine. Every day I wasted here brought him closer to the full moon and another chance at slaughter.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and then sunk to the floor, arranging my limbs so I sat in lotus position. Ideally, I would have lit sandalwood incense, but I doubted the charming lady who ran the bed and breakfast I was staying at would appreciate it. Besides, the incense wasn’t really necessary. It was merely a force of habit, the same as the preparatory shower I’d taken. It made no tangible difference, it just helped me focus.
I steepled my fingers and closed my eyes, clearing my head of all thoughts of Lucy. Normally I’d have done meditative breathing, letting the smoke fill my senses and allow me to transcend. Instead, I focused on the low buzz of static filtering from the television set. I let the low electric hum fill my mind, and my body relaxed even further into the thick carpeting.
A few minutes later, I stepped out of my skin. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. My spirit left my body, and I didn’t look back to survey myself. I knew exactly how I’d look. I’d seen other lawmen leave their bodies to scope out an area before.
And I really couldn’t look back. Much like Orpheus, if I turned back it defeated the purpose of the whole exercise. I had only to glimpse the vessel that housed my soul, and I would be forced back into it, like a rubber band snapping back to its original shape. I would always have to return to my body until I died, or it did.
I strode forward, not pausing at door to my room. The door put up no resistance, and I phased through it. It was like stepping into a cloud of cool mist. Very little could hinder me in this state. Enchantments and places of faith could pose a problem for me, but Mr. and Mrs. Wells only seemed to worship at the altar of NASCAR and Bud Light.
I floated above the stairs carefully. Just because I could interact with the physical realm, didn’t mean I should. I didn’t want to start a rumor that the Wells Bed and Breakfast was haunted by an unruly spook. The front door rattled slightly, and the screen door shivered at my passing. All in all, it was one of my smoother exits.
I was less cautious on the porch. The cat perched in the rocking chair hissed as it sensed me. I flicked its ear on my way past and it bolted, hissing like mad.
In this insubstantial form, I could fly to my destination if I so chose. I chose to walk the streets of Fairchild instead. I wanted to see the town where my mate had been raised.
I still avoided the pools of lamplight cast on the pavement, though my spirit self couldn’t cast a shadow. It was an instinct I’d honed after many years of practice. I ticked down the addresses one by one, counting down to my destination. Luke’s maternal aunt Carol Boswell and her husband Mack lived at 519 N Elm Street. It had been hell on my GPS trying to figure out where to go. For whatever reason, the small town didn’t show up on maps anymore.
The town boasted only one gas station, a bed and breakfast, a few shops, and one restaurant. There wasn’t a school building in sight, and I had to assume that she must have attended high school in the next town over.
The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon when I reached Elm Street. A cursory glance around the house confirmed what I’d already guessed. Luke Elmsong hadn’t been home for a long time. I retreated from the home, slightly put out. It might have made for a disappointing hunt, but I’d been hoping that he’d act with human instinct and seek out a familiar place. I wanted this hunt to be over as soon as possible so I could return to Lucy.
My initial hunch had been correct. Luke’s newfound bear would lead him in search of a thickly wooded area, someplace where it would have an advantage over the human police that had attempted to gun him down. That would drive him further east, toward the Appalachian mountain range.
I sighed and turned to fly back toward the bed and breakfast. I had a long day ahead, and at least another few days travel before I reached my next destination. There would be over two thousand miles to search, and only a few weeks in which to search it.
I reached my body as the sun rose. I opened my eyes and the weariness in my limbs nearly dragged me into unconsciousness. I groaned and levered myself into a sitting position. The eight hour drive didn’t seem as manageable from this side of the mortal plane.
“I need coffee,” I groaned, getting to my feet.
And Lucy. My bear chimed in unhelpfully. I scowled.
“Coffee first,” I muttered to it. “Lucy later.”
But even I didn’t agree with that set of priorities. I had to leave, though. I had to eliminate this threat. I had to make the world a safer place to live for my mate.
Lucy would wait.
Chapter Three
Lucy
I woke up with a crick in my neck and a renewed throbbing in my bad leg. I’d slept for about three hours in the back of my car, clutching the suitcase to my chest like a teddy bear in case someone tried to break in. I had no idea who would be desperate enough to steal the junk heap I called a car, but it was Fairchild.
I groaned and tried to roll over, nearly falling of the seat as I did. Three hours sleep was not enough, but my leg wasn’t going to take the cramped position for much longer. I opened the door to the backseat and crawled out onto the parking lot. Pete’s wasn’t going to open again until ten, and I’d need to be long gone
by then if I wanted to make it to Columbus before dark.
I’d probably burned all bridges with Randy by calling him at four in the morning to quit my job at Pete’s Bar and Grill. It had seemed like the only reasonable thing to do at the time because the journey to and from Ohio would take a few days, not to mention the time spent trying to convince him to go back to school the following semester.
I didn’t know what could possibly motivate this sudden decision. Luke was only a semester away from graduation. He’d been so close to the end, why would he have just given up?
I stood and stretched, wincing a little as my back popped. I laid out my pans for the day. I needed to let my bank know I’d be out of state. The last thing I needed was to have them freeze my card when I stopped for gas.
I rummaged in the pockets of the jeans I’d worn the night before, drawing out my keys. I climbed into the front seat and leaned my head against the wheel. This trip was insane. If Luke refused I’d wasted days, and I’d lost any semblance of a life or home in Fairchild. As always though, I was stepping in to save my baby brother. If I had to be the grownup, so be it.
I started the car and backed out of the lot slowly. My car spluttered and wheezed but eventually I coaxed it up to highway speed on the road out of town. I spotted Mr. Lonesome’s bright red muscle car at the gas station on the way out of town and I realized with a pang that he was leaving. I’d likely never see him again. I had the fleeting urge to turn around. I could afford to get coffee and breakfast with him couldn’t I?
I shook my head. That was ridiculous. He was leaving. That was probably best. Now was not the time to go on a date. I had a brother to track down.
The morning was warm and humid, and I knew it would be an absolute misery to be in the car by noon. The windows, the ones that were intact, didn’t roll down. The air conditioning was a joke. Not even the radio worked. This trip was going to be a silent, sweaty affair. Damn Luke. What was he thinking?
Tracking the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 1) Page 2
