Laurie’s Wolves(54)

“Did anyone besides that deputy last night rub you wrong?” Melinda asked.

Laurie shuddered. She rubbed her arms through her thick coat, wondering not for the first time why they were sitting outside. She wasn’t particularly cold for some strange reason, but it seemed odd.

Then again, nothing should surprise her, and there was something invigorating about being in the open air, inhaling the atmosphere. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and then she continued. “Yes. If I think about it, a few people have in the last week, but none as powerful as Corbin’s coworker, Pete, last night.”

“Who is that?” Mimi asked.

“Pete Sandhouse. He’s been a deputy with the department for a long time.” Melinda sighed. “He was there during Rebecca’s intense standoff with Randal Peaceman and his son when the two of them took it upon themselves to run her off the land for mating with Miles.”

Laurie nodded. “My mother spoke of him. When Peaceman finally committed suicide was when my mother decided it was safe to return to her homeland. You speak of him as if he were a stranger. He was your grandfather and his son was your father, right?”

Melinda pushed off again. “Yes. Though I never once thought of him as anything more than a monster. Hell, I didn’t even know about him until right before all hell broke loose. The death of my grandfather, the elder Peaceman, was the catalyst that allowed our mother to return. He had threatened her life, her mates, and all of us kids if she ever returned. Until he died, the last of the old tribal elders, she didn’t dare make an appearance. Apparently that old man and his equally bigoted son weren’t the only shifters or humans left in the community who would prefer not to see our races mix, however.

“But I wonder what Pete’s issue is? He never verbalized anything like this at the time. We better pay close attention to him. Did you tell Corbin?”

“No. But I guess I should. I forgot about it until now. He isn’t the first person to rub me wrong. And I’m sure he won’t be the last. I don’t know how you can stand it. Part of me wants to avoid touching anyone just to keep from feeling the nausea that can accompany it.”

Melinda smiled. “I know what you mean. I’ve spent years avoiding human or shifter contact.”

“Anyway, I can’t tell you what his opinions are about mixed matings or ménages, but I can tell you he’s evil. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he shook my hand. It was late. The middle of the night, but his touch unnerved me like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”

“I believe there are those who have secretly been lying in wait for an opportunity—or an excuse—to come out of the woodwork. They must have been taught hatred by their parents.” Melinda jumped from the swing and paced. “I detest the idea that there could be individuals who have been waiting for an excuse to pounce. They might be gathering, even now, to press their agendas. If that’s so, what do we do, Mimi?” She stopped walking back and forth to seek the guidance of their grandmother.

Mimi’s swing still swayed, but she did nothing to stop it or perpetuate the movement. “I worry you may be right.” Her voice was soft. Too soft. Defeated. “I’m concerned for the future of our people if they insist on holding on to such antiquated ideas about mating. I’ve been troubled lately, even in the night, waking in a sweat.

“I’ve never been one to have visions. My powers have always been more of a feeling, a vibe if you will. Sometimes I get a sensation from a situation—other times it’s from an individual. Never have I had visions like the ones flitting through my mind lately.

“I’m not sure if I’m imagining things or if there’s an explanation for my increased sense of urgency, but in any case, I tell you both now—something huge is coming. Bigger than any of us can predict. It won’t be pleasant. There will be deaths involved we cannot control. There will be heartache the likes of which we’ve never experienced.

“Our way of life is in jeopardy.”

Laurie held her breath during this speech. She knew each detail was important. She had only known Mimi for six months—and only seen her a handful of times—but she felt the sick drop of her stomach that made her swallow back the need to vomit.

It was powerful. Mimi wasn’t one to waste words. If the woman spoke of a doomsday, every single shifter in the area needed to be aware. The fact that they were instead at strife, on the edge of war, raised a red flag that flew strongly above them, screaming for attention.

The spirit guides were angered. Or were they? Did they instead have a purpose in mind?