I beat a hasty retreat.

Triumph flashed in Magnolia's gaze.

"Hah! That's the pot calling the kettle black," I said angrily. "You're the rudest bitch I've ever met." I marched to the front door and pushed it open. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

I wondered if I'd signed my death warrant. In that moment, I knew she was deciding whether to kill me.

Drake entered the shop and stood close to me. His brows arched as he examined Magnolia's fiery knives. "Is there a problem, Lia?"

"No. I was merely showing Patsy my newest weapons." She blew out the flames and sheathed them. She strode to the doorway and paused on the threshold.

"Never lay your hands on me again," she warned softly.

"Don't come within throttling distance and I won't."

Her eyes flashed with hatred. Then she stomped out, taking the stench and the entity with her. Whew. I was glad she was gone. I locked up again and leaned against the door. Man, I was feeling dizzy.

Drake grinned. "You sure know how to make friends."

"It's a talent."

He studied me, his gaze worried. "Patricia - "

"I know, I know," I said. "I should show more respect to the Ancients. But I don't care who you are. If you act like an asshole, then I'm treating you like one."

"I would never tell you how to behave," said Drake, chuckling. He sobered, eyeing me with a frown. "Let's go see what's in the bathroom, shall we?"

"Drake!"

He strode across the room and flung the door open.

The bathroom was empty.

I turned away to hide my surprise and relief. I didn't want Drake reading my expression.

"It's not backed up," he said. "Why did you lie to Lia?"

I didn't bother to ask how he'd know that. Listening at the door with his big wolfie ears.

"I wanted her to leave. I don't like her." I hurried to the hair care display and started rearranging it.

"Was he in there?"

Drake's voice was so close, it startled me. I dropped the Paul Mitchell Awapuhi shampoo. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Drake less than a foot away. I met my friend's suspicious gaze.

"Who?" I asked.

"Your new boyfriend."

"None of your beeswax."

"C'mon, Patsy. Who is he?"

"A troll named Wolf Eater." I pointed to the door. "Go away."

"Torturing you is more fun."

I put the shampoo down. "I'm going to my trailer to take a shower and change my clothes. You are going outside."

"All right, all right!" He put his hands up, palms out in a gesture of surrender. "I'll walk you to the trailer and stand guard on your porch."

His cell phone buzzed. He unclipped it and answered. He listened for a moment, then said, "Okay. Be right there."

"Wilson?"

"Promise me that you'll stay in the trailer until I return."

"Fine," I said. I locked up the shop and hurried across the weed-choked field. I stood on the second step, looking down at Drake. He turned away and I reached out and snagged his shoulder. "Stay safe," I said.

"If I do, will you give me a full-body shampoo? "

I laughed. "On the house."

He grinned; then he scurried away, off to whatever emergency required his attention.

When I entered the trailer, I noticed two things. One, my couch had been covered by a big, red blanket, probably because of the blood-stains. And two, the white wolf was sitting on it, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Hey!" I said crossly. "No dogs on the furniture! "

He woofed and jumped off, then padded around the coffee table to sit by my feet. "God, you're cute."

I pushed off from the door and stumbled. The room started to spin. Darkness crimped the edges of my vision. I heard the wolf bark, and then I was falling, falling into oblivion.

"You sucked her dry," said an irritated female voice. I floated on the edge of consciousness, hearing the conversation, but was too tired to open my eyes. Exhaustion felt like concrete blocks pressing down on me.

"I didn't know she hadn't eaten yet." Gabriel sounded worried and defensive. "I didn't mean to take so much. She ... we ... um, she ... oh, just give her the blood!"

"All right. I'll be her dinner this once. But you'd better be careful, Gabriel."

"You know how it is with the mating lust, even for me. When a lycan meets his mate, it's ... powerful. Even she could not resist."

"Just remember that mating lust overpowers even the strongest alpha. You might not be able to stop next time."

"I hope I will not have to stop."

"Ew. Please. I don't want to hear the details."

The velvet skin of a wrist was pressed against my mouth. My fangs reacted immediately, piercing the delicate flesh. The blood that flowed into my mouth tasted like nirvana. I drank until I was full.

Then their voices faded into the ether and I floated once more.

I awoke on the couch in my trailer, feeling better, if not a little groggy. I looked at the wall clock. It was a little after midnight. I felt as though I'd slept for a week.

It was obvious that I was alone in the trailer. "Wilson?" I called.

No answer. His music wasn't blasting, which was a bad sign. If the boy was home, his tunes were on. Why hadn't Darrius brought him home?

Well, I'd just call Darrius and find out. Wilson had a few friends in town, but mostly he skulked around, finding hidey-holes and places to drink and drug.

I sat up and stretched.

Where had Gabriel gone? He'd been here earlier with someone else. He was the reason I'd gotten breakfast. Who'd been my donor?

My clothes had been changed. I wore a pink baby doll shirt that said in glittery gold sparkles: COUNTRY MUSIC STAR. I also wore jeans and pink ankle socks. My boots sat next to the couch.

My gaze fell on a Post-it note left on the coffee table.

Stay here. Will return soon.

Love,

G.

Oooo, I had the warm fuzzies. It was silly to feel mushy about a simple note, but he'd cared enough to leave it.

I was worried about Wilson. I reached for my address book on the end table, then grabbed the mobile phone.

Someone knocked.

"Who is it?" I called out as I hurried to the door. My heart tripped over in my chest. Was it Wilson? Or Gabriel? I was surprised at how much I wanted to see that ornery fugitive again.

"My name is Terran," said a female voice. "Gabriel sent me."

Warily, I clenched the handle. "No offense, but how can I trust you?"

"Because I could easily rip off the door or bust through the wall."

Trepidation squeezed me, but I unlocked the door and opened it.

The woman was thin, wiry. She barely reached my chin. She would've been beautiful if the left side of her face had not had a long, jagged scar puckering the skin. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail.

She wore a bomber jacket, skintight jeans, and biker boots that buckled on the side. She carried a half sword that was smooth-sharp on one side and wicked-jagged on the other. In the belt around her waist were small knives and on her left hip, a 9mm.

Jeez. Talk about being prepared for the worst. Her brown gaze assessed me. Then she bent down on one knee and lowered her head. "My queen."

For a full minute, I gaped at Terran. Me, a queen? Was she kidding? Huh. She seemed serious about her homage. And here I thought tonight couldn't get any weirder.

"Honey, I'm the best beautician in these parts, but I ain't the queen of hair care."

She rose to her feet. I moved aside to let her in; then I shut the door.

"You're very funny. Humor is a good quality in a leader."

Riiiight. "Where's Gabriel?"

She paced the small living room, her gaze darting all over the place. "He'll return soon."

"Are you a ... er, hybrid, too?"

"Hmph. I suppose hybrid is a better word than mutant. Or abomination." She shrugged. "I'm your garden-variety lycan. Only Gabriel is loup de sang."

"Loop de what?"

"Loup de sang. Blood wolf."

"Oh." God, she was making me nervous with her pacing and constant checking of the windows. "I've been taking care of myself for a while now. I don't need a babysitter."

"It is my honor to serve you, my queen."

"I'm not a queen."

"You will rule the vampires and the werewolves. " Her gaze pinned mine. "The Vederes are never wrong."

"Who the hell are the Vederes?"

"A family of prophets. Astria Vedere predicted that one of the Broken Heart Turn-bloods would rule the two nations."

Choo-choo. Train to Loonyville departing the station.

"You have the wrong Turn-blood, honey." I walked to the couch and sat down. Terran refused my offer of a chair. She went to the window and peered out.

"What are you guys doing in Broken Heart? And why are you hiding from the Consortium?"

Terran's gaze flicked to me. "These are questions Gabriel should answer."

"Well, he's not here and you are."

She moved back from the window. "We're hunted by everyone. Lycans, vampires, the Roma. We are not welcome anywhere." She stood near the couch, arms crossed. "Except maybe here. We heard about the vampire-lycans who roam free. It is said that anyone who seeks safety and a new life can find it in Broken Heart."

I was fuzzy on the Consortium's plans for the town. Something about being one of the first communities where parakind could settle down and live openly. It hadn't occurred to me how many non-humans were looking for a place to hang their hats.

Terran cocked her head. "You have visitors. I'll sneak out the window in your bedroom." She plucked a knife and the gun from her waistband arsenal and put them on the coffee table. "In case you need them, Queen Patricia."

I rolled my eyes. I didn't understand anything that had happened today. I must've somehow entered an alternate reality. Queens and new kinds of vampires and crazy lycans - jeez! The world had gone mad.

Terran strode through the kitchen and into my bedroom. She closed the door softly behind her. I put on my boots and tucked the little knife inside one. Then I grabbed the gun, hurried into the kitchen, and threw it into the freezer.

I opened the door after the first knock.

Patrick and Jessica greeted me. I saw how they were looking at me. With pity. With certainty. Foreboding slid into my stomach and sat there like a hot brick. I knew it could be only one thing.

They couldn't be here to tell me ... oh, God. The word escaped on a sob. "Wilson?"