King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,6
happiness on the air. This diner was a refuge for anyone seeking company or a bite to eat when the rest of the world was sleeping. It was literally the only place open late in the tiny town.
Booths full of teens giggled and shared plates of French fries while the old-timers at the counter sipped coffee and traded gossip. At this time of night, the Barry White was mainly host to the youngest and oldest customers in Tarker’s Hollow.
Someone waved from a big corner booth.
“Here we go,” Bron said, placing a big hand at the small of her back to lead her toward the table.
Two enormous men, one light-haired, one dark, barely fit in the booth. They were accompanied by two women.
Two very familiar women.
Miranda froze in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Bron asked.
“What is the meaning of this, brother?” the dark-haired one demanded.
The group of teens in the booth next to them giggled at the outburst.
“This is who you’re working with?” Miranda asked Bron. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Bron looked back and forth between the group at the table and Miranda, a confused expression on his handsome face.
“Come sit down,” the woman with the longer dark hair said quietly, patting the seat next to her. “Let’s not make a scene. I’m Sara. This is Tabitha and the guys are Dorian and Tristan.”
Miranda thought about it for a second.
Her stomach growled, making her mind up for her.
“Miranda,” she said, sitting down.
“We know,” said the woman with the shorter dark hair. “And I’m telling you right now, if you start playing that game with us, we will play back.”
Shit.
“What game?” Bron asked, his brow furrowed.
In the light of the diner, Miranda could see Bron’s masculine features better. His hair was almost the same bright copper as hers and fell around his shoulders in waves. His light beard was just a bit darker. But his eyes were his most striking feature. They were a deep green, like smoky emeralds, or a lush field after a rainstorm.
His gaze was so intense that she could barely meet it.
“She compels people,” Tabitha said. “We watched her do it at the presentation about the development of the mansion property.”
“Is this true?” Bron asked.
He looked fascinated, not angry.
“I-I’m not really sure,” Miranda admitted. “I’ve always had a way with people, but it’s gotten stronger recently.”
“Why is she here?” Dorian asked.
“I was patrolling my woods and I heard something,” Bron said. “The fachan was about to attack her.”
Tristan hissed in a sympathetic breath.
“Why were you in the woods in the middle of the night?” Tabitha asked.
“One of the surveyor’s guys got hurt,” Miranda explained. “My boss wanted me to check it out. I got caught up in work stuff, and ended up heading out really late.”
“Someone got hurt?” Sara asked.
Miranda nodded. “He’s in intensive care right now.”
“What happened to him?” Sara asked.
“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted. “At first I thought what the foreman said was all nonsense. But I guess the same thing happened to him that just happened to me.”
“Lured by will o’ the wisps,” Bron explained, “then attacked by the fachan.”
“Except the workman said he heard singing before the monster ran away,” Miranda said.
“Hey, that was you,” Tabitha said, elbowing Sara.
Sara grinned.
Miranda noticed they had matching tattoos on their left hands, inky black vines starting at their fingers and twining up around their wrists. The two men had them, too. It was as if they were in some kind of magical gang.
Miranda shook her head, willing herself to focus.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” she asked.
“Yes, but first we have to get food,” Bron said. “What do you want?”
“The special - eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, everything,” Miranda listed quickly. “Listen, can you order while I run and freshen up?”
Bron scowled at her.
“I’m not going to make a run for it in these shoes, if that’s what you think,” she said, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
He scooted out of the booth and let her go.
She strode through the diner to the bathroom hallway in the back. Thankfully, she didn’t know any of the teenagers or old folks here tonight.
After taking care of her needs, she washed her hands and face carefully.
It had been a very long day.
Work was stressful, as was her relationship with her boss. And lately, her own ability had been more strange and frightening than any of the rest of it.
But the face gazing back at her in the mirror looked more alive than it had in a long time.
Whatever