Read Online Omega Moon Rising (Toke Lobo & The Pack) by MJ Compton - Free Book Online

cracked as she repeated her question.
    Pastor Shaw’s knuckles whitened on his Bible. “It’s not good, Abby.”
    Abby brushed past him and Mr. Jeffers and ran to the room hospice had turned into her mother’s death chamber.
    The shades were pulled and the curtains drawn. A small lamp burned on the bureau top. The odor of rubbing alcohol nearly disguised the stench of dust. Her mother’s wasted frame was barely visible in the dim light—barely visible because she didn’t create a presence in the bed on which she lay. She scarcely disturbed the blanket covering her.
    “Mama?” Abby whispered.
    Her mother’s eyes fluttered open. “Abby?”
    Abby gripped the cool metal rail of the hospital bed. “I’m here, Mama.”
    “I’m sorry.” The words were barely audible, spoken between harsh breaths, but Abby understood.
    “Thought . . .”
    “Don’t waste your strength, Mama,” Abby said. “We’ve already gone over this.”
    “Will.”
    “Yes, I remember.” Abby glanced toward the doorway, where she thought she’d seen a flicker of movement. But it was empty.
    Abby lowered her voice. “I have your will and other important papers in a safe place. I know what to do. Don’t fret.”
    Her mother’s emaciated lips stretched slightly, a mockery of the smile that had once lighted up the house. “Sorry.”
    “It’s not your fault.” Abby kissed her mother’s sunken cheek. “I love you, and I know you love me and Libby.”
    “Careful.”
    Scalding tears clung to Abby’s lashes, but she refused to release them. She had to be strong. She had the rest of her life to cry. “Of course. You know you can count on me. I’ll take care of Libby.”
    Something brushed against Abby’s legs, startling her. Libby emerged from under the bed. “Don’t die, Mama.” Libby wasn’t quiet. Wasn’t subtle. “Don’t die!”
    Mama inhaled deeply enough to raise the blanket a fraction of an inch. “My b’ful girls.” She gazed at Libby, then at Abby. “So sorry.” She closed her eyes. Exhaled. Once.
    “Mister Jeffers?” Abby called out, her voice warbling.
    A movement in the doorway caught her attention. Luke. Who moved aside to let the hospice caregiver into the room. Luke had been standing watch. Gary had not.
    Mr. Jeffers placed his stethoscope against Mama’s chest. The only sound in the room was Libby’s heavy, wet breathing.
    “I’m sorry, girls,” he said as he straightened.
    Abby’s eyes burned. She blinked away the tears and pulled Libby’s hand into hers. Yes, she’d known Mama was dying, but knowing didn’t make the loss easier. The hole in her heart was still there. She couldn’t crack, couldn’t break. Not now. Later. When she was alone. When her escape from Gary was final.
    Luke lurched from the wall where he’d been leaning. “You okay?” he asked. “Anything you need me to do?”
    She considered asking him to kill Gary for real instead of merely threatening, but he was already offering her and Libby a way out. She shook her head and led Libby to the living room. To Gary, who wouldn’t mourn; to the strangers professing to be concerned neighbors, but who hadn’t done a thing about . . . the way Gary had isolated them from their previous lives.
    “Mr. Sendall?” She barely recognized her voice. “I believe my mother made her final arrangements with you?”
    The funeral director nodded and went to Mama’s room.
    “The women’s fellowship will be bringing meals, of course,” Mrs. MacDougal said. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
    “Libby and I are moving to Loup Garou,” Abby replied. If she married Luke. Plans could change. “But thank you.”
    Her brain was spinning. She had so much to do. First of all, she needed to endure this farce, this scene from Gary’s I’m-a-great-guy-campaign.
    “Don’t I have a say in any of this?” Gary asked.
    “Mama made her own arrangements with Sendall’s several months ago.” How could she sound so . . . detached? But she