Tales from Tarker's Hollow

  Tales from Tarker’s Hollow

  Tasha Black

  13th Story Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Tasha Black Starter Library

  Ghost of Shifters Past

  The Talented Mr. MacGregor

  The Clockwork Dragon

  Copyright © 2015 by 13th Story Press All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover design 2015 by Sylvia Frost

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  Tasha Black Starter Library

  Packed with steamy shifters, mischievous magic, billionaire superheroes, and plenty of HEAT, the Tasha Black Starter Library is the perfect way to dive into Tasha's unique brand of Romance with Bite!

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  Ghost of Shifters Past

  A spirit from the past. A love for the future.

  1

  Bonnie Summers walked bravely through the bustling streets of Tarker’s Hollow, trying to stay alert to avoid bumping into a mailman or one of the army of moms out with strollers on a snowy morning.

  Before she’d moved here, her friend, Erik, had described Tarker’s Hollow as a tiny college town. But Bonnie was overwhelmed by the sidewalks, the close set houses, and the enormous trees touching each other across the streets like you were walking in a giant tunnel all the time.

  Copper Creek had been a true small town. The beautiful mountains there sheltered the sprinkling of houses from the wind. A single stop sign managed what passed for traffic.

  The most impressive building in Copper Creek had been the library. And Bonnie had been the head librarian. She’d actually been the only librarian and she’d had to sweep the floors herself, too. But it was an identity, a position of prestige in her tight-knit community.

  Here in Tarker’s Hollow, she was a nobody.

  “Morning.” A middle-aged man with a briefcase nodded as he blew past her. He was probably about to miss his train to Philadelphia.

  At first, Bonnie tried to tell herself that moving to a big place like Tarker’s Hollow would be a good thing. Her only sorrow back in Copper Creek was that she was a single woman pushing thirty. A new sea might mean new fish. Interesting fish, like the ones in books. Not regular guys who sat around talking about what they wanted to buy or watch on TV.

  The thought of interesting men goosed her and she made an effort to slow down and look at the houses around her. She wasn’t being nosy, the sidewalk was literally close enough that you could see who was on the porch. Prince Charming could be sitting on one of them drinking coffee for all she knew.

  But all she saw were the lavish holiday decorations everyone here seemed to love. Lights hung from the rooftops to look like icicles, real holly garlands wound around porch spindles, beautiful pine wreaths with red ribbons hung on doors, simple silver menorahs adorned many windows, and lush poinsettias stood sentinel by front doors.

  A lot of the decorations were real greenery, which meant you couldn’t even stow them away and use them again next year. Bonnie couldn’t imagine a town where so many people had money to spend on things they didn’t need.

  She rounded the corner onto a really busy road. Erik said it was a route, not a highway, but Bonnie was pretty sure she knew a really busy street when she saw one.

  She walked past the downtown area and looped around the train station to get to the college campus.

  It was hard not to notice how many people waiting for the train stood really close to the tracks. The head librarian in her mind wanted to tell them all to back up. But she bit her tongue and kept walking.

  As the parking lot and construction for the new building on campus faded away, the trees grew thicker. It was funny how everyone here called this “the woods.” Bonnie figured if you could walk from one side of it to the other in a day it was trees - not woods. But she wouldn’t be the one to ruin their fun.

  Snow frosted the tops of the pines and sycamores. It was peaceful here, as home-like a feeling as she could find in this new place.

  The wolf inside Bonnie sniffed the air less disdainfully than she had a few weeks ago. She was getting restless, Bonnie had never caged her in like this before.

  A flash of movement among the trees caught her eye.

  Bonnie turned her head to follow it.

  She couldn’t see anything.

  But she felt something. A hum in the air.

  It was probably a trick of the light. With so much snow falling, it was hard to get a good look at anything.

  She stepped into the trees anyway. She was early for work, and there was no reason not to seek out an adventure.

  Her wolf pricked up its ears in approval.

  Bonnie hitched up her long skirt in one hand, and crept toward the movement she’d seen.

  Her wolf pressed insistently at the bars of the mental cage. Stalking small prey was one of her favorite pastimes.

  Easy, girl.

  A shadow moved in the trees ahead.

  Bonnie lost the shape when she tried too hard to focus on it. She relaxed, and another shadow moved, farther ahead.

  She scrambled after it. What could it be? Something had to be casting the shadow, but she wasn’t picking up a scent. At all.

  Even the wolf wasn’t sure what she had sighted. She wasn’t showing Bonnie visions of delicious rabbit or squirrel.

  But she was quite agitated.

  As they continued to track the shadow, Bonnie began to notice a pattern.

  She would approach, and it would disappear.

  Then it would appear again a bit deeper in the trees.

  Almost like it wanted her to follow. Like it was leading her somewhere.

  She should have been afraid at that thought, but it only piqued her interest.

  She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. Whatever it was, it would have to wait.

  She needed to turn back now to make it to work on time. It was the first day back after Thanksgiving Break. The students would be back with a vengeance, getting ready for finals before the end of the term, and Winter Break.

  Besides, chasing imaginary shadows through the undergrowth was probably not a good sign of her mental health.

  Though she couldn’t help feeling that there really was something in the trees.

  Bonnie turned and hiked back onto the path, headed for the college library.

  By the time she reached the plaza outside the library she’d stomped all the snow off her boots and was feeling more determined to move on with her day.

  A student reached the door before her, his red woolen hat pulled down low over his ears.

  Bonnie held back the usual half-beat for him to open the door for her.

  Instead, he just went in, letting it close behind him.

  What was wrong with this town?

  2

  Bonnie stepped into the library.

  For a moment, she stood there gaping like a fool. No matter how many times she walked through that door, she always felt like a mouse in Times Square.

  The entry to the building itself was a huge turret. A circle of sofas and tables surrounded the entry. Above that, the second floor was an open loft, with a semi-circle of tables over-looking the entry.

  An immense palladium window spanned both floors, showcasing the picturesque view of the snowy campus.

  Behind the turret entry, the stacks went back forever - three full floors of them.

  There were texts on every subj
ect imaginable, as well as literature, poetry, everyday fiction, art books, sports books, newspapers, magazines, and even a wing housing the town’s Historical Library.

  There were also computers. Computers that connected swiftly to the internet, unlike the old fashioned machines trying to dial-up at the Copper Creek Library.

  None of the swarms of students there to cram for finals, or even the other librarians, looked up when Bonnie entered. It was strange to be working an entry level position when she was used to steering the ship, but her section of the here was larger than the whole Copper Creek Library, and she was not expected to clean it herself, there were custodians.

  She climbed the stairs, taking just a moment to enjoy the peaceful view of snowcapped trees and stone dormitories from the giant window, before heading back through the tables of kids with laptops and earbuds, and entering the stacks.

  Bonnie thought about her own college experience, just seven years ago. Sure, they had worked on computers, but they also did group projects, and covered the tables with books. The librarians had a heck of a job keeping them all quiet.

  These poor kids were isolated, even though they sat a foot away from each other.

  Bonnie kept walking until she reached Cultural Traditions.

  The light played on the oak shelving, making it look warm. Even the smell of the old books greeted her like a familiar friend each day. Bonnie was tempted to slide her hand across the bindings to greet the books, but she knew it would make anyone watching think she was crazy.

  A few stray books rested in one of the deep windowsills. She grabbed them to begin re-shelving.

  Mostly, they were books about Thanksgiving, in early America and today. She wondered if the students who browsed them had needed them for projects, or if they were just homesick or bored.

  Bonnie’s own Thanksgiving had been bittersweet.

  She thought back to the beautiful Victorian house where Erik lived with his mate, Ainsley. The space had been filled with good smells and friends, old and new alike.

  Erik was the only guy Bonnie had ever really thought could be her mate. He was smart, wickedly handsome, funny, and he had that wolfy bad boy way about him that drove women crazy.

  But one look at him with Ainsley, and Bonnie knew she’d never had a shot. Those two were so right together they positively glowed.

  One of Ainsley’s close friends, Cressida Crow, must have sensed Bonnie’s low mood, and decided to take matters into her own hands by setting Bonnie up on a date with a local wolf, J.D. MacGregor.

  Cressida was… intense. And she looked to Bonnie like she’d stepped off a Paris, France runway, and through a Paris, Texas trailer park on her way to dinner. But she had a sincerity about her that made her instantly likable, and she wasn't about to take no for an answer.

  Despite the matchmaking attempts, Bonnie went home after dinner with a bit of a hollow feeling. The one good thing to come out of it all was the realization that she hadn’t been pining for Erik, not really.

  It was the lost sense of purpose she’d felt helping him get to the bottom of what was happening in Copper Creek.

  Bonnie liked a good mystery, an adventure, a chance to see the world from another perspective.

  She was lost in this thought, looking out the window, book in hand, when she scented someone approaching.

  “Hey,” said a young male voice.

  Hay is for horses.

  “Yes,” she replied politely, turning to see him. He was a tall blond kid, with a blue baseball cap right on top of his head, even though he was indoors.

  “Um, where’s European Traditions?” he asked without making eye contact.

  “It’s in the back corner, aisle 217,” she told him.

  “Cool,” he said, walking off without so much as a thank you. Or a ma’am.

  Bonnie sighed and put the books away. Thanksgiving was over.

  She was not looking forward to spending another Christmas alone. But if these kids were any indication of what the men were like around here, she would have to get used to the idea.

  Bonnie Summers had never been one to settle.

  3

  The day passed quickly, and Bonnie left the library tired, but satisfied with a day’s work.

  6:00 PM, and it was already full dark. Winter was almost upon them. Her boots crunched in the snow as she passed under the lampposts that lit the way past the trees and into town to her modest apartment.

  She was lost in a dream of the book she’d read over her bowl of soup during her lunch break, when she saw the shadow again.

  Instantly, her wolf woke from its slumber and whined in her chest to chase after it.

  She had no place to be, no one waiting for her.

  And it wasn’t like she needed to be scared - after all, she could turn into a gigantic wolf if she ran into any trouble.

  Bonnie looked around to be sure nobody would notice her scrambling into the woods.

  The coast was clear.

  To the delight of her wolf, she hoisted up her skirt, wrapped it around one hand, and took off into the woods.

  Ahead of her, the shadow leapt and capered. It had taken on the hint of a shape.

  Could it be another wolf?

  There was no time to find out, Bonnie could barely keep up.

  Her wolf chuffed, teasing her to be let out. The wolf would have no problem with the chase. It didn’t have a skirt or a curvy figure to contend with. It would have given the shadow a run for its money.

  But Bonnie couldn’t help thinking it was insane to shift in a town full of humans. She didn’t understand how Ainsley and the rest of the Tarker’s Hollow pack managed. There were probably students smoking pot in these woods right now.

  Just when she was beginning to really sweat in spite of the cold, the trees thinned and she recognized the hillside clearing ahead of her.

  The amphitheater.

  She’d only ever come here by walking the foot path that came in at the top of the stone benches. Now she was entering from the bottom of the hill, on what would be the stage if there were a graduation or wedding happening today.

  The shadow danced in and out of the light, circling the stage.

  Her wolf huffed a warning.

  Another shadow, this one moving slowly, lurked in the first row of stone benches.

  And another rolled around the perimeter of the stage.

  The first shadow moved toward her, slowly. Hypnotically.

  Although the shadow didn’t have a scent, it made its presence known to her somehow. The hum of electricity crackled in the air again. Her pulse raced. She was drawn to it like a moth to the flame.

  Her wolf whined high in her head.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Other shadows began to approach.

  When she spun to look at them, the wind carried a whisper to her.

  “Tokala…”

  A shiver shot down her spine.

  This was all too much. She wasn’t terrified, but she was getting creeped out a little. And she was definitely out of her element.

  Bonnie ran for the top of the amphitheater, and the granite monuments that would mean she was on the regular walking path, back where she belonged.

  4

  By the time she got back to the charming third floor flat on Elm Street and ate a microwaved dinner at the kitchen counter, Bonnie was feeling better.

  After a few hours curled up on the sofa by the fireplace, lost in the pages of a favorite romance novel, the scene in the woods was all but forgotten.

  Bonnie put it out of her mind as she brushed her teeth and slipped on her pajamas. She snuggled into bed and watched the snowflakes dance past her bedside window until she fell into a deep sleep.

  She ran through the snow on furry paws, the scents of the college woods swirling around her like a rainbow. Her wolf drank them in greedily, the salty shimmer of fertilizer on the campus lawn, the swirling gray of oil on the tracks to Philadelphia, the tang of microwave popcorn in the dorms, the loamy
brown of the rich soil under the sleeping, leafless trees and the blanket of snow.

  The feeling of bunching and stretching her muscles filled her with indescribable glee. Bonnie hadn’t let her wolf run since leaving Copper Creek. After hundreds of acres of unspoiled wilderness, the few miles of trees that passed for woods in Tarker’s Hollow didn’t exactly feel private.

  But tonight, she couldn’t smell another soul. The woods were silent and clean.

  And then they weren’t.

  The spicy scent of a male filled her senses. His trail unraveled like a silvery string before her.

  Bonnie sailed through the trees after him. Fallen trunks and rocks were welcome obstacles, giving her strong legs an excuse to soar.

  She picked up a crisp sparkling scent.

  Water.

  She flew the last few yards to its edge.

  Standing on a slab of granite jutting out into the creek, a fox looked up from his drink, water dripping from his muzzle like diamonds.

  Despite the size difference, he held his ground at her approach, his muscled chest thrust forward proudly over slender legs.

  This wasn’t just a fox. This was a shifter.

  Bonnie froze in place. She was mortified to find herself lowering her massive head. The fox was inferior to the wolf. Why was he not submitting to her?

  The snow cooled her belly as she studied his paws, wishing she could study the rest of him.

  But before she dared, the paws began to transform into toes.

  “Tokala,” a harsh voice said.

  She looked up in spite of herself.

  He was naked of course, that part shouldn’t have surprised her.

  But he was so beautiful, his nudity seemed to take on another dimension.

  Light brown skin absorbed the dappled moonlight, like he was part of the forest. Dark shining hair hung past his shoulders.