The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male (3 page)

Lucy was getting an earful when she found her, Beth Ann decided. She approached the tent and two men in bright, colorful baggy pants appeared. One wore a fur hat that was getting soaked in the rain, and the other’s head was shaved bald.

They both looked to be much, much older than Lucy or her boyfriend. Surprised, Beth Ann crossed her arms, hugging her already-soaked formal dress to her body. “I’m sorry, is this the big QuestMaster shindig?”

The shaved man made a flourish with his hand and bowed to her. “Good eve, milady.”

Okay. “I’m guessing yes? I’m looking for Lucy. Lucy Williamson. She’s here tonight.”

The man in the fur hat peered at her through the rain and then drank a large gulp from the enormous beer mug in his hand. “Sounds like a mundane name to me.”

“Mundane? I’m not sure I follow—”

“Mundane, fair wench,” Baldy said with a leer at her wet form, “Is what you be, lass.”

A man laughed uproariously inside the tent.

Well, wasn’t this fun. “Look. I just want to find Lucy. Can you call her?”

“There be no mundane technology allowed on the Quest grounds for the duration of the Tourney, milady.”

“Super. I’ll just call her phone myself.” She dug through her purse and tugged out her phone.

The furred-hat one immediately put his hand over her own. “Ye’ll not be needing that, wench.”

All right, now. It was raining, and muddy, and she was starting to get a little irritated at this “wench” business. “That’s nice and all, but my sister is grounded, and I need to bring her home before she gets into even more trouble.” She jerked her hand away from his with a polite smile and held the phone up. No service.

Fiddlesticks.

She gestured at the path leading into the woods. A rickety wooden gate covered it and she could see a few cook fires and lights in the distance, and heard the sound of laughter. “Is that where all the campers are? I’ll just head over and look for her—”

The bald one stepped in front of the gate. “Milady, you must first pay the entry fee if you wish to join the Tourney.”

“I don’t want to join the Tourney. I’m just going to check for my sister—”

“I’m afraid we canna let ye do that, lass,” Fur-head said, now mimicking a bad Scottish accent. “Only those that pay the toll may enter the QuestMaster grounds for the weekend.”

These guys were going to drive her insane. “Fine. Whatever. How much is the toll?” She had a few bucks on her.

“Fifty dollars,” Baldy said proudly.

“Fifty…what? Fifty dollars? You’re kidding me.”

“Everyone must pay the toll,” he repeated stubbornly. “If ye don’t wish to pay, we shall have to escort ye from the king’s lands, milady.”

King’s lands, her patoot. “I don’t have that much cash on me.”

Baldy inclined his head ever so slightly. “We take checks, milady.”

“Naturally. Fine. I’ll write you a check.” She headed into the tent to write it. Even under the tent, the air was muggy and gross. Her hair was dripping into her eyes and she was pretty sure her makeup was running down her face. Lovely. Maybe she could be one of the hideous monsters they were hunting this weekend. Long live the swamp hag.

Beth Ann began to write out the check, and then began to shiver. She glanced up. “I don’t suppose you have a flashlight for sale while I’m at it? Or a jacket?”

“Such things are forbidden in QuestMasters,” Fur hat said in a stiff voice, as if outraged by the thought.

Okay, she’d go stomping around in the dark to find Lucy. Whatever. She eyed his cloak—it looked a lot warmer than her thin sequined dress that was even now sticking to her body. “Don’t suppose I could buy that cloak off of you?”

“Tis not for sale—”

“Fifty dollars,” she offered.

He took it off with a flourish. “All yours.”

She pulled out a new check, wrote it, and handed it over.

He smiled and handed her a clipboard. “Sign in, milady, with your QuestMaster name.”

“Oh, um, I don’t have one. How about I come back when I think of one, and then I’ll sign in, okay?” At his nod, she took
the cloak he handed her and pitched it over her shoulders. To her surprise, they then handed her a grocery bag. “What’s this?”

“Party favors,” Baldy said with a wink. “Shall I escort you throughout the Tourney grounds in search of our fair maiden?”

She dug through the bag. To her surprise, she pulled out a box of condoms. There was also a roll of toilet paper in the bag, and a bottle of cheap rum.

This was the big party her sister had gone to? Where they passed out boxes of condoms as soon as you paid to get in? Beth Ann clutched the bag to her chest and smiled tightly. “Actually, I think I’ll go find her on my own, thanks.”

The fur-headed one stepped out in the rain with her to open the gate. “Luck to thee, fair lady. May ye steer clear of the dragons in the forest.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said dryly, and headed down the path.

The rain pelted her, the ground underneath her feet slushy and sucking at her strappy Louboutin sandals. She was pretty sure they were ruined, but she hadn’t brought a spare pair of shoes. That was fine—she hated these shoes anyhow, and they were far too pricey for a beautician to own, anyhow. They’d been a gift—an apology from Allan when he’d cheated on her. She didn’t regret ruining them. She wouldn’t have worn them if she’d have thought she’d be spending her Friday night in a muddy forest looking for Lucy, after all.

The two men didn’t follow her down the path, just went back into the tent at the front. She clutched the bag and stumbled down the dark, overgrown path, heading for the first campfire in the distance.

“Wait, milady,” called a voice behind her.

She turned, hopeful. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go searching in the woods after all. “My sister?”

But the man—Baldy—jogged out to her, and presented her with an apple.

Beth Ann stared at it for a moment, then back at him, confused. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“By QuestMaster rules, if a gentleman wishes to show a lady his favor, he presents her with an apple.”

How terribly awkward. “Oh, well, listen, honey. That’s nice, but—”

He leaned in. “It is all in how you receive the gift, milady. An apple from a potential lover can be a teasing token.” He leaned in as if sniffing the apple, and turned a hot gaze on her.

Beth Ann took a step backward. “That’s nice of you, but I’m not sure—”

As she watched, he turned over the apple and began to tongue the base. Over and over, stabbing it with the tip of his tongue and continuing to give her the same heated glance. As if he were making love to the thing.

Oh, mercy. This was rather horrifying.

He held the poor, violated apple out to her, then bowed.

She raised a hand in the air. “I really must pass.”

Baldy frowned. “That’s not how the game is played. You must accept it and then demonstrate your decline of my favor by using the apple.”

She was doing no such thing. Beth Ann pulled out her phone and checked the time. “It’s getting late and I really have to go. Sorry. I’ll have to learn the rules next time.” She gave him a tight
smile, and then disappeared down the path as quickly as she could.

Lord, to think that an apple could be used in such a graphic manner.

To her relief, he didn’t follow her. She did, however, run into three more girls a bit farther down the path. They were about Lucy’s age and dressed like wenches. Very loose wenches. They smiled as they sauntered past, ignoring the rain, and she noticed each one carried a beer mug and an apple. She continued on to the nearby campsite, and smiled at the people gathered there as she approached. More teenage girls were here, and she scanned the faces, looking for Lucy. No luck. These girls were scantily dressed and sat on the laps of men in tunics and capes. All were oblivious of the rain pouring down. One couple in the back of the group was making out as if they didn’t realize they were in public. Or in a rainstorm.

“Excuse me,” Beth Ann said, stepping forward and giving them a little wave.

“A fairy,” one of the girls said with a drunken giggle, raising a mug. “Behold her sparkle.”

“Yep, that’s me,” Beth Ann said cheerfully, determined to put a pleasant face on things. “Sparkly. Isn’t that nice of you. Listen, honey, I’m looking for Lucy Williamson. Have any of you seen her?”

One of the men stood and gave her a puzzled look. “I know not of a Lucy.”

“Sounds like a mundane name,” another wench piped up, then belched.

“There are no mundanes here this eve, milady,” said another.

This was going to be a long, long night.

T
wo hours later, she was no closer to finding Lucy. If her sister had been hiding at one of the campsites, her friends and fellow QuestMasters had done an excellent job of concealing her. Everyone she asked had never heard of a Lucy, and she didn’t know her sister’s QuestMaster name. Everyone, it seemed, had one. She’d met a Sparkle Blossom, a Megan the Fair, a Ragnar the Great (who didn’t seem so great), and three different Aragorns.

She’d also met a lot of drunks and had run across a lot of people making out. She’d been propositioned more tonight than she’d ever been in her life. Apparently the QuestMasters geared up for the big tourney tomorrow by drinking heavily and sleeping with anything that said yes. And here she’d thought they camped out in the woods because they were into nature. Turned out they were just into underage, unsupervised drinking. She’d
seen more teenagers carrying bottles than she’d seen adults to supervise them.

The rain didn’t seem to be slowing down the QuestMasters any. They wandered from campsite to campsite, laughing and drinking despite the rain and now inches-deep mud. Most of the campfires had gone out in the torrential downpour and her newly purchased cloak was little more than a sodden blanket around her shoulders. She’d taken off her shoes when they’d started to sink in the mud instead of slide. Now she carried them in the bag along with the condoms and alcohol.

And despite all her searching, still no sign of Lucy. But every time she passed another couple making out in the open, or another teenage girl swinging past with a drinking horn, she was even more determined to find her sister. Seventeen was a little too young for this sort of thing, and some of the men here were older than Beth Ann.

It was getting harder to tell the trail from the rest of the ground, since it was all turning into a sludge. She tripped over a root and pitched forward, but caught herself on a nearby bush. Ahead, she could see someone moving and heard the clinking of a costume. “Hello?”

A girl approached and in the low light of a nearby torch, it looked as if she wore a belly dancer costume that was soaked in rain and mud to the point that it was indecent. Her other arm carried multiple bottles of booze, from what Beth Ann could tell. She glanced at Beth Ann’s dress, then back at her. “You with the cops?”

“Do I look like a cop?”

The girl squinted at Beth Ann in the darkness. “No?” she said hopefully.

She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing for the hundredth time that she had a flashlight, or that it’d stop raining for five minutes. “I’m not one.” When the girl sagged with relief, she pressed on. “Are there cops here? At the Tourney?”

The girl shifted her burden in her arms uneasily. “Maybe.”

“My goodness, why would cops be here?” Beth Ann smiled, as if totally oblivious to the minor in front of her carrying alcohol. “That’s just silly.”

“I know,” the girl blurted, relaxing a little. “But that’s what I heard back at the Templar camp.”

“Templar camp?”

The girl gestured behind her. “Back there. It’s quite a ways into the woods but they have the best alcohol.”

Maybe that’s where Lucy had headed. “That sounds like where I want to go. Can you show me the way?”

The girl shook her head. “I need to vacate the premises if the cops are here. Someone at the Templar camp told me they were making people leave.”

Well, good for the cops. They were going to have a field day with this place. She raised her voice to speak over the downpour. “I’m looking for Lucy Williamson.”

The girl fidgeted in place, her wet hair plastered to her skull. “I don’t know her.”

“I know,” she bit out, then forced the pleasant smile back to her face. “I don’t know her QuestMaster name. But she’s tall and skinny with blond hair and bright green nails.” She’d painted them for her sister just yesterday.

The other girl brightened. “I think I saw her earlier. She hang out with Lord Colossus?”

“Yes!” Finally, she was getting somewhere. “Have you seen her tonight? Where?”

Again, the girl gestured into the thick woods. “Back at the Templar camp.”

Beth Ann gave her a thumbs-up as the rain picked up once more. “Thank you.”

All right, she’d find this damn Templar camp once and for all.

What a way to spend a Friday night, Colt thought to himself. His mouth curved in a cynical twist as the man in front of him seemed determined to try and back his car out of the parking lot that had turned into a bowl of mud. The tires spun uselessly as Colt crossed his arms over his rain slicker.

The man finally turned and looked back at Colt. “It’s stuck.”

“I know.” He gestured at the parking lot full of cars. “They all are. Entire road’s washed out.”

“Even the dirt road?” The man seemed clearly skeptical. “We can’t walk out to the highway?”

“You can,” Colt said lazily. “Mud’s two feet deep along the way.”

“What do we do?” said the half-naked woman at the knight’s side.

Colt gritted his teeth. He kept getting the same damn questions from all these people. He knew it was because they were all drunk—or high—but it was getting tiresome. “I’m with the local
fire department. We’re here to evacuate the campground and take you somewhere dry until the situation with your cars can be assessed.”

“The fire department?” the woman exclaimed in surprise. She gave him an appreciative look that made him uncomfortable. “Really?”

Damn it. He was tired of babysitting a bunch of drunks. When they’d called him to help out this evening, this was not what he’d had in mind. He’d volunteered, of course, since he’d thought there were people in danger. Not really—turned out that there were just a bunch of idiot teenagers that needed to be fished out of the mud. “Leave your vehicle and head out to the end of the main road. An all-terrain vehicle will be swinging by shortly to pick up more people.”