by Eden Winters
Brushing strands of chestnut hair away from his face, Seth didn’t visibly display any known style, sporting a more natural look. Brown eyes speckled with flecks of gold blinked down from a face that either lived in sunscreen or never saw the sun, and a slight hint of pudge pooched over his belt. This boy really needed to get outside and chop some wood. From the top of his head down to his worn tennis shoes, Seth McDaniel seemed designed by nature to blend in, not stand out.
“Does this remind you of anything?” Dustin asked.
“Hmm?”
Dustin couldn’t suppress a grin. “Remember when we climbed up on the roof and your aunt came running out and caught us?” He pictured Irene storming out of the kitchen door, apron flapping.
Seth climbed down the ladder, chuckling. “She almost wore a flyswatter out on our backsides. I never figured out how she always managed to show up when we were getting into stuff we weren’t supposed to.”
Dustin knew, but wasn’t sharing. Scent. It was all in the scent. He changed the subject instead. “How’re the repairs coming?”
“Not bad, but I’m having a hard time finding a contractor in these parts—once I finally located the phone. Can’t get a signal out here on my cell.”
“It’s summer. Contractors stay busy in the summer.”
“Yeah. I figured as much. I made arrangements for someone else to take over some assignments for me back home so I can stay longer.”
“Assignments? What kind of assignments?”
“I have a photography studio in Chicago. Weddings and other social functions, mostly, the occasional fashion or magazine shoot. I do a little freelance work too, for small press publications.” A note of pride crept into Seth’s words.
“Stay longer” sounded risky. Regardless of Irene’s wishes, Dustin couldn’t imagine Seth wanting anything to do with a lifestyle so radically different from the way he’d been raised, and it took a hearty soul to deal with the odd assortment of personalities that made up the passel. The longer Seth stayed the more likely he’d be to stumble over the family secrets, if he hadn’t uncovered them already. Asking without directly asking could prove tricky.
Even among townsfolk, blurting, “Ever feel a little furry?” was considered rude, for some carriers never fully transformed, and walking around in human form with a possum tail one night a month wasn’t cause for boasting. However, those individuals did make good perimeter guards, helping to ensure the safety of the passel when they were at their most vulnerable.
“Dusty, let me ask you something.”
“Sure. Anything.” Folks around there learned to lie convincingly from an early age.
“Did Aunt Irene have a cat or a dog?”
Certainly not a question Dustin expected. “Not in a few years. Why?”
“Well….” A lovely hint of pink tinged Seth’s cheeks. “I’ve found animal hair everywhere inside. And the day I first arrived, it looked like some poor creature got stuck in the kitchen and tore the place apart, foraging for food.”
“You don’t say.” Hmm… Time for a little heart-to-heart talk with the Johnson boys, who’d agreed to clean up the place after the last full moon. And he supposed the missing-pet theory answered the “does he or does he not know?” question.
Out of the blue, Seth blurted, “Damn but I’ve missed you. While in Chicago, the memories faded, but being here, seeing you again, I remember the good times and the trouble we got into. We wore my parents ragged.”
The reference to Seth’s parents effectively chilled the atmosphere. Dustin desperately grasped at straws to bring the easy exchange back. The last thing he wanted to do was make Seth uncomfortable. Being back must be weird enough for the poor guy without reminders of why he’d left. “Feel like taking a walk?”
“Huh?”
“Well, you were only eight when you left here. I bet you don’t even remember how big this place is. Wanna go check out some cool places where we used to play?”
Seth studied him with his dark eyes, and Dustin couldn’t fathom why he’d made the offer. He’d done what he’d set out to do: find out if Seth was okay and get a general idea of when he might be leaving. The smart thing to do would be hop in his truck and leave. Dustin wasn’t feeling particularly smart at the moment.
Seth took his time to answer. “I suppose the house won’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”
Tension melted off Dustin. “Well, let’s go.” The less time spent together the better! his self-preservation mentioned. Get some distance before an accidental touch turns to a giant zap! He effectively bound and gagged his nagging inner voice.
The sun beat down, turning the broom sage into a radiant mass of gold. A gentle breeze kept the day from being miserably hot. Out of long habit, Dustin opened the old metal gate, having learned long ago the right way to hold the rusted-out relic so it didn’t scrape the ground. Of course, whenever he came here, he usually wore a body small enough to simply crawl underneath.
They followed an old cow path behind the house and down to a creek, the sound of water rushing over rocks growing louder by the minute.
Seth’s face lit up. “We used to play soldiers here. We built a log fort beneath the hill over there.” He indicated the direction with a nod.
Ah, those were good days, when their biggest cares were not getting caught playing when they were supposed to be doing chores. “We sure did. And we hunted arrowheads under the rocks in the creek.”
“I remember the big one you dug out of the bank down by the waterfall. Used to keep it in your pocket. Called it your lucky arrowhead.”
Dusty chuckled, revisiting happy days gone by. “I remember. Can’t rightly recall what I did with it, though.” As clear as if it’d been yesterday, he recalled slipping the quartz fragment into his friend’s hand, but he held back on saying so. Would it make Seth uncomfortable to know that the two things Dustin had prized the most had left for Chicago the next day?
“You gave it to me. The day before my grandmother took me away.” Seth brought his eyes up from studying the creek bank. A world of pain stared out from their unfathomable depths. “Nana found it and threw it away. Said I didn’t need any reminders of this place.”
Didn’t need reminders? What was the woman’s problem? How could Dustin possibly answer without belittling Seth’s grandmother? “I’m sorry.”
Seth turned away again. “I never had another friend like you. When I first left, I cried and cried to come home. Nana wouldn’t listen. Said this place was evil and I should be glad she got me out in time. I never understood why she hated this place, except for maybe being a city girl born and raised. With her tea parties and bridge clubs, she didn’t have much use for hay fields and wide-open spaces.”
“I’m sure you made other friends.” Nausea took root in Dustin’s stomach as he imagined what kind of life and friendships Seth must have in Chicago. Seth had listed “single” on his Internet profile, but not everyone’s idea of single meant the same thing. Did Seth have a boyfriend? Someone waiting for him back home? The hot blond pictured on Seth’s site was a former lover, right? Or maybe Seth liked to keep his options open, had grown into one of those men who liked variety and considered monogamy a bad word.
Personally, Dustin hoped to settle down one day, if he ever found someone who met his ever-increasing needs in a partner. Like, “Doesn’t mind when I hang with a whole bunch of fuzzy friends every full moon.” While the passel included several gay members, they’d either paired up by now or preferred a solitary life. And if the mantle of leadership fell to Dustin on a permanent basis, bringing in an outsider would only create discord. Either way, he’d end up screwed. Or rather, not screwed, and the possibility lessened with each added obligation thrust upon his shoulders. He’d only dated a handful of times since he and Andy went their separate ways.
“Not really. My grandmother was terrified of something happening to me and didn’t let me go to other kids’ houses to play. She was persnickety about her apartment and never wanted me
bring anyone home either. You’re the last friend I spent the night with.”
For a formerly outgoing child, an upbringing isolated from other kids must have been hell. Dustin viewed Seth with new eyes. “Sounds lonely.”
Seth shrugged, focusing his attention on a seedling pine peeking up from a layer of fallen needles. “I thought about this place a lot. You. Auntie. After a while, the memories weren’t doing me any good anymore and I gave them up, tried to be what Nana wanted me to be.” Seth chuckled mirthlessly. “Listen to me dumping on you. We came down here to remember good times, not for you to become my shrink.” His cheeks stretched into the semblance of happiness, but his eyes, when they lifted enough to make contact, carried pain, deep and cutting. “C’mon, let’s go find the hill we used to roll down.” Off he trotted, but not before Dustin noticed dampness on Seth’s cheeks.
They picked their way across the creek and up the bank, Seth stumbling and nearly falling. Dustin grabbed his arm just in time, hauling him to dry ground and smack against Dustin’s chest. Their eyes met and held, and Dustin found himself unable to look away. The chirping birds hushed, as did the babbling of water and the occasional bullfrog. Dustin didn’t know who moved first, or if Seth would be receptive, but one minute they stood apart, the next they melded, parting their lips, slipping their tongues inside each other’s mouths. Deep, fiery, breathtaking. Seth pulled away first. “I’m sorry…,” he began.
“Don’t be.” Heart pounding, Dustin pulled Seth close again. Please let the unexpected kiss not turn out to be a fluke. The moment their lips touched every doubt faded, the kiss sweet, unhurried, sending an electric current straight to Dustin’s groin.
Seth moaned, the evidence of his own arousal pressing against Dustin’s leg. This time Dustin withdrew. Seth claimed he didn’t belong here anymore, and would soon be leaving. Too much vied for the hours of Dustin’s days without adding a short-term fling. Especially not with someone who’d meant to him what Seth had. Hell, he didn’t even know who Seth was now. The guy might be an ax murderer, though Dustin’s instincts told him otherwise. Nonetheless, the last thing Dustin wanted was another person to turn him away because he didn’t fit conveniently into their life. Love me, love my passel.
“If….” Seth dropped his gaze, then immediately brought it back up again to lock onto Dustin’s. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. Voice barely a whisper, he said, “If you wanted to lay me down right here, I’d let you.” For a moment temptation reared its persuasive head, until Seth added, “It’s been a while.”
The quietly spoken words served better than a bucket of ice water dumped down Dustin’s back to cool his libido. While Seth might be lonely and temptation personified, Dustin had no intention of being somebody’s easy fuck because It’s been a while.
“I… I have to get back to work. I only stopped by to say hello.” Forcing himself not to look back, Dustin left Seth standing by the creek, literally running away before he reconsidered. He’d nearly cleared the driveway when his heart asked, “Is it too late to change your mind and turn around?
Chapter 7
“Way to go, asshole,” Seth groused aloud to himself. “You always manage to ruin the moment.” Something about isolation coupled with compulsory Internet deprivation forced him to examine his life. It sucked. Big time. Porn and a well-worked right hand marked the limits of his sex life so far this year, except for a quickie or two with Michael a few months back, and the year was half gone.
When was the last time he’d tuned out external clutter enough to even hear his own thoughts? He watched Dustin grow smaller and smaller, and kicked himself, first, for sharing too much information, and second, for offering to drop trou in front of God and everybody. No wonder Dustin ran. Other possibilities occurred to Seth. Maybe Dusty wasn’t out and had simply gotten caught up in the moment, or maybe he had somebody waiting for him in town. Oh my God! Did I try to seduce the dreaded straight guy who somehow manages to send out gay vibes?
He longed for his phone, to send a message to the world far and wide in hopes of hearing someone reply back—if anyone bothered. At the moment, there weren’t enough people in the entire world to keep Seth from feeling alone.
He wound up back at the house, searching for an elusive signal. The front porch yielded up a single bar of connectivity if he leaned way over the railing, holding the phone aloft, while the rest of the house proved a black hole for technology. Damn, why hadn’t he tried from the roof while on the ladder? Nearly desperate enough to perch on the weather vane, he considered the next best thing—the attic.
Up creaking stairs he climbed, the narrow passageway provoking a bout of claustrophobia, until he emerged under the eaves of the roof. The stairwell had seemed a whole lot roomier when he’d been eight. Though not terribly tall now, he did have to duck in places where the roof sloped downward. Eventually the space opened up with enough unused footage to add a bonus room, or a master suite, whispered the part of his brain that occasionally nagged for a partner and something besides a cramped apartment to live in. He recalled his drunken fantasy of a big house, a porch swing, a red-haired lover, and a kid or two. Well, he certainly had the house and swing, but the only red-haired man he wanted obviously didn’t want him. He mentally slapped himself in the back of the head, mumbling, “Idiot.”
His footsteps left prints through thick dust in a room time forgot. Grime-coated sheets tented out in the shape of chairs or other furniture. Seth passed too close, knocking loose a dust bunny the size of Cleveland, and immediately doubled over in a sneezing fit of epic proportions. “Damn!” he wheezed, hacking and coughing.
More gingerly, he made a careful circuit of the upper floor, forgetting why he’d come up here and losing himself in a whole attic full of things needing sorting. Maybe he’d luck out, like he’d seen on TV shows, and find a priceless painting or other big-ticket item hiding among the castoffs.
A vaguely familiar, steamer-type trunk summoned him like a beacon, and he knelt on the gritty floor beside the wooden box, holding his breath as he cleaned the top with a sweep of his arm. The hinges squealed in anguish when he lifted the lid. Storage for extra linen? No. The shimmery white material sealed in a plastic bag shaped up to be a dress—a fairytale creation displayed in a photo in his grandmother’s living room.
His mother’s wedding gown.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and carefully removed the plastic bag. Gingerly cradling the elegant garment in his arms, he reveled in the softness of the silk and the slight scratchiness of lace and rows of tiny seed pearls. Damn but he missed his mother. Her smiles, her warm hugs, snuggling up with her to watch TV.
He placed the gown reverently back in its protective covering. Overhandling might ruin a family heirloom. If he kept digging, would he find other treasures in the trunk?
A scrapbook yielded pictures of a lovely blonde girl with corkscrew curls, and with the flip of a few pages, he watched her grow to maturity and eventually to adulthood, where she struck many poses with a dark-haired man. Seth recognized the slightly thin lips, the aquiline nose, and hawk like brows, for he saw them every time he stared into a mirror. While he wasn’t gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination, he was very proud to look like his dad, big nose notwithstanding.
The trunk yielded various other artifacts: souvenirs of a honeymoon trip to Acapulco, a pair of worn baby shoes Seth supposed were his own. At the bottom of the pile, he discovered a notebook, pages filled with a neat, flowery scrawl, and settled in to read what he assumed to be his mother’s words.
Shape-shifters exist, though I, like most people, believed they were simply fantasy—until I met one.
His mother was a writer? Wow! Nana never mentioned her writing. And as openings went, what a hook! He turned page after page, immersed in an imaginary world where humans transformed into four-legged creatures, some able to alter their form at will, others relying on the power of the full moon.
Had his mother read her work to him as bedtime stories?<
br />
Expecting to read about human/wolf metamorphosis, it took him by surprise to read: With a long, skinny tail and sharp teeth, he didn’t resemble my sweet Aaron in the least.
Aaron? Seth’s father’s name? His mother named her protagonist after his father? He chuckled. What was dear old Dad’s reaction to being included in her story? Seth tried to picture a long, skinny tail and sharp teeth. What fearsome creature had his dad’s namesake transformed into at the whims of the lunar cycle?
Brown fur, mottled with cream, and he hissed when another of his kind approached.
Hissed? Like a snake? Seth recalled several stories she’d told him before bed, most involving knights and maidens, with the occasional personified squirrel or rabbit thrown in for good measure. He’d no idea his mother was such an accomplished storyteller and had little doubt she could have sold the contents of the notebook to a publisher.
Riveted to her words, he followed her heroine into the forest, in search of a changed lover.
And there in the moonlight I saw them, more than I’d ever seen in a single place before.
The page ended and he flipped to the next one, heart thudding, to find the word he’d been seeking:
Possums! Cute little things, with naked tails!
Huh? An incredible lead-up, only to have the love interest be a possum shifter? Seth would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t found the whole situation tragic. Who wanted to read about the dreaded werepossum?
Though sadly disappointed with the current plot twist, he continued on a few pages to find: I’m pregnant. Aaron assures me the baby will be fine. Half-bloods sometimes manifest the virus, he says, sometimes they don’t, but we’ll have to keep a careful watch. He’s taking me to his family doctor….
