Destiny: A Fantasy Collection

by Rachelle Mills

  Emma gritted her teeth. This was stupid. This was a law office and not the place for these goddamn shenanigans. Scowling, she ran over to Rick’s desk. There had to be something in there she could use. A letter opener, anything.

  She pulled open the top drawer and dodged a collapsible top hat that sprang out. Wondering briefly just what the hell Rick did with his time at work, she brushed aside four decks of cards, a set of silk scarves, fake flowers, a handkerchief, and a roll of quarters. Did the man even use office supplies?

  An idea jumped into her brain when she spotted the latest issue of Magicians Quarterly; she grabbed it and rolled it up. She walked up to the wolf to stand between him and the vampires; she stared him in the eyes.

  “Emma, get away from him,” Henry warned as he tried to hold the thrashing vampire back from Wendell. “Let me handle it.” He huffed with exertion as he and Salomé tried to keep the other vampire in check.

  “Appreciate the concern, but you’re a little tied up,” she said, not taking her eyes off her client.

  “Emma, he’s not the same—”

  “I’ve got this, Henry.”

  This would either work or it wouldn’t. She wanted to believe Wendell was somewhere in there. The wolf’s hackles were raised, and his pointed teeth dripped with saliva. He was bigger than any dog she’d ever seen.

  But she smacked him on the nose with the rolled-up magazine anyway. Wendell yelped in shock and took a few steps back. He let out a few angry barks.

  “Bitch, are you crazy? Get away from it,” Salomé yelled.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw the woman approach and felt her tug at her arm. Great, now they were friends?

  “Move so I can get its jugular,” Salomé urged. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Emma shook the woman’s hand away and held her hands up to both sides of the room.

  “Enough! All of you, enough!” she yelled. She pointed at Salomé and Sal. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here with that hipster trash, but go wait in my office and do not let them leave.”

  “But—” Salomé started.

  “Go. Henry and I will deal with you in a minute.”

  She heard feet shuffling and her office door opening.

  “It smells like sex in here,” Sal complained.

  Emma sighed and briefly closed her eyes. Wonderful. More people than she ever could have wanted were involved in her sex life. It didn’t matter. When there was a wolf snarling at you, other people’s opinions didn’t matter.

  “Does it look like I care?” she snapped. “Shut up and don’t do anything stupid.”

  The door fell closed.

  Having taken care of that, Emma glanced back at the struggling male vampire Henry was holding back and ordered, “I know you must be freaked out, but engaging him will only make it worse. Go sit in Henry’s office and make sure Ingrid doesn’t get out.”

  When he started to protest, she seethed. “I don’t know who you are, but please back off!”

  Emma’s eyes were trained on Wendell, but she was satisfied to hear feet shuffling out of the room. She tried to concentrate. Fear was mixing in with her adrenaline. But if Wendell trusted her enough to confess to a murder, maybe she would be able to calm the wolf down.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when Henry drew near her to stand by her side. Her mouth went dry as her fear started to sink in more deeply, but she remained steadfast, holding that stupid magazine in her hand like it was a magic wand.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” she said, her voice wobbling.

  He took her hand, apparently ready to pull her away from the scene. “Emma, I’ll take care of it. Please, go somewhere safe.”

  Fresh anger from their earlier fight welled within her. “I’m not a completely helpless waif. Besides, you’re as much of a desk jockey as I am. You might be stronger than me, but do you really think you have a chance at tackling him?”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “Point taken. Let’s try to corral him into the conference room.”

  “Good call. Can you find something to distract him with?”

  He hesitated, but she relaxed a fraction when she heard him take off down the hallway. Emma focused her attention fully back on Wendell. It would be fine. She could keep this situation contained until Henry came back.

  Wendell started growling. Well. So much for that.

  Her heart thudded with the weight of a kettlebell on her chest. He took two steps closer. Goddamn it, Henry. How long could it take to find something to distract a wolf with? Emma prayed Wendell’s human consciousness was still bouncing around somewhere in that wolf head of his. She wasn’t taking any chances, so she stomped one foot and widened her stance aggressively.

  “Calm down. You haven’t killed anyone yet. Let’s keep it that way,” she said in a low, guttural voice.

  He continued to growl, so she growled back. His legs stiffened, and the gray fur on his back bristled. Okay, so maybe she’d undertaken this with a tinge more enthusiasm than wisdom. Still, there had to be some way to get him to back down.

  And that was why she decided to howl and bay at the ceiling like a mediocre actor in an improv class. That seemed to confuse the hell out of him, so she took advantage of the window the distraction had afforded her. She darted forward and swatted him on the nose with the magazine again to assert dominance.

  “Bad Wendell! Very bad!” she scolded.

  The wolf whimpered, and his gaze softened somewhat. She thrust the magazine forward but didn’t hit him. His ears pinned to the back of his head.

  “You calm the hell down.” She pointed at the conference room. “Go sit and chill out.”

  His tail curled between his legs, but he continued to snarl.

  Emma stomped her foot. “No biting or snarling! Go! Sit!”

  Her bravado started to fade when those pale green eyes just stared at her. To her infinite relief, Henry ran down the hallway and threw something across the room at Wendell. As it sailed through the air, Emma had expected to see a steak or bacon, or hell, even a blood bag.

  A ripe yellow banana landed in front of Wendell’s paws. He blinked.

  “Henry, are you kidding me?” That’s it. They were going to die.

  “What? I used to have a dog, and she was obsessed with bananas.”

  “You didn’t think to look for rope or, you know, some ground beef?”

  Wendell leaned down to sniff the banana. He looked back up at them. They waited, holding their breath. Then he scooped it into his mouth, holding it like a prized bone. He padded into the conference room with his head bowed. She stood, wide-eyed and motionless. The magazine fell to the floor. Henry surged forward to the conference room and shut the door.

  He rushed back over to her and gathered her in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  Emma squeezed him tight. Their breathing was shallow as she gripped him hard, relieved to feel him warm and real against her. “Yeah. You?”

  Kissing her temple, he nodded.

  “A fucking banana,” she said in a daze.

  The moment hung in the air before they promptly dissolved into laughter, leaning heavily against each other for support.

  Chapter Twenty

  Henry knew if he thought too hard about what had almost happened, he would need some benzodiazepines, so he let his brain operate on autopilot. They dealt with the mortals first. Mercifully it didn’t take long for him and Sal to manipulate the mortal couple’s memories while Salomé removed any incriminating evidence from their phones.

  Soon the mortal couple was sent on their merry way, convinced that they had, in fact, seen the Calexico house that evening. He was ever thankful the houses next to him were offices too; everyone was gone for the day, so there had been no frantic calls to the police. Sal and Salomé agreed to call it a night, but they all agreed to regroup soon to assess the situation because one thing was strikingly clear: Emma was right. The supernats in this town couldn’t keep operating the way they were.

/>   After they closed the door behind the two vampires, they went to Henry’s office to check on Grant. Ingrid was scratching a hole into the carpet while Grant stared at her.

  He started at their approach. “I tried to get her to stop, but she’s freaking out,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the cat.

  Henry knelt by Ingrid on the rug and pet her. Realizing who was touching her, she leapt into his arms and shoved her face into the crook of his armpit. Guilt twisted his heart.

  “Everything’s okay, Ingrid,” he soothed. “What did I tell you about being a co-dependent cat, though?”

  He was relieved to hear her start to purr in response. Cat limp in his arms, he approached Grant.

  “You okay?”

  It was a dumb question. While there was no way he could’ve known that Grant was in trouble, he still somehow felt responsible since Wendell was their client. His friend was gaunt, dirty, and bloody. His fangs were also down. Realizing the man was probably dehydrated to hell, he turned to go to the kitchen, only to find Emma walking in the room with several bags of blood from his fridge. He hadn’t even realized she’d left.

  “I assume you don’t mind sharing?” she asked as she shut the door behind her.

  “Of course not.”

  She handed them to Grant, and he immediately began sucking down one of the bags. Realizing Emma still had no idea who he was, Henry cleared his throat and introduced them to each other. “I apologize that you should meet under these circumstances, but yes, there we are.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Grant’s red lips. He stopped drinking and turned his attention on Emma. “We’ve flustered him so much he’s back to speaking in formal 1880s talk.”

  Henry laughed, happy to see his friend recovering.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Emma offered. “It was kind of a disaster out there, if you couldn’t tell.”

  Grant waved her off. “You did what you had to do, and I wasn’t in a place where I could help.” He sobered. “You know this guy?”

  “He’s a client,” Emma answered. “He’s been struggling for a while with some issues.”

  “Understood, but he needs to be rehabilitated.” Grant’s lips thinned.

  Emma scrubbed her forehead. “He’s in therapy and has a pack, but it’s a slow process. I wasn’t anticipating this much of a backslide.”

  His friend sighed and glanced at him. “I’ve been there. You know that. But his pack needs to do better if they’re the only ones who can hold him accountable.”

  Henry met Emma’s gaze, and they shared a concerned look. There was a lot of work to be done.

  After he finished feeding, Grant rose, apparently done talking about the night. “I’m sorry to dine and ditch, but I just want to get home.” His eyes were weary.

  “You’re welcome to crash on the couch if you want to be around people,” Henry offered.

  The man threw him a smug look. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I heard what that vampire said about that room smelling like sex.”

  Emma shrugged. “Your loss. He’s great at it.”

  Henry choked on air while Grant burst out laughing. She gave them an unapologetic smirk. “What? If people are going to comment on my sex life, I may as well tell them how great it is.”

  An involuntary grin broke across his face. If she didn’t watch it, he was going to fall in love with her.

  ***

  Once Grant left, Henry and Emma stood in front of the conference room door staring at each other. She knew they had to talk to Wendell, but after their earlier confrontation from hell, she was reluctant to go in there. On the plus side, there were no sounds of growling or snapping coming from inside. Henry gave a soft rap of his knuckles against the door.

  “Do you think we need another banana?” Emma whispered.

  Still nothing from the other side.

  Henry shook his head. “I think we’re good.”

  They cautiously entered the conference room to find it empty, save chunks of a decimated banana peel lying on the floor. No. Emma darted back out into reception, scanning for any sign of Wendell. His clothes and bag were gone. She smacked the wall in frustration.

  What the hell was he going to do? The man was an upset werewolf who’d thought he killed a guy, and even though Grant was fine, Wendell still had to contend with the emotional repercussions of his actions. Panic made her hands cold. He could do any number of rash things, and they were powerless to stop it.

  Emma yanked open the door and ran out onto the uneven sidewalk. Henry followed close behind. Cloaked in darkness, she scanned the empty street for the slightest movement. The silence and cool, dry air made it feel like she was locked in an anechoic chamber. A lone streetlamp stood hunched on one corner, doing its best to shine faded orange light onto the pavement.

  “Do you see anything?” she asked, hoping he would have better luck with his heightened vision.

  He sighed after a moment. “No.”

  Yet something flickered under the lamp. Emma yanked Henry’s sleeve and pulled him to the edge of the street. Three coyotes pattered into view and stood bathed in muted orange light, staring at them with luminous green eyes. No, not coyotes—wolves. Wendell.

  Her ankle jerked on instinct, but she kept her foot glued in place and resisted the urge to approach them. Wendell stood in the middle, all gray fur. The wolf on his left was black, and the one to his right was red and gray. Wendell yawned, but she had a feeling it had more to do with stress than sleepiness. Frozen, Emma had no idea what to do. She looked to Henry for guidance, but he just lifted his shoulders in uncertainty.

  As if sensing their confusion, the red-and-gray wolf nudged Wendell with his snout. In response, he nodded and leaned back on his front paws until he bowed to Emma and Henry. He let out a soft bark then got up. She smiled.

  This was the first time she’d ever seen Wendell with anyone from his pack. He even wagged his tail a little. The other two wolves nodded as well, and in a blink of an eye, they loped down the street and merged with the shadows. The worry that had been scratching at her nerves finally started to ease.

  “Do you think he’s going to be all right?” Henry asked.

  “I hope so.”

  Wendell was always talking about getting his pack to help him, but for once, it seemed like he was actually going to let them. For once, he didn’t seem so alone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Henry and Emma stood in the middle of their trashed reception area, assessing the damage. Files and papers and pens lay in a heap on and around Rick’s desk. Someone had knocked over a potted palm in the melee. The issue of Magicians’ Quarterly sat dejected in a corner. Claw marks were etched into the floor.

  “That’s certainly one way to end a Monday,” he murmured and shut the door behind them.

  They continued to stare at the chaos around them. Emma steeled her shoulders. “We should probably clean this up.”

  “That would be the adult thing to do, yes.” His eyes sparked with mischief before taking her hand. “Let’s let Tuesday Emma and Henry worry about it.”

  “I like your line of thinking, sir.”

  Henry gathered her in his arms, unable to ignore what had happened that night. “You scared the hell out of me taking on a werewolf.”

  She squeezed him tight. “Thank you for helping. It was a lot less terrifying with you standing beside me.”

  He kissed her ear. “Always. We make a good team, if I do say so myself.”

  Emma hesitated. “Do we? That was a hell of a couple’s first fight we had.”

  He pulled away from her with a disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? I think we make a right pair, armed with nothing but a magazine and a banana.”

  She laughed. He loved the sound. Whole and hearty. Too soon, she sobered, looking down as she plucked nervously at the buttons on his limp, dirty shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You were right. I was being surprisingly short-sighted for a vampire. We need to do something to protect them.”


  She nodded but refused to look up at him. “Thank you, that’s good to hear, but I’m worried we can’t do both.”

  “Both?”

  She gestured toward the office as whole. “Us working,” she patted his chest, “with us.”

  Henry ran his hand through his hair. In the midst of an extreme situation, it was easy to forget the mundane doings of everyday life.

  When he didn’t respond, she said, “You were right. I didn’t fight fair. It was awful of me to bring in personal stuff to a work fight, and I’m worried we’ll fall back on the same dynamic whenever we disagree about anything.” Her lips trembled. “You’ll dig your heels in, I’ll say something unfair, you’ll use your age as a trump card, I’ll get insecure, then you’ll shut down and stop listening. How can we be together or even work together if that’s the pattern we establish?”

  Tears didn’t cling to her eyelashes before slipping delicately down her cheeks. In fact, she didn’t weep prettily at all. Huge, terrible honking sobs wracked through her. Her shoulders shook, and she turned red. Henry moved to stand beside her and rub circles on her back. He hated to see her like this.

  Emma hastily swiped at her tears and took slow, deep breaths until she calmed down enough to say, “You’re not going to run away because you’re uncomfortable at the sight of a woman crying?”

  He frowned. “Why would you think I felt that way?”

  Her chin quavered. “I don’t know. Guys in movies always say something pithy about avoiding being around crying women.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes, genuinely stumped. “Yes, but why would I do that…if you’re upset?”

  The sobs came again, and she lowered herself to the floor in an inelegant sprawl.

  “Oh okay, we’re doing this now,” he said and joined her.

  As he continued to rub her back, he said, “You know, we’re rather intelligent people. The nice thing about noticing an issue is that you can set boundaries to avoid it in the future.”

  When the tears finally abated, she peered at him. “I like boundaries. Boundaries are good.”