Havoc

by Taylor Longford

  "That's your prom outfit?" he snickered. "From what era?"

  "All of them, actually. But I believe the tails and cravat are from the Georgian era. Is that not so, girls?"

  "Regency," they all corrected me as one, confirming my long-held belief that there isn't a girl alive who hasn't read Pride and Prejudice.

  "You're gonna get laughed right off the dance floor," Defiance snorted, pulling his short ponytail through his fist.

  I opened my mouth to fire back an acid repartee. But before I got a chance, all eight girls leapt to my defense. They insisted I looked wonderful.

  I turned a satisfied look on Defiance.

  Lazily, he cocked a questioning eyebrow at the lass on his knee.

  "He looks fabulous," Whitney insisted with an adorable little pout.

  He pulled her mouth down to his for an eating kiss. "If you say so, thaerling," he whispered against her lips.

  And that was as close as I was ever going to get to Defiance agreeing with me. I hitched my tail on the arm of the couch and stretched out my legs, watching Dare's character step through the portal of a dungeon.

  "The guys might laugh but the girls will be all over you," Valor predicted with a chuckle.

  "Quite so," I answered absently, my attention diverted by the game on the TV monitor. "Quite frickin' so. Defiance just doesn't get it. He's not metro, like me."

  Defiance rolled his eyes. "Metro, my ass."

  "Well, I think you look charming," Victor said, his eyes glinting, his dimples firmly in place.

  But I'm not sure Victor's opinion is exactly valid…or current for that matter. To be honest, Victor woke up at least two hundred years too late. He would have loved the Regency era with its quaint traditions, its fine old mansions and stables full of horses. He would have made a great lord-of-the-manor.

  "But by my reckoning," Victor continued, "you have seven days until you're due at the prom. And that's plenty of time to clean up the workshop."

  "Workshop?" I echoed, my gaze snapping momentarily to his face before returning to the television.

  "Aye," Dare murmured as he maneuvered his character through a hailstorm of black bats. "We saved it for you."

  "So, why don't you get changed out of your prom attire and get after it?" Defiance drawled.

  I stared around at my family. "You guys haven't cleaned in four years?"

  "Cleaning the work area has always been your job," Force pointed out, his great big muscle-clad arms crossed over his huge chest. The guy is like the definition of overkill. And because he's so big, I normally don't argue with him. On this occasion, I made an exception.

  "Aye, but—"

  "But nothing," Defiance interrupted. "Get your butt out there and get to work."

  See? They treated me like a kid. All of them.

  It was ridiculous.

  In an overt act of rebellion, I strode over to the couch, ripped the controller from Dare's hands and wiped out twenty vicious bats with one spinning sweep of my sword. God, I missed gaming. And I couldn't stand to watch someone else fumbling around at it. I love Dare but he'll never be as good as me. As the bats evaporated into thin air, I tossed the controller back into my brother's lap.

  He blinked up at me. "Thank you," he said.

  "You're welcome," I answered, and sauntered from the living room.

  Chapter Four

  Upstairs in my room, I changed out of my rented dress clothes. Carefully, I hung my jacket, vest and slacks on a hanger in the closet. The shirt and cravat I left dangling from one of Monty's paws. With that sorted, I went off to check out the damage in the workshop.

  As our bow business had grown over the last four years, the guys had converted the home's old carriage house into a workshop; all of our creations got their birth out there in the quaint old structure. The square stone building had no windows and the doors were insanely heavy slabs of oak that you could have sailed to India on. But the pack had installed overhead lighting and had brought in plenty of heaters for the winter. They'd painted the interior walls a warm shade of off-white. So it was a comfortable enough space.

  Well, except for the mess.

  Which wasn't insignificant.

  The workbenches took up three walls and were covered with a jumble of tools and saws and sanders and polishing equipment. Out in the middle of the floor stood a sturdy table saw for cutting out bows from larger pieces of wood. Beneath the saw's circular blade sat a pile of sawdust that stood a foot high on the finished concrete floor.

  Aye, they definitely hadn't cleaned in four years. They'd saved all of it for me.

  I got to work sweeping the floor, wiping down surfaces, and organizing tools. I hung the smaller tools on the walls above the benches. The bigger stuff, I stored away in drawers.

  Against the back wall stood a row of tall wooden lockers. Although the carriage house was probably built at the turn of the last century, I'm guessing the lockers were mid-century. But they were cool. Each door was finished with a brass cardholder that held a white card.

  I opened the door labeled with Valor's name. Inside, I found four slender bows that were polished and ready for stringing. Closing the locker door, I opened the next one. Inside, stood four of Force's bows that had only recently been cut. I lifted one out and ran my hand over the strong lines. Force's thick bows weren't as elegant as Valor's work. But that wasn't surprising. Everything Force did was bigger and stronger. It had to be; otherwise, it would break. Camie was a good match for him, I mused. Tall, strong and flexible.

  I reached for a stool and gave the red leather seat a spin before I pulled it under me, one foot anchored on the floor, the other hitched on the ring of metal that circled the legs near the bottom of the stool. My family's bows were nice but mine would be better. In the past, we'd used a lot of different material for inlays—abalone, lapis, turquoise and red agate. My bows would be inlaid with gold, I decided. For Texan bow hunters—guys with money.

  My designs would blow everyone away.

  While I was sitting there making my grandiose plans, I sensed my brothers' presence just before the heavy door swung open. Valor walked in with Dare on his heels. I was surprised to see them. I was even more surprised to be surprised. With our exceptional hearing, it's hard to sneak up on a gargoyle.

  I narrowed my eyes on the two sneaks. "Why didn't I hear you coming?"

  Valor glanced around at the stone blocks that made up the walls. "Well, we were trying to be quiet. But this place is virtually soundproof."

  "Thick walls?" I suggested.

  "And a heavy door," Dare murmured. "Of course, the ivy growing on the outer walls doesn't hurt."

  "MacKenzie loves this place," Valor added, pulling a stool underneath him. "She's always dragging me in here."

  "Dude," I snickered. "Should you be telling me that?"

  Valor's chest vibrated with a low laugh. "She feels like it's the only place we can have a truly private conversation."

  "So you guys only come here for conversation?"

  "Mostly always," he answered with a grin.

  Pushing off with one foot, I spun the stool in a circle, doing a 360. "So, why were you trying to be quiet?"

  Valor slanted a look at Dare. "We were sneaking up on you to see if you were really working or if you were just…"

  "Thinking?" I supplied.

  "Goofing off," Valor said with another grin.

  Again, I spun on the stool. "So you didn't come to help?"

  "Not really," Dare admitted.

  "We only meant to watch," Valor said.

  "And cheer you on," Dare added as an afterthought.

  I pulled an elastic band from one of the drawers. Stretching it between my fingers I let it fly. But Dare grabbed it out of the air before it reached him.

  "You guys are all heart," I told them. "But you're out of luck because I'm done for today."

  Valor looked around, checking my work. But there wasn't much for him to criticize. The place was immaculate. "What about that pile of saw
dust under the saw?" he finally asked, pointing at the floor.

  "I'll get it next time," I said, slipping from the stool and herding my brothers back out through the door.

  Outside on the soft springy grass, I slipped a sideways look at Dare. He still ran a bit gaunt. But he'd filled out in the last few years. Of course, the white tips on the ends of his hair always made him look a little older than he was. Still, he looked good and I told him so.

  "Thanks," Dare murmured. "I feel good."

  "Love must agree with you."

  "My life has changed since I met Mim," he said, then got that old haunted look in his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

  I knew what he was trying to say. Mim was a part of everything good that had ever happened to Dare. She'd made him wings to replace the ones he'd lost to a harpy. She'd taught him to play guitar. She'd helped him learn to read, starting off with his favorite author (Dickens). She loved him every bit as much as he loved her. And he needed that in his life. Someone he could depend on. I wasn't sure he could exist without her.

  Personally, I couldn't imagine being so dependent on someone else for my happiness. But I didn't get into that. Instead, I told him what he needed to hear to get that haunted look off his face.

  "Well, fortunately for you, I'm sure you'll never have to find out," I reassured him, and threw an arm around his shoulder.

  "Sometimes…I worry," he said.

  "Actually, that's an understatement," I pointed out with a snicker. "You worry all the time."

  Dare ignored my attempts at lightheartedness, determined to see the dark side of the situation. "Sometimes I worry about what might happen if we never get citizenship. What if we're discovered living here illegally? What if we're deported to the U.K.?"

  "The girls would come to visit us," I said, maybe a little flippantly.

  "Visits wouldn't be enough," he answered moodily. "And the girls wouldn't be allowed to live there, in England. We could be separated, maybe forever."

  "Wow," I muttered. "You're a gloomy Gustav. Am I right, Valor?"

  "Aye," Valor answered with a laugh. "He's very gloomy."

  "You're getting pretty good on that guitar," I said to change the subject.

  Dare swung his gaze my way. "Are you sure?"

  "Aye, I'm certain."

  "How'd you know you were listening to me? How'd you know it wasn't Mim?" he asked.

  "Mim doesn't play the Beatles song list," I told him.

  He nodded slowly as a smile crept across his mouth. "Nay, she doesn't."

  "What's for dinner?" Valor asked, doing his part to steer the conversation away from Dare's worries.

  "What?" I exclaimed. "You expect me to clean up the workshop and make dinner?"

  "We have been waiting four years," Valor pointed out. "And I, for one, am starving for some of your cooking."

  "Game hen," I answered, flattered by his compliment. "In huckleberry sauce."

  "Huckleberry," he moaned, sagging at the knees. "That has to be my favorite."

  "It's everybody's favorite," I laughed as we stepped through the back door into the kitchen and I got to work, pulling out pots and assembling casserole dishes, generally slaving away…but entirely in my element.

  While I was washing the huckleberries, Elaina wandered in and offered to help. But Elaina's a notoriously bad cook. Before she and Reason moved to the Boulder house, they'd lived off of frozen pizza and hot dogs.

  I'm not exaggerating.

  "Help?" I questioned, lifting my eyebrow. "Why would you want to help?"

  "Just…to make dinner be ready faster," she admitted.

  "Well, at least your motives are pure," I muttered.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I might trust you to peel the potatoes," I told her, and lifted a bag of spuds onto the counter. Then I went back to work, keeping my eye on her the whole time.

  And can you believe it; everyone complained when dinner was late! Honestly, when it comes to my pack, they expect to have their cake and eat it too. Sometimes they made me feel like Cinderella. "Havoc, clean the workshop and make the dinner and you'd better get it all done if you want to go to the ball." (Or in this case, the prom.)

  But one way or another, despite the demands of my ugly stepsisters (a.k.a. my brothers and cousins), seven days later I was ready for the prom.

  There was only one little tiny snag.

  Sophie hadn't returned any of my calls.

  Borrowing Mac's cell, I'd left several messages on Sophie's phone but she never got back. Not that it slowed me down much. On prom night, I just waited until dark, stowed my jacket and shirt in a sports bag and flew off to the prom venue at an upscale rec center on the southwest side of Denver.

  It was great to be in the air again. I was ready to do the prom thing, carry out my obligations, and get on with my master plan of chasing girls. Sophie and I would—of course—remain good friends for the rest of our lives.

  But alas, Fate had a very different plan in mind for me.

  Chapter Five

  You might be wondering how I got into the event without a date or without being a student at Sophie's high school.

  It was pretty clever, really.

  Behind a long hedge beside the rec center, I pulled on my shirt and jacket then tied my cravat. With my hands in my pockets, I hung around on the sidewalk outside the venue and waited for the line to back up at the door. Then I followed a crowd of girls into the building, telling the chaperones I was with the big blonde in the red dress. I mean, I was young. I was good looking. What's not to believe, right? But the chaperones called the girl back and asked her to confirm my story.

  As the girl made her way back to the door, I flashed her a charming smile as soon as she was in range. The friendly blonde took one look at me and said, "Yeah, he's my date alright."

  The middle-aged chaperone checked the list on her clipboard, a frown creasing her forehead. "I don't have you down for a date, Nicole."

  "It was a last minute thing," I offered swiftly.

  "Very last minute," Nicole backed me up, grabbing my arm and tugging me possessively into her side.

  "What school does he go to?" asked the woman.

  "That charter school in Spruce Hill," she answered without a hitch.

  I stared down at her in astonishment and admiration. Clearly, I'd picked the right lass for my little subterfuge. And if I ever wanted to rob banks, I'd certainly found the girl to play the part of Bonnie Parker.

  "You mean that school where they teach skateboarding?" the chaperone asked. A look of distaste accompanied her question.

  "That's the one," Nicole answered and slipped a grin in my direction.

  "That's the one," I agreed, and slouched a little, trying to look like your typical badass skater…which wasn't easy with the whole Regency thing I had going on.

  The chaperone gave me a final narrow look and waved us on.

  Arm in arm, we strolled through an open lobby and down a hall into a large room with a high ceiling.

  Despite all I'd heard about proms and prom decorations, I was impressed. The theme appeared to be something along the lines of a cherry blossom festival. We walked down a short lane formed by rows of wire trees festooned with thousands of flowers made of pink crepe paper. Beneath our feet, stretched a gray runner that someone had drawn on with markers to make it appear as though we were following a stone path. At the end of the lane, the room opened up to reveal a fountain against the far wall. Here and there were clustered more trees with pink flowers.

  It was both splendid and enchanting.

  While I was taking all of this in, Nicole steered me over to the refreshment table where an irregular line had formed. Ahead of us in the column, kids loaded their paper plates with snacks or filled their cups from a gigantic bowl of pink punch.

  Nicole was a nice girl but her grip on my arm was cutting off my circulation.

  "Didn't you arrive with a bunch of your friends?" I asked, tugging on the cravat that circl
ed my neck and feeling a little suffocated in general.

  Her mouth worked around a wad of chewing gum. "Yeah," she answered. "They're around here somewhere."

  "Shouldn't you go and catch up with them?" I suggested. "I don't want to keep you from your fun."

  She leaned back and shot a scowl up at me. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

  "I'm sorry," I apologized. "But I do have someone I'm hoping to find in this crowd."

  She huffed out a sigh. "I should have known you were too good to be true."

  "I am sorry," I told her, trying to be charming while simultaneously attempting to reclaim possession of my arm.

  "Tell ya what," she offered compromisingly. "I'm gonna go find my friends. Then I'm gonna come back looking for you. And if I ask you to dance, do you think you could…?"

  "If you ask me to dance, I will most certainly comply."

  "Comply?" she echoed uncertainly.

  "I'll be happy to dance with you," I translated.

  At last, she loosened her death grip on my arm. With a sigh of relief, I disengaged myself from her clutches, gave her a little bow and thanked her for her assistance. Then I slouched away before she could change her mind.

  Finally on my own, I mingled around looking for my prom date, a.k.a. Sophie Kowalski. By then, the party was in full swing and everyone was out on the dance floor. I circled the room twice and came up empty-handed both times. But by then, the refreshment line had petered out, so I stopped by the huge punch bowl and filled a cup with something pink and pineappley. Did I never mention how much I like pineapple? It's like one of the best things about the modern age.

  Thank God for Hawaii.

  With the paper cup in my hand, I moved through the crowd of kids surrounding the dance floor again, all the time keeping my eye out for a pretty girl with long brown hair and green eyes. While I was doing that, I picked up a sweet female vibe that slammed into me with the force of a blacksmith's hammer. Seriously, it almost knocked me on my ass. Someone out there on the dance floor fell right smack into the yummy category. And I hadn't even seen her yet.

  My first reaction was like, I gotta find the lass who belongs to the beautiful vibe and get her contact info. After that, I'll get right back to looking for Sophie and honoring my obligation. But the place was crowded and everyone was moving around so tracking down the source of that sweet vibe wasn't easy.