Tether: A Shifter of Consequence Tale (Shifters of Consequence Book 6)

by Mazzy J March

  “What are they crying about?” I asked, my voice not much more than a murmur.

  “Let’s go find out.”

  In moments, he and I shifted to wolf for the convenience of going back. My wolf cried as we got farther and farther from our happy place, but Samson had a pack to run, and we reached the others quickly.

  “What is it?” he asked after fluidly shifting back to two legs. I shifted as well. One woman was on her knees crying, a scrap of fabric in her hands. Her face was red and her eyes puffy from all the crying as she fisted the fabric like it was her lifeline.

  “My daughter!” she cried out, answering the alpha out of pure obligation.

  “What happened?” He knelt next to her, trying to soothe her, but she jerked away from his hand on her shoulder.

  “They took her. We were running. They just appeared out of nowhere and took her. What kind of alpha lets someone take his people? Huh?” Like a snap of the fingers, her grief turned to rage. She zeroed in on Samson with her death stare, demanding an answer.

  Samson reeled back as though her words had physically slapped him. The pack members surrounding the woman gasped, and some of them turned around like they didn’t want to see the entire thing.

  Samson choked out, “We will get her back. I swear it.”

  She scoffed and got up, leaving him in the dirt, wrapped up in his grief. “You know what would be even better? If this shit stopped happening to us. Go get my daughter, my Virginia, alpha, but just know we expect so much more. We expect to live in a safe pack.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Someone had to do something about this. And now…before more of our people were taken.

  Chapter Ten

  We returned the gathering area to find Gigi holding court among a number of the younger females and males as well. Samson went off to do whatever he needed to do—he muttered something, but I figured I’d catch up with him in a little while. First, I needed to find out how my grandmother, who had made a point of not coming, of staying home to keep Tris company, ended up here, chomping on a s’more—were they okay for people her age?—and telling some kind of tale to the others.

  They were clearly enthralled, and also clearly had no idea what had happened. If so, they’d never have been sitting around the fire, smiling and laughing at her story. I didn’t want to interrupt because there were few enough times of happy relaxation in our pack lately, but what happened to not wanting to come and leave Tris alone?

  She’d been happily settled with popcorn—did she come for more indulgent snacks?

  I stayed out of the ring of firelight, listening to her tale of a time so long ago, not only was there no Internet, there was no power grid. I wasn’t sure why it was a relevant thing to bring up, but she seemed to think so.

  The people in her story had arrived on this land long before the regular humans. They’d also come from across the waters somewhere—she didn’t say or maybe didn’t know where—and settled on what we now knew as the pack lands. They built homes from logs and, in some cases, dug into the sides of hills. Few, if any, of those original homes were still habitable, although I’d heard of some hermit types who dwelled away from the rest of the pack. Rumor said at least one lived in a dugout, so perhaps it was one of those.

  As each of the others returned from the run, they joined the group, filling in in front of me until I could no longer see Gigi for the rows of seated and standing people. But her voice still carried to me, her tale-telling ability a revelation.

  Or maybe not. I had vague memories of sitting on her lap while she regaled me with stories, of which I could draw up only a few shreds so many years later. Why we’d seen her so rarely? I accepted the distance factor, but it hadn’t mattered when I was very young. Sometimes, people did grow apart, but our family was not large, and it wasn’t as though we had anyone to spare.

  Samson appeared through the trees then disappeared again, no doubt working on our current situation, and I thought I probably should follow, but somehow, I couldn’t move away from the storytelling. With all the chaos and all the ups and downs of our pack, this was how it was supposed to be.

  For some reason, we had few elders in our group, and they tended to stay to themselves. I’d never seen something like this happen, and it touched me deeply. These stories needed to be shared with the younger pack members. We needed to know where we came from, our history and relationships with others. Every danger we’d come up against, every enemy or challenge, we faced with no precedent to go on.

  We were repeating the mistakes of the past, with no knowledge of the solutions our ancestors had already found.

  Despite myself, I wove through the crowd and found a flat rock miraculously empty near the front where I could sit and get a good view of my grandmother. The flickering flames cast her face in light and shadow, softening her wrinkles yet still making her look ancient. And wise. If a mien could show wisdom, hers did.

  She could be so goofy and funny and naughty at home, but sitting here, surrounded by our packmates, she displayed little of that. Oh, certainly some of her tales held humor, but it was less slapstick than I was used to. I tried to remember the stories she’d told me when I was very little and whether I’d heard the one she currently shared, but it didn’t ring any bells.

  “The people were very afraid,” she began. “They had been alone in this land for decades, maybe centuries, but new neighbors had moved in and brought with them a plague, or at least it had arrived at the same time. None of them were ill, but nearly half the pack was closed in their homes with burning fevers and watery, bloody bowels. Already a dozen had died, and it looked as if others would quickly follow.

  “The alpha, Horace, had been sickened early on but recovered and now claimed those who died were just too weak and their deaths were a blessing in disguise that would, in the end, strengthen the pack. He was a hereditary leader, who had not been challenged when he took the office, his opponents all disappeared.”

  Gigi went on describing the horrible winter when so many had died, finally the people recognized their leadership was not doing a thing for them, and they replaced them with the first alpha of the lineage that continued on to modern days, Samson, Tris, and Brandon’s ancestors. It sounded as if their father had started down the path toward the old tyrants, or perhaps he just enjoyed turning his family against one another.

  Which would likely be the same thing.

  “Grandmother”—the other pack members wouldn’t call her Gigi, of course, but the respectful term for a female elder—“were the enemies who brought the sickness ever vanquished”?”

  She shook her head. “You’d have to ask them, since they are still our neighbors in the town.”

  Silence fell as the others digested this bit of information. In recent decades, the pack had become more social with the humans in town, but they hadn’t ever heard this story, I felt sure. But they were not the problem now.

  “Gigi,” I asked, “what about now? Do we have any other historical enemies who might be involved in the issues we face? Maybe someone we’ve never heard of?

  She faced me, eyes glowing in the firelight in a most eerie way. “We can talk of this later.” Gigi waved the others away. “Enough stories for tonight. Go and enjoy your party.”

  It still was one for those who had not heard about the latest kidnapping. But I needed to tell Samson it was time to talk to Gigi and find out what she might know that could help us.

  Chapter Eleven

  Samson had gotten wind of Gigi’s knowledge of all things historical, particularly enemies, and called us in to talk about it. Party over. He thought there might be clues as to what the hell was going on. I was there first and saw the strain all this was putting on him. There were dark crescents underneath his eyes and his hair was disheveled as though he had taken some of his frustration out on the roots.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered as my heart wrenched. I wanted to do anything and everything I could to soothe this man I loved, but there was a canyon betwe
en us that, no matter what I did, we couldn’t bridge.

  “Of course, I’m not okay.”

  I had actually expected him to bark at me or yell, but his voice was as soft as mine. He stopped pacing and looked at me. His Adam’s apple bobbed as I drank him in.

  If only I could touch him.

  Acting on instinct and not giving three shits about who was about to walk in, I crossed the room and took one of his hands in mine. The gesture seemed to completely deflate him. His shoulders, once stiff, loosened as a long breath came from his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head before he shut his eyelids.

  “How can you do that?” he asked, his voice floating from his mouth and straight into my soul.

  “You know why, Samson. Why do you fight it so hard? Why must you fight me so hard?”

  “Because you’re so much more than you seem. I’m doing this for you.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, question, scream, all of the above, when Brandon and the other betas entered with Gigi right on their heels. She had a shit-eating grin on her face as I removed my hand from Samson’s. The effect on him was immediate. His jaw clenched. Those shoulders rigid. His breaths shallow.

  He couldn’t breathe without me, and the feeling was mutual.

  “Mrs…” Samson began, stepping away from me.

  Gigi waved him off. “It’s Gigi…for all of you. No more of this Mrs. bullshit.”

  Samson let out a chuckle and, though I had begun to walk away from him, it teased me from head to toe as though he were laughing at me for trying to leave. My wolf whined at the loss of his touch.

  “Gigi, then. We need to know all you know about these tales of enemies and wars. I think it would help us. History repeats itself after all. Don’t you agree?”

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t care for you pulling us all from a perfectly good feast to talk shop. I said what I said and no more. Now, you have to wait for the warrior to emerge. They will come, and then and only then will you claim victory over your enemies.”

  Samson stepped forward. Gigi had already said her piece and was now on her way out of the room, dismissed or not. I wished someone would tell her she wasn’t dismissed from the meeting. I’d love to see that person get torn up in the one-of-a-kind Gigi way. No action movie could compare.

  “Wait, when will…they come? How long must we wait? How many more of my people have to disappear before they step forward?”

  Gigi looked at me then to Samson. “Time is never wrong. It’s just the way we expect things to go is skewed.”

  The fuck?

  “Gigi, wait?”

  “Hell no, I’m not waiting. This is bullshit. I didn’t get any of that banana pudding. Gigi out.”

  Brandon kept his laugh in for only a few seconds before cracking up completely. “Wow. I hope I’m as spunky one day.”

  “You wish!” Gigi yelled from the bottom of the stairs, making Brandon double over, his laughter could not possibly be contained the second time around.

  “So, what…we just wait around for this warrior person?” I put my fists on my hips. “Meanwhile, girls are getting kidnapped and who knows what else? That’s bullshit.”

  Now, I was starting to sound like Gigi.

  Samson’s glare was on me. His jaw worked back and forth, and he was all stiff and rigid. “I guess the warrior will come when we are at the lowest. We just have to endure until then.”

  Endure.

  Sounded like the worst plan ever.

  “Well, I’m not waiting on some dude with nun chucks or whatever. I’m going to find that girl and bring her home.”

  “You’re not going alone.” My other mate’s voice—the voice of the mate who should’ve been home watching movies—tore through my anger.

  Samson pounded across the room and got into his face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  “I’m here because there’s a chance my mate is in danger.”

  Samson reeled back. Tris’ words had pierced him.

  “She can take care of herself. Besides, you think I would let anything happen to her? How did you know what was happening? You’re not pack anymore. You made it clear a long time ago where your allegiance is.”

  Tris looked at me, nothing but love in his eyes. “My allegiance is to Christie. She’s all that matters. And I trust no one with her safety.”

  I stomped in between them. “Good thing I don’t need a bodyguard. I can save myself. Especially if the two of you are going to fight like children!”

  Brandon and the others gasped but tried to cover it with coughing.

  It didn’t work.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, I was beyond irritated. Every time I saw those two together, my hopes rose, my wolf perked up, and, inevitably, were dashed on the rocks of stubborn males. Why couldn’t they see we were all born to be together. Me as their mate and they as brothers. Twins! Weren’t twins supposed to be the best of friends, feeling one another’s joy and pain, almost halves of a whole?

  But I’d run these thoughts through my mind so many times, and if there was a solution in my power, I had no idea what it might be. I adored Tris, but I also adored Samson, and the two of them had made it clear they saw no peace between them. From time to time, a slight bit of wavering from one or the other of them, sure, but never at the same time and never long enough for me to act on it.

  With less than zero patience left, and almost as few fucks, I decided I wanted an evening without either one of them in my mind or my presence. I got home from running errands and sent Tris a text: Please don’t come over tonight. I need a break. Just that and no more. He could make of it what he would.

  I powered my phone down, and paced into the house in search of a date who wouldn’t drag me through hours of controversy. Who’d loved me my whole life and put my interests first.

  I found her sitting at the kitchen counter, paging through a magazine. She had a real thing for cookbooks and shows and the glossy pages of volumes like the one she was reading now. Yet, while she was a great country cook, I didn’t think she’d added any new recipes to her repertoire, ever. Probably not since the 1960s, judging from the wide array of Jell-O molds containing everything from pineapple to whipped cream to celery to chicken livers. And, weirdly? I’d never seen anyone turn them down. Somehow, if she made them, they were yummy.

  “Gigi?” I spoke softly so as not to startler her, but when she turned, smiling, I knew she’d realized I was here all along.

  “Hello, dear. What would you think of a gelatin mold with a little of…wait, let me look at this again…cannabis? There’s a recipe here for a chilled salad with fruit, and I think this could work.”

  Cannabis?

  “Gigi, what are you reading?” I scooted to her side and closed the magazine to see the cover. “Pot Delights? Where did you get this?” A glance at an address label at the bottom of the front cover told the tale. “This is for our neighbor down the street. Did you steal their mail?”

  She waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. We got it by mistake, but you know how I enjoy reading recipes. According to the publisher of this fascinating magazine—I think I’ll subscribe right away—there are many healthful benefits to this plant. Have you ever tried it?”

  I blinked at her. My Gigi was asking me if I’d tried pot? And, looking at her open, interested expression, I realized she wouldn’t judge me if I said I had. Still, it wasn’t a conversation I was ready to have just now. I really wanted a simple, uncomplicated evening with my grandmother. Not a crazy old lady who was planning to get high on gelatin and peaches or something.

  No.

  Just not tonight.

  “Gigi, I thought maybe we could go out to dinner together tonight? If you’re free?” And maybe I can burn the book while you’re asleep later. She wasn’t kidding about the subscription. She had a ton of them, and some had already caught up to her here. More quickly than I thought something like that could happen. The stack on the table by the couch was already
a foot and a half tall. “We can go anywhere you like.”

  She pushed the magazine away and beamed at me. “What a great idea. Why don’t we go for Chinese in the little place the next town over? The one we passed on our way shopping that day? I’ve heard it’s very good.”

  Heard? I tried to think who she’d talked to besides Tris and me. Could have been him, I supposed, but then she had the ability to go places on her own, and, for all I knew, she spent the days I was at school hanging out with other crazy old lady shifters, making up recipes for hash blondies and heroine martinis. Pot Jell-O? I’d been willing to eat the chicken liver kind—although I usually tried to eat around any meat bits, which was a challenge in Jell-O.

  Still, I pasted on a big smile that quickly became real. “That sounds fun. I haven’t been there, either, but I could do with some dumplings.

  “Oh if you want those, dear, there’s a recipe for dumplings in this magazine, you use ground pork, something called cilantro, onions, some spices”—”

  “And marijuana.” I sighed. “Let’s just go. We can eat whatever you started for dinner here tomorrow night.”

  She giggled. “I didn’t start anything. Why would I when you and I are having a ladies’ night out? After dinner, let’s go to a movie or maybe the casino on the outskirts of the town? I hear the new slot machines there are really wild.”

  Pot, slots…and she was hanging out with someone who recommended restaurants. And apparently casinos. Did I even know my grandmother?

  I started for the bathroom to freshen up then stopped. “You didn’t know we were going out. I just got the idea on the way home from work.”

  “Really?” She tsked. “I thought we talked about it earlier? Anyway, doesn’t matter as long as we’re going. I’ll take my magazine and make some notes on ingredients along the way. Do you know where we can get some cannabis-infused butter?”

  “No, Gigi.”

  “I guess we’ll have to make it, then. Maybe they have some dishes like that at the Chinese restaurant. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.”