Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  The family glanced wildly around in confusion. I swear to Jesus Hesus some of them were actually looking for Brad Pitt. The IQ level of these particular Wolves was very low… With a shrill whistle and a quick chorus of yipping, the Pigeons went ballistic on the Wolves. The lupines were screaming and running for their lives as the birds dove and attacked. Their human counterparts pecked the living hell out of the bastards.

  Junior was beating the crap out of anything that came close to us. Dima was slowly waking up, but Hank and I were still frozen and useless.

  "Junior," I shouted above the din. "Find Angela. She's across the circle. She needs our help."

  "I'm on it," he yelled as he placed several Pigeons in front of us for protection.

  Never in a million years would I have guessed how freakin' violent Pigeons were. They were tearing the family to shreds and enjoying the hell out of it, if the laughing and backslapping were any indication.

  "How did he find forty Pigeons?" I muttered to Hank as I watched in horror.

  "Junior can find a needle in a haystack. Finding forty Pigeons would be a no-brainer for him. Plus, I'm pretty sure he does online gaming with Pigeons," Hank explained.

  Of course he did.

  The crowd thinned dramatically as the death toll of the Wolves rose. The battle was basically over and the Pigeons had definitely won. The birds were as quick as they were violent. Dead bodies disappeared faster than they had fallen to the ground. How were they doing that? That's when I noticed what they were wearing—uniforms. They all had safari uniforms on. The Pigeons worked at the zoo. They were the grounds people, ticket takers, animal caretakers and security.

  Freakin' brilliant.

  This was the first time I'd come across a Were Pigeon and I was kind of hoping it would be the last. These suckers had ridden the bus in from Crazytown and stayed.

  "She's gone," Junior huffed as he wiped his brow in frustration. "Three of the guards got away and they took Angela."

  "Son of a bitch," Hank roared in frustration. "We have to get her back. Of course it would help if I could freakin’ move."

  "Ease up, Bro," Junior said as he gave a hand signal to the Pigeons.

  They drove a golf cart over and proceeded to dump Hank, Dima and myself in the back.

  "Should we cover them up?" a male Pigeon inquired as he patted my head sweetly and gently pushed the bloody hair out of Dima's face.

  "Yep," Junior said. "Keep ‘em covered until we get them out to my SUV in the parking lot. And let me tell you something… you sons of bitches were goddamned incredible. I have never seen such focused and direct violent bloodshed—very little wasted movement. I'd like to bring a few of you down to Georgia to do some combat training with my Pack if that might interest you."

  "It most certainly does," the gal who started the whole Brad Pitt scream-peck-fest said with pride. "Most Weres discount us as beneath them because we're birds. We would be honored to visit you in Georgia."

  "Anyone who discounts you is a dumbass," I muttered as the golf cart jerked forward.

  "And are you a dumbass?" the Pigeon inquired as she peeked under the tarp.

  "Absolutely not," I told her with a grin as the feeling in my legs slowly began to come back. "I'm a smartass."

  Her laugh was musical and I decided maybe I was wrong about never wanting to see a Were Pigeon again. I certainly never wanted to be on their bad side, but their fighting technique was outstanding. I could learn something from them.

  "Do you shoot?" I asked the Pigeon as her giggles died down.

  "Name's Birdie," she said as she shoved her hand under the tarp, grabbed my still limp one in a firm grip and shook it.

  "Essie," I said as I bit back a laugh at her moniker.

  "You can laugh," she said with a put upon sigh. "Everyone else does. My Mamma was a little out there and very literal—hence the name."

  "I actually like it," I told her.

  It was adorable, just like her. Of course, she was also one of the most violent Weres I'd ever come across, but she was cute.

  "As for shooting…" Birdie said thoughtfully. "Not really. I'd sure like to learn."

  "How about I trade you some shooting lessons for some lessons on whatever the hell you just did to those Wolves?"

  "Take her up on it," Junior advised my new friend as he jogged alongside the golf cart. "Essie can shoot the teats off a cow three counties over… blindfolded."

  "Deal," Birdie said. "I'm always here, so you just come find me when you're ready."

  "You live here at the zoo?" I asked.

  "Yep. Got everything we need right here."

  "Do you guys own the zoo?"

  "You could say that," she said with a wink and a grin. "Kinda depends on who's in office, but we own most of the real estate in the Midwest."

  "For real?" I asked impressed.

  I never knew Weres were such shrewd businesspeople.

  "For real," Birdie said. "Now take care and don't get killed. I don't make new friends too often, so when I do I like to keep ‘em."

  "Will do," I promised with a grin.

  "Thank you for defending us today," Hank said as he gingerly rolled up on his side. "We're indebted to you."

  "Ahhh, it was fun. Haven't been in a smackdown in at least two weeks. Call it even," Birdie said as she slapped a wobbly Hank on the back.

  "Much obliged," Junior said gratefully as he helped transfer us to his SUV. "I'll be in touch about Georgia."

  "We'll be waiting!" Birdie yelled as we pulled away.

  About a hundred or so Pigeons waved goodbye as we slowly rolled through the parking lot and onto Lakeshore Drive. I shook my head and grinned as Dima gaped at the Were Pigeons. She had missed the whole thing. She was never going to believe it, but that was not my problem. I was just happy to be alive.

  Now we had to go after Angela.

  ***

  "You have got to be kidding me," I shouted as Junior approached me with a needle the size of an arm.

  "Goddamn it Junior, why did you have to show her the needle? You know how she feels about getting stabbed," Hank grumbled as he held me still.

  Dima sat in silence on the far side of the room and watched in horror.

  We'd made it back to Dwayne's in record time since Junior drove like a bat out of hell on speed. Junior had quickly created an anti-serum for the poison the Wolves had injected into our bodies. I'd wisely shut my eyes while Junior worked on Hank and stupidly opened them as he came to work on me.

  "Wait," Dima said with a confused shake of her head and the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "You can rip the head off of a Dragon, but you're a weenie when it comes to getting a shot?"

  "Dude," I shouted. "That is not a shot. That is a freakin' pole with a point. And I am not a weenie."

  "Actually, you are," Junior said logically.

  "No, I'm not."

  "Are," he said with a smirk.

  "Do you want your nuts lodged in your esophagus?" I inquired politely as Hank swallowed a bark of laughter.

  "Is that a trick question?" Junior asked with narrowed eyes.

  "Nope."

  "Since I plan to father ten to twenty-four kids with Sandy Moongie, I'd like to keep my nuts in my underpants," Junior said as he took three steps closer to me. "Essie, shut your damn eyes."

  "I can't," I whispered. "I already saw the needle."

  "Do you want to stay partially paralyzed?" Hank asked reasonably.

  "Jesus Hesus, of course not," I snapped.

  "Oh my God," Dima yelled. "Is that what the H stands for?"

  I turned to her and an evil little grin spread across my lying lips… "Yes. Yes, it is. OUCH," I squealed as Junior stabbed me and Hank held me still. "You people suck."

  "All better. The paralysis should be completely out of your systems in the next half hour. It was a fairly complicated compound for those Wolves to have used. They didn't seem that smart."

  "They weren't smart at all," Hank said as he stretched his legs and walk
ed around the room. "It had to be the Council directing the entire show."

  "How would they have known to even be ready?" I asked as I felt the full use of my arms and legs coming back.

  "They clearly have someone on Angela," Hank said. He turned to Dima. "Did she make any calls on the way to meet up?"

  "No, but I think she was texting," Dima said as she shook the dried blood out of her hair. Suddenly she looked like a freakin' supermodel again. "Or maybe she was drinking… Honestly, I couldn't tell. I was wrapped up in my own hell when I realized I'd have to swallow your farked up shift prohibiting juice. Angela and her weirdness were the least of my problems."

  "Sounds pretty simple to me," Junior volunteered as he put all of his potions back into his bag.

  "Can't wait to hear this," I mumbled as I massaged the hole Junior had made in my arm with his version of a shot.

  "Council caught Angela going behind their backs by working with you three. Council no likey agents playing both sides of the coin, so they followed her and busted on her. Literally."

  "Why'd they leave us alone?" I asked as I tried to make sense of the most recent bloodshed.

  "Angela's beating was a warning," Hank surmised.

  "To stop us," Dima said. "They want us to stop whatever we're doing or we'll end up like Angela."

  "Clearly they don't know us very well," I said. "Wait, does this make you want out?"

  "No, it doesn't," she said with an eye roll and a smirk. "I am not a weenie."

  "Really?" I asked nicely.

  "Yes," she answered hesitantly, clearly wondering why I was being so polite.

  "Junior, do you have a vitamin concoction in that bag from hell?" I asked.

  "Why yes, yes I do."

  "Awesome! Dima would like a massive B-12 shot in her ass. Now," I told him as I watched my Dragon partner pale considerably. "Still not a weenie?" I asked her.

  "You are a terrible bitch," she hissed and backed away from Junior as he prepared her shot.

  "I've been called worse," I said with a grin.

  "Fine," she huffed. "You're not a weenie. I'm not a weenie. I do not need any vitamins. Ever. And I am not giving up. I want my father dead—he's an evil man. If that helps you accomplish what you need to get done, then that's freakin' fantastic. If you're going in a new direction, then we can split up now. No harm—no foul. Your call."

  "We're staying the course," I said as I glanced over at Hank.

  He gave me a quick nod and sat down at Junior's laptop.

  "We can't just walk into the Council building and ask for Angela," I muttered as I paced the room and tried to come up with a plan.

  "Nope, but I can," Junior said slowly.

  "He's right," Hank said as he closed the computer and leaned back in his chair with a lopsided grin.

  "Explain," I said.

  "I can't ask for your boss, but I sure as hell can march into the building and register as the new Alpha of the Georgia Pack. I'll be able to tell if she's been in the Council chambers."

  "I'll go with him," Dima volunteered.

  "You're a Dragon. They'll smell you a mile away," I said.

  Was she an idiot?

  "I have a cream that blocks…" she started.

  "Self-tanner?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

  "As a matter of fact, yes," she said defensively. "How did you know?"

  "Because your kin used that crap when they were hiding who they were and abducting female Werewolves," I snapped as I advanced on her. "Did you work with those bastards on that little project?"

  "Back off," Dima snarled. She went into a defensive position as Hank and Junior moved to flank me on either side.

  "Did. You. Work. With. Those. Now. Dead. Douchecanoes?" I ground out, very happy she had drunk the solution that kept her from shifting. It was going to be far easier to kill her in this form.

  "I did not," she hissed. "My very missed and sadly murdered brother came up with the compound. It was stolen by his murderer."

  "And that would be?"

  "My father."

  "Holy hell, you have whackjob of a family," Junior muttered.

  "Tell me something I don't know," Dima snapped. "So if you want to go at it, let's go. If you want to get to the bottom of what's happening, I'd suggest you take three steps away from me. I might not be able to shift, but I can light this house on fire in about two seconds flat."

  Slowly I backed away. I still didn't completely trust her, but I believed her story. Plus, we did need her. I wasn't even sure what we were looking for anymore, but the more heads the better at this point.

  "You'll go with Junior and feel it out. Does anyone there know what you look like?" Hank asked.

  "Nope, I've only ever been to the parking garage. Angela never let me in the building," she said with a shrug.

  "That's rude," I muttered. "I suppose she was hiding you."

  "Or hiding something," Hank said. "If you're not back within the hour we're coming in, which would be a very bad thing."

  "Couldn't agree more," Junior said. "So Dima, do you have a mate?" he asked politely as they made their way to the front door.

  "My dad killed him," she replied with very little emotion.

  "Jesus Hesus," Junior shouted. "I'll kill your dad for you. Guy's an asshole."

  With a curt and grateful nod, Dima stopped and turned back.

  "Does the H really stand for Hesus?" she asked with a doubtful squint of her eyes.

  "Um… no," I admitted. "But if we say it enough we could make it the new thing."

  All four of us mulled it over for a bit. Were we damning ourselves to hell by lying about Jesus' middle name? Did Jesus even have a middle name? And if he didn't… was it wrong to give him one?

  "I'm in," Hank said with a grin that made me giggle.

  "Me too," Junior added.

  "Me three," Dima said with a quiet chuckle.

  "Awesome. I'd say it will take a week or two of constant usage, Twitter, Facebook and Instagram to get it to catch on. Junior, you ready to hack Webster's Dictionary?"

  "Yep," he snorted. "And the religious ones."

  "We really are going to hell," Hank said with a laugh and a groan.

  "It's fine. I already have a suite reserved," I joked…kinda.

  "Air conditioned?" Dima inquired.

  "But of course," I said.

  "Then we're good," Junior said as he pulled a laughing Dima out the door. "We need to get this shit done so I can get back to Georgia and convince Sandy Moongie she can't live without me."

  "Oh my god," I gasped. "Do you think she'll get stolen away while you're here?"

  "Hell to the no," Junior said with confidence. "I threatened to kill any male who even looks at her while I'm gone."

  "Well, there's a novel way to earn the trust of your new Pack," Hank said with a disgusted shake of his head.

  "Right?" Junior said proudly.

  "I was being sarcastic," Hank explained to a now confused Junior.

  "Well, it was better than locking her up in solitary confinement so no one could flirt with her… don't you think?" he asked, now not quite as confident with his choices.

  "Yes," I said as I shoved him and Dima out of the front door. "It's very good not to lock your future mate up—especially since she still doesn't like you all that much. You did good. Now go find out what the hell we're dealing with so you can go home and screw something else up with Sandy."

  "Good thinking," he said as I slammed the door shut and leaned on it.

  "Oh. My. God," I said with a sigh. "Sandy is in for some trouble with that one."

  "Agree," Hank said as he handed me the ringing burner phone. "It's Dwayne."

  My stomach dropped as I took the vibrating phone from Hank's hands. I could only pray Granny was doing better than we were.

  Chapter 17

  I was pale when I hung up the phone. I was also exhausted.

  "Just tell me Granny's all right and then you can get to the rest of the story," Hank said gruffly as
he waited to know Granny's fate.

  "She's the same," I said as I shook my head and tried to remember everything Dwayne had just told me. "She's still in Death Sleep, but she's alive—as much as a dead person can be."