Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  "Okay, good," Hank said as he dropped down on the couch and waited for more. "You were on the phone for twenty minutes and said barely ten words. What in the hell was Dwayne rambling about?"

  "Well, um… "

  Where to start? I ran my hands through my hair and tried to find words that would make sense.

  "Is it that bad?" Hank asked with a grimace.

  "No… it's just that weird," I told him.

  "Maybe I don't need to know."

  "Nope, if I had to hear your redonkulous bullcrap all the time, you have to have what I just heard branded into your brain too," I informed him. "Let me just start by saying Dwayne is all over Jesus Hesus. While we were talking he tweeted and emailed about six hundred people. He says it will only take three days of focused work for it to make national news that Jesus' middle name is Hesus."

  "Speechless and scared," Hank said with a shudder.

  "That's nothing," I deadpanned. "You know all the Vampyres we owe favors to?"

  "The ones protecting Granny?"

  "The very same. Apparently they are quite taken with the Cows and are trying to barter for marriage."

  The sound that came out of my mate was alarming. I jumped up and slapped his back. Hard.

  "I just choked on my own spit." Hank gagged and then doubled over in laughter. "Are they blind?"

  "Hank, that is not nice," I reprimanded him sternly.

  "Essie, it was driving you nuts when you couldn't figure out if they were male or female. I'm getting busted on because I'm asking if the Vamps are blind?"

  "Okay, fine," I huffed and tried not to grin. "Clearly they must like the metrosexual ambiguous genitalia thing the Cows have going for them."

  "So is Dwayne going to marry his daughters off?" Hank asked as he bit down on his tongue to stem the hysterics threatening to escape.

  "Well, if I have this right and I think I do… I believe he's going to do a contest of sorts for their hands. Kind of like a Vampyre Olympics slash Gladiator thing. Whoever is alive at the end gets a Cow."

  "Is that a joke?" Hank stuttered as he sat up and gaped at me.

  "I wish," I mumbled. "Dwayne has always gone for the absurd and bloody."

  "Understatement," Hank said as he stretched his arms over his head pulling his t-shirt tight across his perfectly muscled chest.

  I actually forgot what I was talking about for a brief moment. He was so pretty it was just wrong. I considered jumping him since we were alone, but then I remembered the rest of the story…

  "And the feral Wolves followed Dwayne to Michigan."

  "What?" Hank yelled as he hopped up and closed the distance between us. "The feral Wolves are in Michigan?"

  "Yes. That's what Dwayne said. They haven't caused much trouble. They're staying on the outskirts of his property, but they won't leave."

  "Have they gotten into it with the Vamps?" Hank asked.

  "Yep, and the Wolves won. The Vamps want to kill all of them, but it's not so simple. The Cows think the Wolves mean no harm. Since the Vamps are trying to woo the Cows they've refrained from killing the Wolves."

  "The fact I even followed and understood what you’re saying is frightening," Hank muttered.

  "Right?" I agreed. "I can't believe I repeated it. Anyhoo, that's still not all… "

  Hank turned to me and held his breath.

  "Apparently the Dragons are skulking around too."

  "Jesus Hesus," Hank shouted. "Is Michigan some kind of vortex for screwed-up paranormal activity?"

  "Jesus Hesus really works, doesn't it?"

  "It really does," he agreed with a surprised nod of his head.

  "And to answer your question… I'd have to say yes," I told him. "Michigan seems to be the new armpit of magical hell."

  "Fine. We do what we have to do in Chicago, and then we leave for Michigan," Hank said as he whipped open Junior's laptop and began scrolling for restaurants that delivered.

  "Do you see any Mexican?" I asked, looking over his shoulder.

  "Yep," he said. "Tacos?"

  "Eight," I said.

  Hank laughed.

  "Fine," I grumbled and punched him in the shoulder. "Fourteen, and I'm not sharing so get enough for yourself, Junior, and Dima."

  "Do Dragons eat Mexican?" Hank wondered out loud.

  "Dude, they eat people. Mexican is a vast improvement over people."

  "Good point," Hank agreed.

  "How long do you think they'll be?" I asked.

  "An hour—two hours, tops. Depends if the Council keeps them waiting."

  "Will they be okay?" I asked, now more worried because it was our fault Dima couldn't shift.

  After what I'd done to Angela I was beginning to question my judgment.

  "Junior can kill almost anything and Dima took back all of her weapons and then some," he said.

  "Holy shit," I stammered. "I didn't even see her. Did you?"

  "Yep. I saw her. She was fast and she was good."

  "I don't like her pulling one over on me, but I'm wildly relieved she can defend herself if she needs to," I said as I dug into my suitcase for something clean to wear. My clothing had gotten fairly destroyed during our visit to the zoo. "Dress or pants?"

  "Dress. No panties," Hank said as he emailed our massive food order.

  "Pervert," I said with a grin.

  "Guilty," he answered with an unapologetic leer as he smacked my bottom.

  I curled up on his lap and laid my head on his strong shoulder. The feeling of being loved would get me through all the crap that lay ahead. Hank was my rock and I was his. I had no clue how I got so lucky, but I was just grateful for my good fortune—very grateful.

  ***

  "God damn, these tacos are good," Junior grunted as he shoved taco number ten down his throat.

  "They are pretty awesome," Dima said as she shoved her own number seven down hers.

  "Okay," I said with a mouthful. "We are all in agreement about the delicious cheap Mexican food. We need to get down to business."

  "Do I need to call out for more?" Hank asked as he hoarded the remainder of tacos.

  "I have to be out of town in an hour or my ass is grass," Junior said as he tackled his brother for his tacos. "Can they deliver fast?"

  "Yep," Hank said as he backhanded Junior and threw him across the room. "They can be here in fifteen. How many you want?"

  "I could probably eat about twenty more," Junior huffed as he got up and took a running dive at Hank.

  "If you break the computer there will be no more tacos," Hank informed his brother with a precise punch to his head.

  "What? Your phone doesn't work?" Junior grunted as he put Hank in a chokehold.

  "Oh my god, you two. Stop it now. This house belongs to Dwayne and he will be pissed if you destroy all of his furniture," I yelled.

  "Are they always like this?" Dima asked as she pilfered a few of Hank's tacos he'd left unguarded during the smackdown with his brother.

  "Pretty much," I told her as I picked off the last three and ate them.

  "I can't believe you split my lip over tacos," Hank grumbled as he took another swat at his also bleeding brother.

  "Dude, you beat my ass for a hot dog last Fourth of July," Junior accused as he nursed his bloody nose.

  "Forgot about that one." Hank grinned and tossed Junior a wad of napkins.

  Junior promptly shoved some up his nose and mopped up the excess blood with the rest.

  "Good thing this place belongs to a Vamp," Dima quipped as she looked around at all the random blood dripping off the walls and furniture.

  "No. Dwayne will have their butts in a sling for this. Hopefully, he won't see it for a while." I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets looking for cleaning supplies to remove bloodstains.

  "You're going to clean up after them?" Dima asked, surprised.

  "Hell to the no." I laughed and dumped a bunch of rags and cleaners into a bucket. "Those dumbasses are going to clean up after themselves."

 
"Right, but don't forget Junior has to leave town very soon," Dima reminded me.

  "Why?" I asked as I plopped the bucket down and marched back into the living room. "Why do you have to leave town?" I asked my soon to be brother-in-law.

  "Not real sure," Junior admitted. "They had me sign some papers and then told me to basically haul ass back to Georgia or I'd be held in contempt."

  "Contempt for what?" Hank asked as he shook his head in frustration. "That makes no sense."

  "Agreed," Junior said. "However, I'm sure as hell not staying around to find out what some bogus trumped up definition of contempt means. I have a Pack to lead and a mate to boff."

  "Sweet Jesus Hesus," I shouted. "Do not under any circumstances let Sandy hear you say you're gonna boff her."

  "Is it not hot?" Junior asked with raised eyebrows and an honestly confused shrug.

  "NO," Dima and I hissed in unison.

  "It's not hot," I told him. "Stick to things like, um… "

  I wracked my brain for something he could say that wouldn't get him into trouble. Nothing. I could think of nothing.

  "Just don't say much. Be strong and silent where Sandy is concerned. Got it?"

  "Yep. Strong and silent. Like throw her over my shoulder and take her home with me?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

  "You can try that one after the tenth date," I explained and thought about warning Sandy.

  Nope. Sandy liked Junior no matter how much she denied it. She had it as bad as he did. She was just gonna make him work for it—and rightly so.

  "Anyway… something is off with our illustrious Council. Three or four of them slept right through my introduction. And half of them are apparently on their way to Michigan," Junior said.

  "Are you serious?" I demanded as I felt a skitter of dread crawl up my spine. I quickly glanced at Hank who did not seem happy with this information either. Crap. "Michigan? You're sure those old bastards are going Michigan?"

  "Yep, they said Michigan. I mean, what the hell is in Michigan?" Junior laughed and then froze. "Oh shit… "

  "How bizarre," Dima commented as she sharpened her knives in a rhythm that made me uncomfortable and bizarrely happy at the same time. "I searched Angela's office while you were getting dissed by the Council. There was an open map of Michigan on her desk."

  "Was she in there?" I asked, still worried that she might be dead.

  "No, but she had been. There was fresh blood on the map. It was hers and I picked up the scent of several other wolf shifters who were more than likely with her."

  "Could you tell by scent what kind of shape she was in?" I asked, wondering how far Dragon sniffing powers went.

  "Not exactly," Dima said slowly. "But the scent of blood was heavy. Meant she was clearly bleeding a lot."

  "Damn it," I muttered and began to pace.

  The sound of the doorbell made me jump and pull my Glock. Why in hell was everyone headed to Michigan? There was no way they knew about Granny's potential half-wolf slash half-Vampyre status. Or at least I hoped not…

  "Stand down," Hank instructed firmly as I re-holstered my gun. "It's the taco dude and I'm still hungry. Do not terrify the kid."

  "Affirmative," I said as I snapped my gun in tight. Killing the innocent human delivery boy would put a real kink in the plans. Plus I was still hungry too.

  "Alright," Dima said, all business. "Get the door and tip the taco dude well. You're still bleeding and you look kind of scary," she told Hank. "We divide the tacos evenly or I will bloody some of you myself and then we eat. Fast. Junior then goes back to Georgia and we leave for Michigan."

  "Sounds like a plan." I nodded and got ready to fight for my tacos if needed. "We can drive to Michigan in about two hours. Dwayne's place is a little inland from Harbor Country."

  "It's beautiful there," Dima said.

  "Where'd you hear it was beautiful?" I asked as I grabbed the bag of tacos from Hank and divided them evenly so we could avoid bloodshed.

  "It's where I was raised. My father's compound is also in the area."

  "What the hell?" I grumbled. "There is no way this is all a seriously unlucky coincidence."

  "Well," Junior surmised as he ate his pile, "it's either an unlucky coincidence or one shit-ton of good luck or bad luck—depends on how you wanna look at it."

  "I'd say good luck at this point," Hank chimed in as he destroyed his own mound of Mexican food. "All the players are now in the same spot. Saves time. We can kill—and I do mean kill—an assload of birds with one stone."

  "Something is very off about all this," Dima said. "However, I'm going with Hank. The more the merrier in one place."

  "I'm sad those douchecanoes are making me go back to Georgia," Junior griped in frustration. "I'd like to go kick some Vampyre, Council, Dragon, feral Wolf ass."

  "Don't you think you should get back to Sandy and your Pack?" I asked as I realized I was looking forward to a potential Council ass-kick.

  "Yep," Junior said as he tried to steal two of my tacos. "Sandy needs me. She doesn't function well when I'm not around to make her life a living hell."

  "It's good to know you're clear on where you stand with her," I said as I smacked his hand away.

  "I might play a dumbass on a hit TV show, but in reality I'm freakin' brilliant," Junior stated.

  "Wait," Dima said as she protected her tacos. "He's on TV?"

  Everything stopped for a brief moment while we digested that Dima actually believed Junior. No one believed Junior and with good reason. He was so full of crap his eyes were brown… well, not really, but it sounded good.

  "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," I told her with an eye roll and a laugh.

  "You people are insane," she muttered.

  "Correct," Hank told her. "And Junior is one of the most certifiable. Now everyone eat up. We're leaving in ten."

  "Seconds?" Junior shouted as he shoved his food in his mouth so quickly he choked.

  "Minutes," I said with a grin and a wallop to his back. "Slow down. Tacos are not worth dying for."

  "These are," he said solemnly as he gently caressed his remaining Mexican feast.

  "He might be right," Hank said reverently as he cuddled his own stash.

  "Actually, I think he is," Dima added, not really hugging her tacos in a loving way—more of an I will kill you if you touch my tacos kind of way.

  "Oh my god. Fine." I laughed and shook my head. "Eat. You all have exactly eight minutes and nineteen seconds till we're out of here."

  Thankfully there was no more talking. We ate our to die for tacos and left. What lay ahead was anyone's guess, but we would face it on full stomachs.

  Full stomachs and a hell of a lot of unanswered questions.

  Chapter 18

  "You two going to tell me what's really going on?"

  Dima asked the question from the backseat of the Hummer as we sped along I-94 towards Michigan. I figured silence would answer her question sufficiently so I kept my lip zipped—as did Hank. The sun was setting and rush hour was over. We were making great time.

  "Interesting," she said as she shuffled some papers around. "I should have guessed you'd keep me in the dark, considering you've taken my ability to shift away."

  "You're on a need to know basis," I replied calmly. "You need us more than we need you. Killing your Pappy is not high on my priority list."

  "It should be," she said with a polite smile and a shake of the stack of papers in her hand.

  "I know you want me to ask you why." I texted Dwayne that we were on our way along with an unfortunately large portion of the Werewolf paranormal government on our heels. "But I have to pee and I can't concentrate on your potential bullshit at the moment."

  "After you relieve yourself I'd suggest you ask me what the hell is written on the papers I'm about to eat," Dima shot back.

  "You're really gonna eat paper?" I asked with a grimace.

  "Yep. It insures my life for a bit."

  "Eating paper?" I asked.


  "Not the paper itself. The intel on the paper is what will keep me in the land of the living for a few more hours," Dima explained as she wadded up the papers and ingested them.

  For such a gorgeous girl she was kind of gross.