by Liz Schulte
“I am so screwed,” I whispered.
Billy Bob patted my shoulders. “Keep your chin up and your face greased.”
“What?”
“You have to layer the ointment on thick and leave it on your skin until it’s healed. The formula will make you look like you smeared on bacon fat, but it’ll be worth it.”
Crap! Panic twisted inside me. “Can’t you just lick it better?”
“Sunny!” Chav protested.
Billy Bob grinned. “Not unless I want to get into a dogfight with a coyote.”
“Fine,” I said grumpily. I opened the tub and grabbed a handful of the salve. Ruined face. Peed pants. Fat ankles.
What else could go wrong?
Chapter Two
To my relief, Babe had called me and promised his parents were coming for a short visit. Apparently, they wanted to meet their future daughter-in-law before the wedding. Go figure. My face felt better with Billy Bob’s healing salve layered on a quarter of an inch thick. I hated that my almost-in-laws first impression of Babe’s intended mate would be me looking like one of those Housewives of LaLaLand after a Botox and derma-peel party. At least, my lips weren’t bee stung and I could form expressions on my face.
I smiled and wiggled my brows. Ow.
Sorta form expressions.
Anyhow, I’d been stupid, and I’d deal with the consequences.
I rubbed my belly, took a breath, and opened my mind to visions. I wanted to know how the visit with Babe’s parents would go. Minutes passed. As usual, nothing came to me. I’d started doing readings down at the restaurant, and with some coaching from Billy Bob (in his shaman capacity), sometimes I could conjure visions related to specific questions. It didn’t always work. I’d sent away more than one unhappy customer. Unfortunately, my ability had become even more unpredictable since the pregnancy, especially when it came to my own future.
My face was a prime example.
In the late afternoon, Babel honked the horn of our SUV as he pulled into the driveway. Crap. In-law alert! I quickly removed my feet from the coffee table and sat up straighter, trying to assume an air of dignified grace.
I farted.
Oh, God. I stood up and waved the air around me. Why hadn’t I stocked up on Febreeze? I lumbered to the cabinet on the far side of the room where we kept the cleaning supplies. All I could find was the lemon-scented dusting spray. I grabbed it, slammed the cabinet shut, and awkwardly jogged back to the couch. I spewed copious amounts of duster into the air. Panicked, I lobbed the canister across the room. It rolled across the floor and disappeared into the kitchen.
My fiance walked in, all six foot two inches of broad muscles. His normally messy brown hair was styled professionally for his new job, but it didn’t take away from the roughness lumberjack vibe provided by his five o’clock shadow. I took one look at his gorgeous green eyes and his beautiful bow lips and shivered from my head to my groin. Damn, that man did me in! He was so incredibly sexy.
I gulped as he walked into the room, trying to control my urge to throw myself at him. Something I did on a regular basis since getting pregnant. The extra hormones flooding my body had made me horny as hell.
“Babe,” I said, forgetting everything but him.
His smile faltered. “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”
It was as if someone had dumped ice water over my libido. “Fine. Good. Doing some skin maintenance.”
His nose twitched. “Why does it smell like lemon poop in here?”
Stupid shifters with their stupid sensitive noses.
“Babel, are you going to let us in?” said a woman behind my almost husband.
Babe joined me in front of the couch.
An older woman entered. She looked to be in her late forties, which meant she was probably in her sixties. Therianthropes weren’t immortal, but they were long-lived. Her light brown hair was twisted into a loose bun with curls falling around her face. The man behind her was the older version of Babel, and wow, I had a lot to look forward to in the future. Behind them was an elderly lady, and really, the fact that she looked old meant she was probably ancient.
“You all must be tired after driving all morning.” I put on my cheeriest smile and quickly stopped. Stretching my lips that far hurt. A lot.
Babe leaned close and kissed my ear. “Relax, sweetheart. They’re not going to eat you.”
The woman with the bun stepped forward and held out her hand to me. “I’m Celia,” she said. “The mom.”
We shook hands. Firm, but not too tight. “Hi, the mom.”
She laughed, which surprised me. Maybe my fears were unfounded. “This is my husband, Daniel.” She gestured to the older version of Babe. “And this is Great Aunt Erma Jean.”
Erma Jean peered at me. “Why do you have grease on your face?”
“Facial treatment,” I said. “Supposed to give me dewy skin.”
Erma Jean snorted. “In my day, a bride didn’t dip her head into a grease trap right before the groom’s family arrived.”
An awkward silence descended.
Finally, Babe cleared his throat. “Let’s sit down.”
The sofa seated three comfortably, but we also had a loveseat for two and a single recliner. Babe took my hand and led me to the comfy chair. He grinned at me as he pulled me onto his lap. I giggled.
Celia clearly disapproved.
Erma Jean took the love seat. Celia and Daniel sat down on the couch. Both of them grimaced. I knew why immediately. I had emptied almost an entire can of dusting solution onto it. I laughed weakly. “I Scotch-guarded the sofa. It feels a little different, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t know they made Scotch-guard with scents,” said Celia.
“Uh, yeah. I love lemon. My favorite.”
“Where’s Chavvah?” asked Daniel, clearly uninterested in the house cleaning conversation.
Babel wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands resting over mine on my huge stomach. “She went into town to pick up dinner,” I said. “She’ll be back soon.”
“I thought you cooked,” said Aunt Erma Jean, disapproval in her voice.
“She does, Auntie.”
Aunt Erma Jean looked unconvinced.
“Babe says that you have the ability to see things. A psychic of some kind,” Celia said. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” My lips thinned. This was not the first conversation I thought I’d have with the in-laws.
Babe shrugged. “I told mom about how you helped find Chav, and about...”
Judah. I knew the loss of his older brother was still painful. I cupped his cheeks and kissed his warm lips, quick but tender. “I understand.”
“Is it true?” Celia asked again. I could read the skepticism in her face. “You saw Jude?”
Oh man. Of course, they would want to know about the final moments of their dead son. Judah had initially visited me as a coyote spirit, and only in his last moments before he passed over had I been able to talk to him. He’d conveyed his love and farewells to Babe and Chav, but he hadn’t mentioned his parents at all. He’d turned his back on integration nearly a decade before he’d disappeared, which strained his relationship with Celia and Daniel. Even so, a mother didn’t stop loving her child, even if that child was a disappointment.
“Yes, it’s true,” I told her. “Judah helped me to unravel the mystery behind his disappearance and helped us find Chavvah.”
“Didn’t you get kidnapped too?” asked Aunt Erma Jean. “Guess you didn’t see that coming.”
“Auntie,” Babel warned.
“We have a hard time believing in psychics,” said Celia.
“I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about shapeshifters.” Bam. Score one for the human psychic. This was practically the same conversation I’d had with Babe when I first told him about my ability.
The older woman nodded. “Fair enough. Can you show us how it works?”
“My gift has been hit and miss lately,” I said ho
nestly. “And really, it’s never been very reliable.” I took a deep breath. A full smile was out of the question, but I tried to lift my lips a little. I prayed I didn’t look like a feral rabbit. “But I’m happy to see if my ability is working today.”
Babel stroked my arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
I leaned forward and stretched out my hand to Celia. She grasped mine, her gaze expectant.
“Do you want me to try for your past, your present, or your future?”
“Past or present,” she said. “I have nothing to hide.”
Was she trying to prove me a fraud? Or just embarrass me in front of Babe? “And a future vision is harder to debunk.”
Celia said nothing, which only confirmed my suspicions. I wanted to like Celia, but we were off to a bad start. “Think of a specific instance in your past. Something with a strong emotion attached works best.”
“Okay.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
My peripheral vision dimmed as the vision slowly unfolded. Soon, I was sitting under an open sky.
A young mother holds her infant, singing softly as she strokes his cheek.
“All through the night.
Darkness is another light
That exposes true beauty
The Heavenly family in peace
All through the night.”
When the song ends, she kisses his forehead. He is swaddled in a pale green receiving blanket with a Christian cross embroidered in the corner. She folds back the blanket to tickle his tiny tummy. “You are loved, Jude.” Tears of joy crest her eyes. “Always.”
“All through the night,” I whispered.
“Mom,” Babel said. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, the room coming into focus again. Celia stared at me, her brown eyes haunted. “What did you see?”
I couldn’t imagine the pain and loss she suffered from Judah’s death. I couldn’t even think about how I’d react if something happened to our child. I didn’t want to make the pain more acute, so I opted for a half-truth. “A pale green receiving blanket. With an embroidered cross.”
Celia picked up her oversized purse from the floor. She pulled out a package. “This is for your baby.”
I opened the gift. Inside was the blanket I’d seen in the vision. She was passing down an heirloom for our child. Mine and Babe’s. The blanket was proof of their acceptance, however reluctant they might be to welcome me into their family. I sniffled as all the feels swept over me. Babel pulled me back into his embrace and kissed the side of my neck.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“The stress can’t be good for the baby,” Aunt Erma Jean said. Her voice was raspy with age. For a therianthrope to look as geriatric as she did, she had to be at least a century old. “Humans aren’t meant to carry shifter offspring.”
“Erma Jean!” said Daniel, looking embarrassed. He looked at me. “Humans and shifters have mated for centuries. You’ll be fine.”
The front door swung open and Chav arrived with the take-out. She put the food in the kitchen and returned, sitting next to Aunt Erma Jean on the love seat.
“You’ll looking well,” said Erma Jean, patting her niece’s leg.
It was the first time I’d seen Erma Jean be nice. The gesture made it clear that not everyone in the Trimmel family approved of me.
“I’m okay, Auntie.” Chav crossed her arms and stared at her mom. “So, why are you really here?”
Celia bristled. “To meet Sunny. Is that so difficult to believe?”
“Uhm, how do I say this…yes.”
“We’re early because Babe asked us to come,” said Daniel.
Chav turned a sharp gaze to Babe’s face. He had the good sense to look chagrined.
“We all know why Babe asked us here.” Erma Jean withdrew a small square box from her purse. The box was black with gold inlay. It looked regal and had an antique feel.
Babe stood us both up and took the box from his aunt. Then he turned and went down to one knee right in front of me. My legs started to shake.
“I know you said you didn’t need a real engagement ring, just a real engagement, but Sunny, you deserve it all.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and my breath caught in my chest.
He opened the box. The inside was lined with velvet and held a diamond and emerald engagement ring with a braided band of yellow and white gold. Behind it was a wedding band made in the same fashion. A set.
My heart skipped a beat.
“Sunny, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The only thing more beautiful is your spirit. You are kind, gentle, fierce, and passionate. From the moment we met, I knew you were the other half of my soul. You are the only person I have ever wanted to share my life with. I love you with all my heart. I am asking you, in the presence of my family, if you will make me the happiest and luckiest man on earth by consenting to be my wife. My mate.”
I couldn’t stop the tears. They slid down my oily face as he looked up at me with such love and devotion. If he saw me as beautiful when I was covered in grease, swollen like a German sausage, and so hormonal I cried at the drop of a hat, it had to be true love.
I nodded. “Yes, Babe. Again and again, yes.”
He stood, wrapping his arms around me, and kissed me. When he pulled back, he had Billy Bob’s ointment smeared across his mouth and cheeks.
I cried harder.
“I love you so much,” he said.
I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe his face clean. “I love you, Babel Trimmel.”
He took the engagement ring from the box. I held out my trembling left hand. He slid it on my ring finger, and even with my recent weight gain, it was too big. I pushed the band back, the tip of my finger stroking the diamond, not huge, but a generous half karat and all gorgeous. The emeralds were small and encircled the diamond. “It’s beautiful, Babel.”
“It was my Great Grandmother Doris’s,” he told me. “And now it’s yours.”
“I’m so happy...” My voice trailed off as my face began to tingle, another tell-tale sign of an incoming vision. “Babe.”
He eased me into the chair, and the world went dark.
I am free. Finally able to love. Finally able to put the past behind me. My secret is safe. We have agreed to live as humans. To not allow our natures to make us beasts. We have created a safe place for when the full moon turns us into animals against our will. A place where I can hide. He loves me.
“Her secret,” I mumbled. My eyesight cleared and once again I was in the living room surrounded by Babel’s family. “Her secret.”
“Are you okay, Sunny?” Babel wrapped his arm around my shoulder. The ring slid off my finger and bounced across the floor.
Aunt Erma Jean, moving faster than a person her age should, plucked the ring mid-roll and stood up.
“This will have to be resized.” She gripped it in her palm. As if suddenly aware she was being watched, the old woman said, “This is my sister’s ring. Losing it would send me to an early grave. I’m sure you don’t want that on your conscience.”
I rubbed my palms together as the private memory tried to resurface. “She really loved the man who gave her the ring.”
“Yes,” Erma Jean agreed. Her eyes narrowed on Sunny. “She really did.” The hostile stare from the elderly therian raised the hackles on the back of my neck. If anyone could stand a little softening that came with human contact, I had a feeling it was Great Aunt Erma Jean.
“Can you tell me about Doris?” I knew from passing conversation that she’d died before he was born. Some kind of accident, but I’d never gotten the full story. “Babe said she died young.”
“Yes,” Erma Jean said. “After Celia was born.” She picked at some lint on her sweater. “She was killed by a rogue werewolf. They are unpredictable creatures. Dangerous and unstable.”
I thought about Billy Bob. While I believed he could be dangerous if he wanted to be, I also believe he was one of the most
stable and compassionate people I’d ever met. Even more surprising than the old woman’s werewolf rant was Babe’s lack of protest against such prejudice. Billy Bob was the lone lycan in town, and I’d always assumed Babe’s dislike of the wolf shifter had more to do with a difference in philosophies, but now I wondered if the dislike had deeper roots. It was easy to see that Erma Jean blamed the entire lycanthrope species for her sister’s death.
“I’m sorry. I can tell how painful her loss is for you.” Impulsively, I reached out and touched Erma Jean’s hand.
Two animals hunt side-by-side, one wolf and one coyote, both in harmony. The moon is full, and they embrace their nature. Embrace their love...
Erma Jean snatched her hand away from me.
Had she been in love with a lycanthrope? Had he hurt her? Was that another reason she hated werewolves?
“Sunny,” Babe said, pulling me closer to him.
The vision had been innocuous, harmless, yet I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my gut. This sense of foreboding had me twisted in a million knots. “I think I need to lie down for a while.”
“Should I call Doc Smith?” Chavvah asked.
“No,” I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. I didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that bringing a lycanthrope into our home now, while Erma Jean remained, was a really bad idea.
Chapter Three
12 days until the wedding...
Peculiar Paw-On smelled of gun oil, mildew, and rusted pennies. It was six in the evening, and our final stop after a long day of cake tasting at Becky’s Bakery, food selecting for the rehearsal dinner and reception at Blonde Bear Cafe, and a dress and tux fitting at The Formal Invitation, a dress shop across the street from the cafe. Sally Michaels, another coyote shifter and the owner of the shop, sold dresses for all kinds of formal occasions. She’d ordered in an off-white shift dress overlaid with antique lace, and it had long sleeves and a hem that hit right above my knee. She’d had to make a few alterations because the half-coyote baby in my belly was growing fast (or maybe it was the half dozen donuts I’d eaten for breakfast).
