Howling for My Baby

by Beverly Rae

  Daniel, if only you could see me now. He chuckled, amazed at what love could make him do. But Syd was worth going through any hardship, even walking into a nest of killers—again. He took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell.

  Please let Syd open the door and not her father. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard someone unlatching more than one dead bolt and, at last, turning the knob from the other side.

  A short old woman, her skin as wrinkled as a Shar-pei puppy, stood in front of him, hands fisted on her hips, with a cigarette hanging out the corner of her mouth. Her icy stare threatened to puncture holes right through him. This woman is definitely a Skeller. Nonetheless, Jason flashed his most endearing smile at her and stuck out his hand.

  The old woman sneered at his outstretched hand without offering her own and resumed her stone-cold perusal. “Who’re you and what ’cha want? Mind you, I ain’t buying nothin’.”

  He dropped both his hand and his smile. Ah, yes, the Skeller charm. “I’m Jason Cannon, Syd’s friend. Her father ordered, uh, invited me to her birthday party. Syd came earlier to help her mother and─”

  “All right, all right. I don’t need to hear your life story.” She humphed at him, twisted around and yelled at the large crowd of people behind her. “Hey, Grissy. You invite some stinky outsider to your daughter’s party?”

  At least I know the couple of gallons of bad cologne I bathed with covered my shifter scent. Everyone turned toward him and stopped talking at the same time. Shit. This is what Skeller calls a small family get-together? He scanned the group, but couldn’t find her. “Uh, could I speak to Syd, please?”

  “Ooh…and a polite one, too. Smelly, but mannerly. Now where the hell is my moron of a son?” Faster than any elderly woman he’d ever known, Grandma Wrinkles hooked him by the arm and dragged him inside. “She’s around here somewhere. Best you get to know her family first. Are you the boy she’s bonking?”

  He stammered, unsure how to answer the intrusive question, and decided not to try. She pulled him along with her, parting the crowd, to scurry through the screen doors leading into the backyard. “Grissy! Where the hell are you? I don’t have time to waste trying to find your sorry ass.”

  Jason winced at the strident call, thankful his human ears didn’t have the sensitivity his wolf ears did. “If we could find Syd instead─”

  “Nonsense. My idiot son will show you around. I got better things to do than find your squeeze for you.”

  For once in his life, Jason Cannon, shifter and leader of his pack, felt sorry for a hunter. With a mother like her, no wonder Skeller wanted to murder someone. The only question was why Skeller hadn’t committed suicide to get away from the terror he called his mother.

  “Ma?” Skeller stepped out of the throng of partiers and rushed over to them. “Stop the hollering. I’m right here. And don’t call me Grissy.” Wrenching him from his mother’s grip, Skeller yanked Jason to his side and did his own version of The Club on his already aching arm. “Shit, son. Don’t you ever take a break on the cologne?”

  Jason started to answer, but lost his train of thought when the hunter spun him around to face yet another senior citizen. “Mother Yates, this is a friend of Sydney’s.”

  Where Grandma Wrinkles had exuded a hard-as-steel personality, this tall, slender lady radiated a welcoming glow. Although she had weathered skin like Skeller’s mother, the spark in her eyes discounted any appearance of old age. Here was a woman of class and charm—a true lady.

  Jason offered his hand and she enclosed it with both of hers. She smiled wider, brightening her features even more, and her eyes twinkled at him. “You’re a friend of Sydney’s? How wonderful to meet you. I’m her grandmother, Gloria. Sydney’s mother, Miriam, is my daughter.”

  Like I couldn’t have guessed. This woman’s definitely no Skeller. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Yates. I’m Jason Cannon.” He covered her hands with his free one and tipped his head to her.

  “Please, call me Gloria.”

  “All right. Only if you’ll call me Jason.” He waved at two bees buzzing around his head. Damn things must love cologne. “Syd’s father invited me.” He tried to shoo the bees away. Instead, two more joined the first little stingers. “But he said this was a small family thing. I guess the party grew, huh?”

  Her laugh was a cheery bell he immediately liked. “Oh, no. This is only a fraction of the whole family.” She laughed again at his surprised expression. “The Skeller and Yates families are very large. Even when you get just a few from each side together, it turns into quite a large group. Large in other people’s terms, of course.”

  She stepped closer and coughed. If he stank, why did all these people want to get close to him? He started to ask, but she cut him off when she whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “I hope you’re a strong man because you’re going to need every ounce of strength in you. You’re about to meet some more of the Skeller family. Please remember they’re only half of Sydney’s family.”

  Jason, who’d tucked his head to listen to her, lifted his gaze and saw an odd group approaching. An overweight tattoo-covered young man led two men in camouflage—please tell me birthday parties don’t include going on a hunt—and two obese women in tight flowery dresses, each with a baby on one hip. His gaze fell on the bare feet of the women and he fought to keep from gaping at them. Can you say, “You might be a redneck if your wife is a barefoot baby factory?” How in the world did someone like his beautiful, educated Syd come from a group of hillbillies?

  Before they got any closer, Gloria moved away and waved a plea to forgive her for leaving him in their clutches. Tattoo Man reached him first, took one breath of Jason and held his nose.

  “Holy shit. Uncle Gris wasn’t kidding. This sucker stinks.”

  The balding camouflaged hunter took a whiff and choked on the smell. “Damn, man. You smell worse than four-day-old road kill.”

  Like they didn’t have a rotten hunter smell? Or was that hillbilly stench? Jason bit his tongue and kept the observation to himself. Where the hell was Syd, anyway?

  “Y’all quit being rude.” The largest of the women wiped the baby spit off her hand and reached out to shake Jason’s hesitant one. “Don’t mind them. We heard you have a thing for bad cologne. Guess someone has to buy the cheap stuff, huh?” She pumped his arm, making the flabby skin of her underarm wave its own greeting.

  “I like it.” The other woman, whose red lipstick was her sole attempt at makeup, reached over to stroke his arm. “Besides, when a man looks like you who cares how he smells? Hey there, I’m Tildy.”

  Baldy gawked at Tildy. “Are you shitting me, woman? Then how come you make me take a bath before coming to bed? Huh? Answer me, woman.” He bellied up to her, pushing Jason out of the way.

  If he’d had a bell, Jason would’ve rung in the first round of Sumo Wrestling Country Style.

  “It’s different. You reek of grease, oil, and B.O., Bubba. Not cologne.”

  “I work for a living, woman, and that means I get dirty.”

  Tattoo Man crooked his head to the side and gestured for Jason to follow him. “Forget them, man. They’re our poor relations from Arkansas. They came out here to get jobs and help Uncle Gris kill evildoers.” He paused to study Jason. “You know about the monsters, right?”

  Jason, thankful to Tattoo Man for taking him away from the quarrelling kinfolk, couldn’t help but grin. “You wouldn’t believe how much I know.”

  “Cool, man.” Again, the redneck studied him and Jason wondered if he’d said too much. Tattoo edged toward him and whispered, “Can I trust you, man?”

  Curious, he leaned in and nodded, intent on hearing the guy’s secret. “You bet. What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m holding. If you’re int’rested.” Tattoo patted his rear pocket and surveyed the mob around them.

  “Holding what?” In reality, Jason didn’t care—unless it was a gun. He crooked his neck to get a glimpse what the man had. Tattoo’s snort an
swered his question. “Oh, you’re holding drugs. What kind? Pot? E?”

  “Naw, man, you don’t snort pot or E. I’ve got primo blow. You want some?”

  What a great bunch of relatives Syd has. Maybe introducing her to the pack wouldn’t be as much of a culture shock as he’d originally thought. She might even think she’d moved up in the world. “I appreciate your willingness to share, but I’d better stay straight.”

  Tattoo scrunched up his face in disgust. “Share? Hell, no, man. I’m offering you good stuff for a good price.”

  Great. Syd’s cousin is a drug user and a dealer. Priceless. “Oh. Then definitely no thanks. I’m tapped out.”

  “Suit yourself, man, but you’re missing out on a good thing.”

  Jason shrugged and tried to look disappointed. “My loss, I guess. Thanks, anyway.” He saluted and stepped away.

  Tattoo held up his fingers to form an L in front of his forehead and pointed at him. With an unintelligible grumble, he shuffled to the other side of the yard.

  Ri-ight, Tattoo. I’m the loser. Snagging a Coke—the legal kind—off a nearby picnic table, Jason decided to head inside to track Syd down. If he didn’t find her soon, he’d get the hell outta this House of Hunters.

  Other relatives—including an oversexed teen who flashed her boobs at him—tried taking his arm to slow him down, but he politely shook them off and kept moving. He needed time to regroup. Time to think. Time away from these nutty people. Besides, hitting a moving target was harder than hitting a stationary one.

  When he thought no one was watching, he ducked through a swinging door and into the brightly lit kitchen, leaving both the insanity of the backyard and the bees behind. Platters of refreshments sat on the island counter and he breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up a glass of what he hoped was iced tea. Yet, after what he’d seen, who knew what was in the glass? Glad to be alone for a minute, he blew out a puff of air, decided to take the risk, and gulped down the drink. Thankfully, it was tea. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a cold brew. These people are freaks.”

  “If you’ll help me with this pot, I’ll get you a beer.”

  He sputtered the second gulp and wiped the drink off his chin. Syd’s mother, Miriam, rose up from behind the other side of the island.

  “They are kind of hard to take the first time you meet them. Oh, and the second and third time, too.” She tossed him a dish towel to mop up the splatter on the floor. “I imagine they’re especially hard for you to take.”

  Grateful to have something else to do rather than look at her, he bent over and cleaned up the mess. “Sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  He straightened up, ready to get blasted and, instead, she gave him a knowing smile. Still, insulting Syd’s relatives wasn’t the best way to get to know her mother better.

  “Don’t worry. I understand.” She put a finger to her lips and lowered her voice. “The first time I met Griswold’s family I almost ran for the hills. But once I thought about it, I realized the hills were probably lousy with even more of his relatives.”

  He grinned at her and nodded. “I thought I was getting punked when I came through the front door.”

  She laughed and gestured him closer. “Like I said, help me by lugging this pot out of the lower cabinet, and I’ll fetch you a beer.” She caught his reaction and held up her hands, palms out. “Sorry. I guess I should watch the words I use around you. Sometimes I use humor to cover up other feelings.”

  “It’s all right. Just don’t start throwing sticks.”

  He lifted the huge cooking pot to the stove while Miriam got a wine bottle from the wine rack and expertly pulled its cork. “How about a nice red wine instead? After all, I’m fixing spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner. Do you like spaghetti? Or is it meaty enough for you?”

  He accepted the glass she offered him and they clinked their goblets together. “I love it. And meat sauce is a must.” He winked, letting her know he could kid with the best of them.

  “Touché.” She took a sip and filled the pot with water. “Must be my Italian ancestry because I love making spaghetti for a big crowd.”

  At his questioning look, she explained. “I know. Yates doesn’t sound Italian and it isn’t. My family changed their name a long time ago. I guess they wanted to sound more American.”

  “I see. Well, you’ve sure got the crowd for some major cooking.”

  “Oh, this little group? You should see Thanksgiving around here.” She tilted her head at him. “Will you be around for the holidays, Jason? Or is my daughter a fling on the other side of the fence? Is this a game shifters play? You know. Bed a hunter’s daughter?” Her perusal became more intense. “Mark a hunter’s daughter?”

  Obviously, the comedy part of the show was over. Now came the drama. He swallowed his last sip and placed his glass on the counter. “I don’t know if I’ll be around for the holidays, but I’d like to be. However, if your husband and his fellow hunters ever find out about me, I may not live long enough to see the turkey on the table.” Placing both hands on the counter, he leaned toward Miriam and enunciated his words. “Like I told you before. Syd is no fling. She’s my mate. No matter who her family is or what they do.”

  Miriam dropped spaghetti into the pot, stirred it around for a moment, then stopped to study him further. “Your mate. Whew, I’m not sure it’s sunk in all the way yet—to me or to Sydney. And if that wasn’t enough, she’s definitely going to─”

  “Mrs. Skeller─”

  “Call me Miriam.”

  “Miriam, I don’t get it. You know what I am and yet you’re not telling your husband. Why not? Why aren’t you screaming bloody murder? For my murder?” He couldn’t grasp it, but something was up. Miriam had to know more than what she was saying. “Is it because you know I bit her?” He couldn’t quite say the words and she’s going to become a werewolf to her mother. Not yet.

  She drank a sip of her wine, appeared to steady herself, and took another moment to think before she answered him. “I know my daughter cares about you, says she loves you. And you love her. Am I correct?”

  “You can count on it.” He sought out her eyes, hoping to reinforce the truth through the gesture. “Syd and I have gone through a lot together in a very short time. I love her, Miriam.”

  “And I love him.”

  Miriam’s gaze went to the door behind him and he spun on his heels to find Syd standing at the door. Letting it swing shut behind her, she crossed over to him and into his welcoming arms.

  “I’m happy, Mom, and I hope you can be happy for me. For us. But trust me. Nothing and no one is going to come between us.”

  Miriam reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “Are you sure, honey? After all, he is what he is. Which means─”

  “Which means I am what I am now. Are you saying you don’t think we can make a go of it? Are you saying you want me out of your life because I’m a…you-know-what?”

  Syd’s body tensed next to his and he could hear the plea and uncertainty in her voice. However, she stood taller in her defiance, ready to defend her new life and mate.

  Miriam downed the remaining wine in her glass and clutched the empty glass to her chest. “Sydney Skeller, don’t ever question my love for you. You’re my sweet girl and I’ll always want you in my life.” Although she pointed a finger at her daughter to chastise her, the emotion in her face left no doubt of her affection. “I know you two can make a go of it. In fact, I know it better than you do.”

  “What do you mean, Mom?”

  But Miriam continued without answering Syd’s question. “The big problem is making sure no one outs Jason to your father. He and his hunter buddies can never know his true nature.”

  “What’s this about Jason’s true nature?”

  Miriam’s glass slipped out of her fingers and shattered in the sink. They swiveled to face Skeller coming through the door. His expression was unreadable and Jason prepared for the worst.

>   “I asked a question, Miriam. Why are you talking about outing Jason?”

  “Griswold Skeller, stop sneaking up on me.” Her mother scowled at him and picked up the pieces of broken glass in the sink.

  “I didn’t sneak up on anyone. Still…tell me why this is the second time I’ve caught you three in a huddle.”

  Sydney exchanged an exasperated glance with her mother. Skeller had a knack for catching the three of them together. “We weren’t in a huddle. We were simply, uh, talking about going out after the party. That’s all.”

  “Bullshit.” Skeller strode to his wife and took over picking up the shards of glass to toss into the trash. “Did you cut yourself?”

  “I’m fine, Griswold, and watch your language.”

  Syd could tell her mother tried but couldn’t keep the irritation out of her tone. The question she had was whether or not her mother was more irritated at her father…or herself for getting caught again. “Really, Skeller, it’s nothing. Jason wants to take me to this new club downtown where his friends hang out.”

  Skeller finished cleaning up the breakage and washed his hands. “Uh-huh. I see. His friends.”

  Anxiety started a five-mile lap up and down her neck. Syd glanced at her mother and Jason and saw the same uneasiness on their faces. “Yeah. His friends. No big deal.” She made a funny face to lighten the mood. “After all, he’s spending half the day cooped up with all my wacko relatives. The least I can do is spend some time with his kind.” Crap. Why’d I say “kind”?

  “I know what kind of friends you’re talking about, Sydney.” Her father crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “I know all about his true nature.”

  Her apprehension cranked up speed, warping into neck-breaking fear. “You do?” She hoped he hadn’t heard the quiver in her voice.

  “You bet I do. I’ve known from the moment I met him.”

  “You have?” No way. If her father had known, he’d have plugged Jason right then and there. Syd took Jason’s hand and squeezed it. If he was about to face the music, she’d do it with him. “But how, Skeller?”