by Noah Harris
Johnny looked up, realizing something had happened but too distracted to catch the cues. Ash’s heart thumped in his chest when Johnny’s bright blue eyes caught the glare from the fluorescent light in the parking lot. The look of focus on Johnny’s face was marred only by the crease of confusion deepening in his brow. Shadows played on his face, emphasizing the sharp angles, making him all the more handsome in Ash’s mind.
Clearing his throat, Ash closed his mind and turned the truck on once more. “Right, so you’re the navigator, navigate me.”
“Yes sir,” Johnny said.
Grinning at the wry tease in his best friend’s voice, Ash pulled the truck out of the parking spot and back onto the road.
To Ash’s great relief, Johnny’s dark mood cleared the closer they came to the city. He wasn’t sure if it was because Johnny was returning to his environment of choice, or because the phone had given him a sense of purpose. Whatever the reason, Ash was glad to see the humor returning to Johnny in earnest, rather than the almost automatic sarcasm from before.
Johnny tapped at his phone. “Take a right at the next light, apparently it’s going to be near the end of that road.”
Ash eyed the passing buildings. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
Johnny shrugged. “Well, unless Maya gave me the wrong address, or the GPS is not working properly, then yes.”
“Okay, then how well is this pack doing?” Ash asked.
Johnny chuckled. “Do you think werewolves all live in grass huts and caves?”
Ash grimaced. “Well, I can’t say I had much to do with the Pack, other than to occasionally fight them when I had to. Most of the time, they weren’t living…well, in neighborhoods like this.”
Not that he believed werewolves would live in squalor or downtrodden areas in the city. The portion of the city they drove through wasn’t just upscale, it was very modern in its aesthetic. There didn’t seem to be a park or any natural landscaping in sight, every building and structure was made of steel and concrete, without any hint of greenery. Every Pack member he’d come across in urban areas before had generally stuck by the few places that had parks or near the suburbs where the wilderness lay close by.
Johnny chuckled. “The Pack members who come to live in cities find a way to survive. Sure, some stick only to the areas that are as close to nature as they’re going to get, and some even stay in the poorest part of town. Apparently the latter group seems to believe that the struggle and fight for survival is the ‘real nature’ of the city. But some, like this group apparently, use their natural competitiveness and instinct to survive in the business world. Though whether that’s actually what these ones have done or whether they’ve found some other way to care for themselves, I’m not sure.”
“This seems like a poor time to bring this up, but did Maya give us anything to work with when it came to this group, or are we just supposed to trust that they’re going to help us?” Ash asked as he drove.
Johnny shrugged. “She says they’re open to cooperating, or at least the shaman is. In my experience, if a group has a shaman, they listen to that shaman. Even if it goes against what they might want to do, they’ll listen to the old guy who talks to spirits, even if those are the spirits of the city.”
Ash snorted. “I suppose I haven’t given the werewolves enough credit, or much thought in general. They are far more adaptable than they’re given credit for, if they’re willing to talk to spirits within the city.”
“Some of them don’t see much of a difference, or maybe they’re just keeping up with trends. All I know is, most of the shamans I met didn’t want to be around me for long, something about ‘dark energy’ or some such nonsense,” Johnny said.
It was said lightly, but Ash could feel the pinprick of an old wound from within Johnny’s mind. Without thinking, he reached across the cab as he stopped at a light, resting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder and squeezing. Johnny reached up at the touch, laying his hand over Ash’s gently. Johnny’s eyes never left the intersection ahead of them, but a small smile graced his lips in thanks.
“I hope you haven’t lost some of your edge in the months sitting around on your arse in the woods,” Johnny said suddenly, smirking.
Ash chuckled, pushing Johnny’s shoulder before returning his hand to the wheel. “I don’t know if you’re used to getting rusty from sitting around for too long, but I’m always ready. You don’t stop being a soldier just because your contract is up.”
“You should write the government and tell them that, maybe see if you can get a paycheck still,” Johnny offered.
“Ah yes, because the government is so known for its giving and fair nature,” Ash said.
“I hear they can be quite reasonable and open handed, if you have enough financial backers,” Johnny answered.
“Or that good ol’ Southern boy charm,” Ash countered.
Johnny sighed wistfully. “Alas, you’re doomed.”
Ash snorted, this time punching Johnny’s shoulder as he turned at the helpful, if insistent instructions from Johnny’s voiced navigation. True to form, Johnny managed to keep his reaction to a measured smirk. He did rub the spot where Ash had struck him, though he hadn’t been hit that hard. The mischievous look in his eye as he glanced up at the townhouse they pulled up in front of was a happy reminder of the impish boy Ash had known many years ago.
It was that more than anything that made him feel better about their mission. He’d thought leaving Kell behind would leave them both listless and lonely. And while he certainly missed the omega, Ash found Johnny’s presence was more than enough to soothe that ache. In fact, the more time they spent alone with one another, the more Ash was reminded of the years they spent growing up. Some distant fear he hadn’t known was there until the moment he caught Johnny’s smirk, dissipated at the reminder of the old days.
Stepping out of the truck, the two of them took in the building. If it hadn’t been built within the past five years, Ash would have been surprised. It was trim and neat looking, with enough personality to set it apart from the other buildings on the block. Odd and yet fluid sculptures made up the outer wall of the first floor, with faux Greco-Roman pillars at the corners. The main color of the townhouse was either white, or an off gray, offset by streaks of what looked like gold through it.
“Well, they certainly are doing well,” Ash repeated.
“I’m pretty sure there’s a fountain around the other side of the house,” Johnny said.
Ash laughed softly. “Yes, a fountain, the hallmark of the well to do.”
“Name the number of lower or middle-class people who throw a fountain in their lawn,” Johnny countered.
Ash led the way along wide paving stones meant to be a path. “I think the décor is a bigger sign. How many not rich people think weird, marble, modern sculpture walls and Greek statues are the way to go?”
Johnny looked at the wall as they passed. “I don’t think they’re modern art etchings. I think they’re…stories.”
Ash glanced over as they passed under another light, discovering that with better lighting, there was something to Johnny’s theory. The sculptures which he’d taken as random shapes and swoops did indeed seem to tell a tale. What the story was, Ash didn’t know, and he wondered if they might have the time to ask.
Johnny stopped at the doors to the lobby, cocking his head as he caught sight of something on the door. Ash watched, carefully listening to their surroundings as Johnny plucked off a piece of paper that had been taped there.
“What’s it say?” Ash asked.
“That we’re supposed to take it to the lowest basement floor,” Johnny replied dryly.
Ash snorted. “Let me guess, it’s written to us directly.”
Johnny held the page up. “To J and A as a matter of fact.”
It wasn’t exactly their names, but Ash didn’t think it was a huge leap to assume it was for them. Not only had they been expected, but he wondered if the owner had put it up eith
er because they were late, or because they’d known they would be late. He couldn’t say where the second idea came from, or why it felt so right, but he’d learned not to argue with his instincts.
The lobby was at odds with the sleek, if slightly disjointed exterior of the building. For Ash, it reminded him of walking into the herb gardens of the Coven. The ceiling rose above them to the highest point of the building, with the entire wall above the door plated in crystal clear glass. Plants of all kinds, more than Ash could recognize, were strewn about, in planters on the floor or hung in delicate looking pots of varying shapes and colors from runners hanging above them.
“Well, that’s a lovely bit of cultural whiplash,” Johnny said, pressing the call button for the elevator.
“One of us should point out that someone wants us to meet them in the lowest floor of the building. I’m not going to be the one to accuse them of having a torture basement, but I might be willing to admit it’s on my mind,” Ash said casually.
“I’ll be a little put out if our guest turns out to be a homicidal maniac who chooses to maim and kill us,” Johnny said.
Ash smirked, looking up as the elevator dinged to signal its arrival. The two of them stepped forward into the car. There came a gentle hum after Johnny jabbed the button, and Ash was privately relieved to see there was no elevator music. Considering the disparity between the interior and exterior of the building, he had almost been anticipating something even more off kilter, like hard rock.
His brow rose as the car descended into the depths of the building, and a steady thumping began to reverberate around them. Johnny glanced at him as the beat became louder and Ash realized he was hearing the sounds of heavy bass.
“Apparently, we’re walking into a party,” Johnny said.
Ash snorted. “At least they were nice enough to include us.”
Laughter echoed up the elevator shaft before the car slid to a smooth stop. After a pause, the doors slid open to reveal another lobby. This one was bare of any decoration, only the smooth white with gold shot walls, the same as on the outside of the building, and the double black doors across from the elevator. Beside the door stood a lone man, dressed in a tux, with an arching dragon face mask placed on his face.
“Good evening gentlemen, I imagine you are here for Earl?” A cultured voice asked from behind the mask.
Ash glanced at Johnny. “Yeah, but we weren’t exactly expecting a party, so we didn’t dress for it.”
“No need, the party has no dress code save that you must wear masks, as it is a masquerade party,” the doorman answered.
“Which we don’t have,” Johnny said.
The man nodded. “That was anticipated, it’s of no concern, however.”
The doorman turned, revealing a small podium against the wall behind him. Plucking something from the top, the doorman revealed two masks. One was of a silver-white wolf face, and the other a black swan. Ash reached, taking them both and looking them over dubiously.
Johnny sighed. “We’re looking for someone specific, we can’t very well do that when everyone is wearing masks.”
The doorman straightened. “I was told to inform the two late gentlemen to look for the minotaur.”
“He really could have just said bull mask,” Ash grunted.
Johnny snorted. “Apparently our host enjoys a bit of fun in his dealings. Hand over a mask so we can get on with this.”
Ash looked at the masks in his hand, marveling at their craftsmanship. They were no cheap plastic covers with thin pieces of elastic to hold them on the wearer’s head. He wasn’t quite sure what they were made of, but the binding to hold them in place was a finely cut strip of leather. The swan mask was sheer black, with a light sheen to it that gave it texture in order to show off the graceful curve of its neck and the coy curve of its head. The wolf needed no sheen, its expression of raw pride and defiance was blatant. Looking at the wolf mask, all Ash could think about was the white knight who never was, standing by his principles of justice and loyalty, even as it put him at odds with the world.
Ash tucked the swan mask closer to himself, handing the wolf to Johnny. “Here then, let’s go party.”
Johnny
The mask, it turned out, fitted him perfectly. It rested comfortably on his face while showing no sign of slipping. He wasn’t fond of how it obscured his vision, but he hoped he wouldn’t need to rely on it in combat. He trusted Maya completely, but he wasn’t sure how fallible she was. Going to see Earl before he’d reestablished a connection with his contacts wasn’t Johnny’s style, but Maya had insisted it was the first thing they do upon making it to civilization.
When the doors opened, the thumping music washed over them in a wave of pulsing beats. A long room spread out before them, with wide openings to other rooms off to the side. There were people crammed into various sized groups along the length of the room, some dancing, some talking, but most everyone had a drink in their hand.
As Johnny looked, he could see various bars situated around, each with their own assigned bartender, or two, depending on the size. There didn’t appear to be waitstaff of any sort, but no one seemed to have any trouble finding their drinks.
Ash called over the music. “Good God, it’s a club!”
Johnny nodded, a little impressed with the scope of the place. He’d been expecting something a little more lively than the masks led him to believe, simply due to the music, but he wasn’t expecting a full-scale underground club. As he watched, one of the openings leading into a side room closed with the gentle slide of hidden doors. Through the glass either side of where the opening had been, he watched people lounging back on couches and chairs, chatting at what seemed like a far more reasonable volume.
Ash drew closer. “Where should we start to find Earl?”
Remembering something Maya had said, Johnny took hold of Ash’s hand and drew him close to him. His friend tensed, his eyes wary behind the blackness of the mask. Johnny smiled, shaking his head, only remembering afterward that Ash couldn’t see his mouth clearly through the mask.
Johnny leaned in so Ash could hear him clearly. “I was told we should act like a couple visiting him. To hide who we are and blend in.”
Ash tilted his head. “Two alphas in a relationship are going to draw attention.”
Alphas were primarily drawn to omegas, forming the deep bonds between them and hopefully having children to further the Pack. A relationship between alphas was of course possible and wasn’t unheard of. However, it did have a tendency to cause a stir in the Pack, and there were those who thought it selfish and inappropriate. Without an omega, the relationship was seen as inferior, and wasteful, with no chance of children between them.
Johnny looked around, shrugging. “I’m going to guess that it’s better than showing up as just friends. And from the looks of this place, they probably have quite a few…oddities who show up. We’ll probably just be one more out of place thing in a sea of out of place things.”
Ash said nothing and Johnny couldn’t read his expression. He resisted the urge to read Ash’s mind, Johnny still remembered all too clearly the reaming Kell had given him when Johnny had been too bold in using his telepathy. Ash had always been more forgiving, but Johnny knew how deeply private Ash was. While his best friend was willing to tolerate Johnny’s occasional mental intrusions when they were young, Johnny wasn’t willing to test it as adults.
Finally, the tension Ash had been holding released and his grip on Johnny’s hand became more natural. Their arms bumped against one another as they turned to face the room once more, and a quiet thrill ran through Johnny. While it hadn’t bothered him too much in the past few months, he remembered all too clearly the years spent mooning over Ash in the deepest, most hidden part of his heart. Despite that, Johnny had done well to keep the relationship he and Ash had, both as best friends and sex partners, separate from his previous romantic feelings. He wasn’t sure what that sort of tight control said about him, but he feared what would ha
ppen if he let them merge.
“Alright, let’s find us a minotaur,” Ash said.
Trying to move through the crowd as a couple proved to be more difficult in reality. Ash’s bulk made him stand out in a group that was a mix of shapes, but none as broad and tall as he was. Johnny’s height might have made him stand out, but he was well versed in the art of blending in. Without Ash in tow, he might have moved through the crowd like a shadow, barely noticed save for a few admiring glances shot his way.
Still, even with their slow progress, Johnny found he liked the attention the crowd was giving them. Those who weren’t caught up in their dancing allowed their eyes to linger on them, flitting from Johnny to Ash, and back again. Johnny watched through the holes cut in his mask, wondering who was feeling desire, who was feeling jealousy, and who might be resentful. In a crowd this size he didn’t dare reach out with his telepathic powers and risk absorbing too many thoughts and feelings at one time. He contented himself with watching their body language and guessing at what passed through their minds.
Ash reached out with his other hand, pointing. “There.”
Johnny followed his hand and caught sight of a mask moving through the crowd which stood out. Among the sea of rabbits, cats, dogs, and a few horses, Kell spotted a crimson shape far bulkier than the others. Shifting around a small group of people, Johnny waited until the figure moved into sight. A moment later, he saw the clear vision of a red bull mask, moving and twisting in the crowd.
“Let’s go introduce ourselves,” Johnny called.
Ash followed close behind him as they squeezed through a tight section of the crowd. Even as the press of attractive people pushed in on them, Johnny was forever conscious of Ash’s hand in his. Ash’s grip tightened as the group closed in, pushing himself forward to bully some of the crowd away so he could keep close to Johnny.
The bull mask turned their way as they approached, and Johnny would swear the man wearing it was grinning. There was an aura of mischief and irreverence that hung around the man Johnny took to be Earl, so thick that Johnny didn’t need his magical senses to feel it. The shaman’s arms were wrapped around the waist of a woman grinding back into him, while a well-built man gyrated behind Earl. The shaman himself was shirtless, his thin but toned chest covered in a layer of sweat as he continued moving with the rhythm of his partners.
