by Amy Lane
“Dangerous and necessary—she has back-up, you know!” Green smiled winningly and Adrian, for all that he was not only a ghost but a vampire’s ghost, huffed irritably down next to him on the bench, his translucent form making not a single dent.
“Don’t tell me you sent Fuckwit with her,” Adrian sulked, and Green laughed.
“He’s your best friend, so don’t give me that shit, my lovely. And he’s not her only backup. I also sent Nicky and Marcus, and Phillip, and Max…”
“Cop-fuck Max?”
“He’s a were-cat now, Adrian. We haven’t called him ‘cop-fuck’ for…” a swallow, “for a while now.”
A shiver passed through that translucent frame, a grief, a pain that could not be eased. “Time keeps passing,” Adrian said plaintively.
“That it does,” Green agreed, his face etched with the same pain.
Adrian turned his non-existent body and laid back, his head resting on Green’s lap, and Green reached out and wove his long fingers with Adrian’s transparent ones. They clasped and unclasped their hands languidly as they talked.
“So if she’s all covered, why does she need me?” came the faint question, and for the first time Green looked up and captured Jack and Katy’s gaze.
“Because she’s with someone who reminds her awfully of you,” he said softly.
Adrian went to sit up, and although Green couldn’t keep him lying down physically, something about they way he held himself kept Adrian leaning back, a melancholy parody of two lovers in the garden on an summer’s day.
“She can’t have another lover in her bed!” Adrian protested. “Unless it’s someone with Brack, she’s stretched too thin as it is!”
“She does very well, actually—but I agree. She has all she wants or needs, and nobody’s going to push that unless it just happens—especially not Bracken. No—that’s not the problem, beloved. This one has lovers of his own.”
“Then what—it just hurts her to see someone as fucked up as I was?” Adrian asked bitterly, and Green’s hand freed itself and stroked the non-existent white-blonde hair.
“No, beloved. It hurts her to see someone completely wonderful who’s so sure he’s fucked up beyond repair. It took you two lovers to see your worth—I’ve always wished that I could have been enough.” Green swallowed, hard, and a nearly invisible hand came up and stroked his cheek.
“No regrets, beloved. If I hadn’t had that time with you, there wouldn’t have been enough of me for her to heal.”
Green smiled faintly, and met Jack and Katy’s eyes again, his chin giving a faint jerk towards the door behind him. The signal was clear—they had heard all he wanted them to hear, and it was time to get the fuck out of the garden and away from this more than private conversation.
They ran as quickly as they could, across the garden, down the granite staircase, through the labyrinth of halls and into Jack and Teague’s room. It wasn’t until the door slammed behind them that they looked at each other and saw that they both had been crying silently the whole time.
“Aw, Jesus,” Jack sniffed irritably, “I really am the woman!”
“In this case mijo,” Katy told him, wiping her cheeks on her sweatshirt, “I think we’ll let you keep your man-card.” Then she remembered something and swore. “My sampler—dammit! I was going to work on that to…”
She and Jack both stopped talking and stared.
There on the three (there had originally been two?) overstuffed chairs by the lamp, lay Katy’s sampler. Jack’s book was on the end table next to it, right where he’d left it. Katy laughed a little, and looked at Jack helplessly. Jack leaned down and kissed her salty, wet cheek.
“Tell you what—how about you go get us a plate of whatever’s in the kitchen, I’ll take a shower, and you can work on it in here while we wait…”
“Wait for Teague,” she finished soberly, and Jack nodded.
“Yeah. Wait for Teague.” Tried not to worry, prayed for his safety, wished he was there.
“I’ll leave when he gets here—you two…you need to talk.” She felt very noble saying that, and very gratified when he kissed her forehead and nodded.
“He said if we could make this work, he’d take care of us. Katy…maybe we could make this work, you think?” He looked honestly hopeful, and she had to respond the same way.
“Yeah—I think. It’s what I’ve been hoping, anyway. But first, there’s some things about werewolves I got to tell you, Jacky. I need you to listen, ‘kay?”
Jacky nodded. “Okay—how ‘bout while we eat?”
It wouldn’t be that easy—they both knew it. But he was happy, and she wanted to keep him that way, and not just for Teague. “It’s a plan. But first, Princeso, you need to take a shower—I’m not eating my dinner with no stinky man!”
Jack laughed, and so did Katy, and then she trotted off to go get them some food.
Teague
Family
Cory wouldn’t let him load his own damned gun.
The little college student stood at the SUV right outside the landing, loading guns and checking equipment and generally being tough, competent, and surrounded by older, taller men. Teague would have been tempted to smirk at the thought of her leading this little expedition like a military commander on a covert ops mission, but two vampires, and a police officer/were-creature were nodding at her with complete seriousness, and Nicky, her own bedmate (an Avian like Mario), was taking orders like a low-ranking corporal.
The only one who was determined to give her shit was Bracken, her actual bonded mate, and he seemed to be doing it to keep her from winding too tightly. It was certain that even when he gave her shit, he was doing exactly what she told him to.
“Teague, dammit,” she muttered, “stop. I told you not to unload that last clip—you’re carrying silvershot, right?”
Teague blinked. “I’m dumber than a bag of horseshit, Lady Cory, are you sure you want me along?” When he’d loaded the damned gun, silver hadn’t been on his list of fatal allergies. Now that he needed to load his beloved 9mm again, he couldn’t touch the ammo or, according to Katy, it would burn like acid and unless someone stepped in to heal or wash him off with mineral or salt water, the burn would spread slowly like a chemical toxin.
She scowled at him. “See, now that’s the first stupid thing you’ve said. Stop screwing around and give me the fucking gun.”
She finished loading his gun and Max’s, then clicked the safety on and jammed her own .38 in a little tailored holster under her pea coat. She pulled a bottle of something out of her pocket that looked like hand cleaner but smelled like ocean and sage and rinsed her hands quickly before going up to Bracken and accepting his kiss.
“Do you have the iPod?” she asked, and it was clear that this was a matter of vital importance.
Everybody else getting into the car—they were all wearing dark clothes, it looked like some sort of bizarre mafia reunion—groaned, including Nicky.
“Well did anybody else bring music?” she asked sweetly, and Nicky said “I did!” with some enthusiasm.
“Christ’s corset, no!” Phillip, a suave, dark-haired blue eyed vampire who actually looked like Dracula replied.
Marcus, Phillip’s long time on-again/off-again shook his head and explained, “Nicky likes hip-hop,” to a bemused Teague.
“Oh God!” Teague responded in honest horror, and Cory met his eyes and nodded enthusiastically.
“Don’t worry, everybody—we can put it on Adrian’s mix, right?” The reluctance turned philosophical and Bracken put his arms around her middle and whispered something in her ear. She smiled wanly and then jumped back and smacked his hand. “Don’t touch me, dammit! You know…”
Bracken rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a complete spazz, beloved—I’m not going to touch it!”
Cory rolled her eyes as she was stomping back to Teague. “Asshole!” she muttered. “You should have seen his hand the one time I forgot and handed him the fucking gun!” Still grumbling to herself, sh
e motioned for Teague to get into the very back SUV first, and then followed, with Max on her other side.
“You were distracted!” Bracken called over the noise of the others getting in. “Fuckwit broke your fucking hand! That’s no reason for you to sit in the way back.”
Teague looked around Cory at Max, who shrugged. “Don’t ask me—I was unconscious for that part, and Nicky wasn’t around yet.”
Cory shook her head, irritated. “Green had to heal him—it was pretty fucking horrible…”
“So was your shattered hand, so could we just drop it!” Bracken shot back, and the comforting sounds of Nickleback’s ‘Rockstar’ started playing over the sound system.
Everybody in the car brightened—including Teague--and as the whole car started to belt it out, Bracken cranked up the sound, and they pulled out of the driveway to Green’s Hill in good spirits. When ‘Rockstar’ was over, GnR came on with ‘Welcome to the Jungle’, and Cory was singing along with everybody else when there was a sudden glorious smell, rolling through the car like open meadows and mustard flowers and the werewolf emerging in Teague’s consciousness wanted to roll down the window and stick his nose out into the damp November night.
Next to him, Cory shivered and closed her eyes. Teague saw an expression cross her face that he’d learned to associate with a voice in her head that no one else could hear. And then, underneath the raucous singing pumping up his companions, he heard her whimper. She opened her eyes and glanced sidelong at him, and then shook her head.
“Tell him I love him,” she murmured, and if Teague’s hearing wasn’t going hyper-dog, he wouldn’t have been able to hear her.
She met eyes with Bracken in the rearview, and Teague could barely make out the “I’m sorry you hurt” expression on his face. She smiled a little, weakly, and GnR was up again as ‘Get in the Ring’ thundered through the SUV. Teague watched Cory as she did her best headbanging within the confines of the car, and when she closed her eyes and screamed, Get in the ring, motherfucker! he knew with absolute certainty that she was using the music to block out something exquisitely painful.
It must have worked, he thought, feeling for her. Whatever she was screaming to block out, it must have been compartmentalized down to the last fold by the time the song ended.
When the song ended, Bracken met Cory’s eyes in the mirror and turned the music down.
“Okay, everybody—we’ve all heard the plan in bits and pieces but we’re all here together and I want to run it through before we get there—everybody good with that?” There were nods all around, and Cory ran through the details.
Two months ago at exactly the same time in the moon cycle, the first victim of a ‘wild dog’ attack had been found lying in pieces on the side of the American River bike trail by Discovery Park. Exactly one month later, the second one had been found floating downstream.
Both of the victims had been young, female, and pretty, and Green’s people weren’t buying ‘wild dog attack’ any more than they were buying stock in California Public Education.
“If he’s a wolf, he’s going to smell Teague—he’ll either attack or start a dialog, and either way, we get him out of circulation. If he gets to me first, it’s the same plan. But one way or another he ends up on our side or dead by the end of the night, right?”
There were nods all around and Cory went on.
“Those of us with guns, remember, fire towards the river and low—the embankment’s high on the other side, and we won’t hit anything but dirt if we miss. Bird-boys, you’re flying high as look out, vamps, you’re the same way. Phillip you’re over me, Marcus, you’ve got Teague—Teague, anything happens to you, I’ll know, so hang on, back-up is always coming. Bracken is doing his hyperspeed thing in the shadows on the side NOT near the river—if you wound bad guy and he’s still dangerous, step back and let Brack do his thing, right?”
There were nods all around, and Teague felt like an asshole because he was the only one who had to ask.
“Uhm, what’s Brack’s thing?”
Cory gave him a reassuring smile. “He calls blood. It sucks if you’re wounded next to him, but very handy if you’re trying to kill something that doesn’t want to die.”
Teague had to blink, and blink again. “You’ve been wounded standing next to him, I take it?” he asked, appalled. Of all the horrible powers to have when you had to go out into danger with someone you cared for.
“Too many fucking times,” Bracken said sourly from the front of the car, and Cory made a little ‘kiss-kiss’ face into the mirror.
“It’s not a picnic for him either—he’s the only elf in the hill who can bleed to death.” She met those eyes in the mirror again. “And he almost has!”
“Oh Goddess,” bitched Phillip from the middle of the car, “would you two stop walking memory lane before a job? There’s too many ways this can go bad!”
“That’s every job, darling,” Cory said with a saccharine smile, and then went on as though she’d remembered something. “That reminds me—Teague, if the bad guy goes for you and I’m in sight, I can throw up a shield between you and it. If I do that, bullets can pass through the shield, so don’t hesitate to shoot, nothing’s going to rebound at you. If we do end up killing him, once we’re done, we’re going to have about five minutes for clean-up before the cops come—I’ll either burn him or have the vamps scatter him over the river…”
“Blargh…” muttered Marcus from the front, and she shrugged in apology and closed her eyes for a second, obviously going over a mental checklist.
“Lessee lessee lessee…” then she looked up at Max on her side. “Oh yeah—Max, you’ve got the changing thing under control, right?”
Max nodded tersely and Phillip threw in his two cents, “Now if only he’d not be so squeamish about letting me eat when he’s not furry!”
Cory turned to Teague apologetically. “Marcus and Phillip have been feeding from Renny and Max—it’s easier sometimes if vamp couples bond with were-couples.”
“Yeah,” said Phillip from the front, his voice laden with not quite enough disgust, “but it was a lot more fun bonding when my food had tits!”
“Well it’s a lot more fun for the whole hill if you’re not humping your food stupid!” Cory replied sharply, and Phillip cast a resigned and affectionate look at Marcus, who sat next to him. The two men’s hands were casually clasped.
“Yeah,” Phillip sighed, “but for some reason I kept thinking the love of my life would have tits.”
“So I’ve got pecs instead,” Marcus muttered drily, “get over it.”
“I like tits,” Phillip muttered, but Marcus kissed their clasped hands and Phillip subsided.
Cory turned to Teague and grimaced. “Not everybody’s as lucky as you and Jack and Katy,” she murmured. “They kept trying to find a third, but they can’t stand the same kind of girl. They squabbled like kindergartners for a while, but Green threatened to separate them for a year, and they decided they’d rather live together as a couple than apart as friends. Max and Renny being their food helps…”
“Yeah,” Max snarked next to her, “because Renny doesn’t have any tits…”
Cory squealed and smacked his arm hard. “I am so telling on you!”
“Don’t be petty just because you’re losing yours again!” Nicky chortled, an edge of something in his voice, and she shook her head and stuck out her tongue.
“You miss them every time they go!” Bracken added, and it wasn’t Teague’s imagination—they were reprimanding her for something. She gave her giant dark-haired lover a disgusted sniff and turned all her attention back to Teague.
“Morons,” she muttered to Teague. “But since I was talking about changing, there’s some stuff I’m not sure if Katy got to in your ‘werewolf lessons’.”
Teague blinked. He had been processing…well, everything. He’d been ready to go on the run—he really had. But suddenly, instead of just being on a run, he was in the middle of a raucous, happy
family, whose business was, apparently everybody’s business. He’d told Jack that this was like high school—he realized now that high school had never been this tight, and he wondered if there would be the same sort of chemistry with every carload of people from Green’s Hill he might jump into.
And the idea that he and Jack were lucky because Katy could love them both…it was extraordinary. The whole thought had scared him shitless, but looking at Phillip and Marcus, happy but not…not quite complete…
That moment in the garden was so real behind his eyes that he could still smell the desire pounding from the three of them.
Abruptly, when he’d been avoiding it for a week, all he wanted to do was talk to Jacky. It hurt, being in this car without his friend and companion. Jacky would banter, he thought painfully, Jacky would tell stories. He and Jacky…they would fit, in this car with these people.
His whole life, the only place he’d ever fit was next to Jacky. If they both fit here…well, Cory and Green and Bracken and Nicky—they seemed to fit pretty well together. The possibilities were stunning, and suddenly Teague, who never reached for anything, wanted to reach for this one thing with all his soul.
Reluctantly he drew his attention back to what Cory was saying, because it was pretty damned important.
“So, the thing is,” Cory’s attention was suddenly elsewhere. She closed her eyes, nodded, and focused her eyes on Teague again. It was hard to read her expression in the dark. He might have caught the glimmer of something in her eye—a tear, irritation, it was hard to tell from grim mask she slipped on immediately—but she carried on as though he was the only thing in the world she had to worry about.
“The thing is,” she repeated roughly, “you haven’t changed yet, and I’m sure Katy told you that you wouldn’t, not until a month had passed and the moon was full, and your wolf was ready to come out, right?”
Teague nodded, and Cory grimaced. “Well, Katy’s pretty new—she hasn’t been here during any of the big,” she blushed for no reason he could think of, “power surges that blow through the hill. For the most part, we try to shelter our were-creatures until their first change—we keep them with us and safe. Renny’s first lover, Mitch, became a were-cat because his brother escaped to try to get a fix—his blood was clean but his brain wasn’t, right?”
