by Red, Lynn
Okay, so stupid is out the window. Cocky asshole is still definitely in the cards, but...
“But all wit and cuteness aside,” he grew very serious, very quickly. “Winter is coming on fast, and a bunch of us are without any real way to get ready for it. I’m fine, but I can’t chop enough wood for an entire valley of old, broken, sick shifters. We got a family of cougars without a roof on their house, a half dozen bears who can’t burn a furnace for a lack of wood and won’t ask because of an overabundance of pride.”
And a kind heart? What just walked into my life—?
“Or the whiny ones. Although those you just have to let freeze a little, and they start making their own way. But seriously? You’re sitting up here complaining about three grand worth of stoplights, while some of your oldest citizens freeze?”
Erik turned his head and mouthed something to Izzy, which no one could hear.
“And yeah, they pay taxes and also vote in the alpha choosing,” the giant bear said, his gruffness showing again. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“That’s some high gravity for a complainer’s court session. How about you come back next week and I’ll have an answer?” Erik said with an uneasy laugh.
Both Izzy and Jamie were staring at him. They’d both been hounding him – so to speak – for months, about this exact problem. Old shifters, sick ones, homeless ones that took to the forest, a clutch of runaway fox kits and adolescent raccoons that functioned as a sort of furry Robin Hood and his Merry Men, they all lived out there in the great wilderness around Jamesburg, and almost none of them had any way to keep warm, or to keep fed. Erik, of course, preferred to think it was all made up. Mostly because with everything else going on in town, and with Izzy, he couldn’t handle anything else.
“How about you come up with one now?” Izzy asked. “He—what’s your name?”
The bear narrowed his eyes. His beard, when he did that, almost looked like it swallowed his face.
I really, really want to see this face shaved. Or at least just stubbly. Jamie bit her own tongue, irritated with herself for not being able to focus.
“Ryan Drake,” he said with a growl. All that gruffness and all those smiles vanished into pure, focused anger. “Fix it.”
With that, he gave Jamie one last look that just about melted her to the core, stood up, and left without another word.
Oh shit, Jamie’s stomach hit her feet. He’s hot, he’s got a hell of a sneer, and even though he’s got a gnarly beard, and I don’t even like bears very much... Maybe I just had to see the right one. I’m in big, big trouble.
She took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. For the first time ever, not even complainer’s court could get Jamie irritated.
-2-
“I’m not even going to pretend that I know what happened to me, except... oh good God, there it goes again.”
-Jamie
As it turned out, it took something like three hours before the courtroom emptied out and The Tavern, Jamesburg’s premier drinking establishment, filled.
It’s hard to say the two were really related, but... complainer’s court days were always a highlight of the bar’s week as far as income went. It was also the day when the most fights happened. In a place where the normal patrons were werewolves, werebears, and at least one salamander, fights just happened. But, after hours of people sitting in one room, complaining about anything they wanted, and then going and drinking?
“I’m so sick of Danniken being so pretty,” Leon, the town drunk-cum-salamander said out of the working side of his mouth. He was sitting right next to Erik himself, and was actually engaged in a conversation with him, which made the whole thing even more wonderful.
“Pretty?” Erik asked, far less sloshed than Leon, mostly because he’d only started drinking around six, instead of noon. “I think I’m more rugged and handsome. More Clint Eastwood than, I don’t know, David Duchovny.”
That was about all Jamie could take. It was a little irritating to listen to her precious Agent Mulder slandered in such a way, but night was falling, and for her, that meant it was time to get to work.
It isn't that I'm antisocial or anything. It's just that after enough time sitting in a bar I start to wish I could, you know, actually drink.
Jamie took three steps backward, and exchanged a quick glance with the big wolf manning the bar. They'd known each other since high school, and her endless string of spicy tomato juice cocktails never cost anything. Every so often she started feeling guilty about the lack of actual purchasing she did, but that was heavily outweighed by how much trouble, and how much damage, she didn't cause.
And she still couldn't get that damn bear out of her head. The way he looked at Erik, completely unafraid, completely undaunted by the office of the guy he was staring down? That was a thing to behold. No one did that to Erik. At least, not that lived afterwards. But that guy? Ryan Drake? He stared down the alpha, made a demand, and then had the nerve to grin about it.
The Tavern's parking lot had been freshly graveled. The stones, pointy and small and new, jabbed at her feet through the stilettos she always wore to highlight her calves, which happened to be her favorite feature.
Taking a deep breath, Jamie looked around the half-full parking lot at a pair of green pickup trucks. Between them, two men stood with their backs toward her, arguing about something. "I swear t' God Angus," one of them said in a voice much higher pitched than she anticipated. "You do that one more time 'n I'm gonna shoot you right in the pecker."
No matter how hungry she was, people talking about shooting each other in the peckers was always going to get Jamie's attention. Partially because if it looked like someone's crotch was actually going to get shot, she had Ash Morgan's phone on speed dial. He was one of only a handful of bears on the Jamesburg police force. He had been the first when he signed on a couple years back, but since then a few more had joined up.
If anyone's getting shot in the pecker, Ash will want to know. Although for the moment, all dicks seemed to be safe, since the two men had started to hug. Jamie sighed, at once glad she wasn't going to have to call her buddy and witness for the police, but at the same time, vaguely disappointed that tonight was going to be pretty much like all the other ones.
"Lots and lots of jack shit punctuated by intense moments of crazy." She smiled to herself and looked up at the sky. "Gotta love—"
Before she could finish her recitation of the town slogan, the two guys arguing over their peckers stopped hugging, and one of them wheeled back and bashed the other one right in the mouth. His fist, hitting with the impact of a meteor, made a thick, nasty crunch. He pulled back his arm to do it again.
But, the one whose pecker had been in mortal danger fell first to his knees and then over on his back, legs splayed up in the air, like he'd been shot in a Sergio Leone movie. And he is ugly as all hell, wonder if he's good or bad? Jamie giggled to herself before strolling over to the aggressor and grabbing his elbow casually.
"The fuck are you doin'?" he spat at her. Froth on the man's lips, along with the sweet smell of fermented barley meant both graced the side of Jamie's face. "Lemme go! Angus's the jackass who done knocked up my sister and then tried t' leave 'er with a couple cubs!"
Jamie quirked an eyebrow. Drunk and a backwoods dweller, she thought. A quick glance down the man's face revealed him to be long and lean - probably a wolf, or maybe some kind of big cat. Panthers get loud when they drink. She stared at his eyes for a moment to give hers time to adjust to the changing light of dusk. Long slit. Yep. Houston, we've got a panther.
She squeezed his elbow in her fist. Long, lean, fingers constricted a lot tighter than it looked like she could constrict. The drunk winced.
"I told ya! He's the asshole here!"
"He's also on the ground," she whispered. The loud argument about dongs made her laugh, but when someone was helpless and someone else was about to beat him senseless, or worse, the humor drained right out of her. "Right now all I s
ee is one bleeding panther, and one drunk one that hit him. Don't move."
She let go of his arm to test him, and of course he went to kick the guy, so she grabbed his ankle in mid-air and flipped the sweaty panther onto his back. He landed with a loud huff, and for the first time she smelled the sour scent of alcohol-laced sweat. "I told you not to move," she said in a passive, almost casual voice. "Why didn't you listen?"
He raised his head like he was going to say something, but Jamie placed her foot on his neck, spike of her stiletto on one side, and toes on the other. "I don't like doing this, but I also don't like bothering the cops." She used to say 'bothering the hyenas' since most of Jamesburg's cops were, well, hyenas, but since the bear squad had joined up, it didn't work as well as it once had. "And anyway, they'd be rougher on you than I am. Now, can I check out the guy you decked, or do I have to choke you unconscious first?"
The way the words slid off of her pointed tongue, over her ruby red lips made it very clear there wasn't going to be a discussion on the matter. When he didn't respond as quickly as she wanted, she gave her foot a little twist, and pressed down on his Adam's apple for emphasis.
"Yes!" he squawked. "Or no, I mean, whichever means I ain't movin'. I already got two damned ol' public intox tickets. I cain't get another or they'll haul me in."
Jamie sighed audibly. "Maybe that'd be for the best," she said. "Although I guess you're going to whine about your kids and your family or whatever you think is going to win me over, right? And then after that doesn't work, you might cry or something to seem pathetic. You do know who I am right?”
It was almost a rhetorical question.
He shook his head.
Almost rhetorical.
Her position on the Jamesburg city council was kind of nebulous. She did a little bit of everything. If Izzy was swamped on the budget, she'd help out there. If Duggan was behind on signing permits because he spent way too long caring about each one, she stepped in. When Erik needed help doing things that were maybe, slightly, possibly a little to the left of the legal line?
She twisted her foot again. "Really?"
"I cain't see," the panther croaked. "It's dark an' anyway, I'm so drunk there'd be four of ya if'n I could."
She took a deep breath through her nose and rolled her eyes as she exhaled. Fall was getting long in the tooth. That bear had been right. Winter was going to arrive sooner than normal this year.
And then she was in a whole other kind of trouble. Again.
Those gruff words, that hard voice, and those eyes that sparkled every time he lifted his eyes in her direction. Jamie clenched her eyes shut and shook her head slightly. "Right," she said, to focus her attention. "So what's going to happen right now is that I'm going to take my foot off your idiot neck, I'm gonna make sure that guy is okay, and then I'm calling a friend of mine to take you home."
"He ain't a cop, is he? I got a whole pack of cubs, ma'am," the drunk panther said, just like she figured. It was almost like this wasn't her first rodeo. "If'n I cain't work, they'll—"
She cut him off with another loud, heavy sigh. "You're not going to jail, you're just stupid, not dangerous. I wouldn't waste the hyenas' time." Her voice was cold, quiet. The whispering calm is how she masked her own fear, and she had plenty of it to hide.
He started blubbering a thanks, but Jamie stepped off his neck and checked on the pecker. "You all right?" she asked, crouching down. She pushed the tendrils of black that framed her face back behind her ears, revealing high, sharp cheekbones, and a pair of eyes that glinted, reflecting the moonlight in a haunting, almost chilling way.
The grounded yokel was bleeding, and had his eyes closed, but his pulse was regular and his breathing seemed normal. She gave him a sharp slap on the side of the face.
"Buh, what were 'dat for?" he slopped out, drooling slightly and frowning. He tried to rub his face, but missed and started stroking Jamie's leg, instead. She sighed and put his fingers on his swollen cheek.
"I was waking you up. You and your friend need to kiss and make up before I send you home. Got it? What are your names, anyway?"
"Angus," slurred the one on the ground. "I'm Angus Flaggart and he's Donald Erma—”
"You Goddam' idiot!" Donald snapped. "Don't tell her yer name, she's gonna call the cops, she's—"
In one smooth motion, Jamie flicked her head backward, right into the bridge of Donald's nose, laying him flat on his back. "Is your friend always this obnoxious?" she asked the confused, inebriated, drooling mess of a panther on the ground.
He nodded. "Ain't my friend, he's just a crazy asshole what happens to be my girlfriend's brother."
"I can't deal with this right now," Jamie said as her stomach grumbled angrily. "Hillbilly family drama is way too complicated. Hell, it's hard to figure out which family is really family and which one isn't."
Even the panther had to chuckle at that one. "That's fair enough, I suppose."
Jamie kinda liked him. He was lovable, in a helpless puppy way, and even stinking drunk he was a little witty. That was pretty much her requirement for a man, a mate, whatever. She helped him to his feet. He followed as she took a few steps away and dialed Ash.
When she turned back to him, the one who had been punched was staring at the one Jamie knocked out. "He looks worse than me," Angus said.
"Messing with me is a bad idea, especially when I'm hungry."
The excited anxiety of conflict was starting to pass. Jamie never let herself get loud or shout or show much emotion at all, but every time she got into one of these little situations, adrenaline surged through her body. It had since she was a little girl, since the first time someone back at home called her 'halfsie' and she had to ask her dad what that meant.
Half bat and half human. Only able to shift into an animal form when times were right. In her case, it was during new moons. She was rare and special and absolutely hated that she was rare and special.
She blinked her eyes, coming back to the present, and realized that Angus was tugging on her arm like a lost six year old who had just found a security guard at the mall. She crinkled her forehead, a gesture the drunk panther read correctly.
"I was just wonderin' if'n I was goin' to jail. Just askin' because—"
A smile crossed Jamie's lips. "You have a pack of kids and no one to care for them and you just want to get back to work tomorrow, right? I've heard it a million times."
Angus's mouth fell open, but he didn't say anything. Jamie shook her head. "You're not, but he is. I tried to warn him, but you know what they say about drunk panthers."
"Yeah," Angus nodded his head slowly. Jamie backed away. She needed wing-span room, and didn't want this joker grabbing her.
She spread them, feeling the tendons stretch, relishing the pops of the knuckles in her finger-like wing bones. A slightly chilly breeze swept across the parking lot, kicking up some dust and filling her wings. They prickled with the wind, and all at once, she felt alive.
"Wait!" Angus called. "I don't!"
Jamie swept her wings, lifting herself slightly off the ground, before she realized he'd said something. "What?" she called back, having completely forgotten she'd said anything. Flying was like this for her. It gave her a rush, a sense of complete freedom, like the chains of who she was, where she had come from snapped off all at once.
"I don't know what they say about drunk panthers!"
"Oh," she laughed. "Neither do I, I just said that to sound clever. Give your buddy a kick in the ribs for me."
She spiraled up, up, away from the ground, directly toward the enveloping sky, the beautiful blackness that was her shroud. She loved her friends, she loved Jamesburg, and even the dumber residents, like the two she'd just dealt with.
But nothing felt like flying. Up she went, higher and higher, until The Tavern was just a couple of sparkling lights, and Angus and Donald were distant memories. She hung in the air, sweeping her massive wings back and forth slowly, humming the tune to a Winger song she'd heard
earlier on the radio.
Erik said that flying for her was like moving meditation. She thought that was stupid, because meditating was like meditating for her. Flying was transcendent, indescribable and perfect.
In the far distance, probably ten miles to the north, a small night-flying Cessna was heading her way. With a languid fluidity, she dipped down and turned a few somersaults, before floating downward on an updraft, fingers intertwined behind her head like she was floating in a hot tub.
And then, her stomach reminded her that it was time to feed.
For all her grace, beauty, and elegant intensity, feeding was anything but. Bloody, messy, and brutal - but completely necessary - there was a laundry list of reasons she saved her nightly date with her pal West's cattle for after dark.
She fluttered along, skimming over the Greater James River, and turned an airborne pirouette around the chimney of Milt's hamburger grill. It was still belching out greasy, wonderful smoke that carried the scent of meat in various stages of cooking. She'd never eaten there, but the smell was just about as intoxicating as a scent could get.
Before long, Jamie spread her wings, braced herself for impact, and trotted along the pasture, until she slowed to a stop.
She'd worked this deal out with West and his mate, Elena St. Claire. West was an ex-cop who moonlighted as a private eye for Elena's agency when he wasn't tending his cattle or raising prize-winning tomatoes and carrots. And, he also happened to have a hopeless addiction to bacon and beef jerky, despite his normally strict vegetarian diet. He’d tried the vegetarian stuff, but it just didn’t scratch that itch. So, Jamie gave him jerky, and West let her, well, suck the blood out of his cows.
"Oh, you again?" Jamie said, patting a fat heifer on the shoulder. The cow reacted with a gentle moo and a nuzzle of her nose against Jamie's arm. "You like this, don't you?"
She slid her hand along the animal's wiry fur, patting a cloud of dust off her dinner. "I really should give you a name for as much time as we spend together. The cowprodded her again as Jamie scratched one of her black spots with an outstretched fingernail. If cows could purr, this one was mewling like the most obnoxiously needy housecat in the entire world. It brought a smile to Jamie's lips.
