by T J Nichols
He turned and stepped toward the motel. He should share this information with Jude, since he wanted to solve this case before people started dying. Or, in what would be a bad move for the paranormal community, the humans set up cameras to capture the creature.
No. He was not going back. Jude was trouble. And he was full of shit. Who rocked into town and blamed the first shifter they fell over without even asking questions? Was this Jude’s first job for the Coven?
Mack forced himself to return to his truck. The tug in his gut got stronger with each step. Just lust, he kept reminding himself. And he’d take care of that with one hand when he got home.
He got into his truck and sat for a moment. He was breathing far too hard for the short distance. Had Jude’s lips been poisoned? Or was it simply that he was furious and filled with unsated desire? He was an idiot and he couldn’t blame it on too much to drink.
He’d been suckered in by a pretty face and a deadly smile. Then he’d been dumb enough to walk over and hope that something might happen. And he still wanted the man passed out on the floor of his motel room. Thoughts of Jude consumed him on the drive home.
At least one of them would get some sleep tonight.
Jude’s hip pressed into something hard. He blinked and tried to wake up. His face hurt, and as he opened his eyes, Jude realized he was lying on the dodgy brown carpet of the motel room. Eww. He pushed himself up and regretted the movement immediately. His head pounded like his brain was trying to escape.
He hauled himself onto the bed and flopped back down. That was better.
It took a few more minutes, maybe longer for him to unscramble how he’d ended up on the floor. He’d been about to zap Mack, but they’d fought, and Mack had hit him before he’d been able to get a big enough charge together.
He tested his jaw. It wasn’t broken, just tender.
He’d failed to catch the rogue shifter, but he was alive. Which made no sense at all. Why would a rogue shifter leave him alive? Mack could’ve pulled him apart and redecorated the room with some scarlet splashes and entrails.
Jude placed a hand on his stomach to reassure himself that he was all in one piece. Which, of course, he was because he would’ve noticed if he was bleeding all over the place. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to triple-check.
Alive and unhurt, mostly.
He lay back down but didn’t feel at all relaxed. There was a jittery need in his blood, a longing that he couldn’t quite place. While he’d wanted Mack for non-Coven related reasons, nothing had happened except for a kiss.
The kiss.
Shit.
The spark that had happened when their lips had touched hadn’t been anything he’d done. The Fates had well and truly fucked him over this time. Mack had landed in his lap not because he was the killer but because he was Jude’s familiar. The ring of the word in his head sounded right. Good even. It shouldn’t be good. Most witches never got a familiar. Some didn’t even want one as there was a loaded history between witches and shifters. He’d never given familiars much thought because he wasn’t much of a witch and he’d figured that only competent or excellent witches were granted a familiar. So what were the Fates playing at?
There was no flash of insight, just the continued thumping of his head and the itch beneath his skin to get close to Mack. That wouldn’t happen. Not tonight, not ever.
But his thoughts were already drifting down the ‘what might have happened’ path if Jude hadn’t accused Mack of killing cows. He pressed his lips together. If Mack wasn’t the killer, then who was? And what would he do with a familiar who would rather knock him out than get into bed?
Jude groaned and wished he hadn’t gone to the bar. But if the Fates were involved, then it would’ve been only a matter of time until he’d fallen over Mack. Mack was a small problem, or the main problem, depending on if he was the cow killer. Jude had no idea what to do or where to start.
The light was too bright behind his eyelids. He blew the bulb with a thought and lay in the dark listening to the creak of the building and the occasional car. None of this could be solved right now. He needed some aspirin, sleep, and then, come daylight, coffee. Then he’d work out how to un-fuck what was going on so he could keep his magic.
If that was even possible.
Jude ordered his coffee and hoped they’d get it right. He needed his caffeine fix bad. The clawing in his head wasn’t from the punch. Nor was it from the restless sleep, plagued with dreams of spinning and binding threads together, that kiss, and what could’ve been on the saggy mattress. He worked his jaw; it was still sore this morning. No, the tension was the longing to find his familiar and cement the bond by getting frisky.
In daylight the idea of getting naked with Mack terrified him, even though that had been exactly what he’d wanted last night.
Mack was a bear shifter—what had he been thinking trying to bring down Mack for the Coven? He should’ve called for backup, or was that failure in their eyes?
Not that it mattered now as Mack was his familiar. His familiar was a bear shifter. It still didn’t seem real. Familiars were meant to be cat shifters, maybe a dog at a pinch. The Fates must be having a damn good chuckle. Stitch up the soon-to-be ex-witch with a bear shifter for a familiar. Jude wasn’t finding any of it funny.
What good was a bear shifter going to be when it came to magic? He didn’t know a lot about familiars, only that there was some kind of sharing of abilities and a bond that couldn’t be broken easily.
He needed it broken. Or Mack would break him.
He smiled at the lady behind the counter as he paid for the coffee and the apple muffin, while panic used the inside of his skull as a racetrack. His familiar had laid him out and then walked out.
Which wasn’t a good start to any kind of relationship.
Nor was blaming Mack for the cow deaths. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. The Fates had dropped something in his lap, but it wasn’t the success he so desperately needed to get the Coven off his back. He didn’t have the first idea what to do with a familiar or how having one would even help.
Maybe he had one idea what to do with Mack, but that wasn’t going to happen. Mack would never let him within touching distance, and Jude didn’t want to be anywhere within range of Mack’s fist.
Way to fuck up gloriously on day one. Call the Coven and quit now before the mess gets bigger.
Although, Mack had saved his hide by getting in first and knocking him out. If he’d zapped Mack he’d have called in the Coven and right now be screaming as they dragged the magic out of his soul. His jaw, and pride, smarted a little less.
He found a table and a newspaper so he could listen for any relevant gossip and plan what to do next. He started with breakfast. The muffin had no actual apple in the mix. Not that he cared. It was full of sugar and topped with cinnamon and exactly what he needed this morning.
While he flipped the pages of the newspaper, he didn’t read a word. All he could think about was the kiss and the way his body wanted a follow-up. The tug in his gut would lead him to Mack if he followed it.
He was not going to follow it.
Once he left town, it would fade. He hoped it would fade. What if it didn’t?
He was very tempted to log in to the Coven’s database and see if there was a precedent for bears to be familiars and also how to kill the bond. But if he did that the Coven would be on to him—he was sure all his searches while he was here would be monitored—and the Coven wouldn’t want him to have a familiar. The Coven wouldn’t want him to be more powerful.
He hadn’t been careless with his magic, and he’d acted within reasonable boundaries.
Although maybe not when everything could be recorded on a phone and computers noted every key stroke. Perhaps the casino was wondering why their jackpot had gone off. His heart beat a little faster at the idea that the casino would come after him. He was sure that tampering with the slot machines was a crime. The Coven could’ve found a
way to stitch him up and hand him over to the cops.
Instead, he had one and half weeks to prove himself.
He owed the Coven for teaching him about magic—though that was probably so he didn’t expose witches by accident. And they had covered for him several times. This punishment was more about him taking his place in the community instead of looking after only himself.
But that was what he did best. He’d had to be good at that or he’d never have survived his first two foster homes. Now he took care of himself. He didn’t want a familiar.
He couldn’t take care of anyone else.
He wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment—certainly not with a man who’d blazed with fury the moment after they’d kissed. Jude had thought Mack would actually shift for a few heartbeats.
That would be something to see. He let his mind drift to an idea that he should find terrifying, not intriguing. He wished he’d gotten more than a kiss, but he couldn’t forget the way Mack had pulled away as if he’d sensed something. Did he know about the familiar bond? That was not going to be a fun conversation. Maybe it was one he should avoid.
Find the real killer, call in the Coven, and get them to remove the bond. Then run so he never had to see Mack again.
Easy.
He finished his muffin and made progress on his coffee. The heat and caffeine slid through him and waking him up. His brain wasn’t moving past how close he’d come to getting Mack in his bed only to screw it up. If he’d gotten into bed with Mack, the bond would’ve been strengthened. Again, Mack had unwittingly saved his ass. He should thank him at minimum.
The door opened, and a man and a woman walked in. “And was it the same as the others?”
“Yeah, torn apart. Heart and all the innards gone.” The man glanced at Jude and winked as if he knew him.
It took Jude a few seconds to realize it was the man who’d been sitting with Mack last night. Guess Mack hadn’t said anything to his friend about what had happened. Maybe Mack hadn’t told anyone. The tension didn’t ease.
“Lisbeth seems to think it’s come back.”
They kept talking, and Jude did his best not to be obvious with his eavesdropping. He flicked the page of the paper and sipped his coffee.
“Come back?” The man genuinely sounded shocked.
“Yeah, she’s looking for connections to North.”
They placed their order and moved on to talking about someone’s baby.
He wanted to rush over and ask about the missing heart. Had there been another attack last night after Mack had left him in a rage? He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the memory of the kiss. Would the Fates really tie him to a killer?
Those bitches had a sick sense of humor.
He drained the remains of his coffee. He didn’t know who Lisbeth was, but he’d seen a poster on the wall about the historical society. If there was a connection to North, he needed to go there first. He searched the map on his phone and noted the historical society was only a couple of blocks away. He’d walk and check out the town, after he’d gotten a coffee to go. It was definitely a two-coffee morning.
Jude strolled up the road like a tourist. The coffee was hot in his hand and smelled like heaven. He rounded the corner, heading to the historical society. On his left was a place that seemed to sell everything from used cars to tractor parts. Not that much farther up the road was Mackenzie Auto Repairs.
His steps faltered.
He knew at some point he’d have to see Mack again, and he really wanted to see him again, but that was the familiar bond making sure he didn’t stray too far from the shifter who was supposed to help him. He’d never relied on anyone, and he didn’t like the idea of starting now. The hot coffee cup made his palm sweat. His other hand was also sweaty, and he had no excuse for that.
He wasn’t ready to face Mack again. His jaw wasn’t ready. But his body was. Anticipation hummed through every cell. Lust was a spark he had no control over.
Historical society, then North, and then maybe see Mack. And if Mack appeared to be innocent; Jude would even apologize. He had no idea how he would raise the issue of Mack being his familiar.
As he’d deliberated, his feet had taken him closer to Mack’s garage. He would walk past it, that was all. But as he did, he glanced through the window and saw Mack behind the conter talking to a customer. Mack turned his head, and their gazes locked.
Jude wanted to punch himself in the heart to make it stop doing that excited leap. Mack wasn’t exciting, he was potentially dangerous. When he shifted, he’d be a bear with his human intellect. As a human he was strong, as a bear… That was a creature no one crossed if they wanted to live.
And now Jude was staring, and Mack’s customer was leaving.
The door opened.
All he had to do was keep walking to the historical society. He reached his hand out and caught the door, then he went in. Maybe he should eliminate Mack as a suspect first.
“You’ve got some nerve coming here.” Mack’s brown eyes blazed with fury. It shimmered off him like heat waves.
Because of the magical connection between, Jude was aware of everything Mack felt. Anger prickled beneath Jude’s skin.
Mack was a distraction he really didn’t need. “I need to ask you some questions about the cows.”
“You should’ve thought about that last night.” Mack turned to go out the back.
Mack was right, he should’ve, but lust had taken over. Jude had never been a big believer in love, and he didn’t want to be tied to a man just because the Fates thought it would be fun to fuck with him. Twenty-six was too young to settle down—he had plans to travel and get out from under the Coven’s nose—and also too young to die or have his magic stripped. His stomach tightened, and he regretted eating the muffin for breakfast.
But Mack was his familiar, so maybe he could be convinced to help. Maybe this wasn’t all over, and at the end the Coven could fix this all up. Jude was pretty sure Mack wouldn’t be too keen on being bound to a witch based on last night’s reaction to the kiss.
He cleared his throat. “The Coven sent me to find out what’s going on and to stop whatever is doing it.”
Mack’s face was like stone. “I’m not what you’re looking for, so fuck off.”
Jude didn’t move. Mack was exactly what he was looking for. As familiar and witch they were supposed to be together. That was about as likely as Jude catching the creature with his bare hands, so he kept his mouth shut.
Mack’s expression darkened. “You still believe I’m tearing up cows in my spare time?”
“There was another mutilation last night.”
“I was at home, alone, after you led me on.”
Jude winced. Mack’s hurt was a stab in his gut. He couldn’t live with that pain. “The attraction was real.”
And flowed between them as they spoke. His body thought being near Mack was the best thing since this morning’s first caramel latte.
Mack shook his head. “How can I trust a word you say?”
Mack wanted to walk out the back and leave Jude there, though he was sure the scent of hair products would follow him. He didn’t want to believe that Jude had ever wanted him because it would be easier to bury his own attraction if it had all been a lie. He’d tried all night to forget about the kiss. The stupid coin toss wasn’t supposed to lead to this. Last night should’ve been simple lust. Now what was between them was anything but simple, or over.
He hadn’t moved. Neither had Jude.
It wasn’t the lust that had kicked him in the gut when Jude had walked in the door—how could he want a man who thought he killed cattle in his spare time?—that was keeping him glued to the spot. So it must be that Jude was here to stop the mutilations. Helping Jude would help his town and would ensure the witch left sooner rather than later. And that was a very good idea.
Jude glanced at the floor. “You can’t.”
Mack crossed his arms and nodded. “This might be another ploy.�
�
“It’s not. I need to find what’s killing the cows. When I got close to you and realized you were a bear shifter—”
“How did you realize?” He wanted to hear the words from Jude’s lips. Lips that felt altogether too nice against his own.
Jude swallowed. “I’m a witch. I can see the animal in your eyes. And I saw the bear around you like an aura. It’s not science.” Jude gave a one-shouldered shrug and sipped his takeout coffee. “It’s one magic recognizing another.”
Mack tried not to let his lip curl in disgust. He’d never met a witch, or if he had they hadn’t admitted it. “A bear shifter isn’t doing the killings.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know all the were-bears in a hundred-mile radius.” There weren’t many of them and they didn’t get together often.
“How well do you know them?”
“Births, deaths, weddings. Bears aren’t social shifters like dogs or cats.”
The corner of Jude’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “You don’t say?”
“I’m trying to help. I want the killings to stop, too. Our vet took off, and people are getting spooked. It’s only a matter of time until the critter claims a human victim.” Then there’d be cops all over the place, and it would be that much harder to cover up what kind of creature was doing the killing.
“Some people are saying it’s like what happened in North?”
“I don’t know what happened there. Some say it was a curse, or sickness, or just that the mine ran out and everyone packed up and left.” Ghost towns happened. As far as he was concerned, the old mine had been a good place to get away from adult supervision when he’d been a teen. He doubted much had changed since he’d been at school.
“Or it could’ve been a creature. Are there any other shifters around?”
“It’s not a shifter.” Why was Jude so fixated on shifters?
“Have you seen the bodies?”
