by T J Nichols
Morris chuckled.
Mack tried hard not to join in as he offered Jude his hand. Magic, or anger, sparked in Jude’s eyes. When he took Jude’s hand, a flash of static passed between them.
“You were waiting for that to happen.”
“Yeah, was worth it to see you get your hands dirty.” Mack wiped the muck off his hand on his jeans.
Jude stared at his hand and then Mack.
Mack shook his head. “You aren’t using my jeans.”
“Fuck you.” Jude wiped his hands on his jeans and looked stricken as though he’d just run over a dog.
“You wish,” Mack muttered so Morris wouldn’t hear.
Naked desire flickered across Jude’s face. That was exactly what he wanted. The pull in Mack’s belly returned, and he wanted nothing more than to grab Jude’s hand and show him how to get really dirty. He turned away before he did something stupid.
“I’m going to follow the footprints.” Mack walked away from Jude and the cow. He adjusted his jeans, hating the way he was suddenly attracted to the overly pretty city witch. Jude was not his type. He didn’t have a type, but he’d have most definitely said Jude wasn’t it. But then he’d never met a man like Jude before.
They would have words about that kiss.
The paw prints were huge and clawed, but as they got toward the fence they got smaller, to more the size of a large dog. That was weird, and he knew weird. He turned to call out, but Jude was already walking this way, photographing the prints. He’d already noticed something was wrong.
He looked at Mack. “Get anything useful?”
“What do you mean?”
“Scents?”
“I’m not a sniffer dog?” He was a bear.
“I just thought…aren’t you meant to be able to…” He stared at the cow. “I’ve got nothing.”
Mack sighed. His sense of smell was more sensitive than a human’s, even when he was in human form, but it irked him that Jude thought that was his only use. He kneeled as if to tighten the laces on his boot, then he sniffed. Beyond the scents of grass and dirt and cow there was something else. A sour scent, but he didn’t know what it was. “It’s not an animal I’m familiar with.”
“No animal I know can change the size of its paw prints. So I’m guessing it’s not something normal.”
“We already knew that. That’s why you’re here. Now you’re supposed to do some research, tell me what it is, and we can work out a way to stop it.” The words fell off his tongue before he could stop them.
“You’ll keep helping?”
Mack closed his eyes. He didn’t need this. Jude. The creature or the attraction that surged whenever Jude was within a three-yard radius. “Yes, fine. I’ll help. But only if you tell me what you’ve done to me.” He opened his eyes and fixed Jude with his fiercest glare.
Jude stepped back. “I did nothing to you.”
“Bullshit.”
Morris wandered over trailing smoke. “That’s real weird isn’t it?” He pointed at the prints. “My grandmother, she’d tell a story about a creature that would jump on your back and bleed you dry. Made sure we were always home by dusk. She always said it could change its size and shape. I never much believed her until today.”
“Did the creature have a name?” Jude asked.
“If it did, she never said it. She was superstitious. Never name evil and all that. But she said it cleared out North.”
Jude studied Morris. “How would she know that?”
“Her family used to live there, came out for the gold before taking up farming. I don’t want to start believing in my granny’s monsters, but if a secret government agent person is standing in my field looking like the Devil stepped on his toes, I might be more careful going out after dark.”
“That would be a very wise move,” Jude said as though he knew what he was talking about.
Mack wished he did, because whatever had left those paw prints was not any kind of creature he wanted to come across after dark. No camping and shifting until the creature was dealt with. And he’d have to warn the other bears in the area, but only once Jude had a name for what they were up against.
He wasn’t sure one witch and a shifter were going to be enough.
Chapter Five
Jude had cleaned off his boots as best he could. He would never be able to wear them once he left here without thinking of Mack and the cow shit. His jeans he was tempted to throw in the bin, but he didn’t. One jackpot win wasn’t enough for him to splash out on new clothes on a whim. He’d had to set up an account that paid him an allowance for the rest of his life.
He could live well, but not extravagantly.
What kind of pay did Coven investigators get? Not that he was even sure that was what he wanted…it would only be a matter of time until the Coven turned on him. People couldn’t be trusted. He was better off solving this, turning them down, and sticking with his travel plans.
Alone.
Which was no longer as appealing as it had been a few days ago.
He studied his manure-smeared jeans. The laundromat would love him. He’d wait until he had more to wash, not that he’d planned on being here long enough to do washing. Or even hang up his clothes. But that’s what he did, while wearing only a small motel towel that had been fluffy about ten years ago, and going through the six different shirts he had with him trying to find the one that said: ‘I wish this was a date, but it’s not because we’re talking about dead cows’. He had the perfect black, slinky one at home.
Maybe classic white with a nice waistcoat? No, that was too much for a place like this. He glanced at his two remaining pairs of shoes. Flip-flops for the shower and a pair of navy-blue canvas sneakers.
His gaze landed on the blue check shirt he’d bought at the same time as his boots. It wasn’t flannel, and it was still crisp and new, but it had the right casual yet into-you vibe he wanted.
Or he was completely over thinking this, and he should be searching for an outfit that was more ‘Don’t kill me because you’re my familiar’. He hadn’t packed for that occasion. The one outfit he hadn’t unpacked was the one he’d brought for when the Coven came to strip his powers; a black suit for the death of his magic.
He was running out of time to get ready and to solve the case. He needed Mack’s help. They’d made a good team today, and for the moment that was all that mattered.
He pulled off the towel and put on clean jeans and the check shirt. His boots would’ve looked so much better, but they really needed the time to dry. He checked his reflection and gave his hair a final adjustment.
It was just a burger with Mack.
Which completely explained why his gut was in knots and his heart was hoping. He wanted to blame the magical bond, but that kick had been there the moment he’d seen Mack in the bar.
Now Mack knew something was up, and he wanted the truth.
Jude was so not ready to give that to him. But if the bear shifter would help him, and trust him, then it needed to be said. He had no idea how to spit those words out. As he finished getting ready, he tried a few different ways.
“I didn’t know it would happen.” That was obvious. If he had, he wouldn’t have kissed Mack. If they hadn’t kissed, the bond wouldn’t have started to form.
“I’m just as surprised as you.” Surprised wasn’t the right word. Horrified, maybe? Mack would be horrified. He winced. Mack couldn’t hate him that much if he was agreeing to help. Maybe the gruffness was a bit of an act.
He forced a smile, and his reflection smiled back at him. “This could be a good thing. Maybe we should test it?” He added a wink in case Mack didn’t get the hint he was still interested in more than hunting creatures.
That was definitely too much.
He put his wallet in his pocket and grabbed the room key. Whatever he said, it was going to be the wrong thing. It usually was when it came to Mack. Maybe they should do less talking.
The diner was decked out in red-and-white che
cked tablecloths and had four large TVs, each showing different sports. Mack already had a table and was watching the cage fighting while sipping a beer. Two muscular men hitting each other wasn’t Jude’s idea of sport, mostly because he winced with each blow. None of the TVs had motor sports. A fast car or a fast bike he could appreciate. Guess no one else felt that way around here. He made his way over, and Mack gave a nod as a greeting.
Why had he fretted about what to say? Mack would be quite happy if they sat there and said nothing. Except something had to be said. There was a weird creature hunting, and Mack was a witch’s familiar. His familiar. There were bonds and magic and things between them. He didn’t know what it would be like if he left town and it hadn’t been resolved.
Sitting opposite him, within touching distance, had already given him a slice of calm that had been lacking. Because he was close to his familiar or because Mack was calm, and Jude was picking up on it?
He picked up the menu and pretended to study it while instead studying Mack’s face. His gaze was fixed on the TV, but tension crinkled the corners of his eyes. His lips were almost curved, as though he was capable of a smile when Jude walked in but had chosen not to. Jude had seen that smile the first time they’d spoken. His use of magic had killed it. If he had the power to go back and warn himself not to be rash and to take that night of fun…he’d still be in this situation of having Mack as his familiar and a creature to hunt.
“It helps to read the menu,” Mack said without glancing at him, then he hissed and looked away from the TV. “That’s got to hurt.”
Jude glanced up and wished he hadn’t. There was too much blood on the guy’s face. “How do you watch it?”
“With my eyes.” Mack shrugged. “I like it. They have skill.” His gaze met Jude’s then slid over his checked shirt. That almost-smile grew the tiniest amount. “Not wearing your boots tonight?”
He didn’t want to think about his boots or the time he’d spent scraping cow shit off them. He’d order the biggest slab of dead cow they had and enjoy every bite. “I brought more than one pair of shoes.”
The waitress came up, wanting to know their order. Mack rattled off what had to be his usual, plus another beer. Jude took those thirty seconds to scan the menu and decide on the deluxe burger with the lot. He got the same beer that Mack was drinking to keep things simple.
“So, about today.” Jude wiped his hands on his jeans and tried to relax. “What is it?”
“You’re the investigator.”
“You’re the local.”
Mack nodded. “I poked my head into the historical society. The person we want to talk to will be back at the end of the week. She’s been visiting her new granddaughter. Apparently, Helen knows all about the local legends. The woman I spoke to called them ghost stories and laughed.”
“You didn’t laugh.”
And Mack wasn’t smiling now.
“We both know that ghosts can be a pain in the ass,” Mack said without cracking a smile.
“Never seen one.” Jude wasn’t at all convinced they were real. Vampires and the rest were all flesh and blood. But ghosts?
“Lucky you.” Mack drained his beer.
“Wait, you have?”
“Only as a…” He tilted his head as though Jude should understand the missing part of the sentence. “I ambled past a deserted cabin one night. Ghost was hanging from a tree asking to be pulled down. I bolted because I didn’t want to get the life sucked out of me. I went back in daylight. Place felt weird, but I didn’t see anything.”
Jude was doing his best to keep his mouth shut, but not doing a great job at keeping the shock off his face. “How different are you, when you, you know?”
“Stronger, faster. Better sense of smell.”
“And the ability to see ghosts. So there’s nothing up at North?” But it hadn’t been a ghost that had killed Morris’s cow.
“Nope. Though plenty of tales get told while downing a bottle of liquor.”
Jude was very tempted to ask what else Mack had gotten up to as a teen, but their meals arrived, and for a few minutes the conversation died. The diner was relatively noisy as people talked to each other and made comments at the TVs. It was the kind of place where it wasn’t easy to overhear a conversation in full.
Mack broke the temporary lull. “What about you? You had fun at North.”
Jude swallowed. “I don’t let loose very often. Cities, well, there’s a lot of electrical things.” And he didn’t want to get into the details about what had gone wrong or why he was here.
“Are storms all you can do?”
Jude laughed and picked up a fry. “I can charge phones, cars. If there’s ever a blackout, I don’t need a generator. But there’s a fine balance between powering a circuit and overloading it.”
“The sign above the Whisky Riot hadn’t worked in five years, and then you show up.”
Jude shrugged, then picked up his burger and ate a few bites. Mack watched him. The silence between them thickened.
“You still owe me an explanation. You aren’t telling me something.”
There were plenty of things he wasn’t telling Mack, but he nodded. “Do you remember the kiss?”
Mack frowned, his eyebrows drawing close, but his eyes were bright. “I can’t be expected to remember every witch I kiss.”
How many witches had Mack kissed? Jude pressed his lips together. Where were all his pretty words now? His clever apologies? “Something happened.”
The frown deepened and erased all traces of humor. “You did do something to me.”
“No, I didn’t. Or at least it wasn’t deliberate.”
Mack’s foot snaked behind Jude’s calf to stop him pulling away as the bear shifter leaned forward. “What did you do?”
Jude wanted to escape, but when confronted with an angry bear, the best thing to do was remain still, wasn’t it? Or was it run? He couldn’t remember. His appetite vanished, and his mouth went dry. Jude remained frozen.
“Spill it or I’ll tie you to a tree like bait so I can get a look at the creature.” Mack’s voice was low, and if he’d been saying something nice, it would’ve been seductive.
“I didn’t know it would happen.”
“What would happen?”
He had no idea how to say “You’re my familiar!” when Mack wasn’t his anything. “What do you know about familiars?”
Familiars. Mack took a deep breath and remained calm. He wouldn’t crush the beer bottle. Jude had better not be suggesting, or even hinting, that is what had happened. His lips tingled at the memory. That tingle traced through his blood and made something else react.
“Familiars are cat or dog shifters.” By cats and dogs, Mack meant shifters like lions, panthers, wolves, and coyotes. Familiars were not bears.
“They can be any shifter,” Jude corrected.
Mack leveled a glare at Jude.
Jude held his stare and swallowed. “Even a bear, apparently.”
Mack shook his head. “No.”
“It happened.”
“You made it happen.” But he knew enough about familiars that it couldn’t be forced. It was random. What were the odds that the right witch would turn up in his town and kiss him?
“Really?” Jude leaned forward. “You think I wanted this? I came here to find the thing. Not to get bound to you.”
“And what’s wrong with me?” Mack didn’t want to be a familiar, but he’d thought there was something between them at the bar, before the kiss and the accusation and the fight.
Jude studied him. His gaze slid past Mack’s skin and stripped bare his soul. Mack blinked and looked away before Jude worked some kind of magic on him. More magic.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. But now we have this bond and we have to work out what we’re going to do with it. Usually the bond is cemented.”
“I know how it’s cemented.” He growled. They might have done that accidentally if Jude hadn’t thought him the cow mutilator and
tried to electrocute him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to get Jude into his bed. But the rest? Having a mate and of being bound to someone, that wasn’t right. Especially as he didn’t get a choice and was supposed to submit to the will of his witch. Nor did he like the idea that the desire was no longer his own and it was magic doing his thinking. Had it been magic, the lure of his witch, that had made him want Jude that first night? He didn’t know. “If you don’t want this, and neither do I, then that’s not a great idea to take it further.”
Jude picked at the label on the beer bottle. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It was unexpected.” He flicked a glance at Mack, naked desire in his green eyes.
Jude was still attracted to him.
As much as his body liked that idea and wanted to explore it further, he wouldn’t tie himself to a witch. “No.”
“The bond would give us both new abilities.”
“Still no, because I’m not surrendering my life to you.” Mack finished his beer. “I’ll help you with the creature. But that’s it.”
Jude lifted his chin, and Mack was sure lightning flickered in the witch’s eyes. He was dangerous, hot, and his mate.
The word rolled round his head like a lone tire.
He had a mate. He’d expected to one day find a partner. He wanted to have someone to wake up with and argue about the housework with. Someone who knew what he was and didn’t freak out. But someone whose magic would blend with his? That had never entered his thoughts. It wasn’t one he wanted to entertain.
“Fine.” Jude stood and put some bills on the table. “For the best really. As soon as I’m done here, I’m heading back to Seattle and then…and then I’m traveling the world.”
Mack watched Jude’s jean-covered ass leave and knew he’d made a mistake.
There were shifters who went looking for witches to kiss, and he’d just thrown his fated mate out the window and under the bus. He rubbed his hand over his face. The longing burned hotter. He could call out, get Jude to come back. They could finish their dinner and get to know each other much better.
