by J. K Harper
“That was my idea,” Bonnie whispered. “Your brother was talking iron shutters and hammers and nails. This took ten seconds and involved no wailing, cranky babies. I put down salt, too.”
Noting the line of white granules in front of the window, Hudson nodded with approval. “You did the same in Beckett’s room?”
“And ours,” she said, still speaking at a low volume. “Harris went to get more iron from your shop. He’ll be back in a minute. Why’d you rush in here like that?”
“Stay up here. I’ll help you move her crib into Beckett’s room so you can keep an eye on them both.”
“What’s happening?” Hollis whisper-demanded from the doorway.
“There’s something out there.”
“Where’s your witch?” Violet asked.
“I’ve gotta go back for her. I had to warn you first.”
“I’ll move the crib,” Bonnie said. “You go.”
“What are we dealing with?” Hollis pressed.
“I don’t know, but if something tries to get inside, shove one of the iron pokers through its heart or take off its fucking head.” Hudson paused on his way back downstairs. “Apparently half of it looks like a snake.”
“What the hell?” Violet scoffed.
Hudson realized he sounded fucking bananas.
Maybe his witch was bananas. Maybe she was paying him back for his reaction to her first show of magic. Maybe she’d wander up Harrison’s driveway any minute, laughing her ass off as she climbed into her Subaru and drove away.
But Hazel Fortescue wasn’t the type to be cruel. He’d known her for only two hours, but his instincts already told him she was good.
Downstairs, he made a detour to his brother’s fireplace, grabbed one of the iron pokers he’d forged as a mating gift, and headed back outside.
Sniffing the air, he noted his brother’s scent. After a deeper inhale, he caught whiffs of honeysuckle. Hazel was still further down the hill.
Walking heavily, he followed their earlier path into the forest. Harrison had also come this way. His scent trail and boot prints led toward Hudson’s third of the Holloways’ sprawling property. Straining his senses, Hudson struggled to detect anything to indicate that his mate hadn’t just made up a story about a monster.
Just as before, he scented nothing unusual. And he certainly didn’t hear the sound of slithering atop the snow.
Inwardly, his grizzly groused. The beast was usually quite vocal, but it seemed especially irritated by Hudson’s distrust.
Nearing the perimeter of his own yard, Hudson slowed his steps. Harrison exited Hudson’s workshop, a stack of iron poles tucked under his right arm.
“Ahoy!”
“Shh,” Hudson said, knowing his brother would hear the hushed command.
Hazel’s scent was closer now, but Hudson couldn’t hear her footfalls yet.
“What’s she doing down there on her own? I thought you were with her?” Harrison asked as Hudson approached.
“I don’t know. I just checked on the kids. They’re fine.”
“They better be, or we’ve wasted perfectly good salt. What the hell is iron and sodium supposed to do, anyway? If it works, okay. But this is batshit.”
“You have no idea. Have you scented anything odd?”
“Nope. And let me assure you, I am on red-fucking-alert right now, brother bear.”
Disturbed, Hudson grunted in agreement. Despite his doubts, the air still felt funny. He couldn’t entirely place why or describe how, but something felt off.
“What have you got that for?” Harrison nodded to the iron poker. “Did you find som—”
Harrison trailed off, his focus turning from Hudson to something behind Hudson’s back.
Whirling, Hudson scanned the snowy blanket that covered his yard. “Did you see something?”
“I thought—there. Did you see that?”
Hudson had seen it. The snow moved.
It wasn’t that a particularly strong gust of wind had blown the powder. It wasn’t even that something had skittered across the pristine white.
Something moved beneath the snow.
With a growl, Hudson gripped the iron poker like a baseball bat.
Harrison dropped his bounty of iron rods and yanked his shirt over his head, preparing for a shift.
“Not yet,” Hudson said quickly. “Don’t let it scratch you. It’s got poison in its claws.”
“What does?”
All at once, the shape rocketed forward as if propelled by the fact that it had been observed. The long, wide mass tunneled through the snow like an alligator gliding through water.
“You shove that iron through its fucking middle,” Hudson snarled, readying himself as the shape drew closer.
It was ten feet away. It was five feet away. Hudson and Harrison’s respective bears roared from their chests. And then it was beneath them.
Behind them.
Hudson spun just as a tall, seemingly endless figure exploded from the snow.
The lamia’s top half was partially human, though the torso wasn’t distinctly male or female. Long, flowing white hair spilled down its shoulders, covering its chest. The skin of its upper body was a sickly gray not unlike that of a week-old corpse. Its citron-yellow eyes boasted slitted pupils. When it blinked, its eyelids didn’t move down and up; rather, they closed from the left to the right, meeting in the middle. Only its top half was human, if you could even call it that. Its middle morphed at the hips, widening into a thick tail upon which it reared up and used as legs.
“What the fuc—”
Hudson drove the sharp end of the iron poker forward before his brother could even utter the curse.
The monstrous thing writhed backward, narrowly missing the pointed tip of the iron. It swiped at him, and Hudson finally noticed its inches-long claws. Sharpened to dagger-like precision, the nails flew within inches of his face before he ducked.
Harrison bellowed his rage and drove his own iron rod into the creature’s stomach, totally missing its heart.
The spiked end of a tail whipped up from the snow. From head to toe, the ghastly creature had to measure over thirty feet long. The tail unfurled like a whip, slashing out at Harrison. Knocked to the ground, Harrison growled with fresh rage as the prehensile limb wrapped around his neck.
Hudson saw red.
His bear thundered forward, and Hudson gave himself over to the change. Fire burned beneath his skin. Fur sprouted from his pores. His teeth elongated.
Exploding out of his clothes, Hudson’s fourteen-foot-tall grizzly didn’t even stop to roar.
Lunging, he clamped his maw around the lower half of the tail and tore until his brother rolled away, pulling the still-writhing end of the detached limb from his neck.
The lamia howled, its scream as piercing as Hazel had warned. The bear’s sensitive ears rang, and Hudson recoiled. Beside him, Harrison shifted with sharp snaps and cracks of his bones. His equally impressive thirteen-foot-tall titan of a grizzly roared.
Darting out of the way, Hudson just missed another swipe of its tail. Blood poured from the stump, staining the snow with black rather than red.
Harrison slashed his own claws at the lamia’s middle, and Hudson tackled its upper body. With his forepaws braced over its shoulders, he attempted to hold down its flailing arms. All the while, its claws clicked near his fur, snipping at him like a pair of hedge clippers.
But it was strong. Hudson was strong, too, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for much longer.
As it bucked and writhed beneath him, he dug his back claws into the fleshy, scaly underside of its belly while the blunt end of its tail thumped and beat against his back.
Harrison scrabbled his claws at its middle, but he was still aiming for the wrong spot, and Hudson’s huge body was blocking his brother’s attempts to gut the foul thing.
He found himself sailing. Bears weren’t meant to fly, but he arced across the yard when the lamia finally bucked free. H
udson was back on his feet in an instant, rejoining his brother’s side as they prepared to charge the creature.
It reared back, jutted out its chest, and released another earsplitting scream. This time, however, it did not scream in defiance.
It screamed in pain.
The sharp tip of the iron poker protruded from its chest. Black smoke poured from the entry wound as it arched back and slashed at the air behind its left shoulder.
Lightning flashed across the night sky, wholly out of place in the middle of a December snowfall. A blue bolt zoomed downward, connecting with the lamia’s middle. It doubled over, screeching and jittering as it face-planted into the snow.
Hazel went with it, still gripping the handle of the poker from where she’d thrust it through the creature’s back. The black iron turned a familiar shade of vibrant, dangerous orange beneath the witch’s hands.
Hudson charged forward, roaring for her to release the poker. She held fast, seemingly unfazed by the molten metal.
The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and the creature’s waxy skin sizzled and smoked.
After a moment, the lamia stopped twitching. Its arms bent at awkward angles. The dagger-sharp claws were buried in the snow.
With her boots planted over the small of the lamia’s back, Hazel straightened and knocked a lock of hair from her eyes. The bright blue fire of her magic swirled in her irises.
She hopped up and down, testing to see if the lamia would move. When the lamia didn’t respond, Hazel leapt from her perch and landed in the snow.
“You got an ax handy?” she asked, not looking at either bear. “We need to take off its head.”
Harrison lumbered forward, offering a snarl.
Allow me, said the utterance. And then he latched his teeth around the monster’s neck.
“That works, too.” Crinkling her nose, Hazel looked away. She glanced up and down the lamia’s body, assessing the length of its tail.
The telltale crack of bone signaled the job was complete, and Harrison released another growl before he turned and kicked snow over the lamia’s detached head.
Hudson did not immediately shift. With slow, purposeful steps, he approached his mate. Hazel finally looked directly at him. He could practically see her taking stock of his size, as well.
She exhaled, then whistled. “I was right. One big gulp.”
Hudson shook his head and released a low, rumbling growl. Drawing closer, he butted the top of his head to her left hand, urging her to show him her palms. She complied, then wiggled her fingers.
“Iron doesn’t burn a witch. Not a pure one, anyway. Thanks for your concern, grizz.”
In the forest, heavy footfalls pounded the frozen ground. Hudson’s nose had already told him his father was outside.
Hollis skidded into the yard, looking ready to shift, but he practically stumbled over his own feet when he spotted the corpse that lay sprawled halfway between Hudson’s workshop and back porch.
“Ho-ly grizzly.”
“Oh, good! Someone who can talk. Shall I burn it here? It’s gonna smell. I could drag it down to the river, I suppose.”
“What the hell is that?”
“A lamia,” Hazel replied, sounding almost chipper as she pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of the felled beast. “My cousin Cade is going to flip his shit when I show him this. He’s always looking to tangle with the really weird ones. Spends half his time trying to prove the Tennessee Wildman is really out there in Appalachia.”
“Burn it,” Hollis said instantly. “Do you need gasoline? I’ve got plenty. Shit, boys, get back in your skins and give the lady a hand.”
“No need,” she said in a sing-song voice.
Another bolt of blue shot from the sky. Hollis and Harrison leapt back as the lamia burst into flames. Hazel watched as it burned. Through it all, her eyes remained that shade of blue that would haunt Hudson’s every waking thought for the rest of his life.
She was kind. She was beautiful. She was fearless.
And she was his.
Chapter 7
Green Eyes and Brown Fur
“You can’t leave.” Hudson leaned a shoulder against the driver’s side door of the Subaru, barring her entry.
“I think you’ll find I can,” Hazel quipped.
“Stay with me tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa. It’s too late and too damn icy for you to be on the roads.”
“I’ve got Triple A.”
Hudson growled. Considering the size of the bear he kept hidden under his skin, she probably should have knocked off the airy, aloof act.
But she couldn’t stay.
“I have to get home.” She held up her phone to show the time. “It’s officially Christmas.”
He raked a hand through his messy hair, and Hazel tried her very best to keep her eyes on his face. He’d donned clean jeans, but he hadn’t bothered with a shirt.
Damn him.
“I just met you. And we haven’t even had a chance to sit down and have a drink.”
“We had coffee.”
“I mean a drink-drink. The kind where it’s just you and me and no ghosts or monsters or missing cubs. The kind where you tell me your favorite song, and maybe it’s one of my favorites, too. And then an hour later, we’re still talking about it and don’t know where the time went.”
Hazel tried to swallow, but her heart was lodged in the back of her throat.
“Stay,” he pressed. “I’ll drive you back first thing in the morning.”
His aura flared so earnestly, Hazel’s resolve almost slipped.
“It’s a very tempting offer, but I’m afraid I must refuse.”
“Come on. Beckett’s home. We just offed an honest-to-God monster. And you sent that ghost to her kiddos.”
“You haven’t had enough of my particular brand of batshit?” She gave him a half-smile. “Listen, if you decide you’re good with witches, you know the general area I call home. I’m sure your nose can find me. In the meantime, I’m heading out.”
Hudson didn’t budge. “You’re a bad ass. I have never seen anything like you.”
“I’m a badass who’s going to have to wrangle with an angry mother as soon as I’m home. You have a good night, Hudson. Wish Junebug ‘Merry Christmas’ for me.”
“Can I at least have your number? So I know you got home safely.”
Hesitating, Hazel bit her bottom lip. After a moment, she plucked her phone from her pocket. “What’s your number? I’ll text you.”
He recited the digits and she keyed them into her Contacts list. She texted him the ghost emoji. His phone dinged in his pocket and he pulled it free. A smile lifted the corners of his lips.
He was so beautiful, she was crazy to leave.
Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen to see he’d texted the bear emoji.
“Merry Christmas, Hudson Holloway,” she said when he finally opened the door for her.
“Merry Christmas, Hazel Fortescue.” He took her hand before she climbed inside. He bent and pressed a kiss over her knuckles. “Please drive safely.”
“Always.”
Before she shut the door, he cleared his throat. “You busy all day tomorrow?”
“Most of the day.”
He nodded slowly. “Maybe if you find yourself free for an hour or so, we could meet up. Have that drink.”
“If you really want it.”
“I do.”
“I’ll let you know.” She clicked her seatbelt into place. “Good night.”
He closed the door and stepped back, looking like she’d just denied him a Christmas present. She supposed she had, in a way.
Gripping her steering wheel, she reversed down the long driveway. The two-hour journey to Wears Valley passed in a blur. The roads were empty but slick. Throughout the drive, she thought of his bear.
She’d never seen such a dazzling animal. Or such a large animal.
Hudson Holloway’s bear was a beast.
&
nbsp; By the time she killed her engine in front of her parents’ house, she found herself under the scrutinous gaze of another dazzling animal.
Katherine Fortescue sat sentry in her cat form, flicking her tail back and forth from the top step of the columnated veranda. Her eyes gleamed bright blue, cutting through the darkness.
Hazel trudged to the porch, weary. She’d had a long day, but she’d discharged an inordinate amount of magic for one evening. The cougar cocked her head when Hazel sank to sit beside her. The big cat’s whiskers tickled as she leaned down to Hazel’s right hand and sniffed.
Katherine could smell the bear on Hazel’s skin.
The cougar mewed, then swished her tail toward the door. Hazel could practically hear her mother’s human voice. Get inside. You’re freezing.
Sighing, she forced herself to her feet and headed to the front door. She held it open, letting the cougar enter first. Inside, they moved stealthily so as not to rouse the sleeping guests upstairs. Once they were in the kitchen, Katherine shifted and pulled on the robe she always kept beside the back door. Hazel secured the kitchen with a privacy charm to ensure they would not be overheard.
“What have you been up to, young lady?”
“It’s a long story.” Hazel washed her hands over the sink. She’d already washed them twice in Bonnie’s kitchen, but she could still smell the lamia’s burning flesh.
“I’m awake. Have you eaten?”
“No. Well, kinda. I had marshmallows and french fries earlier.”
“It’s a wonder I send you out into the world. I’d offer to sneak some ham, but I don’t think it’s quite cooked through. I’m sure your Aunt Edith will have something to say about its texture tomorrow.”
“Did I miss any literal catfights?”
“Eleanore’s toast was as biting as ever,” Katherine replied, setting a glass of water in front of Hazel after she took a seat at the table. “I hope you had a very good reason for missing it.”
While her mother prepared one of the most glorious of all glorious meals—a leftover turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwich—Hazel recounted the trip to the junkyard, the marshmallow-eating bear cub who gave the absolute best cuddles in the world, and the ridiculously gorgeous, insanely built grizzly shifter who’d kept her company throughout the night. She told her about the Woman in White and tracking the lamia under the snow. She tapped her phone to show the picture she’d taken, and Katherine seemed equally disturbed and impressed.
