The Mating Frenzy: Werewolves of Montana Book 10

by Bonnie Vanak

  At one point, Nellie got up and went to the sideboard holding the liquor bottles. The liquor had always been for guests. Since Dad died, her mother never drank. Now Nellie gave Kieran a girlish smile. “Care for a little brandy? It’s special brandy I keep for my special guests.”

  Kieran’s gaze flicked to Ella. “Ah. No, thank you. Ella, do you drink brandy?”

  She made a face. “Never. I like only wine and sometimes beer.”

  “Good,” he murmured.

  When Nellie vanished upstairs to find photos of her theater days, Ella smiled at Kieran. “Thanks for dragging Mom out of her shell.”

  “Your mother is most entertaining.”

  Kieran sipped his water and patted his lips with the napkin. Ella studied him.

  “You have the manners of a prince. For a man I first met walking around naked.”

  At her teasing grin, he shrugged. “I am accustomed to dining with royalty, fair maiden. The Winter King has often invited me to his table. I would not be invited if I had the manners of a boor.”

  “The Winter King? The king of Sweden?” Ella frowned. Kieran didn’t have the fair hair and skin of Scandinavia.

  “My ruler.” Kieran toyed with his spoon. “Ella, I may appear to be an ordinary human, but I am not.”

  She lifted her wineglass in a salute. “I agree. I have seen you nude.”

  At her wink, he didn’t even crack the ghost of a grin. “I am not human. In fact, I do not live here on earth.”

  Oh lordy, here we go again. Just when I think the water is warm enough to dip my toes in… “You’re really an alien from Planet X and you’re looking for your leader. Or a nice girl to have sex with because she doesn’t have tentacles,” she quipped, desperate to keep the conversation light and not have him stray into La La land.

  “I have never had sex with a tentacled female before.” He frowned. “Although there was that Fae with the extra arms…”

  No. Not now. Nellie had reacted well to Kieran. In fact, she hadn’t seen her mother this animated and happy in years. She and Kieran had bonded.

  “Please, Kieran, a favor.” Ella lowered her voice and leaned close. “Leave the crazy act behind. My mother likes you and she seems willing to listen to advice. If you start talking as if you’re not human, she’ll tune you out.”

  “Your mother is not human either, Ella.” Kieran balanced his spoon on the edge of one finger. Fascinated, she watched, wondering what kind of other tricks he could perform.

  And then she realized he’d called her mother an alien as well. “What? My mother…listen chum, stop insulting her.”

  Kieran twirled the spoon on his finger, making it spin faster and faster. Eyes wide, she stared at the utensil. Magic tricks. She’d never seen a real magician. “How are you doing that?”

  “Simple Fae magick trick I learned centuries ago. Nellie is not a Skin. She is Elven and I suspect your father was as well. The goddess appointed them to watch over you. To guard and raise you is an honor.”

  “Guard me? Against what?” Ella gulped down more wine. She needed it.

  “Against those who would harm you, or worse, before you matured into your powers. Because you have stayed hidden from Others, you were safe and hidden.”

  Safe and hidden. “Why? You’re not making sense.”

  Common sense ruled Ella’s world.

  Kieran glanced at the stairs as footsteps sounded. Then the doorbell rang.

  Voices in the living room, her mother’s pleased and high-pitched one, and Stan’s unpleasant one that sounded like a backhoe running over steel shavings.

  “But now is not the time to discuss this. I smell something coming… male, big, a scent I cannot quite identify.” Kieran placed the spoon on the table.

  “That’s Stan.” Ella sighed as her mother led Stan into the dining room.

  Clad a white t-shirt, puke green trousers that looked new in 1980, and brown shoes, Stan had managed to comb his wispy hair. And shave, though the thick brows over his eyes could use some taming.

  A vacant look entered Nellie’s face, replacing the animated girlishness that Kieran coaxed out. Odd how Kieran, a stranger, made Nellie light up and Stan only made Nellie retreat into vacuous contentment.

  Like a drugged cow being led to the slaughterhouse. What an ugly thought. Ella forced a smile. “Hello, Stan.”

  But her mother’s boyfriend didn’t return the greeting. He was too busy staring at Kieran. Stan actually took a step back.

  “What the hell is that doing here, Nellie?” Stan demanded.

  All smooth grace, Kieran jumped out of his chair, withdrawing a sleek sword from his jeans. Ella stood as well. Shock filled her. The curved blade was big as her arm, and glinted beneath the chandelier light.

  She hadn’t seen a scabbard on his hip, and yet here was the weapon.

  “Where did you get that? Put it away, Kieran.” Ella cried out.

  Kieran glowered at Stan, who took another step back.

  Maybe reason would help. She spoke in her softest voice. “Kieran, this is Stan. He’s just a guy. Mom’s boyfriend.”

  Kieran growled deep in his throat. “This is no friend and no boy, Ella mine.”

  Ella mine? When did she become his? The endearment warmed her, but suddenly there was no time to question, or act, because everything went to hell.

  Kieran leapt, leapt over the dining room table as if it were a hurdle, landing neatly on both feet, right in front of Ella. Stan laughed and snatched up a fork, holding it to her mother’s throat. The tines pressed against Nellie’s flesh, denting it. Her mother screamed.

  “Please, Stan, please don’t hurt me again,” Nellie wailed.

  Again? Ella saw red. She started forward, but Kieran blocked her. “I shall handle this, Ella mine.”

  “She’s not yours. When I am done with her, she will belong to the master,” Stan grated out in a guttural voice.

  “Fork you,” Kieran snarled.

  Fork you? She felt as if she were in a bad comedy act, except her mother was bleeding from the sharp tines sinking into her throat.

  “Put the blade away, jaguar, or I’ll kill her,” Stan threatened.

  Eyes focused on Stan, Kieran sheathed the blade. Ella blinked hard. The scabbard had appeared out of nowhere on his right hip, and then vanished.

  Stan removed the fork, mumbled something, pinched Nellie’s throat where it bled, then pushed her hard. Her mother tumbled to the ground, whimpering, holding a hand to her neck.

  “You shall pay dearly for injuring the one assigned to protect Ella.” Kieran seemed to grow taller before her eyes, his posture alert and coiled, like a cat ready to spring.

  Seizing the chance, Ella raced over to her mother. She grabbed a clean linen napkin, holding it to her mother’s wound.

  “Ella, I am sorry. I failed you,” her mother whispered. “I was blinded to Stan. I didn’t know what he was.”

  “It’s okay, shhh. Lie still,” she told her.

  Stan threw the nearest object—a twice-baked potato—at Kieran, who ducked. The potato crashed into the china cabinet, smearing butter and cheese and sour cream over the glass. “Fuck you,” Stan screamed.

  Kieran grabbed a fork, raced forward and stabbed Stan in the stomach. The man stared down at the fork. Then he pulled it out.

  “It takes more than silver to kill me, guardian,” Stan grated out. “And this is nothing more than silver plate. Nellie always was poor.”

  The fork fell on the carpet. A Cheshire cat smile touched Kieran’s face.

  “I know. But it will force your true nature out, you bastard,” he told Stan.

  With a loud howl, Stan changed.

  If she hadn’t stared at him, she’d have missed it. Thought the entire episode a living, writhing nightmare from the bowels of a twisted imagination. Malevolent energy radiated from the creature, a faint inky black aura radiating from its body.

  Ella didn’t know why, or how, she could suddenly see it. Her terrified gaze whipped over to Ki
eran, who courageously faced the thing. Crimson and pure, snowy white ringed Kieran’s body. She glanced at her mother, who emitted a sickly yellowish-gray color.

  Her own hands were pulsing with white light, the edges sharp, like crystals.

  She looked at the creature again. What she saw made her crab-crawl backwards on the floor, dragging her mother with her. Instinct urged her to get far, far away.

  Covered with snowy white fur, the thing that had been Stan stood at least seven feet tall, his head nearly banging against her mother’s kitchen ceiling. Black twists of horns sprouted from the side of its head. Eyes glowing blood red, it stared at her, the mouth somehow on the side of its head, as if someone had twisted its head around.

  Kieran picked up a sharp steak knife and made a “come and get me” gesture. The creature hissed and swept a paw over the dinner table, sending her mother’s $17 prime rib crashing to the floor in a greasy mess.

  “Tornakt, you shall not harm Ella,” Kieran shouted. “You will have to get past me first!”

  “Tornakt? What the hell are you talking about? What is that thing?” Panic clogged her throat, but Ella moved to protect her mother, who kept moaning. She wrapped her arms around her. Cold. So icy.

  “It’s a shapeshifter from my world—the Winter Kingdom. A shadow being that takes on whatever form it wishes in order to blend. Most in my world are peaceful, and shadowblend to observe others. They are usually gentle.”

  Kieran twirled the knife in his hand, his gaze focused on the creature. “Except this one seems to have had a close encounter of the undead kind—with the Dark Lord of the underworld.”

  The Tornakt-thing-that-had-been-Stan shrieked, the sound piercing, and Ella clapped hands over her ears. It felt as if someone jabbed knitting needles into her eardrums.

  “Don’t let it touch you,” Kieran warned. “You’ll lose your memories and forget this thing ever existed. You’ll forget every damn thing that makes up your life and you’ll become easy prey.”

  It shrieked again. Kieran pointed to her ears as she moaned. “Tune it out. Concentrate on muting the sound. You can do it by listening to something else. Your mother needs you, Ella.”

  She didn’t know how, but focused on her mother as she applied pressure to her mother’s bleeding wound. Her skin was cold, and beginning to turn blue. The Tornakt’s shrieks became muted and the sharp ache in her eardrums lessened.

  Moans became shallow, whistling breaths as her mother struggled to draw in air. Her skin was so pale.

  Please, I can’t lose you too, Mom.

  Kieran leapt onto the table again, scattering dishes and spilling the bottle of wine. He picked up the bottle, threw it at the creature. Wine splashed in its eyes.

  The Tornakt screamed. Windows cracked and the mirror in the living room shattered, shards of glass exploding outward.

  Kieran threw the knife. It sank into the Tornakt’s left eye. As it shrieked, trying to pull out the blade, Kieran sprang off the table, landing on his feet. He darted around the Tornakt and reached up with his hands.

  A sickening crack ensued as Kieran twisted the thing’s neck. It dropped to the floor and lay still.

  Ella ran over to him. “Is it dead?”

  “Yes. For now.” He turned to her. “Are you all right?”

  Ella shuddered. “You touched it. You said not to touch it.”

  Kieran held out his hands, covered by leather gloves she hadn’t even seen him don.

  “Always carry a warm pair of gloves. They come in handy in the winter.” He winked, but she was far too shaken to appreciate his jocularity.

  The creature lay upon her mother’s carpet, yellowish fluid from its wounded eye seeping onto the fibers. But Ella’s attention focused on Nellie.

  Her mother shivered violently. “I’m s-so cold, Ella. W-what is w-wrong with me?”

  Ella’s insides knotted with horror and panic. Blue tinged Nellie’s bare skin. Her face was the color of pale death. Then her eyes closed and she seemed to stop breathing.

  She rubbed her mother’s hands, but nothing helped.

  “She’s going into shock. Hypothermia. We have to call an ambulance,” she yelled.

  Darcy bolted into the room, meowing loudly, winding around Ella’s legs. The cat went to Nellie, rubbed against her as if to try to warm Nellie, who had stopped moving.

  Kieran only squatted beside Nellie, his gaze riveted to her face. He touched her arm and drew in a sharp breath.

  His gloved hand on Ella’s arm, Kieran drew her to her feet. “You must answer me. Did your mother have relations with Stan? Quick, Ella mine, this is not the time to be modest!”

  “Y-yes,” she told him, remembering the sounds from Nellie’s bedroom.

  A haunted expression touched his face. He released her and sank against the wall. “Sweet mother of winter. I cannot save her.”

  “Is s-she dying? What happened?” Ella cried out.

  Kieran began to pace. “The Tornakt cast a spell on your mother. She is not dead, but frozen. If the spell is not broken in 10 days, she will perish.”

  He whirled, facing her. “Your mother is vulnerable to the Tornakt, as all Fae are.”

  Panic squeezed her chest tight. Ella couldn’t breathe as she tried to suck in air. No, no. “I can’t lose her. She’s everything to me.”

  “You can save her once you gain your powers.” Kieran pulled off his gloves. Two warm hands cupped her face. “I did not want you to learn of your true self like this, Ella. But you must trust me that you can save her.”

  It was too fantastic to believe. Surely she would open her eyes and awaken from this nightmare. Snow creatures that killed? Her mother, not human, but some kind of fairy?

  “No.” She shook her head. “This isn’t happening.”

  Darcy kept meowing, obviously filled with distress. Ella went to pick up her pet, the friend who’d kept her grounded through tough times. Kieran pulled her back. “No.”

  He gave the cat a stern look. “Your mistress needs you. Shift into your human skin.”

  The cat suddenly vanished. Ella blinked in shock. In her place stood a petite, curvy brunette with masses of black hair spilling down her back. An electric blue shirt and black trousers encased her shapely body.

  “I don’t believe this,” Ella whispered. “What’s happening to me? Am I going mad?”

  “No, Ella.” The woman had a sultry voice, but her green eyes were filled with kindness. “I am still your Darcy, your cat. This is my human skin.”

  Shivering, she hugged herself, unable to believe that she wasn’t hearing things. Or seeing them. Panic congealed in her stomach. Then she looked down at her mother, now a blue, frozen statue, her arms extended, her fingers like claws.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  Sympathy filled Darcy’s expression. “You are incredibly important to our world, Ella. The creatures of darkness know this, and will do all they can to thwart you. I was assigned to protect you after your father died. So was my half-sister.”

  Staggering back, she met the solid wall of Kieran’s chest. He seemed so strong, so corporeal. Not like the crazy, horrible things happening before her.

  “My sister, Danica, has watched over you. Your employer at the library. And your friend Misty at the animal shelter.”

  “They’re all like you?” Ella felt her knees go weak, but Kieran slid a supporting arm around her waist.

  He brushed back a lock of hair from her chilled cheek. “It is true, Ella. You have had Others watching over you, but now the cat is out of the bag, so to speak. The evil ones know your true identity.”

  With his other arm, he tossed a cell phone to Darcy. “Call Danica. Tell her to transport here immediately.”

  Kieran guided Ella over to the living room, where she collapsed upon the sofa. Hugging a pillow to her stomach, she rocked back and forth. This was no time to fall apart. Her mother needed her. No matter what her mother was—a creature like Kieran insisted—she was still her mother.

  A
motorcycle roared into the driveway. Jerking her gaze to the picture window, she saw her boss from the library climb off the bike, and slide a black helmet off her head. Then Danica was in the living room, standing before Darcy.

  The resemblance was striking. Though Darcy was dark-haired and Danica blonde, their catlike facial features with the winged brows, large green eyes and pursed lips, were the same.

  “You’re sisters,” she realized aloud.

  “Half-sisters,” Danica corrected.

  Kieran gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Darcy is a rare Changeling shifter who can change into any animal or insect form at will. Danica is half-shifter, half Fae. They both came to watch over you, Ella.”

  “Our father was a Changeling shifter,” Danica told her. “I didn’t inherit his abilities because my mother was Fae royalty.”

  “And my mother was a Lupine shifter,” Darcy told her. She shot a glaring look at Danica’s direction. “As my sister keeps reminding me.”

  Danica shook her head. “Fact of life, sister. You’re baseborn.”

  “Will you two stop it?” Kieran grated out. “You’re here to help Ella and this bickering isn’t helping.”

  Danica pouted and Darcy looked contrite.

  “What can we do to aid you, Ella?” Danica asked gently. “I came as quickly as I could.”

  “Her mother is in a status frozen spell. Do you know any magick or cure that will slow the spell until Ella can cure her? Anything you’ve found in those ancient scrolls in the secret archives?” he asked.

  Danica knelt on Nellie’s right side as Darcy knelt on the left. Ella squatted down next to her mother’s head, reaching out to stroke her forehead, but Danica seized her wrist.

  “Don’t touch her,” Danica warned. “We can’t be certain what kind of effect the spell has on you while you’re still without magick.”

  She glanced at Darcy. “I’ll need your help. I’m going to use the Teighnaught reversing spell.”

  Her employer looked at Ella. “It’s an ancient Fae spell for countering evil. It’s simple, but usually effective.”

  Usually? She didn’t want to risk her mother’s life on “usually.” Every logical bone in her body urged her to call an ambulance and counter the hypothermia. But each time she touched her mother, an icy coldness sank into her own skin, a frigidness that Ella sensed was not of this world.