Stag and the Ash

by Sam Burns

  Devon shook his head. “No. Not to insult your importance, but if something happened to you, or your mom, or even both of you, your family wouldn’t go to pieces. You guys have set your family up in a stable place, with a pack of wolves, and a community that cares about you all. They lacked a foundation.”

  “But that’s kind of normal for a lot of people,” Cassidy pointed out. “And they don’t react to a loss like this guy did. Maybe having a ‘foundation’ is more important to werewolves?”

  Wade shrugged, but he seemed to give the question some thought. “Probably true. Wolves are pack creatures. Lone humans are normal and can care for themselves. Lone wolves have a harder time. It’s hard to hunt a deer by yourself. They get aggressive to compensate.”

  Jesse sat there and stared at his brother.

  It’s hard to hunt a deer by yourself.

  Dammit. Why was Jesse always wrong about everything? Wolves weren’t meant to be alone. He let his head fall to the table, almost face-planting in his corn.

  “Jess?” Cassidy asked. “Something wrong?”

  He kept his head down, taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing pulse, and before he could overthink it, he told them. “It’s Charles.”

  “Who’s Charles?” Isla asked.

  Jesse sighed, backtracked a few steps, and started again. “The other day, I went down to the station to look at the stuff about the troll.”

  “You said . . .” Wade started, but trailed off, frowning. “You didn’t say much. And then you looked like I’d canceled your birthday when I came back from the desk. I thought it was because of how useless the investigation was, and the coffee.”

  He shook his head. It was hard to breathe and think, let alone talk, but he tried to go slow. “Don’t get me wrong, that coffee is evil. But it was the video with the guy. The guy, he was—is—Charles.”

  “Your college boyfriend, the abusive asshole,” Devon clarified for everyone who looked confused.

  Cassidy’s eyes flashed luminous red, and Jesse wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or a real thing. “Knew I should have squeezed you for his info and hunted his ass down,” she hissed.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Wade said, voice placid, though his eyes were narrow, and he looked like he was thinking about joining her. “For now, let’s not focus on what we wish we’d done before. We should focus on what we need to do next. There’s no way to know if he’s the guy in charge or the protégé, but I’m guessing it’s the latter, which means this is his plan.”

  Everyone turned back to look at Jesse. If it was Charles’s plan, he was their only window of insight into that twisted brain. He closed his eyes and ran through his memories of Charles, combined with the current situation. He had to take a few deep breaths, and still felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen into his lungs, but he plowed ahead.

  “He likes to manipulate people. Play head games until the victim doesn’t remember what they used to think was true. Hard to do that without being here, or at least having a proxy here.”

  “The kids?” Isla asked. “They don’t seem like they’d be good at manipulation, from what you’ve said.”

  “And yet,” Cass pointed out, “They’ve been here a day, and they’re living with the town’s de facto war leader. I don’t know if they know that, but if you know anything about Rowan Harbor, you’d know it’s the most likely response to them arriving in town.”

  “Mom,” Wade said. Jesse didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but the mention of his mother in relation to Charles made Jesse’s hackles rise. Wade looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Stop growling. I’m saying it’s Charles, so that might be where they got their information. Which means said information is old, by years.”

  “Which means they would think Mrs. Hunter is still the local alpha,” Fletcher reasoned out. “So she’s the town protector they targeted.”

  Everyone turned and looked at Jesse.

  “What?”

  Wade sighed and shook his head. “I swear, Jesse, I know you’re smart. Really smart, however much you try to act like you’re not. It’s not that hard.”

  “You’re the target, dumbass,” Isla said, cutting out the need for explanation.

  She was right. His mom had been the target, but that was because Charles thought she was the alpha. He had to think that, with the way Jesse had always talked about her. Charles had more than once suggested that Jesse’s father was whipped, so even if he only saw their relationship dynamic through the veil of toxic masculinity, he knew it existed.

  But there was no way he’d have learned that Jesse had gotten his shit together and taken up the reins. Charles thought Jesse was useless; he never would have guessed otherwise. Hell, four months ago, Jesse himself wouldn’t have believed it possible.

  “We’ve got to believe he’s planning to manipulate one of the kids,” Isla went on. “It makes sense. He gets them here somehow, gets us nice and attached to the poor, fucked-up kids, and then wham. Something bad.”

  “Like what?” Devon asked. “Not that I’m saying you’re wrong, but what can he do to them from outside town?”

  “Kidnap Joshua’s mother?” Jesse guessed. “Or maybe the body wasn’t their dad, and he has the guy prisoner.”

  Everyone looked at Devon, who huffed. He closed his eyes for a minute, before opening them again, already shaking his head. “Nothing. I’m getting nothing. Their father is dead. Their mother is dead. Joshua . . .” He looked like he was struggling for words. “Joshua’s mother has nothing to do with it.” He hung his head. “Wow, that was helpful.”

  “It was,” Cass said soothingly from her seat beside him. She patted his shoulder. “We know more than we did a minute ago. No one expects you to magic up all the answers.”

  Devon gave her a weak smile, took a deep breath, and tried again. “You’re right. It’s Charles. He’s the second. He’s in—not—he’s not in Rowan Harbor. He’s trying to kill y—” He broke off and shook his head, then silently mouthed out a few words before settling on one. “Alpha. He’s trying to kill the alpha. He thinks it’s your mother.”

  “That was helpful,” Fletcher said. He looked worried, and Jesse had to agree. Devon was looking pale and a little shaky. Time to put an end to the fae hunt for facts.

  “Yeah. It was helpful. I think that’s enough for now.” Jesse reached over and stole a bite of Devon’s pie on his fork. It worked, as, instead of getting defensive and insisting on pushing himself harder, Devon scowled at him and pulled his pie close. Wade shot Jesse a grateful look, but Jesse just grinned at the table at large. His smile faded as he remembered the reason he’d been worried about the situation.

  “Jess?” Isla asked. “You okay?”

  “You guys, you—you can’t tell Sean. About Charles.”

  “Worried he’s gonna be jealous?” Cass asked.

  “Of course not. Why the hell would he be jealous? You were joking.” Jesse sighed, put his elbow on the table, and leaned his chin on his palm. “He’ll hate me. If Charles hadn’t known about us, about Rowan Harbor—”

  “Whoa,” Fletcher reached out and covered Jesse’s mouth with his hand. He looked surprised at himself and pulled away quickly, but he didn’t give up. “I know what you’re thinking. Been there, done that. But it’s crap. You could have handed half the people in the country Mrs. Anderson’s home address, told them what she was, and most of them would have ignored you. They sure wouldn’t have come to town and tried to murder her.”

  Wade looked shocked. “Jesse, you can’t think this is your fault. That’s plain old wrong. The only person responsible for a killer’s actions is the killer.”

  “So it wasn’t Charles, it was the troll?” Jesse frowned at his brother. He wanted nothing more than to get up and leave. Or maybe crawl under the table and die.

  “The troll was a tool,” Devon said, his voice soft and still laced with fae magic. “The killers kidnapped it from its home, mistreated it, starved it
, and then brought it here. Leah’s death is not on your hands any more than it’s on mine or the kids who were with her.”

  “You dated a bastard,” Isla agreed. “Most of us have, and it’s not your fault.”

  “My fault he knows about werewolves. About Rowan Harbor. About my mother.”

  “My fault those hunters tried to kill me because of the book?” Fletcher asked.

  “Stop it, guys. I get it. Just, please, don’t say anything to Sean. Okay?” It was a douchey thing to ask of them, and he knew it, but he didn’t need someone telling Sean because they thought they were helping him.

  They all shared unhappy looks, but finally, Wade nodded. “Fine. But Jesse? Eventually you’re going to have to tell him yourself. It’s going to eat at you until you do.”

  Jesse didn’t answer him, because what could he say? He knew it would, because it already was. Keeping secrets from his mate was the opposite of what he wanted to do, but no matter how his friends reacted, Sean had reason to be less forgiving. He was the one who had lost his mother, not them.

  He sighed, downed what was left in his mug, and held it up to Cassidy with a beseeching look. She tried to say no, but broke down almost immediately, took the mug, and went to refill it. Wade muttered something that Jesse suspected was an insult, but Jesse didn’t answer him. He needed another drink or ten. Not that he could drink as much as he’d like.

  He had kids to get home to.

  Dying under the table was looking more and more appealing.

  Madison and Anthony were energized by their talk with Alannah Cormier, which didn’t surprise Jesse at all. They were going over college brochures and talking about majors that allowed distance options, and Jesse felt Joshua’s boredom like it was his own. He was sitting between them on the couch while they chattered, and almost jumped up when Jesse walked through the door.

  He looked at the bag in Jesse’s hand questioningly.

  “Dinner for Sean,” Jesse explained. “Is he upstairs?”

  “Just making popcorn,” Sean said, coming in from the kitchen. He looked better than he had in weeks, smiling and flushed. “We were going to watch a movie and wait for you to get back. Now you can help us pick.”

  Jesse held up the bag. “So you don’t need dinner?”

  “Is that Wade’s fried chicken? Because you know I need that, hungry or not.” Sean traded the bag for the popcorn bowl and sauntered back to the kitchen.

  If he’d known having houseguests was going to do so much for Sean, Jesse would have invited someone over ages ago. He wondered if it was excess energy from having so many people nearby. Maybe Sean needed that now, and his ennui had been more lack of energy than depression.

  Or maybe he was putting on a mask for their guests.

  Jesse turned to the kids, pasting on his own smile and holding out the popcorn. “Who wants to pick the movie?”

  They fell into an argument over what kind of comedy was worth watching, but by the time Sean came back with his dinner plated, they’d chosen something and were happily seated across the couch, munching on popcorn.

  Jesse patted the loveseat next to himself.

  “What, you thought I’d sit somewhere else?” Sean asked, sitting sideways on the loveseat and laying his knees over Jesse’s lap. “Meeting go okay?”

  “Not bad,” he agreed. “It’s always a good meeting when Wade cooks.”

  Sean snorted at him and dug into his dinner. “The cooking would be what caught your attention.”

  Jesse gave him a self-satisfied grin and turned to watch the movie. It made him feel old, not because he didn’t understand the jokes, but because he didn’t find them particularly funny. It seemed like recycled humor from decades earlier, and he drifted off to sleep, leaning against Sean’s shoulder.

  By the time the movie ended and they all headed for bed, Sean practically had to carry Jesse up the stairs. “Are you okay?” he asked as they got into the bedroom. “I know you'll give me some stupid joke about how you’re an old man, but I’ve never seen you fall asleep at nine at night.”

  He dropped onto the bed and lay there watching as Sean changed into pajama pants. “You’re pretty,” he mumbled.

  Sean shot him an unimpressed look. “I know you’re not drunk. You’ve been home two hours, and you’ve been sharing a glass of water with me. Not that I think your friends would have gotten you drunk at dinner, anyway.”

  “Nah. Just didn’t sleep much the last few nights and had a busy week. Ready to sleep.”

  “Then you should change. Sleeping in your jeans won’t be comfortable, and you’ll wake up in the middle of the night.” Sean grabbed a pair of his own pajama pants and tossed them on Jesse’s stomach.

  Under normal circumstances Jesse slept in his underwear now that he had his own house. He also wandered around the house in them until he had to get dressed to leave. Probably not a great thing to do when they had guests. He sighed and pulled his clothes off, tossing them in the hamper they kept in the corner. It was a good thing Sean’s pajamas were more than big enough for him.

  “Have you ever thought about whether we’re going to live here or in Miss Vander’s old place?” Sean asked out of nowhere.

  Jesse stopped in the middle of wriggling out of his jeans and looked at Sean, who had his arms wrapped around himself, like he was worried about something. Finally, he answered, “Yeah. A little.”

  “And?”

  He suspected his answer was somehow wrong, or it was a trick question, but there was no way to back out of the conversation. He wished they were having it when he wasn’t on the verge of falling asleep. “It doesn’t matter that much to me. I mean, it matters where we live, but both places are nice. I don’t care where it is if you’re there. Have you thought about it?”

  “So you wouldn’t mind if I wanted to live out there, so far from the center of town?”

  Jesse threw his jeans toward the hamper and missed. He looked over at Sean, trying not to frown and suspecting he failed. “Dude, my family’s house is literally outside of town. I know it’s not far out, but we’re, like, the only ones alone in the woods. The treehouse isn’t that far out of the way.” He stood up and went over to Sean, who looked alone and worried, and leaned against him. “If you want to live there, we’ll live there.”

  “But you bought yourself this place,” Sean pointed out, staring down at his chest.

  “I’m not gonna say that was a mistake, because I think my logic was sound, but things have changed since then.” He cupped Sean’s jaw in one hand and lifted his chin so their eyes met. “I’m serious, Sean. If you want us to live there, we’ll live there. You’re more important than a building.”

  Sean looked like he wanted to argue more, but he let himself lean on Jesse, and some of the tension released from his shoulders. “I just needed to be with you, and you’re happy here, and—”

  “Have you been wanting me to go there all along?”

  Sean shrugged and wouldn’t meet his eye. “I bought the place because I like it. I kind of pictured having a family there.” Jesse tried not to choke at the notion of having an actual family, and he thought he hid it pretty well, but Sean laughed at him. “I’m not out looking for surrogates, you know. I’m just saying it’s what I wanted—what I want. For the future. Living in that house with you, and the squirrels, and maybe a kid. Or two.”

  “Two squirrels?” Jesse asked, voice weak.

  Sean gave him a light shove, and Jesse stumbled back onto the bed. “Yeah, Jess. Two squirrels.”

  “As long as we can invite my buddy. I think I could pick him out of a squirrel lineup. He’d be the one who shook his fist at me.”

  Sean sat down next to him and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “As many squirrels as you’ll put up with. He can be their leader.”

  Jesse stood again, to finish putting on the pajamas, and turned to Sean. “Serious. If you want to move to the treehouse, consider it decided.” He lowered his voice to a whisper that wouldn’t carry to any e
avesdroppers. “Maybe when we get things settled with the kids, they can stay here. I’d really like to get back to just you and me.”

  Face brightening, Sean nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

  It did sound perfect. The tree thing creeped Jesse out, sure, but he’d live in a cardboard box if it would make Sean happy again. He’d get used to the tree, and he did kind of like the squirrels.

  He fell into bed next to Sean and wrapped himself around his boyfriend. If only he could figure out how to tell him about Charles without Sean hating him. He sighed and closed his eyes, determined to leave it for tomorrow.

  5

  A Day at the Beach

  The next morning, Andrei Volkov showed up on the doorstep while they were having breakfast.

  The five of them were sitting around the dining room table, wolfing down piles of scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast, when the bell rang. Sean was the first to react, and came back a moment later, looking bemused.

  “It’s Andrei,” he told the table at large. Madison perked up a little, biting her lip nervously. Sean looked at Jesse though. “He wants to talk to you, and he looks terrified.”

  “By me?” Jesse asked, incredulous. He was only a little older than Andrei. They’d grown up alongside each other, and anyone who knew Jesse knew he was the least scary guy ever, didn’t they? He shrugged and stood. “You guys keep eating, just stay away from my sausage.”

  Joshua and Anthony scooted their chairs away from his place at the table, as though nervous. He looked at Sean, but the big jerk was—poorly—holding back laughter.

  When he got to the front door, Andrei was standing on his step, looking abashed, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes pinned to the ground. Jesse walked outside and closed the door behind him, motioning for Andrei to follow.

  They crossed the street in silence, heading down toward the water, about a block away. When Jesse decided they were far enough away that no one could hear, he looked over at Andrei. “So, I don’t think you came to talk about finances for buying the diner.”