Stag and the Ash

by Sam Burns

  “Should’ve let your pet monster kill me,” the man told Sean with a sneer.

  Sean leapt forward to wrap his arms around Jesse and pull him away.

  An involuntary whine came from his throat, and his legs folded to allow his mate to pull him.

  The prey had claws. Prey wasn’t supposed to have claws. The man pulled a smaller weapon from behind his back. Gun, Jesse called it in the back of the wolf’s mind. It was dangerous. He had to protect his mate from it. He would have to kill the prey after all. He tried to step forward, but his mate clung to him, and his legs weren’t working properly.

  A horrible sound echoed through the woods, a crack so loud that the wolf wondered if the forest was falling down.

  The prey—the Charles—held the weapon out in front of himself, pointed at the wolf’s face. After a moment of silence, the dark, hollow cylinder started trembling.

  The wolf looked beyond the weapon, to the bright red blossoming across Charles’s neck and chest. The man looked surprised, eyes wide and staring. He fell with a soft whoosh, displacing rotted leaves and new shoots, and his eyes continued to stare ahead.

  “Oh god,” someone whispered behind them.

  Jesse growled and turned to face the new threat, but it was pack. The bad cub, the one who had tried to harm him, not for his position, but for reasons that made no sense to the wolf. Magic reasons.

  At the growl, the boy’s gaze shot from dead Charles to Jesse, and his eyes went wide, whites visible all the way around the irises, which were blown black. “Jesse. Oh my god, I’m sorry. Please, don’t . . . don’t die, and don’t kill me?”

  “In that order, specifically?” Mate asked. He sounded like he wanted to laugh, but not really. Two-legged creatures confused the wolf. “Jesse? Babe? Can you change back?”

  The wolf whined. Mate wanted him to go?

  Mate seemed to understand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything will be okay, but I don’t know how to help an injured wolf. If you change back, we can see how bad it is. Please?”

  The pain in his belly surged, reminding him of the bloody knife. Mate—Sean, Sean was right. He needed to shift back, so they could go to the place with no smells, where they gave people help. The clinic, Jesse reminded him. He’d been stabbed, and he needed to go to the clinic.

  To change from wolf to man was much the same, but with more shame at the end, and a painful awareness of being naked. Jesse didn’t try to hold himself up, just fell on his ass in the dirt and looked at his bleeding stomach.

  “Jess?” Sean asked softly. He pulled himself onto his knees over Jesse and looked at the wound before exhaling a long breath. “This isn’t that bad. It’s not as deep as I thought.”

  Jesse let his eyes drift closed, chuckled, and hissed in a breath at the pain that caused. “Hurts like a bitch, but yeah. I’ll be fine. Not as bad as being poisoned.” He opened one eye again and glared at Josh through it. “You are in so fucking much trouble, mister.”

  The boy held the rifle he’d used to shoot Charles in hands that shook. “They’ll never forgive me. Anthony, you—you said he’d be okay, right?”

  “You were trying to distract us, not kill him, so yes. It was still a stupid, shitty thing to do to your best friend. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive you.”

  Josh shook his head. “He shouldn’t. I—I didn’t know what to do. I’d already dug in so deep. I didn’t want to poison you, but he said—”

  “That it would make you human again, and you were so desperate for it to be true that you believed him.” Jesse let his eyes fall shut. “Sean? Is my brother coming? Also, can I have my pants?”

  The sound of the rifle hitting the ground near his head made his eyes snap back open, and he found Josh stumbling over himself to get Jesse’s sweatpants untangled and hand them to Sean, who efficiently slid them onto his legs.

  Jesse was grateful for the quick work when a moment later, there was the sound of running feet on the trail. “They’re coming,” he whispered. He looked over at Charles, then down at himself. “I should get up.”

  “What? You’ve been stabbed!” Josh said, stunned. “You can’t—”

  “Get up and walk around after being poisoned?” Jesse asked, and the boy flinched. “I know you’re having a problem with being a werewolf, but there are good things about it. Like, for instance, the fact that you’re not dead right now.” He looked significantly down at the hole in Josh’s shirt.

  The boy looked down at it too, and paled. “I thought I was dead. I—” He broke off and coughed again. “Why didn’t you leave me?”

  “Dude, you’re gonna have to figure that out for yourself. You already know why, if you think about it instead of acting like a dumbass.” Jesse tried to push himself off the ground, but the stab wound throbbed, and his arms threatened to collapse. Maybe he would let someone help him up. Or maybe he’d take a nap first.

  Josh slid down to the base of the ash tree he was leaning on and took a couple of deep breaths. “I feel like I should be dead, and I’m coughing up blood, but instead of dying, I just want to eat a whole cow, and I’m kind of nauseous at the same time?”

  “Sounds about right,” Jesse agreed. “Why do you think I spent all day complaining at Sean for the oatmeal? I need a steak, man. Maybe three or four of them.”

  “Your stomach was in no shape to be processing steak,” Sean chided, but there was more relief in it than censure. “And I’m going to side with Josh, even though I might kick his ass later, that you should not be standing. Let me and Wade help you.”

  “The goddamn story of his life,” Wade huffed as he ran up, in full deputy uniform. “Determined to do everything by himself instead of waiting for help. Did you get stabbed?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, well, I’m alive.”

  They all looked at Charles.

  “That was me,” Josh said in a tiny voice. “I killed him. I am a monster. But with a gun. Like him.”

  Sean gave him a hard glare. “I’m already thinking about hitting you. You should quit while you’re behind.”

  “What?”

  “You saved Jesse’s life by killing that bastard,” Sean said. He raised his voice—something Jesse had rarely heard in the months they had known each other. He gesticulated wildly toward the body, and the gun still clasped in its right hand. “I’d be more inclined to call you a monster if you’d let him shoot Jesse in the head.”

  Wade took a long, measured look at Josh. “I take it this is the Josh that I was told to beat some sense into?”

  “Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “But Charles got there first with a gun.”

  With a shake of his head, Wade dismissed it. He wasn’t looking at Josh when he said, “There’ll be assault charges for your attack on the other boy, but you need the clinic more than a cell right now, even if you are healing.” He looked back at Charles dismissively. “There won’t be any charges for that.”

  “It was self-defense anyway.” Jesse took the hand Wade held out, but it was a struggle to get to his feet. He sighed and glared at his abdomen. “It’s a freaking scratch. I should be fine.”

  Wade’s face remained deadpan when he spoke. “Poisoned, stabbed, and now you can’t stand up. You’re such a weakling. Fortunately for you, I sent Fletcher back for an ATV. It’ll take us a while, but we’ll get you to the clinic. Unless you want me to carry you now.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Are you guys friends?” Josh asked, sounding worried and confused.

  “This asshole is my brother, Wade, professional bad cop.” He motioned from Wade to Josh. “Wade, this is Josh, semi-professional ignoramus.”

  It was a little sad, but Josh didn’t even deny it. It was going to take some time for the kid to figure himself out. Jesse’s mother had a few alliances with other packs in Washington State and Canada. Maybe Jesse should make arrangements to send Josh to one of them, to have a fresh start where he didn’t have to deal with the best friend he’d attacked.

  Or maybe dealin
g with the consequences of his actions would be good for Josh. Would that be good for Anthony, though, who had done nothing wrong?

  Jesse would have to talk to the guys about it next Thursday at dinner. They’d help him decide what would be best for all parties.

  “You coming to Thursday dinner again?” he asked Wade, and the look his brother gave him made him realize his mind was drifting oddly. “Give me a break. I’ve lost a lot of blood. And I want steak. You can bring Fletcher a hunk of cheese or something. I know he always gives my roast beef a funny look.”

  Sean muttered something about Jesse’s priorities, but it was really dark out all of a sudden, so Jesse got distracted. Wasn’t it like four or five in the afternoon? That was annoying, maybe—

  9

  In the End

  Jesse woke in a bed in the clinic, and for a second, he thought he was in serious trouble. He looked down to find himself wearing his own clothes; heck, they were better ones than he’d been wearing when he went tearing off into the woods after Josh.

  He also felt better than he had since—well, since before being poisoned.

  “It’s about time you woke up,” Dr. Jha said from somewhere to his right.

  He turned and found her sewing up a cut on Sean’s face.

  Oh no.

  Sean’s beautiful, perfect face. First Sean’s mother, and now his face. Jesse broke everything. At least Charles was dead and couldn’t hurt them anymore.

  Without moving his chin, since the doctor had it in what Jesse knew from experience was an iron grip, Sean turned his eyes to look at Jesse. “You look like I’m not the person you wanted to wake up to see.” He sounded worried.

  “What? No! No, you’ll always be the person I want to see.” He started to sit up, and Dr. Jha turned to send a glare in his direction. “Um, should I stay here? Maybe I’ll stay here.”

  “I promise you, you’re leaving my clinic in a wheelchair. Whether it’s willingly or with a broken leg is up to you.”

  “So that’s a yes.” He lowered himself back onto the bed, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was. You would think hospital beds should be especially comfortable, but it was the opposite of that. It was like, in addition to being sick, they wanted your back to hurt too.

  Jesse sighed and squirmed.

  “Are you sure you want to keep that one?” Dr. Jha asked Sean. “He seems like a lot of trouble. I hope he’s very good in bed.”

  Sean burst into laughter, which Jesse thought was at least a little inappropriate. Sure, maybe they hadn’t had penetrative sex, but Jesse had proven he gave a good blowjob. Hadn’t he? Oh gods, what if he was actually bad at—

  “I’ll leave you to fix his wounded ego,” the doctor said to Sean as she picked up her supplies and headed for the door. “I do apologize. I didn’t intend to sow dissent.” As she left, she squeezed Jesse’s hand and gave him an apologetic look.

  Without wasting a moment, Sean came over to where Jesse was trying his hardest to stay lying down, as ordered. It wasn’t easy. He wasn’t given to inactivity, especially not enforced inactivity. “Hey, hey, stop worrying. First of all, you’re fabulous in bed, I just don’t blow and tell.”

  Jesse laughed, and it came out hoarse and cracked, with a hysterical edge. That was embarrassing. “Sorry. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know—”

  Sean pulled himself up onto the edge of the bed and took Jesse’s hands in his. “It’s gonna be okay, Jess.”

  All Jesse could do was shake his head, because no, it wasn’t going to be okay.

  With one hand, Sean reached out and brushed Jesse’s hair out of his face, then caressed his forehead. “That guy. Charles? You knew him, and it was important that you knew him.”

  That was even worse than having an emotional breakdown. If Jesse were being honest with himself, which he made a point of doing as infrequently as possible, the breakdown and Charles might be related. It seemed more likely than him being worried about his skill in bed.

  “It’s okay, I promise. Whatever happened, we’ll be fine.”

  Jesse shook his head. “He sent the troll.”

  “I kind of guessed that,” Sean agreed as he continued stroking Jesse’s face. “Wade and Fletcher were talking about him in the waiting room earlier like they thought he was the boogeyman. He’s the guy who was trying to kill us all, right? So we’re safe now?”

  Even more urgently, Jesse shook his head, which hurt a little. He was probably dehydrated. Plus there was the blood loss, which he kept ignoring.

  “We’re . . . not safe now?” Sean asked.

  “He was the bad guy’s, I don’t know, henchman? Assistant bad guy?” What was the word the letter writer had used? “Protégé. His protégé.”

  Somehow, Sean didn’t seem bothered. “So you knew the bad guy’s protégé. Does that mean we know who the bad guy is?”

  “No. I only knew Charles. I dated him a long time ago.” Jesse gave in and leaned into Sean’s hand when it wasn’t snatched away at the admission. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known it was him, I’d have—I don’t know, but I might have been able to—”

  “Jesse Aaron Hunter, are you blaming yourself for this?” Sean looked shocked, as though the idea were the silliest thing he’d ever heard, then his eyes unfocused, and a look of horror crossed his face. Jesse waited for him to pull away, but when he looked back down, it was with a soft, sad frown. “Oh Jess, you weren’t only blaming yourself for this. You were blaming yourself for everything he’s ever done.”

  “He didn’t know about werewolves,” Jesse whispered. He needed to say it, to get it all out, so Sean would know the truth and stop giving him that concerned look. Maybe yell at him. “He didn’t know anything. We dated in college, and the night we broke up, we got in a fight. He found out I was a werewolf. It was an accident, but I showed him.”

  Instead of getting angry, Sean was quiet. He looked at Jesse for a long, tense moment. “So you think every werewolf he’s killed is your fault. You think because he sent the troll, Mom’s death is your fault.”

  Jesse couldn’t meet his eye. He stared at the ceiling and gave a tiny nod. He tried not to flinch when Sean took his hand away, but he couldn’t help it when Sean smacked him on the side of the head. Jesse turned to look at him, shocked. He’d expected Sean to be angry, but he’d never expected him to be violent. It wasn’t in his nature.

  Sean didn’t look angry. He looked exasperated. “What the fuck, Jesse?”

  “Wha?”

  After wiping a hand down his face, Sean glared at him. “You should have told me about this ages ago. We’re partners, right? We are partners, aren’t we?”

  Jesse could only nod; he wasn’t sure his voice could be trusted for a response.

  “You have to tell me things like this. If you keep secrets from me, I can’t help.” He leaned down until their faces were inches apart; until Jesse could feel his warm breath. “Jesse, if we’re going to be together, I have to be an equal partner. I can’t be a kid you’re protecting.”

  “I wasn’t, I swear.”

  “So you thought I was going to blame you.”

  That was worse, he realized in retrospect. Assuming Sean would blame him for something that had been out of his control had been its own kind of disrespect. But he hadn’t done it because he’d thought Sean was irrational. “I was angry with myself. Always. Since Charles found out about us, I’ve been afraid something like this would happen, and it would be all my fault.”

  “Oh Jess.” Sean kissed his cheek. “I love you, but sometimes you have all the emotional maturity of a cucumber. Nothing that monster did was your fault. He wasn’t working alone. Who’s to say the troll wouldn’t have been sent even if he’d never known you? This is why you can’t carry the whole world on your shoulders, Atlas. It makes you believe everything that happens is your fault.”

  It was always his problem, wasn’t it? If there was a way to blame himself for something, Jesse could find it. He bit his lip. “Can I just say I’m working
on it? I mean, not that I’m not working on it, but I’m not . . . there? Ready?”

  “It’s going to take time, and you need me to be patient?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Sean kissed him again, on the opposite cheek. “I think I can do that. Just never do this to me again. Now I’ll go get a nurse with a wheelchair, so I can get you home. You’re going to rest for a few days, but I don’t think you’ll get any rest here.”

  Jesse let out a breath. “Hell no. These beds are like torture devices. Let’s go home.” As Sean headed for the door, Jesse realized he needed to be more specific. “Sean? The treehouse. The Blakes can have my place now. We’ll move my stuff when I’m better.”

  “Madison will need reassurance on that. She’s worried that you’ll kick them out of town because they brought Josh here with them.” Sean sighed and rolled his eyes. “I swear, werewolves are drama queens who try to take responsibility for everything.”

  It was a fair point, based on the sample population of werewolves Sean had experience with. Jesse wondered if the Rowan Harbor sample did mean that, statistically speaking, werewolves were kind of melodramatic. Nah. They were two families, not a random sample.

  Rather, three families, now. Three very dramatic families.

  “Tell Madison I expect her to keep her brother in line. Troublemaker, that one. Bet he’s gonna hang out at the library and read books. Freaking menace, books.” He let his head fall back and sighed. “Seriously though. I’m not even kicking Josh out of town. I’m not sure he’ll be staying, but unlike him, Madison and Anthony haven’t done anything wrong. They’re welcome to stay in Rowan Harbor as long as they’d like.”

  There was a tiny squeal from the hallway, quickly stifled, so Jesse suspected Sean wouldn’t have to tell anyone. He smiled. If telling people they were welcome and wanted was the alpha’s job, he could be okay with that. He could even live with a little poisoning to get there. Well, hopefully he could live with it. He rubbed his stomach and grumbled.