Motor City Mage

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “So it was the Wyndewin who chased the Fae Underhill?” Lana hadn’t realized their enmity was that old—or that well founded.

  Des shrugged. “Partly. Advancing metallurgy had a lot to do with it. You know they still don’t much like steel and iron. The Romano-British were big into iron weapons. And eventually even the Celts realized that the entire island was going to be homogenized sooner or later. The influx of different tribes and people brought new religions, especially Christianity, which wasn’t very polite about its views on magic.”

  “So the Fae went Underhill, literally, and the League went underground, figuratively.”

  “That’s the way I understand it. The next big effort was rescuing condemned witches during the Inquisition, and there are those who claim we really began there, just re-using an older name. It gets rid of any taint of Fae background, which I think is the appeal for that particular origin story. Either way, after that the League sort of spread all over the world along with western colonization, and mages from other traditions joined in, like my mom’s ancestors in China. Again, human witches and wizards from various cultures teaming up against the rest of the paranormal world.”

  “Why can’t we all just get along?” Lana shook her head. “It’s no different than human race relations. All a huge load of bullshit. And my people aren’t innocent either. My grandfather was horrible—you should have seen him when George brought home Jase. Not because they’re gay—that’s okay in the lupine community. But Jase being black? I thought the old man was going to pop an aneurism. It was way worse than when Greg mated with Fee. The old man was even more racist than he was speciesist. It’s not the whole lupine community or anything, but my grandfather was definitely a bigot of the first degree.”

  “So is that part of my appeal?” He asked after a few long awkward moments. “That I’m not only Wyndewin, but half-Chinese? By sleeping with me, are you still sticking pins in him even though he’s dead?”

  “Damn, even for a man you can be a thick-headed ass,” she grumbled, stopping to put her hands on her hips and glare at him. “That’s one hell of an insult you just lobbed at someone who’s done nothing to deserve it.”

  Des returned her stare. “It seemed a valid question to me. I honestly have no idea why you have any interest in me at all. Every time I turn around, you call me a tight-assed prick. So what is the appeal? You don’t give it away, but you could certainly take your pick. Why sleep with me?”

  “Because despite the tight-assedness, which drives me fucking bug-nuts, you’re actually a pretty nice guy, for an idiot. I can’t help liking you, in spite of my better intentions. Most of the time at least. Right now I don’t like you much at all.”

  “You like me? Really?” He tipped his head to the side, his voice incredulous.

  This time Lana shrugged. She didn’t just like him, she loved him. Couldn’t he see that? “Sometimes. You’re good to your sister, great to your niece, and you’ve come through for my family and friends more than once—when you didn’t have to. That says a lot.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or are you waiting to hear that you’re hung like a horse? Because I have no complaints in that department either. You’re strong, inventive and limber, which carries over to the bedroom. You also don’t skimp on making sure your partner has fun.” There, that should shut him the fuck up.

  Des scrubbed at his face with his gloved hand. “Shit.”

  Her eyes popped. He almost never swore. “Uh-huh.” He was in deep shit all right.

  He held her gaze with his. “Look, Lana, I don’t know what brought that on. You’re right, you didn’t deserve my little tantrum. I was over the line and I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes still narrowed, she gave him a grudging nod. “Fair enough. Apology accepted.” He still wasn’t getting any tonight, not without some serious groveling. She turned and started walking.

  A cart had come up behind them while they argued, and the driver paused, his sort-of-horselike team halting beside them on the road. The driver said something, but they both shook their heads and held up their hands.

  The green-haired man with lined, paler green skin and blue eyes grinned and pointed at the back of the cart, which appeared to be mostly stocked with barrels and crates. The cargo was strapped down, though, and there was space at the very back.

  Lana beamed at the farmer, Des bowed politely and they climbed onto the back of the cart. The man made a little click and the animals started moving again.

  Des and Lana looked at each other and Lana wasn’t sure which of them broke first, but pretty soon they were both laughing.

  “Oddly enough,” Des said after wiping his eyes. “I think the fight is what got us the ride.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The farmer looks older than some of the others we’ve met and he had this expression of—I don’t know—amused recognition, I guess. I suspect he assumed we were an old married couple having a spat. Makes us way less threatening than a couple of random strangers.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  When he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, she didn’t object, but leaned back against his shoulder and let the rocking motion of the cart relax her muscles.

  “For what it’s worth…” he began.

  “Yes?”

  “You know you’re beautiful, you know you’re talented and smart. But those qualities aren’t what draw me to you. And no, you’re no slouch in the bedroom either, if that’s what I’m supposed to say. But that’s not what gets me.” He paused, swallowed hard and then continued. “The most appealing thing about you is on the inside. For all your bravado and toughness on the outside, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, chán-láng.”

  She had no idea what to say about that, so she just snuggled back against him. As groveling went, that had been pretty damned good.

  “So,” he said a moment later, a suspicious crack in his voice. “Tell me more about your engineering work.”

  * * *

  Des watched the countryside roll by from the back of the wagon. For maybe the first time, he had the leisure to sit back and marvel at being in a different world—though he’d been Underhill, this was his first visit to any other realm. He and Lana were experiencing something most humans didn’t even know existed. It was really kind of cool, except for the almost getting killed part, and for the trouble that waited for them at home.

  Catching a ride meant they gone twice as far as they’d hoped by the time the driver stopped for his noon meal on the side of the road.

  Lana and Des stretched their legs and sat with him in front of one of the shelters after taking separate trips to the latrine. Lana offered the driver a piece of their fruit bread, and in turn, he shared some fresh cheese. They managed to communicate through facial expressions and hand gestures for the most part, and when Des pointed to himself and said “Des,” then pointed to Lana and said her name, the man nodded and pointed to himself. “Gurt.”

  Des held out his hand and Gurt clasped wrists with him. When Lana held out her hand, Gurt just raised one green eyebrow and snorted at Des, as if sympathizing with him.

  “Vin did say this was a male-dominant culture,” Des reminded her. His tone was harsh, but he used eye contact to beg her to play along.

  Lana got it. She dipped her eyes and withdrew her hand. It was a good thing Gurt couldn’t understand the string of curses she uttered in a soft, conciliatory tone.

  Shaking his head as if apologizing for her behavior, Des turned to Gurt and unrolled the map between them. Gurt nodded his understanding and pointed to their present position on the road.

  Des dragged his finger along the road, showing where they were headed. Not too far before the portal was a bigger village, more of a city really, and Gurt indicated that he was turning south there, but would take them that far. Des nodded and handed over a couple coins, not big enough ones to make them look wealthy, not small enough to be an insult.

  Gurt smiled and accepted
them, indicating it was time to get back on the road. This time he invited Des to sit up in the driver’s box with him. It was tempting, but one look at Lana’s seething amber eyes told Des it wouldn’t be worth the price. Instead, he shook his head and climbed in the back with Lana.

  “The good news is we should make the city by nightfall,” Des said. “That will put us almost a full day ahead of schedule.”

  Lana grunted. “Good. I want out of this primitive place as soon as possible.”

  “You’re going to let one sexist demon get you down?” he teased. She was adorable when she was grumpy. “I thought wolves were pretty male-dominant too. Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”

  “Why the hell do you think I left home at eighteen?” she snarled. “I’m my parents’ only child. The old man’s only granddaughter, and I grew up a spoiled-rotten princess, but more sheltered than most human girls. It was so suffocating I thought I’d die. The minute I was out of high school, I was gone. Greg and George were never as bad as the others. Sure, they’re protective, but they never assumed I couldn’t do something just because I have boobs.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty smart for a couple of furballs.” He lobbed that one at her like a softball, high and easy.

  It must have been just the right touch, because Lana forgot her aggravation and laughed. “They do okay. But you can’t tell them I said that.”

  “Likewise.” He put his arm around her and pulled her back against him. “Unless…if we don’t both make it back, let them know, okay? Tell them that even though I stink at showing it, I’ve considered them my friends.”

  She sniffed. “Don’t. Just don’t talk like that. We’re going to be home tomorrow morning. And Des—they know. Trust me. They feel the same.”

  “Thanks.” He held her for a while, breathing in the scent of her hair. Even without being able to wash much last night, she still smelled good. Musky, with faint spicy overtones, not floral or fussy. He noticed her humming under her breath, then she seemed to catch herself and stopped.

  “You could sing,” he said finally. “I promise not to join in. But your voice is nice. Just no whistling. Please.”

  “But will you still tell me what you’ve been calling me?” She snuggled closer into his shoulder. “It’s driving me crazy not knowing—though I’ll admit, it sounds sexy when you say it. I’d never thought of Chinese as a romantic language, but when it’s you—yeah, it’s a turn on.”

  “Chán-láng. It’s not proper Mandarin—I used English grammatical structure, more like my mom’s family uses for names than in a formal sentence. Basically, chán means graceful, or beautiful. So the whole thing is ‘graceful-slash-beautiful wolf.’” Hell, he hadn’t meant to tell her, not yet at least. The rolling of the wagon must have lulled his senses.

  “That’s nice.” She leaned up to kiss his chin. “I can live with that.”

  “So why ‘Obi-Wan’?” Did he really want to know?

  “Just because of the cloak, and because you work so hard to be in control all the time. Nothing major. You’re simply fun to tease.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed.

  They rattled through another town, where Lana stayed with the cart and Des went with Gurt to get more provisions. A few minutes later, they were back on their way, with Lana softly singing. Meanwhile, he picked the bits of her instrument out of the backpack and began fitting it together like a magical jigsaw puzzle. She blinked back a tear when she saw what he was doing and launched into another tune, an old English sea chantey, one Des had heard from his British grandmother. It was faintly bawdy, about a drunken sailor.

  “Where’d a rocker like you learn that?” She’d even had him chiming in under his breath on the chorus between spells.

  “Ric, when he used to sit in with us in California,” she said. “Back before he met Meagan, he had a thing about not performing love songs, but he knew a hell of a lot of other stuff. He was always fun to jam with.”

  “You ever wonder why it took him eight hundred years to find the right woman?” Des asked. He’d been pondering that lately. How did someone that old finally decide, hey, it’s time to settle down? He finished mending the body of the lute, or whatever it was called and moved on to the neck.

  Lana shrugged. “Because Meagan hadn’t been born yet? And don’t forget, your brother-in-law is even older. Why did it take him over a thousand? Was it because he hadn’t met Elise?”

  “So you think there’s one right person for each of us—kind of a fated soul mate or something?” He tried to tell himself this was dangerous ground and he really shouldn’t go there, but he genuinely wanted to know her opinion.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, speaking slowly. “It’s a viable theory, though, when you look at our friends. I think maybe there are limited types of people who will work for any one of us. When the right timing coincides with meeting one of those compatible people, maybe that’s when it happens. Of course a lot of people screw it up or the divorce rate wouldn’t be what it is.”

  “You’ve got a point. Even among the League, we see a lot. Like cops, I suppose. A lot of spouses can’t handle the risk, the oddball hours, the injuries.” Which was why Des had no intention of settling down anytime soon, though at almost forty, he didn’t have much time left in the field anyway. Pretty soon his reflexes would start to slow down, and he’d be stuck at a desk somewhere. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “At least the League allows divorce. Among wolves, if you make the wrong choice, you’re stuck. Mating is entirely ‘’til death do us part.’”

  “Even in cases of abuse or desertion?” He’d wondered about that after meeting some of the Novaks’ more dysfunctional relatives.

  She nodded. “Though in those situations, it’s not uncommon for the injured party’s pack to make sure that death happens sooner rather than later. Pack behavior can be pretty barbaric. Now that Greg’s the regional alpha, I know he’s working to change some of the harsher practices.”

  “Good luck to him on that. Bucking tradition is a huge pain in the ass. I’ve been trying to talk my superiors into easing relations with shifters and Fae, but it’s an uphill battle.”

  “At least you’re trying. That counts for a lot.” She watched as he finished repairing the body of the instrument, using magic to fill the holes from missing shards. “Why would Brewer betray the League, do you think? I wonder if Sofia and Nightshade were in on that.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll ever know about Sofia and Nightshade, though I think so. Brewer’s probably been in it since the beginning.” He tried to keep the pain out of his voice but failed. Here he’d kept himself so apart from his friends because of League prejudice, and his own boss, a man he trusted, had been working with a demon drug dealer. The betrayal cut deep, deeper than he wanted to talk about, even with Lana. His voice was thicker than he would have liked when he handed over the instrument and said, “Play something. Please.”

  She kissed him hard. “Thank you.” Then she squeezed his hand and started to sing again, picking out the tune of Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.” It made him smile, and she didn’t even wince too sharply when he started to sing along. Just to pay him back, for making her hear his caterwauling, he was sure, her next song was Heart’s “Magic Man.”

  * * *

  Lana had dozed off against Des’s shoulder a few hours later, and woke when she felt the wagon slow down. She opened her eyes to see Des smiling down at her, and her heart lurched in her chest. He had the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.

  “City gates,” he said. “Gurt’s going around, so we’re on our own from here.”

  “Geez, I can’t believe I fell asleep.” She looked up and noted that the sun was starting to fall toward the horizon. There was maybe an hour, hour and a half, left until sunset. “You want to stay here for the night or just keep walking?”

  “I’m thinking we should at least grab a hot meal,” Des said. “Maybe even stay at a real hotel. By my
reckoning, the portal is about two hours’ walk farther west. We don’t know what we’ll find when we get there. We might not want to scale a cliff or whatever in the dark.”

  “We could keep going for that hour—camp as close to the portal as we can get, so we’re there first thing in the morning.” She was leery of walking into a town with walls and guards, where they didn’t speak the language.

  “Come on.” He gave her a coaxing smile. “I really think we should get one good meal today if we can. Then if you want, we can walk to the next shelters.”

  “All right. But if they throw us in jail for jaywalking or something stupid, it’s all your fault.” She hopped down from the wagon and waved at Gurt as he drove away.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he teased. “Me being the big strong male, after all.”

  Lana snickered. “Yeah right. Well, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it. I’m hungry, and I have to pee.”

  “That’s my delicate little lady,” Des said as they lined up outside the gate. “Now tell me how you really feel.”

  “Asshole.” But she took his hand when he offered it.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The guard held out his hand for money, and since they’d been watching the others in front of them, Des had a good idea of how much was expected. At Lana’s suggestion, he added a bit extra, which the guard pocketed in a swift movement before jerking his head to indicate they should pass.

  “Well, now that we’re here, where do we go?” she asked, looking around at the walled fort. It was like something out of Frontierland, with a little bit of a Renaissance fair thrown in. She wondered absently if Des had ever been to Disneyland. Or a Renaissance festival for that matter. Surely he’d been a little kid once, right?

  “There seems to be a marketplace up ahead,” Des said. “Odds are, a restaurant of any kind will be near there.”