by Susan Hayes
Fern had no idea what most of that meant, but it did not sound promising.
Connell growled in frustration. “Damn it. And today’s the special delivery run we talked the company into making. How the hell did they find out? They’re fairies, for fuck’s sake, not spies.”
“Fairies?” Fern asked. “Why would they be a problem?”
“Carb eating fairies,” Breeze explained. “A feral band of them arrived a few weeks ago. They’re attacking any transport trucks carrying food and devouring whatever they can get their greedy little hands on. Between the fairy raids and the wretched state of the only road into town, we’re about to lose our contract with the sole supernatural trucking company in the area.”
“And that would mean no deliveries at all,” Snuffy added.
Breeze gave her a quick hug. “I know we need to talk, but I really have to deal with this, first. You take the day to get settled, and I’ll call the house once I’ve got this handled. Welcome to the chaos. We’ll talk soon!”
“Goddess bless you and bring you luck!” Fern called back, her mind still reeling. Feral fairy infestations were a thing? Did she need to lock up her pantry? Fairy-proof the fridge?
A moment later, she and Shaz were the only ones on the trail. The pixies and the guard broom had flown off, and Breeze had teleported the rest of the group to wherever the hell the dancing trees were.
She turned and headed back toward her house with Shaz padding along silently behind her. “Is it always like this?”
“It used to be quite pastoral here. Peaceful, quiet. But for the last few months things have gotten progressively weirder, and I suspect they will continue to be until you and your companions are reunited and victorious.”
“You say that like it’s a forgone conclusion we’ll win.” She tapped the locket at her throat. “Not even my parents were sure it’ll turn out that way.”
Shaz sniffed. “They don’t know what I do. Your parents left their fate in the hands of three thirteen-year-old girls. None of you are children anymore. You’re powerful witches with good hearts. You will prevail.”
She reached down and scooped Shaz into her arms for a hug. “You think so?”
“I fucking know so.”
“I wish I had your confidence. I still can’t really recall anything about Luna. It’s crazy. I know where she lived and that we were close friends, but I don’t think I’d recognize her if I passed her on the street. My memories of her are still a big blur. What was she like?”
“She’s a healer witch with a breathtaking amount of power and a temper that can level small cities. I have no doubt that the three of you will come together and defeat the threat.”
“I hope you’re right.”
They were almost home when a stunning woman came running up the path toward them. Her skin was a deep copper colour and her black hair was crowned by a wreath of interwoven twigs and flowers. “Help! Please!”
So much for taking the day off. “What’s the trouble, and uh, who are you?”
“I’m Rosemary. You are Fern, right? You’ve got to help us. Beavers are trying to log our forest.”
The woman—Fern guessed she must be one of the dryads Shaz had mentioned earlier—continued. “The trees are screaming. Their teeth. Oh, the gnawing.” The dryad clutched at her arms and shivered.
“I was sent to find you and Breeze. We need you. Please. Come quickly.”
Fern set Shaz onto her shoulder and touched the dryad’s arm. “Breeze is dealing with another crisis, but I’ll do what I can. Where are we going?”
“To the grove! Hurry!”
She hissed to Shaz under her breath. “A little help here, please. Where the fuck is the grove? Just give me a few details so I can remember.”
“Trees so big you can’t fit your arms around them, flowers everywhere. You used to love dancing and singing with the dryads when your parents took you to visit.”
The memory came to her quickly, as clear and perfect as if she’d visited the place only yesterday. “Thanks,” she whispered and then nodded to the dryad. “Okay, we’re going. Take my hand and I’ll get us there quickly.”
Rosemary seized her fingers in a surprisingly strong grip and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
And with that she teleported them off the path and to a beaver-infested battle zone.
Chapter Twelve
For the first time since taking over the Water Hole, Orion resented the responsibility the place represented because it took him away from his mate. Fur and fangs, is this how it was going to be from now on? If this was the struggle to find a work-life balance, he was not a fan.
He’d been pacing by the time this latest inspection ended. Archibald, the inspector had been insanely thorough, despite the fact that he and Hunter had shown him all the plans and inspections confirming that the pub was up to code and pest free.
Unlike Jake and Argyle, the previous pair of inspectors, this Shifter was as tight lipped as a prodded clam. He wouldn’t tell them anything other than his name and who he represented, and he had spent the next two hours wandering around the building’s foundations, poking his overly long nose into every nook and cranny, sniffing around and occasionally licking the wood. He couldn’t place the guy’s species by scent, but he had to be an anteater or maybe an aardvark. Whatever he was, Orion knew he was annoying and couldn’t wait for Archie the asshole to leave.
Eventually, the inspector admitted everything was in order and set off to ruin some other business owner’s day. By then, it was close to the delivery window for their next shipment of food and supplies, which meant Orion didn’t have time to swing by and check on Fern. It had taken all his willpower just to get out of her bed this morning, and leaving her house had sucked harder than an overclocked shop vac.
Plus… he really needed to tell her about the whole mate thing, but having kept her up half the night having his wicked way with her, he hadn’t felt right about waking her up to drop another bombshell on her. Besides, she might have taken it badly and zapped his ass into the ocean. He was really trying to avoid that outcome. They had all heard about Breeze and her exploding hockey puck hobby. An irked witch was to be avoided.
He was back in his office, which was a generous description for the storage closet they’d repurposed during the renovations. It had almost enough room to accommodate a desk, chair, and him, but only if he left the door open.
He saved the prep-list he was working on for next week’s menu and grabbed his cell phone. He couldn’t get away for a few more hours, but he could call Fern and see how she was doing. Maybe ask if she had any favourite foods he could pack for tonight’s picnic. He had promised her dinner, and he was good to his word. He had to figure out a way to make this work, and that meant no broken promises.
Orion was still scrolling through his contacts to find her number when the damned thing started to vibrate and chime with the one alert he really did not want to hear today—emergency call out for the volunteer fire department.
Only when he glanced at the message, it wasn’t a fire call. Since the showdown with Shade and the flockheads, the town had implemented a new protocol. If there was trouble, everyone would be alerted using the same basic setup as the volunteer call out. Orion was already scanning the message as he got to his feet.
* * *
Problem reported at the dryad commune.
First responders attend ASAP. Possible injuries.
All other residents stay inside and beware of beavers.
* * *
He had to read the last line again. Beavers? Were they to avoid afternoon nookie, wildlife, or Shifters? It had to be one of the latter two. At least, he hoped so.
He got to his feet and grabbed his gear bag, which was stuffed under his desk. “What the hell harm could a bunch of beavers do?”
“They eat trees, genius! They have to be after the grove!” Hunter called as he flew past the office door. He wa
s a volunteer, just like Orion.
He tossed his bag to his brother. “You take the truck with our gear. I’ll grab my bike and catch up.”
“Got it.” Hunter took off.
Orion jogged to the kitchen to find the rest of the staff already silent and waiting for instructions. Damn, he really needed to get that beach party organized for them. They were the best crew he’d ever worked with.
“Petal, you’re in charge while I’m gone. You know what to do. Handle the delivery when it gets here, and prep like mad. Either we’ll be hit with a tonne of takeout orders tonight, or the whole damned town will want to meet up and talk about whatever this fresh new hell is.”
“We got it, boss. You go kick beaver tail.” Petal frowned. “No. That can’t be right. Beaver ass?”
Jim snickered and then the whole kitchen was laughing and cracking bad jokes and worse puns of the kind that would get the lot of them written up in any other kitchen. He left them to it.
The grove wasn’t easy to reach, which was how the dryads liked it, but it would mean that any response from town was going to take some time. The only way to get close was to drive along a little-used track. At least, that’s the way he remembered it. It didn’t look unused now. There were fresh gouges in the soil and every plant had been crushed into the ground and left to die in the churned-up soil. Only one thing could do that kind of damage—heavy machinery.
Fuck. That could not be good. What in the name of the Goddess’s garburator was going on?
Why would beavers need…
He slammed on the brakes as the answer came into view around the next bend. Logging equipment. The fuzzy tree-killers had already managed to clear a section of forest off one side of the track. He got his bearings and growled. They were headed for the grove.
None of the machines were running, and as he killed his bike’s engine, he could hear angry shouting coming from the forest. He didn’t recognize the voice until he got his helmet off, but the moment he did, he started running. What the hell was Fern doing in the middle of this? Who was with her? And why hadn’t she called him for help?
He ran across the broken ground until he could see what was happening. The beaver Shifters were all clustered in a bunch with their backs to him, their attention locked on a lone figure standing at the edge of the forest, blocking their path. Fern.
She was lit up like a butane torch, her whole body engulfed in green and gold sparks that flowed together like flames. Damn. She looked amazing…and very much alone. He’d seen enough movies to know what happened when the lead role took a solitary stand against the bad guys, and he wasn’t interested in watching it play out in real life.
He turned and ran into the untouched part of the forest so he could get past the beavers and reach Fern. She might be the town’s protector, but someone needed to keep her safe, too. That was his job, and when they were done with this problem, he was going to tell her so.
“And I’m telling you, I don’t care what paperwork you have, you can’t log here, so take your tree-destroying toys and go home!” she yelled.
“Look, lady. I don’t know who you think you are, but we’re in the right here. You read these forms. Then you’ll see we’ve been granted logging and mineral rights to this entire area.”
Orion finished circling around and came out behind her. He didn’t want to undermine her. He just needed to be close in case the group of unibrowed, flat-tailed fuckers tried anything.
Shaz was positioned in front of her, his fur standing on end as he stared at the loggers. Several of the group looked so similar they had to be related, all of them with the same brush-cut hair and prominent front teeth.
“Finally. About time someone sensible showed up. Will you please explain to the little lady we’re a legitimate company and she needs to unbunch her panties and let us work?”
Fern spun around with a look of such fury in her eyes that Orion raised his hands and took a step backward. “Hey, angel. I’m here to back you up, that’s all.”
Her expression softened for a second. “Hey. I thought you were busy until tonight?”
“Town got word there was trouble, so…here I am. I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of it, though.”
“Apparently, this is my job, now.”
He did not like that idea at all. “Why isn’t Breeze here?”
“Feral fairies on the road. It’s been a weird morning.”
“Hello? If you two could quit with the chitchat and focus on what’s actually important, that would be great,” the lead beaver said.
“One second. I need to convey something to these idiots,” he said to Fern and then directed his attention to the flat-tailed fools. “The first thing you need to understand is that the most important thing in this area is my witch. The second thing is that even if she wasn’t my witch, I would still not speak to a woman that way unless my will was up to date and I was ready for the Next Adventure. And thirdly, and this is just a friendly bit of advice, if you aren’t wearing fireproof pants right now, I’d suggest the lot of you find somewhere else to be.” He let his voice deepen to a growl. “Now.”
Chapter Thirteen
Fern wasn’t sure how she felt about Orion stepping into this fight. On the one hand, she appreciated his support, but on the other, dealing with this kind of thing was supposed to be her job, not his.
The matter became moot a second later when the spokesman for the group made his stance clear. “We’re not going nowhere. We have every right to be here. In fact, you two are trespassing!”
She turned to see them all nodding in agreement. From where she was standing, it was like looking at a sea of plaid, and the optical effect was giving her a headache.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn them,” Orion muttered from behind her. “They’re all yours.”
“They always were.” She then flicked out a hand and sent a bolt of magic flying across the clearing. It plucked the paperwork from the leader’s fingers and brought it back to her like a puppy fetching a stick.
She dialed down her magic to a low glimmer as she scanned the page, memorizing a few key details. “Which one of you is Rod Muncher?”
The leader raised a stubby-fingered hand. “Me. And these are my brothers, Dick and Peter.”
Shaz snickered and behind her Orion lapsed into a fit of sudden coughing. Men. It didn’t matter the species, they were all laid low by even the simplest dick joke.
“And you Munchers own the Rabid Beaver Logging Company?”
“We do.”
“Can you prove that?”
The beaver Shifter blinked at her. “Uh, what?”
She waved the paper in the air. “According to this document, Rabid Beaver has the right to log this land. That’s all well, fine and good, but how do I know you’re the right Rabid Beavers? So, I’ll ask again, can you prove you’re the company granted the logging rights?”
“It says so on the paper, and that’s the same name as is on our trucks and stuff.” Rod turned to gesture to the massive yellow machines behind him and for the first time realized that he and his crew were now outnumbered.
While they’d been talking, more townsfolk had arrived and were watching the events unfold. She gave them a brief wave, and they all waved back, which made Rod turn a shade of green that did some truly terrible things to his already homely features. “Dammit, who called the protestors?”
“Not protestors. Concerned local citizens. And you still haven’t answered my question.” Fern’s confidence was climbing. If they had the proof, they would’ve shown it to her by now. The more he talked around the topic, the more certain she was that he couldn’t verify they were the ones mentioned on the paperwork. It didn’t matter if she was bartering for textiles in Dubai or standing up to a beaver Shifter in the middle of a fairy wood, the tactics of a good negotiator were always the same, and right now, she had Mr. Muncher right where she wanted him.
He scowled, which was so not a good look for someone with a unibrow so
broad it would make a Neanderthal jealous. “Well, I could show you the registration on the trucks?”
“This form lists a business registration number for Rabid Beaver Logging Co. Once you present me with something that matches it, I’ll accept that you actually have the right to log here. Until then…” She flashed up her magic again and tried to look sinister. “Don’t set foot in this forest, or I’ll take it very, very badly.”
The townsfolk cheered, but Rod refused to be cowed. “I’ll be back soon! And I’ll bring reinforcements, too! You’ll see. You think you’re the only one with magic? Just you wait.”
“I’ll be here,” she called back with more bravado than she felt. Battle magic was not her forte. She could build an ice cream sundae or put together an outfit from six different fashion houses in thirty seconds or less, but she’d never been great with full-on spell-slinging at another person. Well, apart from that one incident when she’d turned Bitsy Snodgrass and her cronies into naked mole rats, but that had been a onetime thing and they had totally deserved it.
She stayed right where she was until the beavers were gone, taking their equipment with them. She looked around the clearing, finally letting herself see the devastation they’d wrought. The soil had gashes in it like open wounds, the undergrowth crushed and trampled. They’d managed to bring down a couple of small trees already, their branches torn away and their bark marred with tooth marks.
Once they were alone, the dryads appeared, all of them wide-eyed and tearful as they walked through what, to them, must have looked like a battlefield.
Orion stepped up and cupped her shoulder gently. “Time to go.”
She shrugged him off.
“Dammit, Fern. You did your job. Now let me do mine.”
He took her hand, and when she tried to pull free, he didn’t let her.
“Let me go, Ri. I’m not done here.”
“The hell you’re not. The bad guys are gone. I need to get you safely home.”
