by JC Holly
“Especially once the bears come running in,” June added, her arms folded over her chest. “They’ll be like wrecking balls.”
The confidence of those around him helped Snow get into the right frame of mind, and he was further buoyed with each new arrival. It wasn’t long before there were too many shifters to fit in the cabin, and they relocated to the trees beside it, letting people use the cabin itself to change forms. The warlocks arrived a little later than everyone else, covered in thick black robes with hoods that covered their faces. They were all known to Creek, though, who greeted them warmly, so nobody took offense at the anonymity.
Once everyone had arrived and was settled on the ground around Creek, he began to lay out the plans in more detail, then assigned each person a role based on their strengths. June would fighting in her wolf form, as she was smaller than most and quick as a fox. Creek himself would be going in human form, despite the risk of being identified and targeted, claiming that those who recognized him would realize just who they were messing with.
Snow was allowed to choose his form depending on the situation at hand. It was how he preferred to fight. While the others would be at risk while changing forms, Snow did it fast enough that it wasn’t an issue. On top of that, he was tasked with finding the leader and getting him out of the fight ready for questioning. He didn’t like leaving a fight early, especially when it was one as serious as this, but he agreed with a quick nod.
After a round of questions, and some refining of the plan, the group stood and stretched, then prepared to head out. None of them knew exactly what they were about to face, but they were all ready to do what was necessary to stop the attacks.
“So let me get this straight,” June said, as the group broke to prepare. “We’re all running to position in animal form, right?”
“That’s right,” Creek said.
“So when we fight, those that aren’t in animal form will be naked.”
“Unless they carry something in their teeth, yes. That’s not normally a problem for you.”
“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said, grinning. “I just wish I’d brought a camera.”
The group laughed and the air of grim determination eased a little. Snow shot June a wink before heading into the trees. Once he’d found a suitable tree, he hung his clothes on a low branch and quickly shifted form. A warlock joined him soon after and drew a mark on his shoulder with a scentless oil that would render him invisible to any spells the witches used to watch the area. Snow nodded his thanks with a low bark and nod of the head.
They had gathered only a few miles from the site of the meeting, so it wasn’t long before Snow was nearing his position. The scents of a large group of people reached his nose, and he had to fight the instinct to get a closer look. It wasn’t worth jeopardizing the entire operation. Instead he veered left and worked his way around until he’d reached the back of the group. Only then, from the deepening shadows, did he risk a look.
The group stood in a wide clearing in the woods that looked like it had only recently been made. No doubt by the witches. In the center thirty or forty men and women milled around, waiting for something. On the outside of them, eight women in robes stood facing inwards, their heads down. At first Snow thought that the leader must be late, but as someone moved he spotted a person in the very center of the group. An older white man in a dark suit. A book lay open in his left palm. It had to be the leader. As if to prove Snow right, the man raised his hands and the low level hum of conversation halted.
“People,” he called out, his voice deep and clear. “We are all here for the same reason.”
A murmur in response.
“And that reason,” he continued, “is to do something about the scourge that is the shapeshifters.”
The murmur became a roar, as men and women cried out their agreement.
Snow restrained a growl and lowered himself onto his haunches, only half listening to the diatribe. He’d heard it all before, and not just against shifters. The people around him listened with rapt attention. The only people that didn’t seem to follow his every word and gesture were the witches, likely because they were playing bodyguards. Thanks to the warlocks, though, the robed women had no idea that they were already surrounded.
The signal came seconds later—a long, loud howl—and the fight began.
Cries rang out as shifters ran in from all directions, heading straight for the center of the circle. The witches were prepared, and threw up a wall of flame fierce enough that Snow could feel it from his position in the trees. Moments later the fire disappeared in a flash of blue light as the warlocks began to fight. On seeing their shield disappear, the humans panicked and half tried to scatter while the other half pulled out weapons and forced a barrier around the leader, who was still spewing rhetoric at the top of his lungs.
Snow watched the shifters meet the first line of defense, fighting the urge to go running in after them. That wasn’t what he was there for. He had to wait for his moment.
That moment came shortly after, when a bear shifter barreled into the throng, knocking aside several men and revealing the leader. Snow put his head down and ran straight for the man, his four paws pounding at the hard earth as he built speed. The leader saw him coming and yelled out for help, but they didn’t come quick enough.
As Snow neared, he leapt high and far, allowing himself to change back as he did. He landed on two feet instead of four, and tackled the suited man to the ground, socking him once in the jaw to shut him up.
A sharp pain in his fist had him glance down at his hand to find that it was burned. The leader cackled as he rubbed his face.
“I’m protected, demon.”
He meant witchcraft. Of course. They’d cast something that made him burn to the touch. No wonder the other people had kept their distance.
“What will you do now?” the man taunted.
“This changes nothing.”
Snow socked the gaping man again, this time knocking him out cold. Grimacing at the pain, he grabbed the man and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman carry, then turned and bolted for the trees once more. As soon as he did, a large group of men and women took off after him. Normally he’d easily outrun them, but with a man on his shoulder—a burning man—he was moving slower than he’d like.
He needn’t have worried, though. A bark sounded behind him, and he scented the air without looking back and grinned as June began to run interference. Screams and yells filled the air as she tore at ankles and calves to stop their pursuit.
As much as he wanted to help, he had to keep running. Every part of his body that touched the unconscious leader burned like it was in a furnace. If he put the man down, Snow wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick him up again. He gritted his jaw, shifted the weight, and kept pounding on, trying to ignore the smell of his own cooking flesh.
After another hundred yards, the sounds of pursuit fell away, and he could focus solely on moving forward. The pain was almost unbearable, but he knew how important his task was. He had to get the man away from the group for interrogation. He would be in no state to do it himself, but he wasn’t the only shifter who knew how to make somebody talk. It was almost a relief to think he wouldn’t have to do it, in fact.
By the time the rendezvous came into view, he could barely keep one foot in front of the other. The burns had worked down to his muscles, and he had a hard time holding onto his burden. Just another quarter mile. He fixed his sight on the headlights of a van parked in the trees. You can do this. With a scream of pain, he pushed on.
The rest of the run was a blur, and he only realized he’d made it when he felt someone peeling the man from his body. The pain snapped him out of his stupor, and he looked up into the eyes of the alpha of the Brooks. For once the man wasn’t frowning.
“You did good,” the always laconic man said. “Get some rest.”
It was too much to ask for a ride, it appeared. The man picked the prone leader up by the neck and tossed hi
m into the back of the van like he was a piece of meat, then nodded to Snow and jumped into the cab before pulling away. If he’d had the energy, Snow would have cursed the alpha out. Instead he curled into a smoking ball and hoped his pack found him before their enemies did.
Chapter Seventeen
Someone was hammering on the door hard enough to break through it. Bernie jumped out of bed and ran to the lounge, noticing the time on the way. Who the hell was calling at three in the damn morning?
He opened the door to find an older man in a sharp suit. He was looking away from the door, to the street, his hand rubbing at his salt and pepper distractedly.
“Can I help you?” Bernie asked, too tired to be angry about the time.
The man spun back. “Bernie?”
“Yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”
“I’m Roger Creek. Snow’s alpha.”
Bernie’s stomach dropped. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
Creek patted the air in a calming gesture. “He’s fine. Or, he will be. I’m sure he told you we heal quickly. I didn’t know your number, but I knew the area you lived in and followed the scent.”
So he’s hurt, then. A hundred thousand images of Snow, hurt in myriad ways, flooded Bernie’s mind. “Take me to him.”
* * * *
Pain.
Snow came to with a soft moan that he quickly bit back. He scented the air tentatively, but he already knew where he was. He tried to sit up, but gave up quickly. Even through whatever the clinic had pumped him with, Snow could still feel the heat coursing through his veins, boiling his bones and melting tissue. He wouldn’t be using his right arm and shoulder for at least a couple of days.
He opened his eyes and looked to the damage, but it was covered with thick white bandages. His left arm was covered, too, as was his upper back and some of his chest.
“Magic’s a bitch.”
He glanced up at the voice to find Zeth at the end of the bed, reading his chart.
“What?” he asked, as he shook his head to try and clear the fog.
“Conjured fire burns hotter than regular flames,” she said. “Hence the damage.”
He looked at his bandages again. “How bad is it?”
“The skin was all but burned away, and the muscles and tendons are severely damaged in a few places. You’ll live, but even with shifter healing you’ll need a week or two before you can be a hero again.” She chewed her lip. “And it’ll hurt. Painkillers don’t do much for magical injuries.”
Snow nodded. “I can handle the pain.”
She nodded. “You’ve had worse.”
He cocked his head, then winced as it pulled at his burns. “How do you know that?”
She smiled. “I’m a lot older than I look, Snow. I’ve been a nurse for longer than you’ve been alive. I know the face of someone who’s been through a lot of pain, and you’ve been through more than most. A lot more, I’d guess.”
Snow nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Zeth didn’t push, and changed the subject to what he could do to speed the healing.
“I can help, too,” she said. “I have limited healing powers, so I can speed recovery a little. For now, though, you need rest.”
“That’ll have to wait.”
Creek’s voice came from the hallway outside the room, and he appeared a moment later, Bernie behind him. Zeth scowled at the both of them, though it was clearly feigned.
“No more than ten minutes each,” she said. “And don’t think I couldn’t forcibly remove you if I wanted to, Creek.”
Creek grinned and pecked her on the cheek. “We’ll be brief. Promise.”
Zeth left, closing the door behind her, and Bernie rushed to Snow’s side. He reached to take his hand, then stopped short when he noticed the bandages.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Snow smiled. “Better for seeing you.”
“He was a goddamn hero,” Creek said from the other side of the bed. “To say he took one for the team would be putting it lightly.”
“Did everyone make it out in one piece?” Snow asked.
“Once you took the leader, the group lost their spirit. Brook still lost one of his new recruits, and a warlock is on the critical list, but it could have gone a lot worse.”
Snow nodded his agreement. “Any word yet?”
“He’s in Brook’s capable hands. We’ll know everything soon enough.”
That would have to do for now. Snow wanted to know all the details, but he didn’t want to worry Bernie any more than he already was. Despite the pain, Snow pulled himself up and kissed Bernie on the forehead.
“How bad is it?” the man asked, gesturing to the bandages.
“I’ve had worse. The nurse assures me I’ll be fine in a week or two.” Snow kept what she’d said about the pain to himself. “Lots of bed rest. I’m sure you can help keep me occupied there.”
Bernie blushed and glanced over at Creek, who made a show of checking his watch.
“Look at the time,” the older man said with a rueful smile. “I’d better go and mollify Zeth before she puts me through a wall.”
“Call me if you hear anything,” Snow called.
Once the man had left, Bernie took up the seat beside the bed and put his hand on top of Snow’s. Snow winced, but shook his head when Bernie moved away again.
“The pain is more than worth it.” Snow reached up and took the man’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“As if I’d stay away,” Bernie said. “You’re my…Well, you’re mine.”
Snow grinned at that. “And you’re mine. I intend to prove it once I’m able to do naughty things again.”
Bernie’s smile broke. “When Creek knocked on my door…For a minute, I thought you were—”
“I’ll be fine. I promise. It’ll take more than burns to keep me from you.”
“Good, because I think I love you.”
Even Bernie seemed surprised by what came out of his mouth. His eyes widened slightly, and he began to blush crimson. He began to stammer an explanation, but Snow stopped him with a smile.
“I love you too.”
Bernie leaned over and kissed Snow tentatively, then more passionately. Snow returned the kiss with vigor, stroking the back of Bernie’s head with a screaming hand. When they broke, Bernie had a tear in his eye, which he quickly wiped away.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Good.”
Chapter Eighteen
Two days later, Bernie stood by the door of Snow’s room while two nurses helped the still-bandaged man into a wheelchair. It was discharge day. The doctors had done all they could, and now it was down to Snow’s own magically-enhanced healing to do the rest.
Already the man seemed a lot better. The coverings would have to stay in place for another few days, but he’d regained a lot of motion in his arms, and he assured Bernie that the pain was more manageable. Bernie was pretty sure it was worse than Snow was claiming, but he played along.
“There,” Zeth said, as she adjusted a cushion behind Snow’s back. “We’ll have you home and in bed in no time.”
Bernie couldn’t hide his relief, and was more than happy to take over the control of the chair so the nurses could get back to work. He thanked them both and wheeled Snow into the hallway and toward the exit.
“How are you feeling?” Bernie asked.
“Not too bad.” Snow rolled his bandaged shoulder. “Getting in the chair hurt, but it’s already fading. I’ll be glad to get home.”
“Me too.”
They’d been visited by probably Snow’s entire pack in the last couple of days, and as great as it was to see their support, he needed rest. Bernie would see that he got it, too. He’d already told his office he’d be off to look after his sick partner, and they’d been surprisingly understanding. Not that it would have mattered if they’d complained. He’d have simply quit.
The ambulance wouldn’t fit through the garage door to Snow’s private parking spot, so it stopped outside and the par
amedic helped Bernie wheel the chair to the elevator, then bid them a good day as the doors slid closed.
Snow let out a long breath and rolled his neck. “It’s good to be alone with you again.”
“It’ll be even better once we get you into the apartment.”
“Definitely. Though I don’t think I’m up to dancing on the balcony rail just yet.”
Bernie chuckled. “Give it time.”
Once inside the apartment, it was Bernie’s turn to breathe a sigh of relief. They were home, they were happy, and they were in love. Apart from a couple weeks of healing, what more could they want?
As he helped Snow get into the bed, Bernie ran over the events of the last two weeks in his head. In the same space of time that most people go on a trip to Spain, he’d met a guy, dated him, had fantastic sex, found out his partner was a shapeshifter, fallen in love anyway, and almost lost the man to injuries that probably would have killed a regular human.
The injuries reminded him of the talk Creek had had with Snow on his second visit. Apparently the leader of the attackers had collapsed under the pressure of interrogation almost immediately. Not only had he given away locations of multiple safe houses, but also the names of co-conspirators and even some of their intended future plans. The fight wasn’t over yet, but thanks to Snow the end was in sight. He was a hero. My hero.
“Better?” Bernie asked, as he arranged the pillows under Snow’s head.
“Much. I want to tell you about my past.”
The words came so quickly that Bernie thought he’d misheard at first. “Are you sure?”
Snow nodded, wincing a little at the movement. “I love you, Bernie. That means I want you to know everything about me. Even the bad stuff.”
“I’d like that.” Bernie frowned. “I mean, I’d like you to confide in me. Just, uh, afterwards.”
