by Hattie Hunt
The door opened behind them and people filtered out.
Ripley and the kids moved to the side to make room for everyone.
No one seemed to pay them any attention.
Including Cheryl Elliot who stormed down the steps as if there was a fire on her wide butt.
Ripley didn’t say anything to anyone. She just waited, watching most of the cars disappear down the drive.
An alpha meeting. Interesting.
Bobby’s weight—he’d started leaning on her again and slobbering up her hair—disappeared, and a woman stepped into view. She stopped on the bottom step and turned around, a smile on her warm and pleasant face. “Thank you. I hope they didn’t bother you.”
“No. They weren’t a bother.” Ripley didn’t know if that was a lie or not.
The woman extended her hand. “Leslie Whiskey.”
Ripley hesitated. Kid witches were one thing, but this one was full grown. She swallowed, remembering Tuck’s words, and took Leslie’s hand. “Ripley Kent.”
“Oh! The padfoot.” Relief washed over Leslie’s face as her long fingers gave Ripley’s a firm squeeze. “It’s so nice to have you around. I sincerely hope you’re staying.”
Now that right there, that tone, that expression, those words—Ripley had never thought in a million years—or at least the few years she’d been the padfoot—that she’d ever be received in that manner. “You do know what a padfoot is, right?”
The corner of Leslie’s lips rose, and she bounced Bobby on her hip to resituate him. “I’m a medium. I think I know better than most. The spirits are anxious, saying something big is going on. I’m hoping you know. They say you do.”
Ripley frowned. Never in all her life had she ever experienced this. She pushed that thought back. “Yeah. Is Chuck alone?”
“Yes.” Leslie looked out over the nearly empty drive. “For the most part.”
Ripley gave Leah an apologetic smile, which probably said more than anything that she didn’t know how to give an apologetic smile, and stood.
Leah leaned a little out of the way but otherwise didn’t make any motions to move as Ripley stepped for the house.
Kids.
The screen door opened silently, and Ripley stepped into a large living room that spanned the entire front section of the house.
Chuck stood in the middle of the room next to Faith.
A few others Ripley didn’t know turned and disappeared toward the back of the house.
Chuck’s face lit up as he saw Ripley. He met her halfway and wrapped her in a tight hug.
It was the kind of hug that reached deep into her soul and warmed the icy pits the sun never touched. What the hell was that all about? But she didn’t move away. She just stood there, taking what she could get for as long as he gave it. Whether or not he was insane or tripped or whatever stupid thing she could think of to rationally explain why the regional high alpha was giving her a hug like a father welcoming his daughter home.
He held her for a long moment before letting her go, his hands on her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re back. I won’t ask if you’re staying, but understand that I hope you do.”
Which was great and all, but why? “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say, but she really wished it had been something better than that.
He released her shoulders and gestured to one of the many comfortable looking chairs. His was a home meant for social gatherings. She sat on the edge of the seat, wishing to everything holy that she’d managed to talk herself out of this. Her stomach twisted and the words were stuck somewhere in her bowels.
He settled on the couch. “I assume this isn’t a social visit.”
She shook her head.
The screen door slammed shut with a crack as Leslie stepped inside. “No, Tyler,” she called over her shoulder. “For the love of green, shiny trees, just stay outside. And watch Bobby. For real this time. Lee, will you watch Tyler?” She then walked in and perched on the arm of the chair next to Ripley.
Saliva filled the back of Ripley’s mouth. Great. So, there were going to be witnesses. Awesome. Great. Amazing.
It was time to rip the damn Band-Aid off. She took in a breath and blurted out her news, starting with the rabid wolf, including Snow’s “cure,” and finishing with the padfoot’s prediction.
Through the entire thing, Chuck let her speak, his expression shifting from warm acceptance to a careful mask.
Leslie’s went in the opposite direction and, honestly, her reaction made Ripley feel even worse.
“This is a death sentence,” Chuck said quietly.
Figuratively? Literally? As in Chuck was going to order Brett’s death? Or wait for the rabies to do it for him?
Chuck bowed his head and exhaled a long breath.
Leslie shook her head, her hazel eyes wide. “Do you know what’s in this cure?”
“It doesn’t work.” Chuck gripped his knee and squeezed.
“Maybe there’s something I can—”
“You don’t understand, Leslie,” Chuck roared.
Leslie blinked.
Ripley’s padfoot quivered.
He bowed his head again. “You don’t understand, Leslie,” he said quieter. “As the alpha, it is my duty to end this before it begins.”
Leslie opened her mouth.
He held up a hand to silence her. “I appreciate your optimism, but in this matter, there are no good options.”
A cold, sick dread washed over Ripley. What had she just done?
“I will gather the packs tonight and issue the kill order.”
Oh, fuck. Fuck. Ripley’s hands shook as the reality hit her then pummeled her, over and over again.
Leslie glanced at Ripley, and then stood, straightening her shoulders. “Give me three days.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Chuck shot to his feet and advanced on the witch in three strides, towering over her slighter frame.
She glared up at him, not backing down.
“In this, you must step away,” he growled.
“No.”
One simple word. Small, but defiant.
He worked his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “One day,” he said quietly. “One day, and when you fail, Ms. Whiskey, I will kill him for the safety of the pack.”
“And when I succeed,” she said just as quietly but with more force, “you can be thankful he’s still with us.”
Chuck straightened and stared over her head. “You’re wasting time.”
Leslie spun, grabbed Ripley’s arm, and pulled her towards the door.
Ripley stared through the screen into the yard feeling like she’d been whisked away by a tornado. She turned her eyes up to Leslie’s level gaze, flinching.
“How do I get my hands on him?”
Shit. Ripley blinked. What the hell was she doing?
Chapter Twelve
“Tyler, where’s your cousin?”
The boy shot to his feet and turned one way, then the other looking baffled. His eyes fell on Leah and he grabbed hold of her arm.
Leah rolled her eyes.
The screen door whacked closed.
Leslie let go of Ripley. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Tyler shook, his expression comical. He didn’t look terrified, just confused as hell.
“My brother?” Leah extended her head on her neck. “I’m watching you, remember? And you’re right here.”
Ripley didn’t know if this was what parenting was supposed to look like, but the baby was gone.
Leslie put one hand on her hip and stared down at her son.
Tyler released a long sigh, a very put-out expression on his comical face. He opened his mouth and sang one word, “Bobby.”
Baby giggles exploded from around the same corner Tyler had come from earlier and the baby boy toddled into view, his arms raised and a drooly smile on his face.
Leslie looked over at Ripley. “And this is why Tyler watches the babies and Leah watches Tyler.”
Because she had to explain that to Ripley, who was a stranger and didn’t matter to anyone on the damned planet?
Leslie lifted Bobby up in her arms and continued down the steps. “Grandma has my son,” she explained further. “Momma needed a break from her telepath.”
Well, it was kind of interesting, but she didn’t even know what son she was talking about. Wasn’t Tyler her son? She didn’t really care.
“Kammy’s the same age as Bobby,” Tyler explained, walking beside Ripley on the way to the car. “But we usually end up with Bobby more than Kammy.”
None of that mattered.
“I don’t know why we’re telling you all this,” Leslie said as she opened the passenger door of her black crossover and strapped Bobby into the car seat.
“It’s probably because you’re like us,” Leah said, stepping to the front passenger side. “It’s nice.” She sat down and closed the door.
Leslie closed the back and walked up to Ripley with a relieved sigh, as if strapping the baby into the car seat had been a fight. “Grab Brett and meet me at my shop.”
“Your shop?” Ripley asked.
Leslie waved her off. “Yeah. It’s downtown. You can’t miss it. Whiskey Wine & Soaps. We’re right across the street from the new sandwich shop.”
Ripley frowned. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous? Shouldn’t we find a place further out?”
Leslie shrugged with a lop-sided nod. “Probably, but all my stuff’s there.”
“I’m riding with Ripley,” Tyler shouted.
“No, you’re not,” Leslie said, turning back to the car. “Get in.”
“But we’re going to the same place.”
“And you didn’t ask.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Can I ride with you, Ripley?”
She couldn’t be trusted with kids. “You just met me.”
“But you’re not bad.”
This family was the weirdest group of people she’d ever met.
Leslie leaned on the door. “Would you get in the car?”
“Which one?” Tyler asked, jerking his little face from his mom’s car to the car next to it.
“Mine,” Leslie roared, sounding like a big ol’ bear. She turned to Ripley and smiled apologetically. “We’re a bit trusting, I guess.”
“If I’d said yes, would you have let me take him?” Ripley asked incredulously.
“Hell, yes,” Leslie said emphatically. “Because I get to listen to two kids fight about why the one gets to sit in the front seat and the other has to stay in the back. Or I don’t know. He’ll be upset over a color. Or she’ll get mad because he’s talking.”
“And if I…” Ripley shrugged. “…kidnap him?”
“You’ll return him.” Leslie nodded sagely. “Trust me.”
“I know where the shop is,” Tyler said helpfully.
What the hell was she even doing? Was she seriously considering it? “I have to go to the Elliots’.”
Leslie groaned. “Sorry.”
So, she’d had a run-in with the bears, too?
“Having a bard might be helpful?” Had those words seriously just come out of her mouth?
“Oh, it would.” Leslie nodded, and gestured to her son with a shooing motion. “You’ll need him and I won’t have to kill him before we get home. Ty, raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
Tyler ran to the hood of the car to stand beside Ripley and raised his right hand, gulping audibly.
“I, Tyler Whiskey, do solemnly swear…”
He repeated his mother’s words.
“To do what Ripley tells me…”
He nodded and repeated.
“No matter what…”
He gave his mom a look, but repeated the words anyway.
“And not end up dead.”
He finished his oath with a renewed look of solemnity.
Leslie dropped her hand and looked at Ripley. “Seriously, he has to do exactly what you say no matter what.” She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a business card. “Call me before you’re forced to kill him. I may or may not talk you out of it. Now, hurry. We have one day.” She disappeared into the driver seat and the engine turned over.
Tyler looked up at Ripley with a wild grin.
Ripley shook her head and pulled out her phone. She dialed Tuck’s number.
“Yeah, Rip.”
“I have a kid.”
“Tell Tyler hi for me.”
Ripley pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at it before putting back to her ear. “This isn’t natural.”
“It’s more natural than you’d think. Hoarding kids isn’t natural. Now, are you planning on reporting her or what?”
“No?”
“Oh, good. And I’m glad you talked to her. Love you, Rip. I’ve got work to do.”
Apparently, so did she. Ripley looked down at Tyler. “Okay, well.” Shit. “Get in the truck.”
Tyler could talk the leg off a legless man. He started talking about how cool the truck was and how he’d asked Tuck so many times to let him ride in it, but Tuck had always said no. By the time they made it to the Elliots’, Ripley had Tyler’s complete history, including his school schedule.
While a part of her worried for Leslie and her kids—that they would just give this information to a perfect stranger—by the time they arrived, her nerves were a little less raw. She put the truck in park and cut the engine. Then, she twisted around to Tyler and glared. “Did you do your thing again?”
“My whammy?” He raised his hands and shook his head, his green eyes wide. “I really didn’t, but if you’re feeling better with me talking, I’m hanging out with you more often because everyone else thinks I talk too much.”
And there was the reason for the death threats. This was a strange world the Whiskeys lived in. “I heard witches are evil.”
“Me, too.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, dropping his hands. “Oh, wait, I am the evil witch.”
“Do you—I don’t know, do spells and stuff?”
He screwed up his face. “No. I’m just a kid.”
Well, okay. She turned and looked out through the windshield. “This is going to be bad.”
“The Elliots aren’t nice people.”
“They’re just protective, Kid.”
“That’s what Mom says, but I say that when someone is mean all the time, then they aren’t nice.”
The kid had a point.
“I’ll sing real low so they can’t hear me.”
Ripley looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Seriously. For real.”
“Real as real.” He was serious as all get-out.
She shrugged and walked up to the house.
The front door opened before she had a chance to knock. Cheryl filled the space, a sour look on her face. “Padfoot.”
“Bear.” Because what the hell? They didn’t have names anymore? “I’m here to see Joe.”
“No.”
Seriously. Ripley had to get to Joe and Brett, and if she couldn’t get through…
Tyler’s voice hummed softly beside her.
Cheryl’s gaze slid down to the boy and her expression soured. “And you brought a witch child? You couldn’t face us on your own?”
“What can I say?” Ripley knew she should just bite her tongue, but the force of her words burst out anyway. “You scare me. I needed the backup.”
Tyler glared at up at Cheryl, but didn’t stop his humming.
Cheryl was joined by a big burly man Ripley didn’t know. He didn’t look like he was related to any Elliots she knew. “Is this the padfoot Juliet mentioned?”
Cheryl bristled. “Yes.” Her tone said that wasn’t a good thing.
His smile broadened and he moved Cheryl out of the way. “Come in. You’re here for Juliet?”
Ripley nodded, stepping inside, around Cheryl. She reached down and grabbed Tyler’s wrist, missing his hand, and dragged him behind her. “Stay close, kid.”
“I’ll go get her.” The man turned, grabbing another kid. “Go get Juliet.”
The boy looked up from his book. He’d been walking and reading. He nodded, then his eyes lit on Tyler. “Hey, Tyler.”
Tyler smiled, but didn’t say hi.
The boy’s eyes widened as if understanding, then turned on his heel, his book forgotten as he disappeared into the house.
Ripley glanced down at Tyler.
He looked up at her, his lips closed, nostrils flared.
The man guided Cheryl back toward the kitchen. “Come on, Momma Bear. Let the kids play.”
“I will no—”
She didn’t finish what she was about to say and Ripley didn’t turn around to see what had cut her off.
Juliet appeared on the other side of the room. She spotted Ripley and waved her over.
Ripley didn’t let go of Tyler’s arm as she dragged him through the crowded living room full of bears. Not literally bears. She simply knew they were all bear shifters because they had a heavy feeling. Their souls felt…full.
Juliet had disappeared into a long hall. She stood at the far end. She gestured again and disappeared.
Ripley’s heart raced. How would Joe react when he learned of what she’d done?
He’d never forgive her.
Ripley stepped into the room behind Juliet. The library, apparently. A rather impressive one, too.
The door closed behind her and Tyler.
She spun.
It was only the kid they’d met in the living room. “Tyler.” He waved his hand at his throat to tell him to stop.
Tyler swallowed and stopped, taking in a gulping breath. “Bears are hard.”
Bears were a lot of things. Thick-skulled was at the top.
“Thanks, Griff.”
“Yeah.”
Ripley turned away from the kids, content in the fact that she didn’t have another potential fight on her hands. One was enough.
Joe stood on the other side of the library, his dark eyes on her.
Ripley wiped her damp palms on her jeans. Was he going to say anything? No? Really because his eyes said he wanted to.
He stalked toward her, very much the bear.
And not sexy in this moment. She wanted to run and hide just a little, especially with what she had to tell him. Swallowing her dread, she opened her mouth and just let it out. “I told him.”
