by Molly Harper
Love and Other Wild Things
Molly Harper
Copyright
This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Love and Other Wild Things
Copyright © 2018 by Molly Harper
Ebook ISBN: 9781641970488
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This ebook is based on an Audible Original audiobook.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
1. Zed
2. Dani
3. Zed
4. Dani
5. Zed
6. Dani
7. Dani
8. Zed
9. Dani
10. Dani
11. Zed
12. Dani
13. Zed
14. Dani
15. Dani
16. Zed
17. Dani
Epilogue
Dani's Comfort Applesauce Recipe
Discover the Southern Eclectic Series
Sweet Tea and Sympathy excerpt
Ain't She a Peach excerpt
Gimme Some Sugar excerpt
Also by Molly Harper
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the good people of Slidell, Louisiana for hosting me as I wrote a good portion of this book. Your eerily beautiful, Spanish-moss laden environment was the perfect inspiration.
As ever, thank you to Amanda Ronconi and Jonathan Davis for giving my characters a voice and for taking my extensive notes (read: bossiness) with such good grace. Thanks to Jaye Wells, who helped me come up with a better name for the series than, “That Audio Series I Can’t Seem to Come Up With a Good Name For.”
Thanks to www.spirit-animals.com for all of the information about llama spirit animals and their personality traits, and to a number of comic book fandom sites that helped me understand what the heck I was trying to express in terms of Dani’s talent.
Prologue
If she got any closer to the rift, there was a good chance her head would explode.
She’d fought through the waist-high ferns and gone far beyond the rock circle that marked the safe distance for humans to approach the rift that purportedly separated this world from the next. For that matter, she’d gone beyond the rock line that marked the safe distance for the magique, the population of shapeshifter, fairy folk, and assorted monsters that populated Mystic Bayou. She’d ventured farther than anyone had ever dared, forcing her feet to carry her into the vast sacred site surrounding what the locals called la faille, and she was feeling the effects of it. The air felt too thick and heavy to breathe and it had nothing to do with the stifling heat of Louisiana in August. Her skin prickled, like fire ants were crawling up and down her bare arms. Her ears popped with the fluctuations in air pressure as it pulsed with pure energy just a hundred feet away.
But still, she’d come this far, too far, to stop now.
She set her backpack of supplies at her feet and admired what looked like the aurora borealis, hovering too close to the surface of water rippling beneath it, a living vortex of shifting color. Others described it in banal terms, as “a haze” in the air that could barely be detected without binoculars. But she could see what they couldn’t, the mesmerizing dance of prismatic flashes in the air. Her eyes ached with the intensity of the light, but she forced herself to stare into it.
There was no known explanation for this mystical vortex. There were no ley lines, no atmospheric anomalies, no massacres on the site. The rift in the fabric of what kept their world separate from whatever lay beyond just was and nothing could be done about it.
Being this close, she was witnessing something that perhaps no one had ever seen before, but she didn’t have time to stop and appreciate the moment. She had a job to do, and she had three, maybe five minutes before the pressure overwhelmed her and she passed out. And there was no one else around to drag her to a safe distance.
She forced her body into a relaxed standing position, shoulders loose and feet spread. She faced the light of the rift and drew the energy into herself, like a lover breathing in a kiss. She felt the burn of it sizzling through her cells and held it, focused on it with every bit of her concentration before taking a deep inhalation. She pictured the rift like a tear in fabric, holding on by the thinnest of strands. She pressed her palms to her chest as if in prayer and slid them away from her body, picturing that fabric splitting. She felt hesitation, push-back from seams that had no interest in separating and releasing more of the destabilizing force that was radiating out into Mystic Bayou. She inhaled and pushed her mind out even further, as if her own hands could grab either side of that visualized fabric and rip it apart.
The tension in her head eased the tiniest bit, and she took advantage, focusing as hard as she could on her target. The fabric ruptured and she watched the colors writhe even more frantically as the rift opened just a tiny bit more.
She smiled to her herself, reluctantly turning away from the change she’d made and jogged toward the rock circles on legs that still shook.
It wouldn’t be long now.
1
Zed
The old washtub was plotting against him, intentionally trying to mess up his day. That was the only explanation.
Zed Berend yanked at the old galvanized tub, perched precariously on top of Miss Lottie’s sun shower, but it would not budge. He was not a weak man. He was a brown bear, for shit’s sake. He’d managed to pull it off the mounts connecting it to the wooden slats that made up the shower walls, but the water kept sloshing around, the momentum working against his efforts. And he was afraid if he pulled any harder he would break the wooden slats and destroy the shower.
He’d promised Jillian he would have an actual shower installed—with plumbing, she’d been sure to clarify that—before anyone else moved into the maison de fous. Dr. Jillian Ramsay, Ph-damn-D, was an International League for Interspecies Cooperation anthropologist who’d been expecting to sleep in a tent in the rainforest before she’d been redirected to Mystic Bayou to study how the humans and magique managed to live there in relative harmony for so many generations. The League wanted to use Mystic Bayou as an example of how other communities might create safe, productive environments where magique and humans could live together. The League believed that someday soon, modern technology would shove the magique out of the shadows and into the light of the twenty-four-hour news cycle. The plan was to prevent pitch forks and panicked mobs by breaking out Jillian’s studies, which were now in full force. The League was sending dozens of researchers, scientists, and other paper-shufflers to make sure she got results sooner rather than later.
Jillian insisted that the League personnel being sent to Mystic Bayou over the next month would not be as accepting of the “Bohemian” showering conditions as she had been. And because Jillian was perhaps one of his favorite humans and definitely his favorite ILIC employee, he’d agreed to the minor renovation. Also, a mama nutria had birthed a litter o
f little baby swamp rats in the beaten copper tub by the sun shower, which had sort of proven Jillian’s point about the need for modernization. And walls around the bathing facilities.
So, he was converting Lottie’s old sun shower with brand new pipes from Burton Boone’s hardware store and one of those Time Life home improvement books from the 1980s. The faded hardback was the only one Miss Bardie would allow Zed to leave the parish library with, despite him being the mayor of Mystic Bayou and technically, her boss. But Bardie Boone was a dragon shifter who guarded her horde of library books the way most dragons protected their gold. And she’d never forgiven Zed for teething on a copy of Tom Sawyer when his adult canines were coming in.
Enclosing the shower in its own little cubby with walls and a critter-proof roof would take a few weeks. But still, he enjoyed working outdoors for once, soaking up some sun and fresh air. Since his election, Zed had often felt caged in his mayoral office. He’d jumped at the opportunity to be out in the sunshine, by the water, working with his hands. He enjoyed the veneer of quiet over the swamp, the illusion that everything was peaceful and serene and then the sudden bursts of noise—generally caused when some predator snapped up an unsuspecting snack—that reminded you that you were not in some safe little meadow.
This was Louisiana. Mother Nature—whichever incarnation of Mother Nature you happened to believe in—had a way of reminding you that she was still in charge.
Just like this stupid tub was showing Zed that it was still in charge. Growling, he yanked at the tub one last time. It suddenly popped loose of its moorings, only to have the water surge toward him and the container tip over, soaking him in lukewarm rainwater. He fumbled with the tub, feeling the perforated bottom give as he tried to catch it, before it landed with a clank on the wooden boards.
“Merde!” he grumbled, grateful that the screen that protected the water hadn’t smacked him in the face on its way down. And that Bael hadn’t been present to see Zed embarrass himself so thoroughly.
Zed shook his long dark hair out of his face like a dog. In the heat, it only took a few seconds for his clothes to feel like they’d been vacuum sealed to his body. He stripped out of his soaked shirt and threw it aside with a wet slap against the boards. Just then he heard his favorite lady anthropologist calling from the front of the house. He froze.
What was the etiquette for being shirtless in front of your best friend’s mate? Jillian was a doll, and he’d even considered making a play for her before he’d realized Bael was hung up on her.
Zed certainly didn’t have anything to hide. He was just as tall and muscular as every Berend male had ever dreamed of being. But he’d chew off his own paw before he made Jillian uncomfortable. And he didn’t want to have to deal with an angry, possessive dragon sheriff, either.
Could he wrestle his way back into his wet shirt, he wondered, eying the pile of wet cotton at his feet. No, that would just mean Jillian would walk back here to find him with his head and arms trapped in sopping, uncooperative material, which wasn’t exactly a step up from his current situation. Shifting into his other form and running into the depths of the swamp as a bear seemed like a good option, but it also involved dropping his pants. And Jillian could end up seeing him naked, which would compound the dragon jealousy issue. Could he dive into the water? Sure . . . if it wasn’t tail end of mating season for the local gators, who were not particularly choosy. He did not want to tangle with an amorous bull gator on top of everything else.
“Hey, Zed!” Jillian yelled as she came around the corner with a tall brunette. Her voice trailed off and she said, “Are you here? Oh . . . Zed.”
Right, no escape. He lifted one of his large hands and waved it at her. “Hey there, catin.”
Zed stood a little bit straighter and refrained from hitching up his jeans, even if they’d drooped just a little bit. He would not be embarrassed about this. He’d smile and brazen his way through it, which was most of politics, anyway. Jillian sighed, and rolled her eyes, a gesture he now expected from someone who’d come to think of him as her idiot older brother. Zed grinned and turned his attention to the lady at her side.
Man, she was pretty. Jillian was, of course, very attractive with her tall, slender frame and fair hair but this girl . . . Zed cleared his throat to cover the faint, interested chuffing noises he was making. She was tall and curvy, with riotous curls the color of chicory that fell far past her shoulders. His eye was caught by the generous cleavage displayed by her gauzy red sleeveless top, but only because it seemed to be embroidered with tiny llamas leaping between blue flowers. He’d never seen a girl wearing leaping llamas, but definitely wouldn’t mind seeing it again.
Her wide green eyes were the color of the tiny algae that bloomed on the swamp. He loved those little plants, for their purpose and the brilliant color they lent to the water, but he would never tell her that her eyes were the color of what most people considered pond scum. Most girls would find that sort of thing to be insulting.
She was gorgeous and he was staring.
Zed’s cheeks flushed red under his dark beard. His maman would be appalled to find him shirtless and ogling some perfectly nice girl’s . . . llamas. Oh, well, she was smiling, which was a good start.
“Mayor Zed Berend, this is Danica Teel,” she said. “She’s the consultant the League hired to investigate the issues surrounding the faille. Danica, this is Mayor Zed Berend, who believe it or not, is the person the good people of Mystic Bayou elected to be in charge of them.”
Danica, she of the bee-stung lips and delightfully rounded thighs, attempted to suppress her grin as she extended her hand to him, but failed utterly. “Nice to meet you, Mayor Berend.”
“You can just call me ‘Zed.’” He grabbed her hand with just a little too much enthusiasm and pumped it up and down. Her hand was warm and now that she’d stepped a little closer, he could smell a hint of ginger on her skin, and the faint green sweetness of clover. He tried to inhale deeply without being obvious that he was scenting her.
Despite the fact that he’d been shaking her hand far beyond what was socially appropriate, Miss Teel just smiled and gripped his hand right back, which he found . . . intriguing. Zed hadn’t met a lady with such a firm grip since Maddie Angrboda moved to town, but she was descended from a line of Norse stone giants and had an unfair advantage.
“Well, then you can call me, ‘Dani,’” she told him. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Not nearly as much as I look forward to working with you,” he said, finally releasing her hand.
Jillian cleared her throat as she glanced at the bent copper tub and the slats Zed had pulled loose while trying to free it. “Um, Zed, do I even want to ask what happened to your shirt?”
Zed shook his head. “Not really.”
“Dani here was hoping to move in today, but I can see that there’s still an issue with the shower,” she said, chewing her bottom lip.
“I tried, Jillian, but I wasn’t expecting you for another two days. And there was the small matter of my town to run, while you and your League buddies plan your invasion,” Zed noted.
Jillian very subtly scratched her nose with her middle finger. Zed was teasing her, of course. The citizens of Mystic Bayou needed the League’s resources as much as the League needed information from Mystic Bayou’s citizens. They’d been too long without a proper healer. Hell, they’d never had a dentist who could treat all of the different teeth amongst the Bayou’s population. Half of parish school’s teachers were well past retirement age and leaning towards ‘older than dirt,’ but stayed on because there were no trained educators to replace them. There wasn’t enough in the parish accounts to cover the badly needed repaving, because thanks to the otherworldly mojo bouncing around the bayou, the roads kept moving around like the freaking staircases in Harry Potter and it was damn near impossible to estimate how much asphalt would be needed. And then there was the small matter of the rift de-stabilizing and spreading its chaotic energy am
ongst the Bayou residents and changing their very genetic make-up.
But Dani didn’t know he was teasing and she frowned slightly at Zed’s mention of an invasion.
“Not that I mind. Sometimes a little invasion can be good. Like the Beatles or how all of the sudden all actors seem to be Australian,” he said.
Jillian lifted a brow. “Um, sweetie, did the tub hit you in the head?
“Not that I can remember.”
“Dani, it’s not a problem for you to stay with me and Bael for a few days until the shower’s fixed and the house is livable,” Jillian protested.
Dani shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I’ve stayed in much rougher places than this. A couple of days of sponge baths won’t do me any harm.”
Zed found his mouth suddenly going dry at the thought of the beautiful Miss Teel and sponge baths.
“Besides the house is amazing. I love it already. And compared to my last accommodations in Mongolia? It’s a luxury suite,” Dani said.
Zed felt a sudden rush of affection for the newcomer. Anyone who could appreciate the otherworldly charms of the maison de fous, without even going inside yet, was a person worth knowing.
Jillian sighed. “You could always stay with us for a night or two.”
“I make it a policy not to draw the attention of law enforcement whenever possible,” said Dani. “That includes sharing a breakfast nook with your sheriff. Besides, this way, I can settle in, be able to concentrate. And that means getting to work that much faster.”
