The Yellow-Bellied Scaredy Cat

by Amy Boyles

  Oh no, they would kill each other. They hadn’t liked each other from the moment they first laid eyes on one another, and now they were about to duke it out, wizard against vampire.

  I didn’t want to leave. Every cell in my body screamed to stay beside Axel, to be his wingman and throw magic at Thorne if that’s what was called for. But this was a moment for two men. It wasn’t my place to be here. Thorne hadn’t challenged me. He had challenged Axel, so I needed to go.

  I kissed his cheek. The scruff of his stubble left an imprint on my lips. “I’ll be right outside.”

  He brushed his mouth to my forehead. “I’ll be right there.”

  Then I left, walking behind the other vampires and the barkeep. Every muscle in my body was coiled, ready to unfurl. I took a deep, even breath, and then another. Focusing on my breathing would be the only way to keep my emotions compacted. Otherwise I would become a sniffling, worry-filled mess of a witch.

  I pressed my hands to the bar door. My fingers dug into the grains of wood, making crescents in the polished slab. It felt good to see my frustration in physical form.

  But as quickly as I made the indentations, the door was gone, slipping from my hands. As I stormed onto the street, it slammed behind me.

  I whirled around and waited for what was to come.

  Charming

  “I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for why Thorne didn’t tell us about Leopold meeting with Blake,” I said, trying to calm Mama down.

  But she wasn’t having any of it as we walked back to the house. “Really? What reason would that be? That Leopold is protecting Blake, perhaps? That he’s in on it with him? Or worse, that Leopold was involved with your father’s death? Just which of those options is the best one, Charming? Because they all sound like rubbish to me.”

  My gut twisted in anguish. She had a point. Why would Leopold meet with Blake, and why wouldn’t Thorne tell us about it? Unless there was some horrible secret involved, he would have told me, I was certain of it.

  “There was something,” I said to her. “Thorne was trying to tell me something about Leopold’s relationship with the council, but he never got a chance to finish explaining it.”

  Mama snorted. “What would he tell you? That the council has Leopold in their back pocket?”

  “No, I don’t think that was it.” I frowned, wishing that he’d told me and wishing I could remember more. “Maybe it had something to do with that. Ugh. I can’t remember. He’d started to tell me, like I said, but we got interrupted.”

  We reached the front door. Mama grabbed the handle and turned to me. “Well then Thorne can come crawling on his knees to explain it, as far as I’m concerned. I’m certainly not going to make it easy for him to worm his way back into our lives, and you shouldn’t, either.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

  “Oh poppycock, Charming. I’m sure it’s as simple as one, two, three.” Mama flung open the front door and gasped. I craned my neck to see what was the matter, and I nearly fainted.

  Splashes of pink splattered all the surfaces—the walls, the paintings, the floor. Mama and I slowly made our way inside.

  “Don’t step on it,” she instructed, “unless you want to clean up an even bigger mess.”

  I did not, so I made sure to be careful about where I placed my feet.

  “Rose,” Mama called. “Where are you?”

  “We’re in here,” she called.

  “Where is here?” I asked.

  “My bedroom,” Betty said.

  I glanced at Mama. She shrugged. “Looks like the house already made them bedrooms.”

  My mind darted to Axel and how he’d had it in for Thorne. It didn’t seem to me that having such angry guests would be fun for anyone. I didn’t like the way he had handled things with Thorne, but I also knew that Axel was stressed. I would be too if saving an entire town relied on me.

  We reached the new bedroom that the house had constructed. It was in the back, near the kitchen. Broom and Pig were in the room with Betty and Rose, who lay on their backs atop the bed, bare feet dangling off the side. Splashes of pink marred their clothes, and Broom even had a stripe of color on the bottom of its bristles, as if it had tried to sweep up the pigment.

  Mama sucked her teeth and folded her arms. “What in the devil is going on in here?”

  Betty and Rose sat up. One half of Betty’s hair was bright pink, the other was white in a Cruella de Vil style.

  Rose laughed and pointed to Betty. “We started to dye her hair, and then the color just took over.”

  “So we decided to redecorate,” Betty said.

  Both women took one look at each other and burst into a fit of giggles. They reminded me of teenagers who’d drank too much caffeine.

  “Rose, what’s gotten into you?” Mama said. “The house looks like Picasso vomited all over it.”

  “Plus, we’re only borrowing it,” I said. “We don’t own it.”

  Rose swiped a tear out from under her eyes—tears of laughter. Give me a break. “The house didn’t seem to mind.” She and Betty took another look at each other and started laughing again.

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

  Rose slid her palms over her thighs, straightening her dress. “Betty and I were just catching up, I swear, and she told me she had some tobacco.” Rose placed a hand over her mouth. “She calls it wacky tobacky.”

  “Rose Calhoun,” Mama said stiffly, “have you been inhaling illegal substances?”

  “No, I swear,” Rose said. “It’s not illegal.” She turned to Betty for reinforcements. “It’s not, is it?”

  Betty lifted her pipe for us to inspect. “It’s regular apple tobacco with a little extra something in it. It’s for my glaucoma.”

  Rose’s voice dropped to a serious tone. “You didn’t tell me that you have glaucoma.”

  Betty placed a finger over her lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell anyone. I never let my family know when I have any health issues going on. I want them to think I’m as virile as an ox.”

  Rose stared at Betty before bursting into laughter. “Oxen are male; you’re a female. You can’t be as virile as a male.”

  Betty glared at her. “You just try me.”

  Then both women fell into another fit of giggles. Mama rolled her eyes. “All I want is for this house to return to normal.”

  “Your antics are giving Broom a panic attack.” I pointed to the trembling object hovering in the corner. “I don’t think it’ll ever recover from this.”

  Rose’s expression softened. “Maybe Broom needs some tobacco. That might help.” She took one look at Betty, and both women erupted into peals of laughter again.

  Mama pointed to Broom and Pig. “Come, Pig. Come, Broom. Let’s get out of here and leave these two to their fits of hysteria.”

  I waited until their giggles faded. “And I want this house cleaned up. Now.”

  Rose sighed. “All right. Come on, Betty. It’s time to clean the house.”

  “But I was having so much fun being irresponsible,” Betty said. “I never get to be this way with my grandkids.” Her gaze slashed to me. “Are they on their way over?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea. We left when Axel told Thorne that Blake Calhoun and Leopold had met.”

  “Thorne has been keeping important information from this family,” Mama said, her voice rumbling with anger. “I will not allow that.”

  Betty sobered. She slipped from the bed and stood, back straight and chin raised. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  I shook my head in confusion. “That Thorne kept important information from us and that Axel knew the truth?”

  Betty shook her head. “No, about the two of them—the werewolf and the vampire?”

  Unsure of what she meant, my mind starting ticking and brimming with activity. While I pondered on what Betty was talking about, she tapped her own shoulder. The shapeless blue dress she’d been wearing d
issolved away, revealing a black leather outfit—top and bottom, fitted with white racing stripes on the sides.

  Betty’s mouth set in a grim line. “What it means is that we have a problem.”

  Mama sighed. “More problems? Wonderful.”

  Betty placed a finger to one nostril. “We’d better get over there to the jail.”

  “Why’s that?” I said.

  Her eyes glittered with worry. “Because if my instincts are right—and they usually are—that vampire and werewolf are about to duke it out.”

  My heart jacked up. “Fight? Axel and Thorne are about to fight?”

  Betty nodded. “And when vampires and werewolves fight, it’s normally to the death.”

  Axel

  I hit my my fist into the opposite palm and stared at the vampire. “Why did your father meet with Blake Calhoun?”

  Thorne scowled. “What business is it of yours?”

  My lips peeled back into a sneer. “Apparently it’s not just mine—it’s the business of those women who walked out, too.”

  The vampire glowered in anger.

  Have I ever mentioned that I dislike vampires? For one thing, they smell like earth and spices, as if they’re trying to be something they aren’t, which is alive. Anything that’s trying to be something that it isn’t has already lost respect points.

  Another thing that I don’t like about vampires is that they feed off blood, luring their victims from safety.

  I know, I know, I’m lethal in werewolf form. That fact is not lost on me. But it still doesn’t mean that I like vampires. I’ve only ever tolerated the ones I met in the past, but I don’t have to tolerate Thorne Blackwood and I don’t plan to.

  Thorne scowled when I reminded him that he’d upset his girlfriend. “I don’t have to answer to you,” he spat.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” I took a step toward him. “Blake Calhoun is my problem. I need him out of my hair. He’s already done enough damage in stealing the heart. I have to keep him from gaining the other three pieces.”

  Thorne’s nostrils flared. “Then find him yourself.”

  I braced myself, knowing what would come next. “I have a better idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give me your father’s address, and I’ll just ask him where to find Blake.”

  “He doesn’t know,” Thorne said.

  “Then why didn’t you say that earlier?” I demanded.

  “Because you caught me off guard.”

  I laughed. He was lying. I could always tell when someone was lying. The lie would shine in their ears, or their body temperature would change, or their pheromones would shift and their scent would darken. There were so many little telltale signs. The vampire could probably sense them all, too.

  I opened my arms to suggest that this was a friendly conversation. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about Blake and I’ll leave you alone. You won’t have to deal with a werewolf, and I won’t have to deal with a vampire.”

  “I said, my father doesn’t know,” he grunted.

  I slammed a hand onto a nearby table. “You’re lying.”

  Thorne stiffened. “No one calls me a liar…and lives.”

  I narrowed my eyes and flexed my hands. “Try me.”

  The next thing I knew, I’d been punched in the solar plexus. The wind left my lungs as I sailed through the air. My back hit a table, and pain radiated up my spine.

  “Uh.” The table lay in splinters around me. I grabbed a shard and held it out as Thorne stalked toward me.

  “Not as tough as you look, are you, werewolf,” Thorne spat.

  “You’re faster. I never said you weren’t. You’re fighting me as a wizard. But I still have one thing.”

  Thorne cocked a brow. “What is that?”

  “Magic. To make this a fair fight.”

  I threw out a wave of magic. Thorne tried to dodge it. He shifted left, but the power sought him out and hit him in the face.

  He stopped and glared at me. “What did you do?”

  I smiled. “Slowed you down.”

  Thorne released a guttural growl and launched himself at me. This time I was ready. Plus, I could see him. Now I could actually fight.

  Thorne threw a fist aimed at my jaw. I jerked back and threw out my own fist, hitting him in the ribs. The vampire gritted his teeth and lowered his head, pushing forward like a battering ram.

  He grabbed hold of my shirt and ran until I hit the wall. The air shot from my lungs, and I sucked down a deep breath before kneeing Thorne in the face.

  He staggered back and grabbed a piece of the splintered table.

  “Why don’t you just tell me why your father and Blake met?” I said. “Then I’ll leave. I’ll vanish and you’ll never see me again.”

  “Your kind always spring up, Werewolf,” Thorne said spitefully. “You’ll never get what you want. So go ahead, fight me for it—I’ll never tell you.”

  “And they say werewolves are stubborn,” I murmured. “You might actually take the cake.”

  Thorne sliced the wood through the air. Even though I’d slowed him a little, he was still nimble and quick. He attacked; I dodged. He picked up a table and threw it; I smashed it with magic. He hurled stakes of wood at me, and I let them hit my forearms, falling to the ground like lifeless slugs.

  “You have worn out your welcome,” Thorne said, his silvery eyes glittering.

  We stood on opposite sides of the bar. Blood ran down my arms from his attacks, while he barely looked tired.

  “I thought I was just getting started,” I replied.

  Thorne’s lips pulled back, and a snick filled the air. His canines grew by an inch, and Thorne ran his thumb under one sharp edge. “You want blood; now you’ll get it.”

  He’d crossed the line. The vampire was now threatening me with a bite, a kiss of death. I couldn’t control the supernatural side of myself but the bloodsucker could, and he was ready to drain me of everything I had.

  “Seems like an unfair fight,” I said.

  Thorne laughed. “It was unfair the moment you told them about my father and Blake, something I was getting to but hadn’t had the chance.”

  “You had the chance while they were in here.”

  He sneered. “Unlike you, Werewolf, I don’t discuss family matters with the general public.” He watched me for a moment, “Now, are you ready to end this?”

  I flexed my fingers in a come-on gesture. “I’m ready to watch you admit that you’re a liar.”

  Thorne threw back his head and roared. He raged forward, his feet slamming on the wooden planks. But I was ready, too. I had my hands out, my body tensed for the impact.

  Yes, I could have used magic against the vampire, but why do that when I could beat him with my own strength. I summoned the extra reserve I had, that which was connected to the feral part of me.

  No, I couldn’t transform on a dime, but I could dig deep and grab the extra muscle that lay dormant—at least I could most of the time.

  I growled and felt the power coursing through my veins. Thorne grabbed me by the collar, and I grabbed his. He opened his mouth, his fangs ready to sink into my flesh.

  I squeezed my hands, closing around his neck. He butted my head, sending me reeling back. The vampire threw himself on me, and I hit the ground, hard. My back throbbed with pain.

  “Say your last words,” Thorne snarled. He lifted his head, rearing back, ready to bite my neck.

  I threw my forearm in his path and gritted my teeth when his fangs dug into my flesh.

  Thorne immediately pulled away and spit out the blood. “Wrong vein,” he snarled.

  I hurled myself at him, and he slid across the floor, crashing into the wall. A painting of poker-playing horses fell onto his head.

  I slowly stalked toward him, gripping my bleeding arm. “Ready to admit defeat?”

  Thorne laughed as he rose and dusted himself off. “Defeat? Wolf, I’m just getting started.”

  The next
thing I knew, a punch hit my ribs. I punched back, landing it on his jaw. The next punch hit me in the kidneys. I groaned, grinding my teeth at the pain, but it wasn’t time to give up. I hit him with an uppercut, and Thorne’s head snapped up and back.

  He staggered on his feet, and I wrung out my sore hand. “Ready for more?” He wiped blood from his cut lip. “You should have retracted your fangs,” I added.

  In a flash Thorne had me back on the ground, my head and shoulder pinned to the floor. “Your spell is wearing off,” he snarled. “Say goodbye, Wolf.”

  I grabbed a splinter of wood off the floor and was about to thrust it into his flesh when the door banged open.

  A man’s voice filled the chamber. “That is enough. Thorne, get off him!”

  Thorne didn’t move. “Stay out of this, Father.”

  I yanked myself out from under the vampire’s grasp and swiped my arm over my forehead. The man standing in the bar had blond hair. He was tall and lithe and looked younger than Thorne.

  “Leopold Blackwood?” I said.

  Leopold’s eyes glittered as he appraised me. “That is my name.”

  “How did you get here?” Thorne said through clenched teeth.

  Charming stormed in. “We called him, and Mama magicked him here.”

  I laughed, gesturing to Thorne. “See, Thorne? I knew I’d win, one way or another.” Thorne growled. Ignoring him, I rose on wobbly legs. “Leopold, I believe you and I have business to discuss.”

  Leopold’s jaw tensed. “What business do I have with a wolf who attacks my son?”

  I wagged my finger at him. “For your information, your son attacked me first, and secondly—” I showed him the arm with the puncture wounds. Blood, a lot of blood actually, ran to my elbow. “Secondly,” I started again, suddenly realizing that I felt shaky on my legs, “secondly…I think I’ve lost quite a bit of blood.”

  Next thing I knew, I was on my knees and the world turned black.

  Charming

  “What in the world were you thinking biting Axel?”

  We were back at my house, all of us—Thorne, Leopold, Axel, Pepper, Mama, Rose and Betty. I pulled Thorne up to my room and, throwing Southern propriety out the window, shut the door.