The Devil's Russian Beauty

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  Daffi wondered how the Werewolves of Rebellion managed so well without making or selling drugs let alone other illegal activities. She’d bet Phil had never struck a woman. That was something she could tell just by looking into a man’s eyes. His were deep, thoughtful eyes that showed his intelligence and strong heart. Mentally, she shrugged those thoughts away. He probably already had an old lady.

  “You’re far away,” Stickman stated. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing. I hurt too much.” Why couldn’t he leave her alone, let her nurse her wounds in private? He slid one of his long-fingered hands to her inner thigh, then down to her pussy where he probed her folds. “Seriously, Stick? Go fuck one of the other sheep and let me be miserable alone.”

  “Come on, baby. I’ll make you forget all your hurts.” He smiled wolfishly at her, then winked.

  “Fuck off.” She lay back and glared at him.

  He jerked to his feet and threw the washcloth at her. It struck her across the face with a wet thwap. “Bitch!”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it,” she snarled back. If she had enough strength right now, she’d fire a shampoo bottle straight for his crotch.

  He stood there returning her glare, his eyes darkening with his displeasure, but just as Daffi figured he’d haul her up out of the tub and either bend her over the tiny sink or throw her through the door onto her bed, something shifted in his eyes and he turned away.

  “I’ll check on you later, baby. Just to make sure you’re okay.” The smile he gave her actually extinguished her anger. Could he really care?

  “Thanks, Sticky,” she said, meaning it.

  His smile grew bigger, reaching his eyes. With a nod, he left her alone.

  * * *

  Phil lay on the hillside for a good hour watching men come and go from the remodeled warehouse. The location of the River Rebels’ MC was halfway between Sardis, a flyspeck river town, and Laings, an even smaller town. If the law were called there, the windy-ass road made it difficult for the authorities to reach them with any speed. He hadn’t seen anything to point without a doubt to human trafficking, but he’d bet the huge crates he’d seen unloaded from a big box trailer held something besides motorcycle parts.

  He’d barely glimpsed Daffodil as she’d exited her car and gone straight inside the main door. She hadn’t come back out, so he figured she was in for the night. Shame, though. He loved looking at her long, shapely legs.

  There wasn’t anything he could really turn over to the county sheriff’s department, especially since they were already aware of the human-slave trade in the Upper Ohio Valley, but he could pass on the conversation he’d overhead between Daffodil and her friend and omit their names. Frank would certainly relay the info to Officer Williamscot, but he and the sheriff were probably already aware or suspected the River Rebels’ involvement in human trafficking.

  He checked to make sure there was no one within view and crawled his way back to the hill’s crest, then out of sight where his Harley was parked. He mounted the bike, started it and tore off up the winding asphalt. Next time he saw Daffodil, he’d… He’d what? Just talking to a sweetbutt of another gang without permission could get his ass kicked and hers too. But he had to see her again. The need to spend time with her had begun to grow into a hunger only she could sate.

  If that were the case, he was going to be a starving man.

  Chapter Six

  It took about 20 minutes on foot to reach Scary Mary’s little cabin. The trail leading from the MC was faint, but once Bernadette reached the big hollow where the Little Muskingum River cut through it, the path deepened, becoming well worn by both Scary Mary’s travels and animals. With Steven’s help, they crossed a shallow part of the river, which Bernadette felt was more of a narrow creek, and started hiking up the opposite hillside. Minutes later, they reached the plateau where a small cabin sat nestled in a grove of hickory trees. She played the flashlight over the front of the house. The home wasn’t much, just a one-bedroom cabin that served its purpose but quaint all the same.

  At the front door, Bernadette stopped and looked at Steven. “Come on inside.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll wait out here.” He kept his gaze trained on the path leading back the way they’d come. “I can handle being around one witch, but two is pushing it.”

  It pained Bernadette that he feared her, but she could understand his viewpoint. Hell, sometimes she scared herself. “I’m not bad, Steven.”

  “Didn’t say you were.” He removed an ax from a big stump used as a chopping block and leaned the tool against the house. Sitting, he said, “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. These woods have a heaviness about them, so it’s best I keep watch out here anyway.”

  He was right. There was something off in the whole area.

  “Okay, I shouldn’t be long.”

  As she turned toward the door, it opened and Mary waved her indoors. “It’s getting late, child. We need to talk before the veil lifts.”

  Great. Bernadette had forgotten about how the doorways to other dimensions thinned after midnight, allowing the stronger creatures and otherworldly people to pass to and from worlds. Spirits roamed earth from midnight until dawn too.

  Mary motioned to a chair at a huge slab of wood cut from the base of an enormous tree. The tabletop had been sanded, then covered in something clear and shiny. Each seat around the table was fashioned from the same wood, shellacked, and wrapped at the joints with heavy leather straps that had grown shiny with age. Herbs Mary grew in pots and small hotbeds now hung drying from the rafters and around the kitchen window. The aroma of sage, basil, rosemary and dill mingled with the scents of other herbs, the combination overwhelming the small space. Two yellow tabby cats, one full grown and fat and one about six months old, lay next to the hearth where a small fire crackled to keep the evening damp at bay.

  Mary reached across the felines and grabbed the campfire perker pot she had sitting on the edge of the coals. She said nothing as she poured Bernadette a cup of coffee, then set the chipped mug in front of her. Bernadette picked it up and sipped while Mary added cream and sugar to her own cup. Behind the woman, the doorway to the only bedroom yawned darkly.

  “I was gone because the head witch of my coven called everyone together,” Mary began, her eyes black and shiny in the dim light. “Since you’re my apprentice, you need to know a few things. You may face some dark nasties in the coming weeks, so if you don’t feel you’re ready for this, we can stop your lessons now and wait to continue at a later date, maybe next spring or summer.”

  “No!” Bernadette set her mug down with a thump. “I want to continue to learn from you.”

  Mary shoved her cup aside. A huge smile split her face, the woman’s teeth bright white. She sat back and crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Child, I’m thrilled that you enjoy learning from me, but I don’t think you realize what I mean when I say ‘dark nasties.’ Evil has infiltrated these hills. The high priest is unsure what it is, but it’s growing in strength and many may fall prey to it.”

  “I live with werewolves, Mary.” Bernadette met her mentor’s dark gaze, the power behind her mentor’s eyes revealing her strength. “Most people would run screaming into the night if they knew lycanthropes truly existed. I didn’t.”

  “All right.” The woman stood and uncovered a dish on the counter. “Should this problem grow worse, it may take your power and mine to protect everyone.”

  “Does the high priest have a game plan for how to handle this…evil?” Bernadette caught a whiff of cinnamon. “Or does he at least have a guess about what it is?”

  “It’s demonic, but that’s all he knows.” With a dessert plate in each hand, Mary turned and set one in front of Bernadette and the other at her own spot. “It could be anything, but High Priest Niall says it’s powerful.”

  More cinnamon assailed Bernadette’s senses. Saliva flooded her mouth as she accepted the fork Mary handed to her. The witch cut a third slice
of pie, selected another fork, then took the plate and utensil to the front door, where she stepped out for a few seconds.

  “Just set everything on the chopping block when you leave,” she told Steven. “I’ll collect your dishes in the morning.” Once she’d shut the door and again sat at the table, she cut into her dessert. “It’s sad that lycanthropes fear witches, but so many dark witches have cursed many people to be werewolves. Now there are clans of them.”

  “It’s odd you should say that,” Bernadette said. “Ever since the death of—”

  “There was a death?” Eyes wide, Mary stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth.

  “I forgot you weren’t here.” Quickly, Bernadette explained what had happened to Tony, who had come in with the Cadiz chapter.

  “So, it has begun.” Mary scooped apples out of the backside of her pie crust.

  Unease skittered up and down Bernadette’s spine. “What has?”

  “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” With a heavy, disturbed sigh, she added, “There are many things that can drain a human or creature such as what happened to this Tony, but the problem is figuring out which one did it and why.”

  “Can’t you do a spell that tells you what’s going on?” Bernadette asked in exasperation. “Better yet, why didn’t your high priest do something like that?”

  “We don’t practice dark magic, child. Even with the good magic that we wield, there’s always a price to pay for that power.” She rose with her dishes but tossed a disapproving look over her shoulder. “Have you learned nothing from me?”

  “I’m sorry. I was referring to looking into the future.”

  “Ah. Well, that has been done.” The clatter of ceramic in the sink interrupted her. She pumped water from the spigot and added a squirt of dish soap. “High Priest Niall sensed an imbalance in life nearby. He cast runes, but all they told him was that evil was in the area, but when he scryed for the main source, it pointed to the Rebellion region. The reason the runes didn’t tell Niall more is because each of us is a player in the grand scheme of things, so the decisions we make, the actions we take, all alter the future.” She washed her dishes and some odds and ends already in the sink. “You need to warn your mate, then allow him to warn his clan. From what you just told me, if you share this news, the others will be suspicious of you.”

  “You’re right. I’ll talk to Frank.” Bernadette took her dishes to the sink. “Let’s hope that what’s coming doesn’t destroy any more lives.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help the MC. For now, though, use the wards I’ve taught you so far to protect the main house. Have Frank pass the ward procedure to his people in the community so they can attempt to protect themselves.”

  The unease whispering in the back of Bernadette’s mind became a yell. “Attempt to protect themselves?”

  Mary didn’t look at her but kept scrubbing sticky pie residue from the now-empty pie pan. “Some wards do nothing against very powerful forces. Guide your new family, child. Be patient and caring, because it will take time for them to trust you now they know you’re a white witch.”

  “I will.” She took one of Mary’s soapy hands and squeezed it. “I better head back.”

  “Be safe, child. Much lurks in the dark from midnight to three.”

  For the first time, Bernadette was afraid to walk home in the night. She couldn’t wait to get back and snuggle into Frank’s strong, loving arms. She smiled. And maybe get more loving than just from his arms. With a quiet chuff of laughter, she let her fear subside and stepped outside.

  * * *

  Bernadette instructed everyone to pour salt lines at doors and windows and to hang wind chimes over all entryways of each building to guard against evil intruders. She worried that more mishap would occur, but Mary’s warning about impending “dark nasties” seemed to be for naught, and the Werewolves of Rebellion and its community relaxed. September bled into October, and thankfully nothing terrible happened during that time. The apples were harvested, an event that took the help of everyone and that Bernadette and her mother thoroughly enjoyed. They spent days cooking apple butter, something Bernadette had never made before, as well as pressing apple juice, some for set aside for wine, making apple sauce and dicing apples, which were sealed and frozen for pies and fried apples. The rest of the fruit that wasn’t given to each household was boxed up and sold at the farmers market and the local grocery store.

  The weather had been ideal for the vegetable garden to continue bearing, but with the end of the growing season already past and the first frost right around the corner, Luella had all the women in the garden on a Friday afternoon gathering all they could. The late afternoon sun warmed Bernadette’s backside as she pulled both green and red tomatoes off a hearty plant.

  “What are we going to do with all this stuff?” Bernadette asked her friend.

  “We’ll can some things such as tomatoes, make a few more quarts of pickles, but what we’ll do with most of it is make a recipe called End of Year Relish, a mix of all vegetables in one jar that’s amazing.” Luella straightened from where she was pulling the last few carrots. “It’s a recipe handed down by Galina, but Myrrine came up with a spicy version, so we’ll use that one too.”

  Bernadette’s mother ambled over with a cardboard box full of bell peppers. “Oh, that relish sounds delicious.” She set the crate on the ground next to a few others full of various vegetables, the colors bright against the brown grass clippings used between the rows to smother weeds and hold moisture. “I can’t wait to try it,” she added.

  One thing Bernadette had learned about Frank’s grandmother and mother was that they were well versed in natural healing remedies and various food recipes. She had yet to try one of their recipes she didn’t like.

  “We have new lettuce that has come up, Maeve,” Luella said. “Would you mind picking it? We’ll use it for a huge salad to go with supper tonight.”

  “I sure will.”

  “Here’s a plastic store bag.” Luella handed it to Bernadette’s mom. “When you’re done, just take it inside and pop it into the fridge.”

  Wandering over to the edge of the garden nearest the house, Bernadette’s mother hummed to herself. She dodged the other ladies busy harvesting and laughed when she bumped into Puppy, who steadied her so she wouldn’t fall. Bernadette’s heart swelled with satisfaction. She hadn’t seen her mom thrive and blossom like this in years. The MC’s community was definitely good for her.

  Bernadette moved to the next tomato plant and began the same process of removing all the pickable fruit.

  “When you bend over like that, it makes me want to fuck you,” Frank whispered close to her ear.

  She startled and fell over on her butt. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  He grinned, the expression wolfish. “It’s sweetbutt night, so I thought instead of hanging out at the house, we could find an interesting getaway place somewhere else.”

  She returned his big smile. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Not sure, but I’ll come up with something interesting.”

  “Did you need something now?”

  He leered at her, and she swatted his hip lightly. “You know what I mean,” she said, giggling.

  “Nah, just wanted to talk to Luella about something.” He pulled Bernadette into his arms and held her loosely. “Want to help at the farmers market tomorrow?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun.”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll be busy in the shop the rest of the day, but I’ll see you at suppertime.”

  “Okay.”

  He patted her on the ass, leaving her to return to her task. Although she enjoyed living at the Werewolves’ MC, it was also a farm, so everyone was busy 24/7 and it wasn’t unusual for her not to see Frank until suppertime or even later. She could only imagine what it would be like if they had children, and even that posed problems because she wasn’t a she-wolf. She stared down at her hand where she gripped a fat
, red tomato. What would it be like to transform, to have paws where her hands once were, fangs in her mouth, a muzzle where her lips and nose once resided?

  Everyone who was a lycanthrope had told her the change was painful, especially for turned werewolves or young ones coming into their transformation ability, but after a lykoi reached full maturity with his or her wolf self, the change still hurt but was tolerable. Bernadette wasn’t sure she wanted to endure shifting from human into beast and back again. And what about their kids? Would they be subjected to the change if they were half-lykoi, or was it the chance of DNA that determined whether or not a child would be a shape-shifter?

  She glanced over at Frank, who was speaking to Luella with his back to Bernadette. He gestured, the action showing agitation. Luella glanced her way, met her eyes and quickly averted her gaze. She said something back to Frank that looked distinctly like “She can’t know.” Bernadette’s stomach bottomed out.

  What can’t I know? She couldn’t stand it if Frank was hiding something from her. Against her better judgement, she once again wondered if he was still sexually involved with Luella, but that didn’t make sense because Luella was mated to Beastman. Did lycanthrope people have affairs? Wouldn’t their mates smell the other person on their significant other?

  For an instant, nausea settled in her stomach. No, she was overthinking this. She was new to the clan, a human amid werewolves, so she wasn’t fully aware of all their culture and customs. Frank loved her. Why else would he go after her when she’d left for Columbus on a hot, stormy July day and convinced her that he loved her and wanted her to stay with him?

  She straightened, feeling ill, and waited for another autumn breeze to cool her face and arms.