Samhain (Matilda Kavanagh Book 2)

by Shauna Granger

  Tiny ignored me.

  I held up my hand, calling power to it until my fingers were alive with electric pulses of blue and white, promising hot pain. “Open the door or get the fuck out of my way, bridge dweller.” I let a bolt of power shoot from my hands to scorch the cement at his feet.

  He jumped in surprise, his round belly shifting from side to side. I heard him growl low in his throat. He tried to level me with his stare, but those beady eyes didn’t scare me, not after sitting side-by-side with creepy Tollis and walking away with my throat intact. I leaned forward, doing my best not to blink. Finally Tiny blinked and turned his head. Without looking at me, he reached for the door handle and pulled the door open.

  The electric pulses faded from my hand, and I patted his massive shoulder as I stepped into the bar. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, sweetheart.”

  I heard him mumble something, but since I’d won the contest of wills, I didn’t feel the need to make him repeat it. Whatever he’d said hadn’t been flattering, and to save face I would’ve had to unleash my telekinetic power on him. And really, I didn’t want to do that. I’d had my fill of angry young Weres for one night.

  Modern Irish rock music filled the space. The majority of the bar was taken up with pool tables, going from just inside the door to all the way along the back wall. Stools were lined up along both walls, but the only tables were two-seater high-tops beside the bar. In the corner to the other side of the bar was the lone booth in the entire place. The walls were paneled with dark wood and had stained glass windows high up, each one featuring a different Celtic animal or knotwork design.

  I walked between the two rows of pool tables, heading toward the back. I got a few stares, some friendly and some not so much, and one long, loud whistle. I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension in my muscles as I continued, holding my head high as I approached the bar. I leaned on the bar, happy to find it clean and not sticky, and flagged the bartender down with a nod.

  He finished filling a glass pitcher of beer and set it on the bar for the waitress who’d ordered it before he walked over to me. “Can I get you something?” He offered me a friendly smile.

  “Just looking for Jameson,” I said. “Is he here tonight?”

  “Right over there.” He nodded toward the lone booth in the corner.

  Jameson was sitting in the center, papers littering the table in front of him. He examined one with black-rimmed bifocals resting on his nose. I tried to hold back my smile, but I found it difficult.

  “Thanks,” I said to the man behind the bar.

  I turned to walk over to Jameson’s table. The closer I got, the easier it was to see inside the booth, and I realized Kyle and Spence were sitting on either side of the U-shaped booth, flanking Jameson. Kyle looked relaxed, perfectly at ease, with a cold bottle of beer in front of him. Spence was a tight ball of nerves, his head moving on a swivel every few seconds.

  When I stood in front of the table, Jameson glanced up. He looked tired, his eyes strained behind his glasses, and when he pulled them off, I saw the dark circles under his eyes. But there was power there, deep, penetrating, and ancient. That was what a Pack Leader should look like, not like Tollis, with his too-young face and bright eyes.

  Jameson tried to give me a small smile, but it never reached his eyes. When he stood, he held out a hand to me across the table. “Mattie, so glad to see you.”

  “You mean, ‘so glad I survived meeting Tollis’?” I asked, quirking a brow as he released my hand.

  “That too.” He nodded. “Please, Spencer.” Jameson gestured to the seat next to him, and Spencer jumped out of his seat to stand beside the booth.

  “Thanks,” I said, glancing at Spencer. I tried to see in his pale, freckled face what had struck Ronnie so hard, but I just didn’t get it. To each their own, I supposed. I slid awkwardly into the booth, scooting sideways until I was close enough to Jameson.

  He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, trying to ease the strain in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just need a couple of minutes to finish this up, and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” I said quickly.

  Jameson returned his attention to the contracts. Kyle was leaning against the bench behind him, his head turned up to the ceiling. I glanced at Spencer, catching him glancing at me. His eyes darted away the second we made eye contact.

  I turned toward him, putting one elbow on the back of the bench and the other on the table. “Heya, Spence.”

  He glanced at me again and nodded once before returning his attention to the bar at large. He could try to ignore me, but I had caught him looking. I knew he wanted to talk to me.

  “So you know my friend Ronnie? The redhead?”

  A light flush colored his pale cheeks, and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

  “She’s single, you know,” I said.

  Still Spencer looked out at the room, refusing to acknowledge me. I heard Kyle chuckle lightly, but I ignored him.

  “Her favorite flowers are Cymbidium orchids, in case you were wondering.” His eyes flicked down to mine again. I tilted my head, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, I continued, “That little charm shop under my building? That’s her shop. She’s there pretty much every night.”

  He held my gaze for another moment before looking away again, but I caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jameson was still looking over the paperwork in front of him when I turned away from Spencer. I looked out through the opening of the booth. From this angle, I could see almost the entire bar, only losing the far corner to the side of the bar. Three games of pool were going on, but at one table, a group of young Weres were sitting in a close circle, angry looks on their bruised and battered faces.

  “I thought Weres healed fast?” I said, turning to look at Kyle and Jameson.

  “We do.” Kyle looked out at the group of grumbling Weres. “You should have seen them earlier.” Kyle shook his head and took a long pull from his beer bottle.

  “What happened?”

  “Tollis happened,” Jameson answered.

  “I don’t understand.” I watched a cut over one blond werewolf’s eye slowly stitch back together. “You banished him from the city. I just saw him in his encampment.”

  “These were his people,” Kyle said. “Since they turned down Jameson’s invitation, they’re supposed to stay out of our territory, but some of them are sneaking in anyway. These four took care of it.”

  “Sneaking in for what?”

  “That is a very good question,” Jameson said. “I’m sure you can puzzle out at least one explanation.”

  I turned to look Jameson in the eye. The lines in his face were a little deeper, and I thought there was a little more silver in his black hair than there had been the night before.

  “The kidnappings,” I said, remembering all the humans frolicking in the gypsy encampment.

  Kyle and Jameson nodded slowly.

  “You know,” I said slowly, reaching for a napkin to crumple in my hand, “no one there looked like they were there against their will.”

  “Against their will or not, they’re all still underage,” Jameson said. “By human laws at any rate. They aren’t old enough to make the decision to be turned lawfully. The city knows that I’m the Pack Leader of this territory. If a vast number of human teens goes missing only to be turned at the next full moon, the blame will be laid at my doorstep.”

  “One or two kids we could cover up,” Kyle said as he peeled the label on his bottle with his thumbnail. “But the numbers that Tollis has managed to entice? We’re looking at huge legal ramifications.”

  “I know,” I said softly.

  Years ago, before Jameson had risen as Pack Leader, Gorin Sandler had been Pack Leader, and he hadn’t held with obeying human laws. Gorin had no problem letting anyone attempt to join the pack, no matter their age. When the cops finally caught up to Gorin, he’d turned four teenagers, but more than fifteen had died from
their wounds. Gorin was charged with fifteen counts of felony murder, but with the help of his Beta wolves, he fled the country, going back to his home in Austria. At least, that’s where everyone thought he was. There was no way to be sure.

  “So you understand why we have to intervene,” Jameson said. “So tell me, what did you learn?”

  I told him about the huge gypsy camp and the nearly equal number of humans to werewolves living there. I told him that it seemed like something out of a fairytale; everyone appeared happy and safe. I also told him that everyone looked a little too happy, almost to a creepy degree.

  “Yeah, Tollis has one of those smiles,” Kyle said with a nod, pulling the rest of the label off his bottle. “You know the kind of smile that says, ‘No, the Kool-Aid is grape-flavored, not arsenic.’”

  “Kyle,” Jameson said.

  His voice sounded normal, but I felt the power in it creeping up my arm and touching something inside me. Kyle dropped his eyes.

  “He’s not wrong,” I said, drawing Jameson’s eyes back to me. “Tollis is so charismatic. I’ve never been around someone like that before. He’s like those human religious leaders who can pack thousands of people into sporting arenas.”

  “I am aware,” Jameson said.

  “So how is he a Beta? I don’t get it.”

  “Charisma and power are not the same thing,” Jameson said.

  “Right,” Kyle jumped in. “And not every Alpha can be a Pack Leader either. A true Pack Leader is something entirely special. Sure, it’s a level of power, but it’s more than that. The pack has to know that their Pack Leader can and will do everything possible to keep them safe. A Pack Leader has abilities that no other can understand.”

  Not being a Were myself, that shouldn’t have been enough for me to understand the difference, but having felt Jameson’s power, I did. When I’d had to give Malachi the antidote to the love spell he’d consumed, Jameson’s power had calmed the wolf inside him. It was Jameson who had kept me safe and Malachi sane. I had never seen nor felt that before.

  “Tollis thinks you rule your people with an iron fist.”

  Kyle and Jameson shared a look, but I couldn’t be sure what it meant.

  “He has to,” Kyle said, lifting one shoulder and letting it fall. “He leads an entire city’s pack of werewolves. Can you imagine the difficulty in that? What do you expect him to do? You rule Weres by showing no throat. If he did, then any number of jumped-up pups would try to challenge him, and we would have deaths and banishments every week.”

  “Mattie, what you don’t understand about werewolf packs and what it takes to be a Pack Leader is that a lot of my power comes from my pack,” Jameson said. “If I lost the love and respect of my pack, then my powers would fade. I would be like any other Alpha. If my pack wasn’t happy with me, it would be obvious.”

  “You get your power to lead from your pack?” I looked from James to Kyle and back again. They both nodded, so I said, “Wow. Then Tollis really does have it wrong.”

  Jameson shook his head. “He knows this. All Weres know this. He just didn’t tell you. Now just imagine what lies he has been feeding to those humans who know nothing about Weres.”

  “They probably have no idea what they’re risking,” I whispered, my throat tight.

  “Exactly,” Jameson said. “But now we know where they have gone. We know we’re right in thinking that Tollis took them.”

  “He might’ve lied to get them to stay, but I’m telling you, they all think they’re there of their own will.”

  “The police won’t care about that, their families won’t care about that, and the rest of the world won’t care about that,” Jameson said. “They will only care that underage teens were turned, and they will certainly care about the ones who do not survive.”

  “And you’ll be blamed because you’re the Pack Leader.”

  Whatever Jameson was about to say was lost in a sudden burst of noise from the front of the bar. The door slammed into the wall as a group of men rushed in. Some of them were half-shifted, their faces elongated with fuzzy muzzles and mouths full of razor teeth. Their hands were three times their normal size, tipped with black claws, and they launched themselves at Jameson’s people. Two fully shifted werewolves sailed through the doors, jaws snapping and drool hanging from their black lips.

  Jameson was on top of the table before I realized he was moving. Spence placed himself in front of the booth, his wolf rising inside him. I heard his bones snapping and popping over the noise of the bar as he shifted. I was frozen in place, fear cementing me to my seat as my skin went cold with sweat. Kyle grabbed me, pulling me out of the booth as Jameson barked orders from his place on the table. I wanted to warn him, scream at him to get down, but then Spence rose up as a great blond beast, a long howl ripping from his throat. He was huge, seven feet tall at least, and his shoulders were as wide as the table.

  Kyle lifted me out of the seat, hefted me over his shoulder, and ran for the bar. I saw Jameson’s pack gaining the upper hand on the intruders, but before I could fully process the tornado of claws and teeth, Kyle was vaulting over the bar and kicking open the back door. I saw the bartender racking a shotgun as the back door fell closed.

  Chapter 8

  At Kyle’s suggestion, I drove us to The Brownie’s Bite. He claimed he hadn’t eaten in a while, and during the week of the full moon, Weres had to be careful about getting enough calories. Their metabolism sped up to meet the wolf’s needs, and if they went too long between meals, they risked losing control of their wolf. I drove a little faster than I intended to just to get to the restaurant.

  Kyle held the door open for me, and the warm air scented with bacon and maple syrup washed over me. I hesitated at the door, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath of the wonderful smell. I loved that place.

  Finn, the brownie woman who owned and managed the restaurant, waved from behind the counter, indicating a bank of empty booths. Kyle took the lead and walked to the booth farthest from the front door, keeping the windows next to us. Kyle was careful to slide into the side facing the door, putting his back to the wall. I sank into the bench seat, throwing my bag into the corner, and sighed loudly. My stomach made a rude noise, and I felt the flush of heat on my face.

  Kyle smiled at me and said, “Yeah, thought you were hungry too.”

  I crumpled a napkin and threw it at him. It bounced off of his chest harmlessly and fell to the floor.

  Finn waddled up to us, pen and pad in hand. She lifted her thin brown eyebrows that nearly disappeared against her dirt brown skin. She was already scribbling on the order pad. “Your usual, Mattie?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be great.”

  “And for you?”

  “Hmmm,” Kyle said as he studied the tiny plastic menu clipped above the napkin dispenser. “Double bacon cheeseburger with a fried egg on top, and fries and a Hobgoblin ale, thanks.”

  “Two usuals coming up,” Finn said, clicking her pen closed and waddling away.

  Kyle shot me a surprised look, and I laughed, feeling the tension of the night slowly slipping out of my shoulders.

  “Figured you for a garden salad with dressing on the side kind of girl,” Kyle said.

  “You’re thinking of Ronnie,” I said with a wave. “I like being on top of the food chain.”

  “Almost at the top,” Kyle said with a wink. His bright white smile curved across his dark skin.

  “Almost,” I agreed.

  “So how are things with you?” he asked as a young brownie boy darted up to our table and delivered our ales.

  We both ignored the glasses he offered and drank straight from the bottle.

  “Oh, you know, hexes and spells, charms and potions,” I said with a shrug. “Same old, same old. How about you?”

  “Oh, full moons and fangs, you know.”

  “No, no,” I said. “You gotta give me more than that. How’s it going with Frankie?”

  “Right to it, huh?”

  “I’m s
orry, I just don’t get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “You and her,” I said.

  “Should I be offended?” Kyle tilted his head, but a smile still played at his mouth.

  “I just mean, you’re so nice and easygoing, and she’s so…” I tried to find the least offensive word.

  “Bitchy?” Kyle offered, and I nearly choked on my beer. “Uptight? Crazypants?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” I said.

  “Ever hear of opposites attract?”

  “Please.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. “She’s also hot, you know.”

  “Is she hot enough to put up with that personality?”

  “She’s not like that with me,” he said with a shrug. He leaned back in the booth, resting one arm over the back of the seat.

  “So what is she like then?” At best, my interactions with Frankie were stress-filled moments of pure terror, and at worst, she was threatening to rip me from limb to limb. Kyle was so nice and laid-back. They just didn’t go together.

  “With me, she’s happier, you know? She smiles, she teases, she jokes around.”

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Sorry, not buying it. Frankie doesn’t have one joking bone in either human or wolf body.”

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  “I’m not,” I said, sitting up straight. “I’m judging that book by the unadulterated threats she lobs at me every damn day. I live in fear of having my flesh rent from my body.”

  “Maybe your scent offends her?” Kyle winked at me again, and I threw another crumpled napkin at him.

  Before I could press the issue, our food hit the table, along with a bottle of ketchup and another of hot sauce. Kyle doused his burger with both, making it look like a bloody mess. For once, I realized how my food choices made Ronnie feel. But unlike her, I didn’t say anything. When we both hefted our double bacon cheeseburgers and took two huge bites, we groaned happily, eyes closed and jaws almost slack.

  “I gotta eat here more often,” Kyle said around a mouthful of beef as he crammed two fries in with it.