NAGO, His Mississippi Queen: 50 Loving States, Mississippi (The Brothers Nightwolf Trilogy, Book 1)

by Theodora Taylor

  But today the wolf gave him no peace. It refused to quiet down during meditation. As it turned out, what Nago was trying hard not to think about was the only thing the wolf wanted to discuss. It pushed at him so hard to do something that he was forced to cut the session short.

  But even his workout music wasn’t enough to drown out the wolf’s voice.

  He could feel it unraveling his mind. Making extremely explicit threats about what would happen if Nago kept refusing to think about the thing he’d vowed not to think about.

  By the time Nago cleared the fifth kilometer on a planet only high-resolution cameras had navigated, the wolf had let him know loud and clear that he’d be getting no visionary thinking done today—

  Hear about this Chivaree shit? KNWF

  Nago came to a dead stop when the unmarked number flashed across his bioscreen. Not just because of the message—so close to what he’d been trying not to think about—but also because of the tag attached to it: KNWF.

  The message was from Knud, the brother he hadn’t heard from in years.

  Nago almost responded with a return bio. But the unmarked number and five-word question didn’t exactly scream, Yeah, bro, get in contact so we can gossip about your fucked-up obsession.

  Even if they hadn’t spoken much since Alarus, Nago still understood his brother better than most. Knud’s question was an FYI, not an invitation to connect.

  Nago stared at the message on his bioscreen, the technological equivalent of a mind’s eye.

  After a moment of indecision, he elled his fingers.

  His brother Rafes, President of the North American Lupines, popped up on his viewscreen. “What’s up, Nago?” he asked, sounding rushed.

  Nago blinked, then forced the wolf down enough to say. “She agreed to a Chivaree.”

  Lots of cursing, then, “Who told you? Knud? I specifically sent him a message not to say anything to you!”

  Knowing Knud, that was exactly why he’d messaged Nago. As his mother used to say back when they were teens, if Knud and Rafes had been twins, they would have killed each other before adulthood. Nago was their buffer, the brother who kept the other two from tearing each other apart. At least that’s how it had been before Alarus.

  “Did he say where he was?” Rafes asked.

  “No, he was using an unmarked number.”

  Impressive, since Nago was considered the technical genius of their triumvirate. He wouldn’t have suspected his lethal brother even knew how to run a hack. But then again, Knud had remained in the Special Forces a hell of a lot longer than Nago. Who knew what he was capable of now?

  More cursing from Rafes. Then, “Well, now you know. Nothing to do about it but deal.”

  “Make them call it off.”

  “Nago…”

  He watched Rafes rub a hand over his face on his ell screen. As if Nago was ten times more annoying than anything he had to deal with in his presidential role. Normally Nago was sensitive to his brother’s moods. He, more than most, knew the kind of intel Rafes was dealing with these days. Much to their historian mother’s horror, Nago had even overseen the design for the black box project which would severely limit fated mate travel to and from North America through the time portals.

  But right now Nago wasn’t remotely interested in playing the loyal brother. “You’re the president,” he argued. “And I’m the one who designed your fucking black box system. Do this for me. Make them call it off.”

  “You understand being president isn’t the same as being an alpha king, right? I don’t have absolute power like you up there in Alaska.”

  “But you could sign an executive order—”

  “And it would still take two weeks to get it processed. At least. From what I understand, this hillbilly event is taking place tomorrow morning—you know, when we’re supposed to be installing the first black box in North Dako—?”

  Rafes suddenly cut off. Not because he’d finished speaking, but because Nago had balled his hands into fists, effectively ending the ell chat.

  Nago stood there, the holograph shivering around him as it waited for him to resume his run. Shivering like him. Despite the heat he’d worked up while running, his body felt ice cold. As if the snow swirling outside the kingdom house had somehow snuck in past the double-paned insulated windows and invaded his chest.

  Don’t do it. C’mon Nago. Just let her go, his human advised, tone set on beg.

  But the wolf…it said nothing. It had gone completely still inside him.

  As if preparing to pounce.

  5

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Halle answered, not bothering to paste on an “everything’s fine” expression as she shoved a snaking cable down a hole at a Wolf Hill’s house whose toilets and sinks were currently backed up.

  They were bio-talking the old-fashioned way since Halle needed her mindscreen free. Also, this plumbing repair, while necessary, was a lot more distasteful than her usual fix-it jobs around the kingdom-town. Definitely nothing to smile about.

  “What’s wrong?” Nago asked again in her audio-only feed.

  “Nothing!” She turned up the volume on her bioware, flipped on a switch, then watched the old machine she’d found a few years ago in the former town caretaker’s cabin feed cable into the little house’s main drainage line. “I’m just snaking Mrs. Lupo’s main line...”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to ask Pastor Connery for some tips because my sermon on the evils of flushing baby wipes didn’t get taken to heart at the last pack meeting.”

  Halle pushed the reverse button, but the machine’s motor was barely kicking. She pulled her work gloves back on and began to manually help the machine retract the snaking cable. “I’m just hoping it’s only baby wipes this time. Remember that time I found a rat out at the Ethelwulfs?”

  Nago chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t think I’m ever going to forget that story. So…” his voice suddenly became more serious, “is this what you’re doing tonight instead of going to prom?”

  “Yup, living the princess dream,” she answered. “Don’t be jealous.”

  “I’m trying not to be,” Nago answered. “But the only rats I ever get to see are in biogames.”

  “I know, right? Poor Nago. You rich Colorado folks don’t know what you’re missing!”

  He laughed.

  And she said, “Yay, no rats!” when the cable came back with a dozen plus baby wipes attached to it. “Lemme go get my payment from Mrs. Lupo, then I’ll bio you right back.”

  After collecting her pay, which consisted of a sorta promise to cool it with the baby wipes and a bulk bag of Cal-Mart gummi bears, Halle bioed Nago on her walk back to the kingdom house from the main residential part of Wolf Hills.

  Talking to him was a much better alternative to worrying about all the broken streetlights that needed fixing on her way home. Or feeling sorry for herself because she didn’t have enough money to buy a dress for prom since Dad had disappeared with the monthly check from their rental properties. Again. Or thinking about the text bio she’d received earlier…

  There were many problems in need of fixing. So she called back the one person in her life who needed no fixing at all.

  But the first thing Nago said upon answering was, “Ready to talk about what’s wrong yet?”

  “Nothing’s wrong…!” she insisted.

  “I can hear it in your voice.”

  “It’s stupid. Too stupid to talk about…”

  She waited for him to let her off the hook. But he stayed silent until she quietly admitted, “You know that bio I sent my mom a few months ago asking if I could visit her?”

  “The one she never returned?”

  “Yeah, that one. Well, I guess she wants me to stop trying to fix our relationship because she finally sent me an answer this morning. She said she’s moved on with her fated mate and will be starting another family soon. So, you know, probably best for me to move on, too, and not
write her anymore. Actually, she didn’t say ‘probably.’ It was more like, ‘Stop writing me. Stop asking to see me.’ Real clear. Yeah, real clear.”

  “Babe…” She couldn’t see Nago, but she could hear the sad look on his face. “By the Fenrir, that’s shitty news to get two days before your birthday.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it.” Swiping angrily at the tears that had formed in her eyes, she said, “Let’s talk about you, okay? I mean, you’re the one shipping out first thing tomorrow morning. Are you all packed?”

  “Yeah, I got my duffel right here.”

  “Are you scared?” she asked. “I mean, this is a pretty big change in lifestyle from biogames.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he agreed quietly. Then, “So you’re really not going to prom?”

  “Nago, it’s a stupid human thing,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “And I don’t even have a dress, so whatever. I’m almost home. I’ll go take a shower, put on some music, and dance alone in my room.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Real sure. You don’t have to feel sorry for me just because I’m not going to prom.”

  “No, I’m not feeling sorry for you, babe. I’m feeling sorry for me. Because if you don’t want to go to prom, that means I came all this way for nothing.”

  She scrunched up her face. “What do you mean…?”

  But Halle trailed off when she saw the figure standing under the dilapidated front portico of the Mississippi kingdom house. It wasn’t her father. She sensed that right away since Dad wasn’t the type to await her arrival outside anyway. Could it be…?

  The wind down shifted, carrying the visitor’s scent to her nose.

  And that’s when she discovered…it was!

  “Nago!” she yelled, breaking into a run toward the house. Toward him.

  Only to stop short when she saw him up close.

  He was wearing a tux and holding a hanger with an evening gown on it. She’d later discover he borrowed it from one of his twin sisters—right before hopping in a drone to Tallahassee, Florida, where drones were legal, then hiring a bullet car to take him to her house.

  The dress fit perfectly. But even if it hadn’t, just seeing him standing on her kingdom house steps, ready to dance the night away even though he’d need to be in California by 5:00 A.M. the next morning…well, that was already enough to make this her best night ever.

  6

  Twelve Years Later

  Halle walked down those same kingdom house steps already knowing it would be her worst night ever.

  Holding with tradition, she’d spent the day before her Chivaree being prepared by some of the pack’s older she-wolves. They’d escorted her into a warm bath scented with magnolia bath salts and sprinkled with magnolia petals where she soaked for a good half hour. After which the women applied just enough make-up to her face to make her skin appear dewy and make-up free. Then they dressed her in the white shift worn by Chivaree brides since the early 1900s, before dressing themselves in white to escort her out to the gazebo that sat on the property behind the house.

  It would have been faster to leave out the back door, but…tradition. On the eve of her Chivaree, a Chivaree bride always leaves by the front door to signify her departure from her father’s house.

  And even though the gazebo was behind the house, she could hear the celebration as soon as she stepped foot outside.

  Loud, raucous hick-hop assaulted her ears, and even that was nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd waiting for the spectacle to begin. Hundreds of wolves had driven into the Mississippi kingdom-town for the big event. Halle supposed she couldn’t blame the gawkers. Mississippi hadn’t thrown a Chivaree since the 1980s.

  And it wasn’t like there was a lot to do in this part of wolf country. Save for Louisiana, most southern states were mange states like hers. Which the rest of wolf society defined as either completely broke or dependent on illegal businesses to keep their coffers full.

  Mississippi was the former. Her father didn’t have the stomach to deal in the big three mange state money makers: drugs, guns, and/or sex.

  Well, at least she didn’t think he had the stomach for it. As it turned out, he could handle the last one, if not the first two. As evidenced by her Chivaree.

  “Don’t think too hard about it,” Mrs. Lupo said beside her, gently patting her hand. “I saw a few of them back in the 70s, and they weren’t too bad.”

  “There are worse ways to start off a marriage,” Mrs. Chinua, a little old black lady said on her other side.

  “Sure are…” chimed in a bunch of other ladies in white.

  Though they were all she-wolves, as a group they represented what Wolf Hills had become after the Civil War. A kingdom-town mostly made up of whites and Latinos with a decent number of blacks thrown in. All dedicated to keeping the “everything’s fine” façade on a kingdom-town that had managed well enough until her father’s line took over.

  “A new king will be good for this place,” Mrs. Connery said, seeming to speak for all of them. She cast a disparaging eye toward the portico columns. So much of the white paint had fallen off that they were now nothing more than red brick columns dotted here and there with flecks of white that hinted at their former Greek Revival grandeur. “And maybe that Ohio Prince of yours will fix up this house after he marries you.”

  “And refill the town caretaker position!” Mrs. Lupo added.

  At that, Halle grinned. “But I like being the town caretaker. It’s the only way I get to see all of you on a regular basis. Plus, cookies and cakes.”

  At that, many of the white-clad ladies tittered. During the past decade, the joke around town was you knew whose house Halle was fixing if you followed your nose. Because wherever the scent of baked goods was strongest, you’d find Halle. Technically, she’d received her associates degree in accounting, but she was better known throughout the state as the “Handy Princess” from Wolf Hills. And fixing everything from ancient plumbing to senior citizen taxes was how she earned her happy, but meager living.

  “Still, it’s not right for a girl your age having to do all the fixin’ up ‘round here,” Mrs. Lupo insisted. “A real king will be just the thing this place needs.”

  “Speak of the devil…” a voice said behind her.

  Halle’s eyes lifted to see her father waiting at the edge of the front lawn in a suit. It was the same one he’d been married in, she noted, recognizing it from the framed wedding portrait that used to sit on the mantle in the receiving room before Keri ran off.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he answered, his face more jovial than Christmas. “Ladies, you ready to see our girl finally secure us a king? It’s going to be a real nice time. Real nice!”

  Halle could smell the alcohol on his breath and felt the pitying stares of the kingdom-town women who stood with her.

  Instead of responding directly, Pastor Connery’s wife spoke the traditional words. “We are handing this princess over for Chivaree. May the moon bless her catching. And may God bless her life.”

  “Hmm, yes, thank you kindly, Mrs. Connery,” answered her father who’d never been anywhere near as religious as his father who’d gone to seminary instead of college, or his grandfather, a preacher who’d won the kingdom unexpectedly in an old-fashioned kingdom fight.

  There had been no Chivarees during her grandfathers’ fire and brimstone reigns. But all that ended tonight.

  “Special delivery,” her father said, handing her a bouquet of flowers, as was tradition.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she said dutifully, careful not to make eye contact with any of ladies in the escort party.

  As was tradition, the women in white preceded her across the lawn to the gazebo. Leaving Halle to trail behind on her father’s arm.

  “Eric’s family paid for those flowers,” he proudly whispered as they walked. “Obviously, he couldn’t deliver them himself, but I told him I’d pass on h
is good wishes.”

  Yes, obviously… She fingered the bouquet and reminded herself how lucky she was to have this opportunity. The Chivaree was…she pushed away the words “humiliating” and “barbaric” to finally settle on old-fashioned.

  And Eric was an old-fashioned guy. She liked that about him. Along with his clear, no-nonsense intentions. Nothing passionate like Nago had been when they were young. We were just kids, she reminded herself for the billionth time, trying to get around the cracking feeling that happened inside her chest whenever she thought about him. Just dumb kids.

  But Eric was a man. Practical with a vested interest in adding Mississippi to his family’s “collection” of kingdom-towns. While most wolves mated for life, Eric’s father had somehow managed to go through not just one, but two wives. And he was currently on number three. Eric was the youngest of six boys, and the four brothers between him and the current alpha king of Ohio had already married into kingdoms. So Mississippi would be their family’s crowning achievement. One king with six king sons.

  To that end, Eric had courted Halle for nearly six months. Coming down to Mississippi at least twice a month to get to know her better. He claimed himself lucky to have found a sensible mate in Halle.

  “Your company is a true pleasure,” he’d told her. “Unlike the experience I had with Ola Greenwolf. Or should I say the experience I endured? I don’t know what I was thinking. Could you see me in North Dakota? Dancing and waving rainbow flags?”

  Ola was one of Nago’s younger cousins—one of the twin daughters of a famous game designer. Halle herself knew of but never met the younger she-wolf. And yes, she had quite a reputation with her bad girl antics often landing her in WolfNet gossip round-ups.

  But she was also one of the few princesses in the world slated to inherit a throne without a king at her side. And the North Dakota throne she’d soon be inheriting currently belonged to her uncles who’d made North American history as the first gay couple to preside over a kingdom throne. For those two reasons alone, Ola’s legacy boiled down to more than waving rainbow flags around.