Immortally Ever After

by Angie Fox

  It was going to be interesting to see how the camp reacted to hiding Galen and Leta. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill prank. We were up against bloodthirsty investigators, even if they were wound up in their own red tape.

  Still, I had to believe we could pull this off.

  The alternative was unthinkable.

  Up ahead, I caught the faint glow of torches, and behind us, more. Good. Hopefully, we’d have a decent-sized crowd.

  By the time we’d reached the last of the hulking mounds of junk, I smelled chocolate chip cookies. Father McArio had baked. Good man. Smart man.

  He gave out fresh cookies every Sunday after mass, and let me just say, they were amazing. It was how he got the minor gods to attend.

  Shirley stood at the crossroads as we exited the minefield. “Welcome to the party. We’re just getting set up.”

  The three of us headed for the rocks. “Thaïs isn’t here, is he?” I asked. He was the one person who would rat us out.

  “Nah,” Shirley said. “He didn’t want to have sex with you.”

  “Good.”

  We could hear the party at the rocks before we could even see the light of the bonfire.

  “They’re making s’mores.” Rodger grinned.

  That was fine. “As long as they’re not getting naked.”

  Thank goodness they hadn’t had enough time—or most likely enough booze. We walked up to a full-out party in progress. There were at least seventy people down there—talking, laughing, listening to Kid Rock’s version of “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  It would have been like every lakeside party in high school. Well, if we hadn’t been in the fourth quadrant of limbo.

  The rocks were in a slight valley, which was the only reason we hadn’t seen the huge fire from a mile away.

  “Where’s Galen?” I scanned the crowd for him.

  “Father’s got him stashed until you make the announcement,” Shirley said.

  “Gotcha,” I said, trying to locate the priest.

  Red rocks jutted from the desert floor, which is how the place got its name. There was a sort of cave near the largest rocks. Lord knew what was going on in there. The rest of the rocks stood like a messy Stonehenge.

  My gut twisted a bit. “They’re burning the old officers’ showers.” I shouldn’t have cared.

  “They got part of your old lab too,” Rodger said.

  With a start, I realized he was right. Flames licked the boxlike structure that had acted as my lab bedroom, my haven, my port in the storm. Of all the … “That was mine.”

  Light played off Rodger’s stoic features as we watched it burn. “You gave it up.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You moved on.”

  I did.

  “Oh, hell,” Rodger said, his voice flat.

  A light shone off to the side of us. As it drew closer, we could see it was Father McArio. He had someone bundled in the crook of his arm. I couldn’t tell who was under the dark cloak and hood.

  “A priest and a monk walk into an orgy,” I began, but stopped when I saw the look on the padre’s face. He drew the hood off his companion. It was Leta. Her eyes were haunted, her expression feral. Dang. Galen wasn’t kidding when he’d said she was on the edge. She shook as Father held her hand.

  “She’d better not be about to shift,” I said under my breath.

  “I can’t do it.” She choked, her breath coming in pants. “The pressure. It’s too much.”

  “Oh, this is bad,” Rodger muttered.

  “I’ve got you,” Father McArio soothed, glancing at us, worried. “Where’s Marc?”

  “I don’t know.” Frankly, I’d been glad not to run into him today. “What’s wrong with her?” He’d had her flying. He was treating her medical issues. She should be getting better, not worse.

  The last thing we needed was to convince the camp to harbor an AWOL dragon, and then have her go crazy, shift, and eat half of them.

  Marc came up behind Father. “What’s the problem?” He gave me a pointed glance, then noticed Leta.

  “I can’t calm her down,” Father told him. “She won’t listen to me.”

  “I’ve got her,” Marc said as she sank into him.

  “What can I do to help?” I asked, watching him squeeze her shoulders from behind and murmur something in her ear. But Marc either didn’t hear me or he didn’t want to shift his attention from the other dragon.

  “It’s a shifter thing,” Rodger said.

  “Yes. That I get.” It still didn’t explain what the hell was going on. Marc began leading her away. I was tempted to go after them.

  “Let them go,” Father said. “He’s doing his part. You need to do yours. Come,” he added, “let’s get you to the party.”

  “We’ll be there in a minute,” I told him, unable to move from that spot. We sure as hell didn’t need any surprises tonight. I glanced at Rodger. “We may have made a big mistake.”

  “I’d like to blow sunshine up your butt, but”—Rodger glanced at the departing priest, then back at me—“she needs a dominant right now or she’s going to lose control.”

  Lovely. “So how close are we to being screwed?”

  We watched Marc and Leta’s lantern fade into the darkness. “In every pack, we have one person who maintains control. Physical control. Ours is our pack alpha. He says to fight and you fight. He orders you to stand down, you stand down.”

  “That’s so dumb.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Okay, sorry. But you have to admit, this is strange.” I treated shifters all the time. And Marc hadn’t led a single one of them down a darkened path before.

  Rodger ran a hand through his wild auburn hair. “It’s like this, Petra. You’ve got a loose cannon and it’s a dragon. This is why shape shifters can be so scary. Because as an army, we can act as an overwhelming force. When the alpha says ‘Go,’ you go.”

  Yes, which is why I wouldn’t last five seconds in a werewolf pack. “I haven’t seen you need an alpha down here,” I told him.

  He snorted. “I’m not broken. You said it yourself. This woman has lived like an animal for the last six years. They had a collar on her. That collar was her control.”

  “And Galen took it off.” He’d thought he was being kind.

  “Oh, believe me, it needed to come off. Still, that collar acts like an artificial alpha. It restrains them, makes them do things they’d never do on their own.”

  “Like act as suicide bombers.” I rubbed a hand over my face.

  “The old army broke her down to her most primitive level. Now we took off the collar and there’s nothing to hold back that primal side of her. She’s strong, Petra, or she would have lost it long before now.”

  I got it. I really did. “She needs help.”

  “Yes. And she’ll get that help. But first, she needs to get her head on straight. She needs an alpha.”

  “What? So Marc is becoming her alpha?” We had at least two other dragons in camp. There was one on maintenance, another who was an EMT. “What’s involved in this alpha thing?” I asked, although I was afraid I had a pretty good idea. “What does he have to do to be dominant?”

  Rodger shot me a look. “You broke up with him.”

  “Yes, I did, but I don’t want to see him get eaten.”

  Rodger choked. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Rodger,” I demanded.

  “It’s not always unpleasant,” he said quickly. “He needs to make her viscerally respond to him. As a dragon.”

  “I have no idea what that means.” And I’d never thought of Marc that way—as a dragon.

  “It’s physical. It has to be.” Rodger sighed. “You’ve heard of dominance battles, right? Shifters can beat the crap out of each other.”

  Somehow, I didn’t think that’s what Marc had in mind. “And if they’re not fighting?”

  Rodger winced.

  Fighting or fucking. What a way to go.

  At least he wasn’t sitting home pining
after me.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  Rodger clamped me on the shoulder, steering me toward the crowd. “We hope he does it well.”

  chapter twelve

  “Come on,” Rodger said, leading the way down to the party. “We’re here for a reason.”

  Ah, yes, we had to convince the camp to harbor two AWOL fugitives, one of which might shift into a fire-breathing dragon.

  How in Hades had I let Galen talk me into this? I squared my shoulders and prepared to face the firing squad.

  Have you ever known what it’s like to have people cheer when you walk into a room? Neither did I, until we walked down that hill. I’d never been greeted so warmly in my life.

  Enthusiastic grins, slaps on the back. The whole thing made me nervous as hell. I hoped they’d be just as happy when they knew the real reason we’d brought everyone together.

  “Hey, Petra.” I turned to find pale, shy Nurse Hume. He’d cut the sleeves off his scrubs. To look sexy? Yeek. I hoped not. It showed off his pasty, freckled arms. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, walking quietly next to me.

  “Well, that’s great to hear.” He’d seen me in surgery for the past six years. I’d developed an anesthetic for immortals. Yet the MASH 3063rd sex fest was my crowning achievement.

  The supply clerks were already in their underwear. Not a pretty sight. Unless you liked your men built like spider monkeys. They’d taken it upon themselves to carry bedpans full of rubbers. “Condoms! Get your condoms!”

  “So this is what I have to look forward to as a single woman in this camp,” I mused. It was better than the alternative.

  “Here.” Bald Frank from the cafeteria had an entire cartload of mess hall trays. He handed me one—still wet. What was with these trays? “For your knees,” he explained.

  Oh, for the love of— “This is not an orgy!”

  “Not yet.” He winked. He leaned closer, smelling of oregano and orange drink mix. “What I don’t get is what Father thinks he’s going to do with the cookies. We need sticky things like chocolate sauce and whipped cream and peanut butter and—”

  “Enough! Just … go that way,” I said, pointing him in the direction of a gaggle of nurses.

  I’d deal with it in a minute.

  There was nothing else we could do except wait for the signal from Shirley that we were ready to start. She stood on one of the large rocks, holding a clipboard and taking attendance.

  In the meantime, Father McArio had set up behind a waist-high flat rock, with plates of cookies laid out in front of him.

  “Petra.” He was grave as he edged around the rock to see me. “What do we do if Leta shifts?”

  “Pray.” I wiped at the sweat on the back of my neck. If this didn’t go right, we were screwed.

  Marc was handling it. I hoped.

  Father’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he tried to make it right the only way he could at the moment. “I have oatmeal and double chocolate chip.”

  It was the first normal thing I’d seen. If you thought a priest handing out cookies in limbo was normal.

  “Nice spread for a sex party,” I said, taking a chocolate chip cookie.

  “I didn’t know what else to do. It’s my first one.” Father drew a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his forehead. “You really packed them in. Not that I’m a fire-and-brimstone type, but I think I’m going to be talking about Sodom and Gomorrah this Sunday.”

  “Be sure to tell them that it’s not a vacation destination,” I said, breaking off a piece of cookie. It wasn’t even appealing. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.” We were already putting my friends and colleagues in danger by harboring two fugitives. “If we bring them into this, they’re accomplices.”

  “If you don’t, one of them could accidentally expose the situation,” Father said. “Don’t kid yourself. We’d still be in trouble. The gods don’t split hairs like humans do.”

  Even with the entire camp being careful, all it would take was one screwup to land us all in eternal peril. It would be easier to strip and go along with the orgy than take that kind of chance.

  I mean, these were my MASH colleagues, not the CIA.

  The cookie crumbled under my fingers. “Who is the bigger idiot? The guy handing out orgy knee trays or me for thinking that these were the people I’d want on my side when all hell breaks loose?”

  Father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Trust them.”

  “Thanks.” But he kind of had to say that. I checked my watch. “We’re coming up on midnight.” I had to trust that we could pull this off.

  Too bad I sucked at trust.

  “There it is,” Father said, as Shirley gave us the thumbs-up signal. He brought his fingers to his lips, letting out a whistle loud enough to rattle the dead.

  “Agh!” Several feet away, Rodger winced, clutching his ears. “Is that left over from the Inquisition?”

  Father looked a little embarrassed. “Choir camp.”

  Either way, it had done the trick. All eyes turned to us.

  Showtime.

  My stomach churned as I found a flatish rock and climbed until I was standing above the crowd.

  Was it me, or were there a ton more people here than I’d thought? There was no way we could possibly trust all of them. Somebody was going to slip up and it would be all our necks. My heart hammered and I could have sworn I saw the shadow of smoke coming from the top of the trail.

  Hold her together, Marc.

  A trickle of sweat ran down my back.

  We really did have almost everybody here. Except for those on call at the hospital, and Thaïs—who didn’t want to see me naked. At least there were some things right in the world.

  “Take it off!” a voice called from below.

  Lazio. If I could have worked up the attitude, I would have told him to shut it.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Kill the radio,” I hollered, my voice grainy.

  It was amazing how well sound carried in that valley. It’s like we had some kind of natural acoustics going on. Soon, Kid Rock was silenced and my colleagues were starting to take off their clothes.

  Oh, hell no.

  “Stop it!” I yelled.

  They kept going.

  Pants dropping. Shirts opening. Bras falling to the ground. “Stop it! This is not a sex party!” Did anyone even hear me? “No. Sex!”

  “Why not?” someone hollered.

  “You,” I said, pointing to Doug the mechanic. “And you.” I singled out Fran from supply. What did they say about mob actions? Call out individual people, let them know they were responsible for their own … “Oh, now that’s just wrong, Cletus.”

  I found myself unable to look at half of them. “Can you just … cover yourselves?” I focused on the stars twinkling in the night sky. I was all for sex and blowing off steam, but, “I have a life-and-death issue to discuss and I’d rather not do it while eyeing your junk.”

  That got a laugh. I’m glad some people thought this was funny. Some of them were still undressing. Jesus Christ.

  Fine. Out with it. “The entire camp is in danger. Right now.” That shut some of them up. “I may not know much,” like why the hell I put up with these people, “but I do know that in times of crisis, this camp comes together.”

  I cringed. Bad choice of words.

  Damn them. Only about half of my colleagues were paying attention. I could feel my grip on the crowd slipping—if I’d even had one to begin with.

  Jesus Christ, this is important!

  These were intelligent, focused, war-seasoned people. If I could just get their attention.

  Thank heaven Galen picked that moment to walk out of the cave at the base of the rocks. If he was feeling any of the worry and frustration that was going through my mind, he didn’t show it. Well, he’d better do something quick because this was his idea.

  A collective gasp went up from the people around him. He had that elite milit
ary bearing that even made them start standing a little straighter. He grinned as they stared. “Don’t everyone greet me at once.”

  The crowd surged and Galen was treated to more hugs, back slaps, and jostling than I would have wanted from my overexposed colleagues. He caught my eye and flashed a too cocky smile.

  What? Did he think we were in the clear with this?

  I didn’t like it.

  Galen walked straight for me. It took him a while, but that was okay. At least he was getting somewhere with the crowd, and I hoped to Hades he had a plan.

  He climbed onto my rock. “You’re doing good, Petra.”

  “Easy for you to say.” I didn’t want it on my head if the gods came down on my friends.

  Galen stood tall beside me, enjoying the shouts from my colleagues. Of course he could instantly command both the attention and the loyalty of the entire camp. And look good doing it.

  I didn’t know whether I wanted to be happy or if I’d just rather push him off the rock.

  He nudged me with his elbow. “We should have come clean right after I arrived in camp.”

  Was he kidding? “We weren’t that desperate.”

  “Right,” he said, surveying the crowd. “Well, I’m glad things are back to normal.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “For gods’ sake, put some clothes on!” he hollered, as my colleagues continued to shout greetings.

  The noise died down, and wouldn’t you know it? They listened to him. The jerk. Add that to his resume: Galen of Delphi can stop man-eating scorpions, soul-sucking Shrouds, and orgies.

  Galen cleared his throat. “We called you here tonight because we have a problem.” He took a measured breath. “I’m thinking about harboring a fugitive.”

  “What did Petra do now?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  Galen crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Can it, Lazio.” But the crowd had already quieted. They were watching Galen with a level of focus they usually reserved for our commanding officer. Still, these were the same people that excelled at pranks and off-key karaoke.

  I was stuck with that, and them. I loved them, but they were idiots. We were so screwed.