Misfit Pack (The Misfit Series)

by Stephanie Foxe

  “Yeah, of course,” Amber said without hesitation. “I don’t mind it being in the apartment.”

  “What about tomorrow at work?” Tommy asked. “We can’t leave him here alone, can we?”

  “We can take him to work with us,” Ceri said with a smile before exchanging a glance with Amber when Tommy wasn’t looking.

  Genevieve felt completely out of the loop. There was obviously something going on with Tommy that this stranger knew about and she didn’t. She looked back down into her carton and picked out the last shrimp. There was no reason for her to feel so hurt, it was just the instincts again. She shoved the shrimp in her mouth and glared at the ugly, wingless pixie that had everyone’s attention.

  Chapter 15

  TOMMY

  Tommy looked curiously around the stockroom. It was stacked with boxes and shelves of items waiting to be placed in the store. The front of the shop was half bookstore and half supplies for witches. Aileen, Ceri’s aunt, owned the shop. She’d sent them back here and told Ceri to put him to work.

  He walked over to one shelf that held what looked suspiciously like pickled rabbits feet. Grimacing he turned away and poked at a dusty old jar. A weird scent tickled his nose, and he sneezed loudly.

  “Blessings,” Ceri said politely as she dug around through a pile of discarded boxes. She found an empty box with a lid and set the pixie, now dubbed Woggy, inside.

  He squeaked in irritation, reaching his spindly arms up to her.

  “Sorry, buddy.” She set a small cup of water and a bowl of shredded tuna in the box next to him, which improved his mood immediately. He crouched over the tuna and stuck his face in it, chewing loudly. “Can you check on him every half hour or so and make sure he’s okay?”

  “Sure,” Tommy said. Woggy still kept trying to fly; he would have kept an eye on him even if Ceri hadn’t asked. It was stupid to get attached to Woggy since he probably wouldn’t survive, but he couldn’t help it. He had a soft spot for underdogs and broken things.

  The door to the back room opened, and a young troll walked in.

  “Deward, hi! I’d like you to come meet Tommy. He’s going to be helping out for a little while,” Ceri said, waving him over.

  He must have been around Tommy’s age, since his tusks barely extended over his lips. His bright blue mohawk lay neatly slicked back, and his biceps bulged against the sleeves of his crisp button-up shirt. Black-framed glasses were perched on his nose. He had a book tucked under one arm. Deward was a walking stereotype, unlike the troll that had served them barbecue the day before.

  “Deward Tuskbreaker,” the troll said, extending his moss green hand in greeting.

  Tommy shook his hand, able to match the firm grip with werewolf strength. “Just Tommy.”

  “No last name?” Deward’s thick brows drew together in confusion.

  “I’m not on speaking terms with my family,” he said with a shrug.

  Aileen shouted for Ceri from the front of the store.

  “Coming!” Ceri shouted back before turning to Deward. “Can you show him the ropes? Aileen just wanted him unloading the truck, then stocking the shelves today.”

  “Of course, my pleasure,” Deward said politely.

  “Thanks a billion,” Ceri said with a grin before hurrying out of the back room.

  Deward looked at Tommy nervously before clearing his throat and setting his book down next to the box. “I prefer to stay in the back and unload, so I’ll show you how to stock the shelves before the store gets too busy.”

  “Okay,” Tommy said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was nervous about screwing up since he’d never had a real job before, but he was still excited to have this chance. He’d volunteered for various things after school, and he’d been paid for tutoring most of his junior year, but this was different. This made him want to stay.

  Tommy sat down in the a folding chair in the stockroom and chugged half a bottle of water. He had thought stocking the shelves might be the easier job, but it still involved lugging around fifty pound boxes. For the first time, he was truly glad of the extra strength he’d gained. The exercise even felt good.

  Taking another long drink of cold water, he leaned back in the chair. A tug at his jeans startled him. He looked down and saw Woggy climbing up his pant leg with shaky arms.

  “How did you get out of your box, little guy?”

  Woggy squeaked imperiously in reply.

  “Ah, of course,” he said as he leaned down and plucked Woggy from his jeans and set him on his shoulder. Woggy babbled excitedly and pointed around the room. He must have wanted to be up high where he could see.

  “Is that some sort of pet?” Deward stood to his left holding out another stack of books for Tommy.

  He hadn’t heard him walk up. It was creepy how quiet he was. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, standing to take the books. “Ceri rescued him, and I’m helping take care of him until he adjusts to not having wings anymore.”

  “The odds that the pixie will be able to be reintroduced back into its natural habitat are nonexistent,” Deward said, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

  He resisted the urge to knock them askew for that comment. Deward was technically right, but he hoped Ceri would find a way to beat the odds. “I figured. I don’t think Ceri is going to try that, she just needs him to stop jumping off the table. He doesn’t understand why he can’t fly yet,” he said with a shrug.

  “It is incapable of rational thought,” Deward said before turning and walking away.

  Tommy shook his head. Trolls were odd. He adjusted the books in his arms and noticed that the top book was titled Sign Language: Magical Chants for the Deaf. He had learned Sign language in school. One of the many after-school programs he had joined to avoid going home. He’d picked it up quickly, but it had been at long time since he had signed, so he’d be rusty at best.

  Woggy hopped down onto the books. Tommy adjusted to hold them with one hand and signed hello at the pixie. To his surprise, Woggy repeated the motion. Leaving the pixie perched on the books, he headed out to the store front to put up the books. Woggy signed hello over and over, though the motion was garbled after a bit, turning into more of a salute than a hello.

  Ceri thought Woggy could learn to communicate, though. This might be the way he could. As soon as she had a break, he’d have to show her.

  He knelt and set the books down on the floor. Woggy hopped off the books and scampered toward the end of the aisle.

  “Get back here,” he said trying to grab him, and missing.

  The pixie crawled under a shelf and ran out the other side. Jumping to his feet, he ran around the end of the aisle just in time to see a witch viciously trying to stomp on the pixie.

  “Wait!” he shouted, lunging for Woggy. He grabbed him, but the witch’s heeled boot still came down on the back of his arm. Jerking his hand back, he looked up in at her in alarm. His heart pounding in his ears as adrenaline rushed through him. He hadn’t even seen the woman coming, and Woggy had almost been crushed.

  “Why would you do that?” he snapped, rising to his feet.

  The woman standing in front of him narrowed her eyes. She had long black hair that hung down to her waist, and bright green eyes that sparked with malice. He knew that kind of look well, he’d been at the receiving end of it most of his life.

  “You shouldn’t let pests into stores,” she said tightly. Her fingers twitched, and the sharp scent of magic filled the area. “That one looks half dead, anyhow.”

  Nervous, he moved the pixie behind his back. He didn’t trust this witch for a second. “He’s healing,” he replied tersely.

  The witch glanced over her shoulder, then flicked her index finger in his direction. A sharp pain stole his breath, and he stumbled, grasping his side. His vision blurred from the shock as he looked down; his hand came away bloody.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” he growled.

  The witch looked at him with a smirk, then screamed. She stumbled away
from him and lifted her hand. Purple light flashed from her palm and fiery agony clawed at his chest. The magic shredded his shirt and the skin beneath.

  “He attacked me!” the witch shrieked. “He’s losing control!”

  He crouched with one hand on the floor, but Woggy still safe behind his back, panting against the pain in his chest. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. His teeth lengthened and fur grew along the edges of his face as he growled at the witch. His hands curled into claws. She had threatened Woggy, and now attacked him. He wanted to tear her apart.

  He took a step forward, but Ceri jumped in front of him. “Get away from him, Selena!”

  “He attacked me,” Selena replied with a sneer.

  He tried to shove Ceri away, but she grabbed his arms with surprising strength and forced him backward. “Tommy, you can’t change here,” she hissed in his ear. “They’ll arrest you!” Her face was pale and fearful.

  “She tried to hurt Woggy,” he growled.

  “I know,” Ceri said, clenching her jaw tight. “But you stopped her. That’s what matters.”

  “She’s going to get away with it,” he said, standing from his crouch and taking a step forward. He could see the black-haired witch just past Ceri. She was putting on her act for the store manager. She was a liar.

  “Tommy, please,” Ceri begged.

  “Get that bitten piece of trash out of here! I can’t believe you brought him here to work,” Aileen shouted at Ceri before turning to Tommy. “You’re fired if that wasn’t clear,” the woman bit out.

  Chapter 16

  AMBER

  Amber had filled out applications at four different businesses, but she doubted any of them would call her back. Even if they did, it was unlikely the pay would cover her apartment and other bills. She slammed the truck door shut and jogged up the stairs. Maybe she could get Ceri to charm her boobs bigger so she could start stripping.

  She paused at the top of the stairs. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Something wasn’t right.

  Slowly, she walked toward her apartment door, but a familiar scent made her pause again. A piece of paper taped to her apartment door fluttered in the breeze.

  She approached it slowly. Her wolf pressed its claws into her mind, urging her to shift. She pushed down the instinct, but the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She was being watched, but she didn’t know how or from where. There was no one behind her, and there was no one else on the walkway.

  The lock on the apartment door was shiny and new. She grabbed the paper and skimmed it. An eviction notice. Her fingers dented the paper as rage tore through her. Getting her fired wasn’t enough? Donovan was taking her apartment from her too? How was he even doing this?

  The notice cited a report that there were multiple unauthorized people living in the apartments as grounds for eviction. The curtain next door moved and Amber jerked her gaze upward, catching Mrs. Huntington peering at her. The shift crept down her arms. Her muscles twitched as her fingers extended into claws and a growl erupted from her throat.

  “Typical,” a deep voice muttered behind her.

  Amber whipped around. A man with shaggy brown hair and two days’ worth of stubble was leaning against the banister watching her with a smirk. She hadn’t heard him walk up.

  “Who the hell are you?” she asked, her words slurred from the enlarged incisors crowding her mouth.

  “Mark Jackson, beta of the Lockhart Pack,” he said, giving her a mock bow.

  Amber took a deep breath and pulled back the shift. Mark’s eyes never strayed from her face as she struggled for control, but he didn’t look worried, only mildly interested.

  “Donovan sent you?” she demanded as soon as she could speak clearly again.

  “No, of course not,” he scoffed. “I was simply in the area and saw you about to lose control. I had to step in before you hurt your poor neighbor.” He took a step forward. “Everyone knows newly bitten wolves can lose control at any moment.”

  She grit her teeth. “Stay away from me and my pack.”

  “Your pack?” Mark scoffed. He walked into her personal space, forcing her to take a step back. “You don’t have a pack. Your eyes might glow red, but you aren’t a real alpha, and you never will be.”

  He took another step forward and her back hit the wall. A power she hadn’t felt before surged up inside of her. Donovan had fucked with her life. It was his fault she was bitten in the first place, then he had gotten her fired, and now evicted. Now he thought he could send his beta to intimidate her.

  She laughed in his face and closed the distance between them until they were almost touching. “Why is Donovan so desperate to have me in his pack?” she asked, peering into Mark’s eyes. He hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough. “Oh, did he not tell you he’s been trying to recruit me? Or that he promised me your position in the pack?”

  He snorted in amusement. “Like hell he did.”

  She grinned, then shoved him back as hard as she could. Her shove lifted him off his feet and he hit the banister. The place where the iron connected with the concrete cracked loudly and the banister swayed out.

  He pushed himself upright. A golden glow flickered in his eyes as a growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Red flashed at the edges of her vision and the wolf tensed in her mind. “I’m not the one that’s going to pay,” she snapped.

  Mark lunged for her. She sidestepped and swung her leg into his stomach, snapping it back before he could grab it. Having grown up with five brothers, she knew how to brawl. The kick caught Mark off-guard and he wheezed, his breath knocked out of him.

  The shift tugged at her bones and she stumbled. The wolf wanted out, but she couldn’t afford to lose control now. Mark’s fist connected with her cheek. The strike jarred painfully through her skull but she managed to stay on her feet.

  “You hit like a pixie,” she taunted, throwing a punch at his gut. He slipped out of reach and kicked her in the side as the momentum drug her forward. She hit the wall, rattling the windows.

  Mark growled, his face contorting as he began shifting. Amber slid to the right and his fist slammed against the wall where her head had been. She punched twice, catching him under the jaw, then in the throat.

  His half-shifted claws raked across her shoulder, ripping her shirt. Blood splattered on the concrete as she ducked under his follow-up attack. Ready to end this, she lunged forward. Catching him in the stomach with her uninjured shoulder, she lifted him off his feet and slammed him down against the concrete.

  The air rushed from his lungs in a wheeze. She grabbed his arm and wrist, then stepped across his body, forcing him onto his stomach. He struggled against her grip so she drove her heel into his kidney. A low growl rumbled in her chest. He could fight all he wanted, but she had better leverage, and she was stronger.

  Wild instincts rushed through her. It was time to send Donovan a message. Mark was born a werewolf, but to join a pack, there had to be a bite. A bite to change a human was always on the wrist, it was tradition. The bite to seal the pack bond was always on the back of the neck.

  Her claws cut through Mark’s flannel shirt easily. The white, raised scar from the bite contrasted sharply against his tanned skin. She set her claws over the pack mark. Magic pulsed under her fingertips, Donovan’s magic. The pack bond. She dug her claws into his skin, cutting through the scar tissue. He shouted in agony, increasing his struggles against her.

  Foreign magic flowed through her as the strength of her will fought against his. Dominance in werewolf packs was more than just who was bossier. Whatever magic enabled them to shift into wolves changed their will into something more tangible. Even though she was an alpha, there was still a chance that he was actually more dominant. This battle of wills was about proving that he was not. If Donovan wanted to challenge her, he’d have to do it himself instead of sending a lackey in his place.

  The beta twitched, then shifted, ripping his clothes. His wo
lf form was twice the size of his human one, but she was still able to hold him down easily. He lay under her grip, his tail tucked between his legs.

  “If I see you again, I will rip you apart,” she whispered in his ear. She tore her claws free and stood up.

  Mark drug himself forward on his stomach, keeping his head low.

  “I never wanted any of this, but I won’t let Donovan hurt my pack,” she threatened.

  Mark snarled at her, but turned and fled down the stairs. Mrs. Huntington cracked her door open and pressed her face up to the narrow opening.

  “I’m calling the police,” she announced in her shrill voice.

  “Go ahead, you miserable old hag,” she snapped.

  Mrs. Huntington gasped and slammed her door shut. Amber turned to her own door. The locks had been changed, but that was not going to stop her. They could evict her, but they had no right to lock all her things up inside. She lifted her foot and kicked the door down.

  Chapter 17

  AMBER

  Amber was stuffing a fistful of clothes into her backpack when pain and fear—Tommy’s—ripped through the pack bond. Her knees hit the floor, and the shift began to roll over her. She wanted to run and rip apart whoever was hurting him. Her back curved sharply, and her shirt split as the shift rushed over her. She ripped her jeans off in shreds with her teeth.

  She raced out of the apartment, letting the wolf take over. For once, they were in complete agreement. The wolf drove her forward; her legs moving faster than she had even thought possible.

  The parking lot blurred as she wove through the cars. Since she didn’t have to stick to the road, she was halfway into town in a matter of minutes. Tommy was moving, she thought. Still in pain. Still angry. Still afraid.

  Faster, she urged the wolf. Her paws pounded against hot pavement and cool grass. The scents of the city would have been fascinating in any other moment, but she ignored them as she ran.