by Holley Trent
It’d be more stable with the witchy nurse.
“Now, I’m gonna go. I’m gonna put the girls in the Mule and meet Jill at the road. Maybe I can confuse her enough that she’ll drive away and forget why she came out here in the first place.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t say sorry. Just fix it. When things go sideways around here, you fix them. You hear me, Alpha?”
“I will.”
“Good. I swear, I pity any woman who has to talk sense into an alpha on a daily basis. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Poor Ellery. Hope she comes back, you pitiful feline puffball.” Mom hung up.
Groaning, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and returned to the shop.
Darnell was still hovering around at the front, peering at Sean who was on the business phone.
Hank looked up. “’S'up?”
“Jill wants Nick.”
“You taking him?”
“No. Mom’s going to try to head her off if she comes out here.”
Hank took off his safety glasses and set them on the nearby table. “You remember what happened the last time you had her do that?”
Mason pressed his palms to the table in front of his clamped mahogany pieces and stared at a particularly interesting pattern in the wood grain. “Yeah. I remember. It wasn’t all that long ago.”
Nine months.
Nick had been just a bitty thing, a few weeks old, and it was the first time Mason had gotten to spend time with him alone. Jill had come back after a day, and Mason had snapped. He hadn’t wanted to give up Nick so soon—had barely started bonding with him.
Jill had called in her Coyotes for reinforcement, and that showdown had lasted three days. In the end, Mason had given up because the damned dogs were starting to tear up the property and they just couldn’t afford it.
He hadn’t done what an alpha should have back then, but he’d do it now. He had to do what was right, even if it meant folks got hurt and he made enemies with the Coyotes. If words didn’t work, his claws or fangs would.
“I’ll get some Cougars on standby in case you need them,” Hank said. “I rounded up a couple of reliable ones so we wouldn’t have a repeat of the last time when no one came.”
“If they don’t come, cut them loose. I’m not going to have people reaping benefits of glaring membership if they’re not going to pitch in.”
Hank chuckled and palmed his phone. “That’s the spirit, Alpha. And by the way, needing help from other strong shifters in your group isn’t a sign of weakness. It means you leverage what you have to use it when it’s needed.”
“Dad was much better at that—at making them respect him.”
“Because Mom made him better at it. Made him delegate. Kept him straight. One man can’t do everything. Can’t be everything and everywhere at once. Remember when he was coaching peewee football? He always said the most important thing was to have a third string in place, even if you didn’t think you’d need them. You’re first string, right? Me and Mom and Sean—we’re your second string. You need to know who’s in the third and be ready to send them out to play when it’s their time.”
“I don’t feel like a very good first string right now, but I’m fucking trying. I’m a quarterback without a receiver.”
The truth was, Ellery would probably handle the Jill thing on her own. She’d probably make the other woman skitter away with her coyote tail between her legs using nothing but her hands on her hips and that authoritative nurse tone. She probably wouldn’t even stoop to insulting the woman. She’d just make Jill think that her idea, whatever it was, was the best for all of them, and Jill wouldn’t argue it.
Mason didn’t even want to argue with Ellery. Not about anything. Arguing got in the way of affection, and he couldn’t help but feel they had a lot of lost time to make up for. Why couldn’t Nick have been hers? She would make an incredible mother. Her learning curve would be short.
He groaned again. Somewhere in the mess, there was a lesson. Questioning The Fates was always a waste of energy he couldn’t spare.
Hank squeezed his shoulder on the way toward the side door. “She’ll be back, man. But wouldn’t you prefer her to come back to a small mess instead of a big one? You don’t want to scare her off.”
Yeah, there was still a chance for that. He thought she’d been wanting to tell him yes—that she’d stay—but she hadn’t said the words. If she was on the fence, the last thing he wanted was for her to return to a mess.
“I’ll fix it.”
“We’ll fix it,” Hank said, leaning on the door. “And don’t worry about the favor. I’m sure I’ll be needing you to do one for me soon enough.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ellery shook the tingling sensation out of her hands and backed away from the bed along with Gail and Millie.
Three times.
They’d tried to revive the ex-demon known as Gulielmus three times, but still, he didn’t wake. He moved, though. He’d clasped his hand around Claude’s wrist and let out a long, rattling exhale. It was more than he’d done in a year.
He’d been tended around the clock by a woman named Clarissa Morton who was related to Ellery through Gail, who was related to her through Claude whose brother was married to her granddaughter Ariel. Convoluted, but typical for their little community. Family was something they acquired, not necessarily were born into.
Millie rubbed her hands together as if she’d caught a chill. Maybe she had. The magic Claude had pushed through them had a stripping effect. It took what they offered and honed it into one great tool. One large dose of medicine. It hadn’t been enough this time.
“I’ve been called in to energy work before,” Millie said, “but nothing like this. The girls aren’t going to believe it. I’ve never heard of anyone getting close to folks like you all.”
“People around you know what you are?” Gail asked.
Millie nodded. “Yep. I think folks around those parts foster it because we keep other kinds of undesirables out of town. Hell, ask Mason. He and his daddy helped us chase out a motorcycle gang years ago. We try to be tolerant, but there’s only so much disturbance folks can take. Floyd Foye was a hell of a guy. Community pillar, and so strong. Bad heart got him when Cougar challengers couldn’t. Oh, and they tried. They always try if they sniff the slightest bit of weakness. Sometimes even when they don’t.”
Ellery gulped.
Millie gave her a pat. “Oh, don’t worry. He can take care of himself. Mason’s a lot like his daddy in some ways. Easy to like, when they want to be. Hardworking. Would give you the shirts off their backs. But then, they’re hugely different in some others. I think Mason’s got a more organized brain. He thinks more than he acts, which isn’t always the best thing when you’re in a shifter group. Sometimes you’ve got to fight and sort out what’s what later.”
Yeah, that sounded like Mason. Gentle when it wasn’t expected of him and regretful when he wasn’t.
“Mason sounds interesting,” Gail said. Her eyes were on her husband who was conferring quietly with two extremely large and extremely gorgeous men at the bedside.
Ellery wouldn’t have known they’d once been angels from the looks of them. Maybe it was the waist-length dreadlocks on one and the nasty-looking katana strapped to the other. She’d learned his damned sword’s name before she learned the man’s. The sword was called Sasayaku. The man was called Tamotsu. His friend was Tarik, and apparently his mouthpiece. Tamotsu had hardly said a word in four hours. Grunted a lot, though.
Ellery took her gaze off the visual feast in front of her. They were nice to look at, sure, but they couldn’t wear a pair of blue jeans as well as Mason.
She smiled. “Yeah, Mason’s interesting. Pretty sure I have Agatha to blame for the whole scenario. I think she coordinated the match.”
“That’s totally something she’d do. I think she’s getting impatient. Not enough babies around for her liking.”
“You and Claude cou
ld give her one.”
“Eh. We’re not in a hurry. We have forever, after all.”
Ellery groaned. “Perk of being immortal, I guess. I have no such luxury.”
Gail being eternally bound to an immortal meant that she was one, too. Lucky bitch.
“I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” Gail said.
“I hate you, heifer.”
“Hate you too, strumpet.” Gail sighed and wrapped her in a tight hug. “I already miss you. You’re not coming back, are you?”
Ellery gave her head a slow shake and inhaled her sister’s pound cake-and-too-damn-much-coffee scent. She drank so much of the stuff it had practically become a perfume. “What makes you ask that?”
“I know my sister. You’re like me in all the ways that matter, and I … I wouldn’t come back if I were you.”
The tightness Ellery had been holding into her chest since arriving released as her constricted around Gail. Gail’s opinion mattered. “I think I’ll keep him.”
Gail giggled. “I think it was supposed to be the other way around.”
“Maybe, but when does supposed to ever really apply to us? We were supposed to be good, quiet witches.”
Claude snorted. He was probably quite happy he was out of reach of one of Gail’s elbows.
Gail let go of her and Claude sauntered over.
“I don’t believe it was a complete waste of effort,” he said. “Tarik thinks we should try again next month. The magic may need to aggregate.”
Millie pulled a small, plastic-covered organizer—the checkbook-sized kind that Avon ladies sometimes gave to clients at the end of the year—and held it up to her face. She nudged her glasses up and squinted some more.
Would probably help if she cleaned the lenses.
“What day?” she asked.
“Twenty-eight from now.”
She cringed. “Coven meeting that day. Already moved it three times because of work schedules.”
Claude shrugged. “Bring the coven. A boost couldn’t hurt. Even if the magic isn’t quite the same, it’ll help seal in the kind we need.”
Millie licked the end of a small pencil she had in her chambray shirt’s pocket and scribbled on the calendar. “Girls might like a field trip. How are we getting here?”
“Angel escorts.”
She cringed again. “Drat. I was hoping you’d just do it the old-fashioned way and send us some plane tickets. I don’t think I like teleporting. My old brain doesn’t like being whisked through time and space.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Gail said. “I promise.”
Gail walked Ellery and Millie to the living room, still clutching Ellery’s hand tightly. John waited nearby to whisk them back.
Claude eased around them, pried Gail’s fingers off of Ellery’s, and gave his wife’s shoulder a placating pat. “We’ll keep working on the hellmouth situation. Tamotsu and Tarik will put out some feelers and see if they can find another with the same ability willing to help. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait for Papa to wake and see what happens.
“I’ll call you,” Ellery said. “Whenever I figure out where my phone is. I’m going to need to come home and deal with the hospital and such.”
Claude rubbed his chin contemplatively. “You should bring Mason. Just show up for Sunday dinner at your parents’ and see how long it takes for the polite veneer to slip.”
Claude had managed to turn them nasty in less than fifteen minutes, but then, he’d made it a challenge to undo them. He hated the way they treated Gail and had absolutely no chill about calling them on it.
“They might hate him even more than you, and he doesn’t have the bad-influence witch excuse. The out-of-wedlock kid and his lazy shave job would be enough.”
Even thinking about Nick made her miss cuddling him. Taking care of him. She hadn’t known what it meant to take care of someone who wasn’t going to be discharged and go back to their own home until now. At the hospital, she made certain she didn’t get attached. But she had no reason not to get attached to Nick. Or his father, for that matter.
She grinned. “I’ll let you know when it happens so you can get your bets in.” She hooked her arm around John’s, as did Millie, and moments later, they were on the ground at the Foye ranch.
“Shit,” came John’s voice as Ellery’s spotty vision cleared.
It took a moment to understand what she was seeing; there was just too much happening at once.
Two Cougars snarling at a noncorporeal demon.
Mrs. Foye running around frantically with Hannah on her heels, both tossing salt at the violently flagellating thing.
Miles holding a wailing Nick, and shouting at some woman Ellery didn't recognize.
Dogs—no, coyotes? Swarming around a fight in the desert. It was a Cougar and …
Ellery squinted, unable to make out the shapes. They were moving too much.
No. That was her Cougar and another she didn’t recognize. No holds barred. Teeth and claws and … way too much blood. Whose?
“Mason!” She started toward the fray, already trying to work up some kind of magic. She didn’t know what kind, just anything she could put out to push them apart.
Strong arms cinched her waist and pulled her off the ground.
“Let me go, John!”
“Not John.”
“What?” No, she already knew. The energy wasn’t right. John’s energy was soothing. This guy’s was pompous, sour, and familiar.
Edgar.
There came a sharp prick at her thigh. A burn emanated from it, numbing her body and stilling her tongue before she could scream.
The fighting Cougars blurred in the distance, and she tried to reach for the one with the red-gold fur but couldn’t lift her arm.
And then she was out.
• • •
Mason was going to kill him, and for once, he didn’t care about repercussions. They all wanted him to act like an alpha? Fine. When he tracked down that opportunistic motherfucker, he was going to force him to shift, break his snout, and flay him like a cow for its leather. Not that the leather would be any good with all the holes Mason planned on putting into him first. Oh, he’d make sure he was so holey that salmon could swim through his carcass.
Edgar had grabbed her.
She’d been running toward Mason. She’d come back just like she’d said, and she’d run toward him. And then, from out of nowhere, was fucking Edgar Sheehan. He’d put his arms around his woman. He didn’t know what he did to her, but she’d gone limp and he’d carried her off. By the time Mason extricated himself from the fight with one of Edgar’s buddies, they were gone.
The opportunistic motherfucker should have been hoping Mason didn’t find him before his cat took over for good. Mason might have shown mercy, but his cougar wasn’t so passive now. His cougar wouldn’t have anything left to lose.
John paced in front of him, hands jammed in his pockets, muttering to himself.
Agatha, who’d known only that something was wrong with Ellery, had popped in and helped John deal with the demon, but she was of no use tracking her. Even the orange cat could provide no hints. Ellery’s familiar had no clue where she’d been taken, only that she wasn’t safe.
“I can’t pinpoint her location if she’s unconscious,” Agatha said. “And even when she’s awake, she needs to put out some psychic road signs for me to read. Put off power, somehow. If she were fighting with magic, I might be able to find her because her magic comes from me and like knows like. But if she’s asleep … ”
Mason pushed some air through clenched teeth. Asleep or worse. “Yeah.”
“It was a really peculiar time to challenge you for your alpha position, wasn’t it?” Mom leaned in the doorway between her living room and kitchen. Her forehead was furrowed and T-shirt bloody and ripped from the fight. Mason didn’t know whose blood it was. If it was Mom’s, she certainly wasn’t showing the effects of losing it. “Is it possible that Edgar might have known too much about what
was going on out here?”
“I don’t think so,” Sean said. “I think he was just at the right place at the right time. He may have been coming out here for something else, and seeing that Mason had his hands full, decided to make things a little difficult for him. There was no secret that he’d wanted the alpha job for a while and wouldn’t have challenged under normal circumstances. Maybe he thought this would be his way in.”
“By stealing my mate?” Mason asked.
Hank shook his head. “She’s not your mate yet. He might not know that, but he could tell you’re not totally bound.”
Mason buried his face in his hands and forced out a long exhale. Edgar would know that. Would smell it on her. She hadn’t had the fucking chance to tell him yes. And now, if he didn’t find her, his countdown would expire and he’d be out of Edgar’s way for good.
Could he find her in time? Less than a couple of weeks, and it didn’t seem like very long, but if she was with Edgar, it was too long. An hour was too long. If he touched her … well, he was already dead, but if he touched her, Mason would see to it that every Cougar group in the Southwest turned their backs on Edgar’s family. Cougars may have been independent, but their glarings kept them safe when they needed them. No Cougar would intentionally alienate his group, so Edgar’s risk had not only been desperate, but foolhardy.
Mason leaned back and fixed his stare on Hank. “I can’t just sit here. I’ve got to do something. We need to figure out where he might have taken her and how far they could have gone.”
“I can help with that,” Millie said. “One of the girls in the coven works at the county records office. She could pull up listings of all the property the Sheehans own and that’d give you someplace to start locally, at least.”
“Thanks.”
Millie shuffled away, dragging her sore leg behind her.
He had to respect her for getting mixed up with those Coyotes. She’d run into the fracas swinging a broomstick—no stereotype there, at all—to disperse them. And they’d run off into the desert, either because they’d grown bored in the way Coyotes tended to, or because they didn’t like their odds. She’d gotten nipped in the leg by one dumb dog, though, and he suspected she knew exactly who it was given the way she glowered at it as it turned tail and hauled ass.
