by Callie Rose
Kian, Malix, and Frost are sitting around a modern glass and tile table in the kitchen. Kian’s got his boots up on the tabletop, while Frost is sitting backward in his chair, leaning wearily on the seatback. I wonder if he’s feeling the effects of the poison, because I’m not used to seeing him look so tired. The table’s covered in what has to be literally every edible food in the house, as well as an opened case of beers. And the calico cat is on Malix’s lap as he slouches in his seat.
I raise my eyebrow at him and slide into the only empty chair. “I see you’ve just made yourselves at home.”
Malix scoffs. “Look at this place. Dude can afford to feed and water us. Have a beer.”
He leans over and shoves the case my way. The calico readjusts on his lap and lies back down, undeterred. I haven’t had much experience around cats, but this one seems oddly comfortable with strangers in her house. Especially considering she can most likely sense our wolves inside us. A lot of animals have a better instinct for those kinds of things than humans do.
I grab a beer, pleased to find it’s at least cold, then pop the tab and study the spread in front of me. Bread, lunch meat, cheese, five different chip bags, hot dogs, mustard, a plate of crinkle fries. I help myself to a couple slices of bread, some bologna, and the mustard. “Did you guys leave any food for the actual homeowner?”
Malix smiles wolfishly. “He’ll just think he’s going crazy when half the bread loaf is gone and he’s sure he just bought it.”
I dump some mustard on the bread as I say, “I just hope he’s got a full day at work so we can be long gone before he gets back. It’d be nice if we could steer clear of humans for a while.”
“Not an option,” Kian says gruffly. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks right at home in this stranger’s house. It makes me wonder how often the three of them case a place and then use it while the owner’s away at work.
Honestly, it’s brilliant. Even staying in seedy motels that could be paid for by the hour, I’ve dropped a good chunk of change on a place to sleep in the last few years. They’ve probably been spending their nights in much nicer places than I have, and doing it for free.
Frost reaches for a hot dog as he says, “Kian’s right. Questioning humans is our only recourse. Otherwise, we may never find the Tree of Life.”
I arch a brow at him. “You think humans are going to know where it is?”
He wraps a slice of white bread around the hotdog, then smashes the bread in a seamless circle around the meat. “No. However, I believe someone will know something.”
Malix agrees. “Won’t know until we start asking around, huh?”
I watch Frost finish his poor man’s pig in a blanket, and it brings back a flood of memories of my childhood with Ridge’s family. Pack life isn’t fancy or expensive. We lived in the middle of nowhere, growing or hunting our own food and cutting corners anywhere we could. Ridge’s mom used to roll pieces of white bread like she was rolling out pastry dough, then wrap the thin slices around hot dogs before frying it in her cast-iron skillet.
Comfort food. The kind that tugs on heartstrings with the weight of the memories.
Frost finishes smoothing his bread around the dog, then dips it in a pile of ketchup on his plate. He’s either unaware I’m watching him, or he doesn’t care.
I take a bite of my sandwich, chew, and then swallow before I ask, “What if word has reached this town about what happened back at Erik’s?”
“Doubtful,” Kian says, snatching another handful of chips from the bag. “This is the desert. These towns don’t talk to each other. It’s everybody for themselves.”
“I know what that’s like,” I mutter into my sandwich. “So what’s the plan, then?”
Frost dips his hot dog again. “We will find random pedestrians in town and inquire about the Tree of Life.”
I laugh. “Just walk up to some rando redneck and say, hey, what can you tell me about a magical tree?”
Kian lifts his head and levels an irritated glare at me. “You got a better idea?”
“You know I don’t,” I shoot back.
He bares his teeth at me. “That’s what I thought.”
And just like that, the little bit of warmth I had for him after he tended my wounds fades.
Fucker.
Just before three, we help ourselves to some supplies from the house, then head out to get started on the questioning.
It’s not my favorite plan, but like Kian so eloquently pointed out, it’s our only plan.
There isn’t much to the downtown area. It’s a larger place than the nowhere-ville that Erik lived in, but it’s not as big as Oscura. We park our bikes in a small grocery store parking lot then take off on foot, but it becomes clear pretty fast that there isn’t a lot of foot traffic on the sidewalks.
“If all else fails,” Kian says, “we could go into some of the shops.”
Frost holds up a hand, shaking his head “Cameras. We’d get caught on record.”
Kian rolls his eyes. “You think any place in this podunk town has security cameras?”
Malix slides sideways between them. “How about before we crash the stores and brave the cameras, we try that guy over there?” He points out a figure walking down the sidewalk across the street.
Kian moves to step off the sidewalk, but I slap the back of my hand to his barrel chest. “Nope,” I say. “You stay here. You look like you want to kick his ass. We want him to talk, not run like a little girl.”
I hop off the curb and look both ways before jogging across the two lane road to follow after the man.
“Hi! Excuse me?” I say, using my best ditzy midwestern girl accent.
The man turns, his eyes pinched in irritation, but the moment his gaze lands on me, a smile lights up his face. Not a genuine one, since it doesn’t reach his eyes. Just an acknowledgement that at least the girl who’s bothering him is hot.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I say as I stop in front of him. I wind my finger in my dark hair and smile shyly. “It’s just… I’m lost, you see? I’m hoping you might know where I can find the Tree of Life.”
He laughs. “You’re kidding. This is a joke, right?”
I shake my head and do my best to look confused. “No? I’m supposed to meet an old friend there.”
The guy shakes his head, his grin widening. “Come on. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t believe in shit like that. You sound like Crazy Harry.”
I don’t like the way he calls me “a pretty girl,” in a dismissive tone that tells me that’s all he thinks of me as. But getting pissy with him over the tone of his voice won’t get me answers.
I widen my vapid smile and throw a little hip pop in. “Who’s Crazy Harry?”
“Just some local weirdo,” he says with a shrug. “He’s always going on about crazy shit like magic. Standing outside the general store with a sign about the end of days or some shit.”
“Does he live nearby?”
The man steps closer to me, giving me what I figure he thinks is a sexy look. “Oh no, baby. You don’t wanna go anywhere near that psycho.” He reaches up and touches my arm. “But you should let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, that’s real sweet,” I say, my voice as syrupy as possible. I’m paging through my brain archives, trying to find the right words to let him down easy, since he seems like the type to get offended the moment I say no. Especially since he’s hitting on a girl in an oversized t-shirt, cotton shorts that hang to her knees, and who’s covered in bruises and scratches.
He’s clearly not picky.
Before I can speak again, he moves a little bit closer and lowers his voice. “Are you aware there are three men watching you?”
I glance across the street where I left the feral shifters. They’re all facing us, arms crossed, expressions dead serious.
Jesus, have they never heard of lying low?
I giggle and hate the sound as soon as I make it. “Oh those are just my fri
ends.”
His dark brow rises toward his hairline. “Is one of ’em your boyfriend?”
That familiar pain pierces my chest—the pain of knowing that all three of them should be my mates, but aren’t. I keep my carefree expression painted in place and say, “Oh no, just friends. We’re traveling together. Looking to meet up with our other friend at that tree I mentioned.”
The guy laughs again, and he gets friendlier with his hand, letting his palm rest on my shoulder as he leans in to speak. “Baby, that tree isn’t real. Someone’s pulling your leg.”
“I’m sure it—”
“Listen, let me buy you dinner,” he says, cutting me off as if I haven’t said a word at all. “We can talk more about it over drinks.”
“That’s real nice of you,” I murmur, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
“That’s because I’m nice.” He slides his palm up over my shoulder and around me, starting to ease me down the sidewalk. “You’ll like the pub. Great food, cheap drinks.”
Jesus. This guy definitely doesn’t know when to stop. If I weren’t trying to get information out of him, I would’ve planted my fist in his face the first time he put a hand on me.
I’m two seconds away from saying “fuck it” and laying him flat on his ass with a well-placed boot when his arm tenses around my shoulders.
I glance up to realize that all three shifters have come to join us on the sidewalk. They’ve fanned out around us, surrounding me and the overbearing guy. Their stony expressions haven’t changed since they crossed the street, but up close, they’re a little more terrifying.
The heavy weight of the man’s arm vanishes from my shoulders, and he scrams. Right off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction without another word.
Malix lifts his hand and crooks his pinky finger after the guy with a grin. “Bye.”
I punch him in the arm. “What the fuck, you assholes? I was getting good information from that guy.”
Kian scoffs and glances off over my shoulder. “He talked too much.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe so, but in that ‘talking,’ he told me there’s a town weirdo who talks about magic and the end of days. Sounds like a promising lead.”
Frost cocks his head. “Did he tell you where we might find this man?”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “He might have, if you neanderthals hadn’t scared him off with all your testosterone.”
Malix leers at me, then tosses his arm over my shoulders. “Hey, baby, let me buy you dinner…”
“Oh, and you were eavesdropping. Cute.” I shrug off his arm, my skin prickling with irritation and awareness at his presence. “Come on. Let’s find someone else to ask about Crazy Harry. And this time, don’t fucking scare them off until we find out what we need to know.”
Malix chuckles, and Kian takes the lead, striding off down the sidewalk.
I slow my pace and fall behind, giving myself some distance from the shifters. With a little space between us, I can allow myself to feel the emotions I shoved firmly away after they chased off our informant.
Shock.
Heat.
Confusion.
My mind whirls with all the conflicted feelings that have haunted me since Kian showed up at Joe’s Bar and Grill and turned my life upside down.
There was something almost... possessive about the way they converged on me and that man. The way they stared at him like they wanted to tear him limb from limb.
But that doesn’t make sense.
Why be possessive about something you don’t even want?
Chapter 23
It takes three random civilians before we find someone who can tell us where to find Crazy Harry.
The answer leads us to a small park on the outskirts of town. An old rusted swing set, a scorching metal slide, and a precarious-looking wooden seesaw sit just beyond the park sign. A small group of young evergreens huddle around a man-made pond, where a lone figure stands tossing bread on the ground. Two ducks and three squirrels dart around the sparse grass at his feet, snatching up pieces as soon as they hit the dirt.
We approach the old guy together. The three shifters flank me as if they’re afraid to let me get too close to Crazy Harry without them there to buffer. It’s another strangely possessive gesture that makes me feel like I don’t know what twilight zone I’m living in.
We stop a few feet to the old guy’s left, on the banks of the pond. He’s a grizzled old man with a giant nose covered in broken blood vessels and a beard that forms a point over his skinny, sunken chest. He’s wearing an electric yellow tank top and ragged looking pants. No shoes.
“Excuse me,” I say before one of the guys can speak and scare him off, “are you Harry?”
A bushy gray brow arches over his wrinkled eye, but he doesn’t look away from feeding the squirrels. “Maybe. Who’s asking?”
I exchange glances with Malix, then step ahead of the others. “My name’s Amora. I’m seeking the location of something that I think you might know.”
Crazy Harry rips the last piece of crust into three pieces and lets them drift to the ground.
After the silence drags on for far too long, Frost speaks up. “White bread in large amounts can be unhealthy for ducks.”
I jerk around to glare at him. If his head full of useless knowledge scares off our only lead, he won’t need to worry about the poison. I’ll kill him anyway.
Crazy Harry finally looks over at us, that eyebrow still arched—only now, it’s aimed at Frost. “Look around you, kid. We’re in the goddamn desert. Some days, these animals don’t get food unless I bring it. Some days, I bring frozen peas. Some days, I bring a bag of birdseed from the Wal-Mart. And some days, I have old crusty bread. And these sons of bitches appreciate anything they get.”
I try, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. The crazy guy just dressed down Frost like he’s a damn college professor.
Frost inclines his head. “Point taken.”
Crazy Harry shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants and levels his gaze on me. His eyes are a surprisingly pale blue, and they pierce right through me, like he can see inside me. Now that I’m getting a better look at him, he appears a little younger than I guessed at before, though his outfit still makes him look a bit like a California surfer boy gone to seed in his New Mexico retirement.
“Shifters, huh?” he says, his gaze darting between the four of us. “We don’t see your kind around here often.”
Kian reacts immediately, stepping toward the old man with his fists clenched. I throw an arm out to stop him. I’m surprised as hell that the old man can tell what we are too, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be beat up or silenced. We want someone who’s got their ear to the ground, supernaturally speaking, so this is a good thing.
“How did you know?” I ask.
Crazy Harry shrugs, then leans down to pet one of the squirrels between its little pointy, tufted ears. “I know a lot of things.” When he straightens again, there’s just the hint of fear in his pale gaze. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No,” I say, giving Kian a pointed look. I drop my arm away from the feral shifter’s chest and step bodily in front of him before he can terrify our informant into running. “Harry, are you familiar with the Tree of Life?”
The old man’s eyes widen. “I am. Most people don’t think it’s real.”
“We know it’s real,” I assure him. “We just need to know how to find it. Do you know where it is?”
He offers me a yellowing grin. “Sure do.”
“Could you tell us?”
He glances at the feral shifters again, then back at me. “What’s in it for me?”
Kian growls and takes another step forward, but I throw out an arm to block him.
“What do you want?” I ask Harry.
“Your panties,” he says, a twinkle in his eye. That twinkle tells me he’s absolutely baiting the three large shifters, who he must think are my boyfriends and/or protectors.
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A tidal wave of fury rises up in the air around me as all three feral shifters snarl at the crazy old man and lunge for him.
He cackles and dances away, holding up both hands in supplication. The fear I saw earlier returns to his eyes, and I start to think he really must be a little unbalanced if he thinks it’s smart to play with fire like this. He knows we’re shifters, and even if he doesn’t know that the men are something even more powerful and dangerous than that, he should think twice about pissing off three wolves.
“It was a joke!” he insists quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
Kian snarls and snatches at Harry’s tank top, pulling him up to his tiptoes. “You want to discuss payment? How about we let you live? Is that good enough for you?”
“Kian,” I bite out, a warning in my voice. “Put the crazy man down.”
He bares his teeth at me. “Not until he tells us what we need to know.”
Sighing, I dig into my back pocket for my wallet and open it to take inventory of the contents. “All right, old man. I’ve got fifty bucks. Will that work?”
Crazy Harry grins at me over Kian’s arm, his weight dangling from his shirt. “Works just fine, little lady.”
I tap Kian on the shoulder. “Drop him.”
The massive shifter glares at me, his fingers tightening on Harry’s tank top. The gold rings around his rich brown eyes glint like the aura around a dying sun, and his brows pull together.
“Drop. Him,” I repeat, feeling like I’m arguing with a damn brick wall.
Snarling again, Kian releases Harry’s shirt, and the old man hits the ground on his bare feet, then falls backward onto his ass.
I offer Harry the bundle of bills. “Tell us what you know.”
He nods, counts the bills, then shoves them in his pocket. His hand re-emerges a moment later with a pack of cigarettes.
“In the northernmost part of the state, the Rocky Mountains,” Harry says, popping a thin white roll that is most definitely not a cigarette between his lips. “There’s a place called the Devil’s Teeth,” he adds, a gleam of mania in his eye. He clicks his lighter, then draws in a deep breath of smoke.
