“They’re trying,” Cassie insisted. “There was all that rain last week, then the shipment of lumber didn’t arrive. Now there’s some issue with hornets and a badger. They’re tired as well. It’s fall, and they’re trying to get their harvests in and butcher. Running a crew out to Savior Mountain only to find the lumber didn’t arrive is making people less willing to help.”
“I know I’m feeling less willing to help,” Hadur grumbled. “We’ve all done enough for these werewolves. If they can’t get their crap together, then they’ll be living in tents this winter. Or they can take Dallas up on his offer and rejoin his pack.”
I wondered if that wasn’t secretly what Dallas was hoping. It still was an embarrassment to him that his son had absconded with a bunch of his pack to form their own. Clinton’s wolves might need to rough it a bit this winter, but it was in nobody’s best interests to have them freezing in tents—or abandoning Clinton and adding to the issues still simmering between the two packs.
“I can take care of the hornets and the badger,” I volunteered.
“Thanks.” Cassie smiled over at me. “Let me know what happens, will you? I don’t particularly like displacing wildlife, but I’m eager to get Clinton’s pack settled and put all this behind me. Any little roadblock is one roadblock too many.”
“I’m up for helping a few days if we decide to do a community barn-raising effort or something,” I told her. “I might not have much experience, but I can swing a hammer and operate a saw.”
“Me too.” Sylvie sighed. “Let’s schedule a day and see what we all can get done. If we can at least get rudimentary structures in place before the first frost, I’m counting it a win.”
“Okay.” Cassie held up her hands. “I’ll pick a few days this month and see how those work for everyone. I appreciate you all continuing to chip in here. I know this is getting tiresome.”
It was, but we’d put up with werewolf issues since I could remember. For once in my life, I felt like I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. A future where Clinton’s and Dallas’s packs lived in harmony with the town of Accident, following their rules and becoming part of the community, was worth taking a few days off work and getting blisters from running a screw gun for hours at a time.
“Okay.” Sylvie stood up. “Let me grab the apple pies out of the oven and then we can hear all about Adrienne’s sexy dream while we eat dessert and drink coffee.”
Ugh. I’d thought they’d forgotten about that. I got up and followed Sylvie into the kitchen, grabbing mugs and ferrying them out to the table along with the two pots of coffee while my sisters handled clearing off the dirty dishes. This was one of the other downsides of our growing family—more dishes. And the need for a second coffee maker. When there were a dozen people for dinner, one coffee maker just didn’t cut it.
It made me all warm and fuzzy inside to think that Cassie went through all this just so we could get together as a family every Sunday night. She’d bought extra plates and silverware, gotten a second coffee maker, doubled her main-dish recipes. And although we all helped with the prep and clean-up, and contributed side dishes and desserts, I’m sure there was still plenty left for Cassie to do once we left for the day.
That’s who she was, though. She was the matriarch of our family. She’d been our rock ever since our grandmother had died, and our mother had taken off. She’d been the one who’d raised the younger of us who barely remembered our father and felt Cassie had been more of a mother than the woman who’d given birth to us.
“So.” Sylvie motioned for me to sit down and slid a slice of apple pie my way. “Let’s hear it.”
“It started out as a bit of a nightmare,” I confessed. Then I told them all about the horned monster chasing me, how I’d panicked and ran and tried to protect myself from him—until I didn’t.
“You know, if you’ve got a thing about demons, I’d be happy to introduce you to a few,” Lucien teased.
Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “Hello. We’ve all got a thing about demons. Don’t hold back on us, Lucien. We’ve got two single sisters here. Bring out the eligible bachelors.”
“No thanks. I’m good.” Babylon laughed.
“I think that dream is less about demons and more about Addy embracing what she fears the most,” Sylvie chimed in.
“Which is drowning.” I shuddered. “I don’t care how much you psychoanalyze my dreams, Sylvie, I’m not cave diving. In fact, I’m not scuba diving at all. Ten years of advanced-level swimming and lifeguard lessons have only taught me I’m better off with my feet on solid ground.”
She reached out and patted my arm. “I mean loving. You run away and run away, when you should be jumping in with both feet.”
“Naked. Sprawled across the bed. Horned dude on top of you,” Eshu teased.
“I’m up for that. I just want him gone by morning,” I joked.
Actually that was a lie. I wanted someone to stick around. I wanted more than just a booty call. But like Sylvie had said, I was nervous about opening my heart up to someone who would turn out to be a total asshole. No, being alone was better. I had Drake and the squirrels for company. And if I found some hot dude in a bar, then I’d kick my animal companions out of the bedroom for one night. Then go back to my life in the morning.
“Well, I think that was some seriously hot dream,” Babylon told me.
“It was, until I was rudely awakened by squirrels,” I lamented.
My younger sister chuckled and shook her head. “You seriously need to get laid, Addy. I mean really laid, not dream-dude laid.”
I snorted. “You’re sounding more and more like Sylvie. I work a lot and I don’t exactly meet a lot of guys when I’m getting rid of an ant infestation or removing a pissed-off raccoon from someone’s garage. Plus I’ve got a vulture and four squirrels now living in my bedroom. Kinda kills the mood.”
“Kick them out for the night,” she said. “Or get a hotel room, or go to his house, or do it in the truck. I mean it, Addy. You need to get out more.”
She was right, but somehow after I was done working, the idea of showering, putting on decent clothing and makeup, and going out seemed beyond me. It was all I could do to get clean and put on pajamas most nights.
“Okay, social director. What’s going on this week? I promise I’ll make it out one night.”
One night. Baby steps, right? It was so darned sad. When I’d lived in Accident I’d had a heck of a commute and still managed to get out now and then—at least twice or three times a week. But here I pretty much knew everyone. Outside the wards, I didn’t. And there was something that felt strange throwing back a few cold ones with a room full of humans instead of a room full of minotaurs, werewolves, dragons, and trolls.
“Monday is Karaoke night at the bar. Then there’s Taco Tuesday with Salsa dancing lessons. Wednesday is wine tasting, and Thursday is craft beer night. Friday and Saturday are kind of hectic, but the bands are always good.”
The idea of sitting alone in a packed bar with music blaring didn’t sound all that appealing. Actually the idea of sitting alone didn’t sound appealing. I wasn’t exactly shy, but it was hard to start up a conversation with strangers.
“When are you off work?” I asked Babylon. “Maybe we can go somewhere together and you can introduce me to a few people?”
“Rita and Ralph are hosting a fall party on their farm. Bonfire. Beer. Corn maze. They’ve got pygmy goats.”
“You totally had me at pygmy goats,” I told her. “I hate to crash a party, though. I don’t know Rita and Ralph at all.”
“Silly, you’ll be my guest.” Babylon reached out and playfully slugged my shoulder. “There’s going to be around thirty people there, but I’ll probably only know three or four. It’s a perfect opportunity for both of us to meet people and connect.”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
“That’s what sisters are for,” she said. “And maybe you’ll meet someone to boink in the corn—someone more real than a
dream demon.”
Maybe. But I wasn’t counting on it.
Chapter 5
Adrienne
When I got home, the squirrels nearly tackled me at the door. I’d never gotten this sort of enthusiastic greeting before in my life. What was wrong? Had they run out of nuts to eat? Were they just bored and couldn’t manage to manipulate the television remote? Had Timmy fallen in the well?
No, it seemed that the dog-thing had been back prowling around the yard again, and the squirrels were very distraught about it.
“He can’t get in,” I told them. “First, there’s no way he can figure out the door key code, push the buttons, and turn the knob to open the door. Secondly, even if he could manage that, there are magical wards on the house. Besides, I think we’ve got him all wrong. Just because he’s scary-looking doesn’t mean he’s a bad doggie…or doggie-thing.”
Clearly the squirrels had a differing opinion on that.
A hellhound. If Lucien was right, then no wonder the squirrels were afraid. I’d been afraid of the dog-thing when I’d first encountered it as well, but I’d quickly changed my mind. Maybe his initial growling and teeth-baring had been because he was scared as well. I’d seen so many hungry strays that acted that way and it took a while for them to trust even me who could communicate with them. He’d clearly loved the liver treats, and I was assuming he was the one who ate the rib bones. He’d come back repeatedly. I was probably the only person who’d been nice to him.
Well, except for yelling at him last night. I did feel bad about that. Poor doggie. Just because he looked scary didn’t mean he was that way on the inside. I’d grown up among supernatural creatures who would have terrified any human who set eyes upon them. I needed to not be so judgmental. Heck, less than a month in the human world, and I was already yelling at stray hellhounds to get off my lawn at three in the morning.
Determined to do better, I went and got out a ham bone I’d been saving for soup and took it out to the front lawn. Then I sat and waited.
Orange-red eyes lit up from the woods and I shivered, wondering if this was a good idea or not. I reached out to the animal, asking it to come in close. The orange-red eyes moved, then came out, the darkness revealing a large cat.
“Hey Buster,” I greeted our neighborhood feral kitty. “Come get a little ham.”
I tore a piece off the bone and held it out as he bounded across the yard toward me. Buster took the meat gently from my fingers and purred as he ate. I waited until he was done to converse further, because Buster felt eating and talking were two things that should not happen at the same time.
After he was done, Buster got really chatty. Evidently a calico two blocks over was in heat and he was planning a midnight serenade in hopes that he could get it on. The guys four doors down hadn’t secured the lid on their garbage container last night and Buster had enjoyed some pizza crusts and half a turkey sandwich. The Richardsons had called in an exterminator—sadly not me—and Buster was lamenting the decline in the mouse population over there.
I tossed him another piece of ham and told him that the rest was for the hellhound that had been in my yard last night. He froze, his eyes wide as he looked up at me.
Buster was afraid of the hellhound. He was quite vocal about how it was a monster who only appeared when it was on a hunt. He was positive that the hellhound would kill anyone who got in the way of his prey. Then he would kill his prey and drag them all into a fiery pit of torture.
Cats. They were so dramatic, especially when it came to dogs. I really didn’t blame him. I’m sure he’d barely escaped death by dog many times, and being mauled was definitely torture in my opinion. I tossed Buster one more piece of ham, then wished him good luck with the calico as he strolled off.
He wasn’t gone five minutes when I heard a rustling in the bushes. Four pairs of red eyes peered at me this time. I gripped the ham bone tight, relaxing when the hellhound stepped out onto my lawn.
I really needed to name him. Or maybe he had a name already. “I’ve got dinner for you. But first I want to know what I should call you.”
He eyed the ham bone and drooled, opening his mouth to reveal those very large, very sharp teeth.
Yeth.
It was a weird name, but I’d respect it. Clearly he liked it if he’d accepted it.
“Okay Yeth, here you go.” I tore a piece of ham off the bone and tossed it to him.
Three other hellhounds materialized. Well, not really materialized. They crept out of the brush onto my lawn, but unlike Yeth, these guys didn’t seem particularly interested in the ham, or the least bit friendly. Their heads were low, hair raised in a bristle across their shoulders. Teeth even longer and sharper than Yeth’s were bared, gleaming white in the porchlight. I suddenly wished I hadn’t left Drake inside. Yeah, he was a vulture, but he seemed to be an intimidating figure to these animals.
“Hey pups,” I said softly. “Hungry? I’ve got some ham here.” I’d intended on giving it all to Yeth. Hopefully there was enough here for four because I didn’t want to know what these guys might do if they didn’t get enough food. I wasn’t in any danger. I had the skills to protect myself against animals if I needed to. I just didn’t want to have to resort to that—I didn’t want to ever have to resort to that.
There was a back-and-forth of growls and snarls between the other three and Yeth. I gathered they weren’t happy with him accepting ham from me.
“It’s not poisoned,” I assured them, tossing a few more pieces of ham onto the lawn.
The three swiveled their heads in synchronized precision to stare at the meat. I felt their indecision. Yeth moved in to eat them, and one of the others snapped at him, deciding to take the risk. While he was chewing I tore off more ham and flung it in front of the three, making sure to toss some Yeth’s way. Finally they all gave in and I relaxed, throwing ham as they ate so there would always be another piece waiting. There wasn’t much more left on the bone, though. And I had no way to divide the bone between four hellhounds. What else did I have in my fridge? Maybe that pack of hard-boiled eggs? I’d definitely have to swing by the grocery in the morning and get some dog food.
Which made me think of something else.
“Are you littermates? Do you all have a home to go to? I can fix up a nice warm spot in the garage for the four of you.” I’d thought about letting Yeth inside the house, even though the squirrels were afraid of him, but I didn’t know these other three well enough to have them sleeping on my living room couch and rug.
Yeth looked up at me and spoke, eyeing the bone as he chewed on a piece of ham. They weren’t littermates, but something close. I couldn’t make out exactly what their relationship was. Not quite family. Not quite friends. Packmates? That seemed the closest word to what Yeth was communicating.
Then someone must own them—or had owned them at one time. Perhaps their owner had moved and left them behind. Lucien had said there was a demon in hell who took care of the hounds, but maybe some had slipped their leashes? Run away? Or maybe that demon didn’t take care of all the hellhounds. Maybe hell had a problem with strays just as we did here.
“Where are you sleeping tonight?” I asked Yeth, since he seemed to be the only one inclined toward communication.
He tilted his head, eyes still on the bone. Evidently they weren’t sleeping tonight. No, he’d said they weren’t supposed to sleep tonight.
“Nocturnal?” Maybe they slept during the day and hunted for food at night. Poor puppers. Clearly they’d somehow become separated from their home and their demon-Master if they were roaming around all night long, searching for food.
“Tell you what. I’ll leave the garage door open enough for you and your buddies to go inside. I’ll put some nice soft cushions and blankets for you all, and bowls of water. You’ll be safe there. Stay as long as you want, and when I get home from work tomorrow night, I’ll have more food for you all.”
Yeth looked as if he were about to cry. His bottom lip quivered, and his
red, glowing eyes stared up at me soulfully. I reached out a hand and stroked his wiry, coarse fur. He leaned into me, making a little whimper as my fingers found an especially good spot.
Then one of the others growled and Yeth jumped back, sending me a guilty look.
“It’s okay Yeth,” I whispered. “I’ll save the bone for you. It’ll be in the garage.”
Then I turned to the other three, tearing off the final tiny bits of ham from the bone and throwing them onto the lawn. While they were eating I got up and made my way backwards toward the house.
“Goodnight pups,” I said. “Happy hunting, and I’ll see you all tomorrow night.”
Only Yeth glanced up at me as I walked into my house. I locked the door and set the wards as usual, then remembered that I was still holding a ham bone.
Damn it. I’d promised him and I wasn’t going to let the hellhound down.
“Hey Drake,” I called to the vulture who was on top of my dining room table, where he could keep an eye on the squirrels. “Come with me to the garage, will you?”
The vulture waddled after me. My garage was pretty much a glorified storage area, which is why I always parked my truck in the driveway. I moved a kayak, bike, two toolboxes, and a dozen Rubbermaid tubs aside then put down four dog pillows that I’d gotten on clearance last year as well as some cheap fleece blankets. The ham bone went on a plastic Thanksgiving platter that was shaped like a turkey, and I filled two large bowls with water. Drake stood guard while I went back into the house and retrieved the package of hard-boiled eggs. Those I placed in a terracotta flowerpot, setting it next to the bone.
There. It seemed reasonably welcoming. I’d get food, treats, some more bowls, and a few toys tomorrow. Hopefully the hellhounds would take advantage of my hospitality and tomorrow night the other three would be less suspicious of me.
Then I’d need to think about what I was going to do with them all. Perhaps I could find some nice people who would be willing to adopt them? If not, I’d be stuck with four giant scary-looking canines, along with four squirrels and a vulture.
Fiends and Familiars Page 4
