by Kat Quinn
“Eep!” Kieran yanks me by the waist as I slide along the floor towards him, stopping once I’m nearly buried under his mountainous mass, neck thoroughly snuffled by Kieran’s soft nose. With some difficulty, I manage to wedge one arm through the gap between us and pat as close to his back as possible. “Yeah, okay, good morning guys. Gooooooood morning. Yup.” There’s a bit of rustling, and I am yet again assaulted as part of my daily balanced breakfast–this time with a sloppy, wet tongue to the face! Yuckkkk! My eyes clench tightly closed as I squirm beneath Kieran’s hold, chuffing and small piggy snorts only growing more excited as Colonel Stubbs has himself a grand ol’ time slobbering my face up.
“Stop! Stop!” I plead helplessly, a hopeless captive given all the obstacles between myself and freedom, the obstacles being a 10 pound puppy and a 10 billion pound wolf shifter. Much like Kieran’s biceps, the odds are stacked… against me. Oh, still works!
Much to my delight, my back detaches itself from the floor and I spontaneously learn how to levitate away from my troubles! At least, that’s the only obvious option I can imagine, given that my eyes are still closed but my back and face are now puppy-tongue free.
Cracking one eye open, though, I’m greeted with the reality of being casually and smoothly lifted in a bear hug by the lead baker of the beefcake bakery. Sometimes it pays to keep a mountain of a man nearby and on his good side; will have to remember that next time I’m peeved at him for his lack of space. Slowly, Kieran slides me down his front, obvious bulge making its presence well-known as it bumps and glides along the planes of my passing form.
The moment my toes just barely make contact with the ground, I bounce up and place a quick peck onto Kieran’s cheek in thanks for his mighty heroism, ready to bound away and answer a quick call from nature.
Kieran’s call is quicker as he stops my feet from making full contact, pulling me up tightly for a real and proper kiss. One arm wrapped possessively around me, my back arches against his hold; the pair of us practically melding into one being as our mouths collide, my soul escaping into his body while his barrels its way into mine. By the time I’m back on the ground, I’ve nearly forgotten how to stand, stumbling slightly in Kieran’s unyielding grasp.
“Uh… Thanks?” I say, blinking in a daze, not sure what I’m thanking him for any more. My brain has frizzled out at the edges, feeling like it’s dissolved into nothing. Just particles among the dust. Not myself any more. I frown despite myself, not entirely sure of anything for a moment. Familiarity in the unfamiliar.
Kieran’s grin is broad and sharp as he steals another quick kiss before letting me go with a swat to the rump, too fuzzy around the edges to be sure of what’s happening anyway. I shrug, then dash away, dash away, dash away all, up the stairs and to the bathroom of my victory, leaving those smelly losers in my dust to gleefully claim the shower all for myself.
As the steam rises in swirling clouds, I’d swear there’s something calling to me in the spaces between the droplets, minuscule gaps of nothingness sucking out all the oxygen. Not fully knowing why, my fingers reach themselves towards the emptiness, stretching, seeking ...But unable to find anything aside from moisture. There’s nothing in the gaps of nothing, not even nothing.
Shaking my head to clear it, I shrug and hum idly to myself, stepping under the nearly-scalding spray and letting it shock me back to my senses. Pft. My senses. Not something I’ve ever been accused of having before, but there’s a first time for everything! Like I always say, stranger things have happened.
Over the steady pounding of water, I can just barely hear the soft notes of a violin. The tune’s familiarity is haunting, but its timing is even more so. The exact same song had just been rumbling around in my throat.
29. Kieran
Dizzy zips away, flying up the stairs. Part of me wants to give chase, fuck I’d give the hell out of chasing her, but that’s not exactly what we agreed to. Space, at least sometimes. And especially the space to run free.
Speaking of which, I nod at Lin and Connor, lazy assholes still lounging on the couch; cushions more than slightly fucked up around them. With a grunt, I chuck off my shirt and step out of my kilt. Lin rolls his eyes, Connor bashfully looking away. Throwing them both a loose salute, I slip out the back door, shifting from one form to the other in an instant.
All four paws land firmly on the wooden deck as I trot outside, bounding like a shot across the damp grass once its cool blades slip between my claws. It’s not long before I’m well into the woods surrounding our property, swallowed up whole by a dense camouflage of trees. Losing myself in the run, thrilling at the wind as its thick fingers weave through my dense coat of wild copper fur; this is freedom.
The first mile passes, then the second, flying by fast and hard until a tickle at the back of my neck raises my hackles and stops me dead in my tracks. Quickly, quietly, I stand stock-still in the shadow of a tree, darkness doing almost nothing to hide my distinct, red-hued coat. Heaving in great huffs of air, there’s a scent on the wind I can’t quite catch. Lifting my nose as high as I dare, the faintest hint of someone familiar tickles my snout. Pack. Buried under layers of dead leaves and squirrel piss, but there it is–one of the dozens of ghosts I’ve been chasing for years.
My ears prick up, straining for the slightest of sounds. Bugs scrabbling inside tree rot, prey stepping lightly on damp foliage, birds screeching their greetings to morning. Back tense, I stay impossibly still, aside from long ears twitching alertly at anything they can catch. Anything except for the next clue I desperately ache for; the sounds of large feet breaking through a thick layer of foliage, attached to smells and sounds that haunt my weathered dreams. It never comes. The largest scent-scape is sweet rot, from partially-decayed leaves buried under the warm smell of a more freshly-fallen layer. My heart pulls, crying for just a hint of the welcoming, familiar musk of a fellow wolf. One of my wolves.
Nothing. Only the normal heartbeat of nature, drumming away at its own organic, chaotic pace. Just in case, I wait a few moments longer, my own heart’s beat more chaotic than the forest, its sound nearly drowning out the few rhythms my ears pick up.
Reluctantly, I drag my stupid ass back home, still paranoid enough to do a few laps around the property to inspect our wards. Nothing but the usual signs of occasional wildlife looking for a free meal in Monty’s garden. There’s never anything—I’ve been chasing ghosts for years, why can’t I just let it fucking go and stop jumping at every goddamned chance to rip the throat out of nothing? Slowly, the tickle at the back of my senses eases up, hackles lowering as each step shakes more and more of the feeling off.
Maybe I’m losing my fucking mind. Maybe Dizzy’s right and I need to back the fuck up for a minute. Maybe this shit’s getting a little unhealthy and it’s time to let loose and relax some more. Maybe it’s time to go back home again.
30. Monty
Trudging down the stairs, still half-asleep from our late night, I do my best not to disturb anyone who may still be sleeping. Much to my surprise, Connor and Zeke are already in the kitchen, busying themselves with… something? Zeke has a pile of rocks in front of him and Connor appears to be enthralled by a portion of the ceiling.
“Mornin’,” I say, giving a small wave to them both. Neither acknowledges me, lost in their own thoughts, I guess. Colonel Stubbs, however, is delighted to see me up and about as his tiny nails scrabble wildly at the floor, desperately waddling to greet me. “Good morning to you, too, Stubbs.” The little white Frenchie jumps, front paws barely able to reach most of the way up my shin despite his best efforts. “Suppose you’ll be wanting your breakfast, hmm?” He yips in the affirmative. “Shhhh,” I shush lightly, one finger placed in front of my lips as I bend down to give him some head pats. “Don’t want to wake anyone who might still be sleeping.” Colonel Stubbs licks my hand in response, which, fair, is much quieter.
“They are awake.” Zeke replies evenly, not looking up from the small stone he’s etching something on to. Th
ere’s already a hole straight through it, but he appears to be making modifications.
“Oh,” I reply mutedly, not entirely willing to barge straight into making noise so early in the morning, regardless. Giving the small white dog another pat, I groan as my knees creak while standing up. Must be getting old. Nobody warns you once you’re in your thirties that stretching isn’t optional any more if you want to get through the day. Stubbs follows me while I scoop some kibble into his bowl, greedy little pup diving face-first into his chow before it’s even finished plinking into the bowl. Needing a warm cup of something to help start my own day, I put the kettle on while filling Stubbs’ water. “What are you working on, Z?”
“Protection. Detection,” he replies, not looking up. Zeke’s shaggy hair is tied back into a loose bun, but some strands still stubbornly try and impede his view as he peers down at the project in his hands. He doesn’t seem to notice in the slightest, focused almost completely on the task.
Plucking a few apples from the fruit basket, I turn to grab a knife and board, adding an empty bowl to my load. Juice mists in fine droplets as I make my first cut through the crisp flesh, sweetness infiltrating the air as chopped apples fill the bowl.
“Do you feel different?” Connor asks quietly, still looking blankly at the corner of the ceiling. “I feel different.”
“What do you mean, bud?” I ask, but am only met with silence, rhythmic chopping of my knife and small scratching sounds from Zeke the only noise filling the room. If there were a clock nearby, its ticking would practically be a boom. There’s isn’t a tension in the air so much as an unfamiliar layer of unease.
Grabbing some sugar and spices from a cabinet, I lift a corner of the tea towel covering some dough I set up last night. It’s risen enough to start rolling out once the fruit’s had time to macerate. Normally, setting up a pan of apple cinnamon rolls would help smoothly guide me into the day, my efforts to care for others a way to settle my heart and mind. But with a silent and somewhat eerie audience? It’s just awkward. The calm I’m looking for doesn’t find me; hasn’t for a while. My brow furrows; maybe I do feel different.
Colonel Stubbs, however, does find me; paws once again stretching as high up my leg as they’ll go. His head is cocked quizzically, pointed ears jiggling slightly at the force of the motion. “I’m good,” I whisper, thanking him for his concern by letting gravity accidentally provide the pup some apple scraps. Uncharacteristically, he ignores them and tilts his head to the other side. I shrug, but find the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. Stubbs’ cracks an enormous puppy grin, tongue flopped happily out from one side. Playfully, I jostle him with my bare foot and turn to pour myself a cup of tea.
“Morning!” Dizzy’s bright voice calls cheerfully as she prances down the stairs. Connor’s head immediately snaps towards her, his eyes coming more into focus. A quiet smile creeps its way onto his face, all hints of creepy blank daze gone. Zeke gives a repeat performance of his complete lack of acknowledgement to her, which is the best any of us could hope for, I suppose.
“Mornin’ Diz, tea?” I offer.
“Nah, don’t want a belly full of sloshes while I get my fight on this morning,” she says, bounding up enthusiastically onto the barstool next to Connor. He immediately reaches for her hand, fingers twining automatically together, his turquoise eyes lighting up from within. Aria glides down from Dizzy’s shoulder and ‘helps’ Stubbs clean the floor of apple scraps.
I wince as the glass door slides open with a forceful screech, Kieran entirely indelicate in his entry. “No practice this morning, fuck it.” He declares loudly, swooping down low to snatch his discarded kilt from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. Kieran surveys the four of us gathered around the kitchen island, “You said we needed to do more shit than just fight, fuck, and work, so we’re taking the day off before I lose my mind.” Striding across the living room to the kitchen, dick swinging freely on full display, Kieran nudges Dizzy with one hip. “What do you say, Fireball, feel up to a bit of adventure? Free running and all that shit? Call it a date if you want.” Early morning sunlight glints lightly off the metallic tattooed bands around his fingers as he puffs out his chest and gestures encouragingly with both hands.
“Oooh! Yes, please!” Dizzy’s arms shoot up excitedly, one yanking Connor’s hand along in the process so he accidentally looks excited as well, until his hand is released.
“Figured we can go out to the farm. Make a day of it or whatever. You know how to ride a horse?”
Aghast, her eyes widen, a horrified breath sucked in harshly. “What, do you think we’re in Ye Olden Tymes?! NO I DON’T KNOW HOW TO RIDE A HORSE!!! Why would I need to pounce on an enormous, out of control death-pony when there’s perfectly good out of control, wheeled, death-boxes available?! Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous!” Under her breath, she continues to mutter about how dumb a suggestion that is in the first place, and how we’re all dumb if we don’t see that.
Kieran smirks toothily, one sharp canine on sinister display. “You afraid of horses, Fireball?”
Dizzy’s eyes stay wide as her mouth snaps shut, head rearing back slightly. “No! …You’re afraid of horses!” She quips back sharply. Despite myself, I chuckle.
His hulking figure leans down until he’s eye level with the bluffing woman, boxing her in with one thick arm on either side. “Nope,” he says, popping the “P” loudly. “You chicken?” Kieran asks, sharp grin widening.
She scowls in response, crossing her arms in a huff. “No, you’re chicken.” Said with a dash of sulking thrown in for flavor.
“Bkaw,” Kieran clucks back, arms tucked in like flapping wings. “Hmm. You must be right. Guess I’m chicken. Well then, you’ll have to be the one to help me get over it and teach me how to ride, won’t you?”
Still scowling, Dizzy nods tightly.
“Great!” Kieran declares, popping upright and snatching his kilt midair as it tries to fall from his toned shoulder. “Don’t know what you chumps have planned for the day, but I’m taking our girl out for some quality time. Don’t wait up!” He then stomps loudly up the stairs, bare ass jiggling, slamming multiple doors out of sight. In contrast, an immaculately clothed Lin glides soundlessly down the stairs mere moments later, one brow cocked in question.
I shrug at him. He shrugs back.
Realizing breakfast has become a more immediate matter, I change gears and get some eggs to scramble. The apple cinnamon rolls will need more time to rise once formed, and I can’t say I’m not grateful to have the day off to do as I please.
Then it dawns on me that’s not exactly the case, and I glance up from my whisking to peer at Dizzy as she and Lin chitter their greetings to one another. With extreme ease, he sidles up tightly against her, elegant fingers automatically swirling in her curling locks. Connor unconsciously reaches for her hand again, the three of them intertwining without a second thought; fully aware of their easy lack of boundaries. They don’t even have to worry, or question it.
Sweating just slightly, I duck my head down again and furiously return to whisking.
31. Dizzy
“If you want, I can just… hang back, you know,” Monty says lowly, one arm tucked behind his back while the other dangles loosely with one of those adorable picturesque picnic baskets.
“Yeah, right, and give you the chance to keep all those cinnamon buns to yourself?” I reply, nodding towards the basket. “Not on your life, mister! Gotta keep an eye on that precious cargo!” When Monty started torturing the rest of us with the warm spice of baking pastries, I jumped at the chance to have him end our suffering and bring some along. “Besides,” I say, offering him a tentative smile, “I want to spend time with you, too.”
Monty’s eyes warm up, the hand behind his back smoothly slipping into one of the pockets of his cargo pants. “Cool. Because I didn’t really want to hang back, anyway. Way more interested in hanging out.” The corny idiot flashes a grin.
Two loud bangs shake the ligh
t blue truck as Kieran heartily slaps the side of its rusty bed. “Must feel nice to be back home, eh girl?” He directs at the well-worn vehicle. “Bet the Jacksons’ll be happy to see you, too.”
“Molly and Albert gave us the truck back when we used to work here,” Monty stage-whispers, filling me in on why my wolf man has suddenly developed the ability to commune with machines. Best I’ve got is beep boop beep, and I don’t think the ancient truck’s advanced enough to know what any of that means. To be fair, neither am I, but I’ve never claimed to be part robot. I think. Might have to check the tapes to be sure.
Aria wriggles against my neck before successfully freeing herself from the cavern of my hood, stretching her bat-like wings wide while yawning. “You have a good nap, fuzz butt?” The tip of her black nose crinkles slightly before she sneezes, not sparing me from the spray of spittle. “Ew, manners!” I take my hand and try to smoosh her face back playfully, but she springs up and takes flight, circling above us as I shake my fist facetiously. “You’re gross, you menace! I’m gonna shave a hazmat symbol into your fur while you’re sleeping!” She lifts her head high, long, thin snout turned upwards in disgust at my very clever and fear-worthy threat. That’ll teach ‘er to blast me again.
Stretching out the kinks of being cooped up in a truck for the last few hours, I enjoy a deep breath of fresh… manure-scented air. Coughs sputter from my chest at the unwelcome intrusion. Apparently, fresh poop, damp hay, and fetid slop are weapons not to be taken lightly. Regaining my composure amongst Kieran’s smug chuckles, I look up the rocky path to see an older woman waving at us from the porch of a modest, light yellow home. “Well, don’t just lolly-gag all day, y’all, come and give me my hug before I have to come get it myself!”
