Col: His Destined Mate

by Georgette St. Clair

  It was all the more critical that Cadmus delivered the man-wolf to His Terrible Majesty, and even more that he accomplished the feat without Micah discovering the man-wolf for himself and claiming the credit as his own.

  “I’m even feeling the retro 80s vibe here, Cad-man.” Cadmus rolled his eyes. Micah wasn’t even born yet in the 80s, while Cadmus was already lamenting the loss of a time when men dressed as men, in woolen suits, ties and hats, and women never dreamed of wearing —he shuddered—spandex out of the house.

  Instead, Micah was admiring the grotesque furnishings that came with the rental. With luck he would be even more afflicted with the same magickal malady that Cadmus still had not recovered from. Certainly his aesthetic sense could not be worsened.

  “So are you…feeling the energies here?” Cadmus tried not to look at the door that led to the root cellar.

  Micah took a deep breath, sweeping his arms wide as if he were starring in his own rap video, or having a The Hills are Aliiiiive moment. His jacket flew open, revealing several large medallions hanging from a shiny rope of gold chain. Cadmus hid the surge of envy. Not at the gaudy chain, but at the medallions which were clearly the gift of His Terrible Majesty. He recognized the ancient symbols that were etched onto them, which Micah had never been studious enough to learn.

  “How could you not? You weren’t kidding about the energies here. I felt it the minute I got to this area.” He tuned to Cadmus, an ecstatic grin on his face. “I’m all lit up with it.”

  Cadmus didn’t know what that last bunch of nonsensical syllables meant. Maybe it was Micah’s babbling about the magickal jet lag. Or maybe the babbling was the result of the magickal jet lag. If so, he could only hope it would be followed by magickal explosive diarrhea. “Give yourself some time to acclimate, then.”

  “Acclimate? Why, do you think it gets even better than this?” Micah spun around, and then settled in front of Cadmus, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. “Or are you still acclimating yourself?

  Cadmus cursed inwardly. It had been a mistake to reveal that weakness on the Skype call to Micah. It would be catastrophic to admit to it now. “Of course not,” he lied. “I am merely cautious and I like to document the different effects this potent energy has on me day to day as I spend more time here. After all, His Terrible Majesty should get all the data it’s possible to acquire.”

  Micah tilted his head back, or maybe it was just his eyebrows pulling his face with it upwards.

  “Of course,” he echoed, albeit with skepticism. “Well, that’s one half the equation. Now I want to check out the lands available for purchase, and the town, to see what the scene’s like. Check to see if it’s something HTM would spark to, could settle in.”

  Micah was watching him too carefully. Cadmus needed to muster his wits about him. The boy might talk like a buffoon at times, but he had a keen intellect. Cadmus had trained him himself. He didn’t see the suck-up-itude at the time, because he was on the receiving end of the brown-nosing.

  It was another level of hate that he had for Micah. The boy had learned from Cadmus how to reveal weakness and exploit it, except he then used that knowledge on Cadmus. Successfully.

  “I welcome your input.” I’d rather eat live scorpions and sleep on polyester. Cadmus smiled tightly.

  “Sure you do.” Micah said. “And don’t worry, I’ve got a rez at the 5 star in town — you know it?”

  Cadmus was sure a vein was about to pop in his forehead as he nodded. He knew the place, it was the hotel he longed to stay at, instead of this “retro 80s” rental. At least he brought his own twelve-hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets to sleep between.

  “And how long is your reservation for?”

  “It’s open ended for now. They don’t have another booking in the Presidential Suite for another two weeks.”

  “How fortunate.” Two weeks?

  “But of course we should get back to HTM way before that.”

  Cadmus exhaled with relief. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to stay away so long.” Because who else could suck up to him so well?

  “True that.” Micah grinned.

  Cadmus thought of the pendulum, upstairs on the windowsill, sidelined for the time being. He offered up a little prayer that they not happen upon the man-wolf—he would have to stick closely to Micah’s side as they were out in the woods.

  Come to think of it, he would not want Micah to meet Jordy either, and steal away his first recruit. He’d find a moment and call her to stay away. At least in the meantime, Micah hadn’t sensed the root cellar and the magickal workings that had been going on—

  “Oh, man, this basement is dope!”

  Too late.

  After about a week of working full days at Staff Childcare, Lily found she was falling into a nice, comfortable routine.

  She especially enjoyed Rosa’s company. Rosa came in whenever she could take a break, visiting with the kids throughout the day. It impressed Lily that she tried so hard to make sure that the kids knew she was nearby, even if she wasn’t in the same room as them for most of the day.

  It had only been a short time, but Lily felt a strong protective streak towards Rosa and the twins.

  The twins were among the other preschoolers being read from a book of fairy tales by Luna, who kept swapping out hand puppets to go along with the various characters and silly voices. She knew that all the adults were glad to see that the hand puppets were made of soft fabric, no pinching parts, nothing that could cut or bruise Luna—

  “Ow!” That was entirely too realistic sounding. Sure enough, Luna had found a way to hurt herself. This time it was from dropping the book on her foot. The kids were giggling, thinking that Luna was still making silly voices.

  Lily was going to miss Luna when she left. And she wasn’t even going to get started on the kids.

  As for Col…thinking of him was just an ache of confusion and longing. Unfortunately, he crowded into her thoughts all of the time.

  She had to keep reminding herself that this was temporary. Col had more than respected her wishes to “take it slow,” not that there had been opportunities to do otherwise. In the week since their first kiss —and what a kiss it was! — whenever she had been back at the house, they weren’t alone.

  The other guys always seemed to find an excuse to be right where they were. She had an odd feeling, sometimes, that they did it on purpose – as if they were competing for her attention.

  Often, when she finished the evening lesson, Miller would direct Col to go out and patrol the property, usually accompanied by Aylwyn or Merek. And she couldn’t tell how Col felt about the fact that the two of them never had a moment to themselves. It hurt her feelings a little bit that he didn’t seem to be fighting harder for her.

  He had been oddly formal and reserved ever since that insanely hot, smoldering kiss – and yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He actually seemed jealous when she joked around with Aylwyn, or when Merek held open a door for her or offered to fetch her coffee or a snack.

  So why didn’t he make more of an effort to be alone with her?

  And what was behind the increasing tension she saw creasing his brow? Something was bothering him, and it frustrated her that whatever his burden was, they weren’t close enough that she could relieve it.

  She should have just accepted it. She had to leave – she was here under false pretenses, and she was way too close to Rey geographically. There was no future with Col, and she had a feeling that if she ever had the chance to spend even one night with him, it would be agony to tear herself away.

  And yet, each time she saw him, the urge to just clamp herself around that muscular body grew even stronger, to hell with the consequences.

  Thank God the other boys, and Miller, and Simon, were unconsciously cockblocking, otherwise she probably would have thrown all caution to the wind. As an added safeguard, she allowed herself to have Aylwyn’s playful flirtatiousness as a buffer. She felt comfortable around him, genuinely amused
by his lightheartedness, and he was all too willing to “buff,” however she chose to define it.

  With the money she was making with Simon, and using the rest of time picking up hours at the Staff Childcare Center, she would have enough cash soon for a down payment for the auto repair shop. At least that would get the repairs process going. Or if a used car became available when she had the cash in hand, she’d have that option as well. It simply made more sense to stay put and stockpile money for a fresh start elsewhere. After all, she might not get another opportunity like this again.

  Too bad each day she stayed was making it harder to leave.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Simon paced the floor of the HR office, fingers drumming nervously on the medallion that rested against his chest, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was so much more comfortable communicating via computer screen.

  But Rika and Puma had urgently requested that he meet with them in person, as soon as possible so here he was, with Miller by his side.

  A court jester stalked in through the door right after him, the bells on his hat and shoes jingling a merry tune. Then his eyes lit on Simon, Rika, Miller, and Puma, and he took in the serious expressions on their faces.

  “I’ll come back later,” he said apologetically, and turned and jingled back out of the office. Rika jumped up, ready to go lock out any more interruption, but Puma was already on it. With two easy steps, the tall head of Ops was turning the lock on the door, flipping the sign around so the message Meeting - Do Not Disturb faced the outside.

  “We’re going to have to get you a suite of offices,” Simon said to Rika.

  “And an army of help,” Miller added, looking around the stacks of papers and the people milling outside, waiting to talk with Rika. It wasn’t meant critically, but as an acknowledgement that the Faire had grown, rapidly, in the last few years.

  Rika grimaced. “Price of success, guys. Especially since we’re looking to make new hires across the board.”

  Puma grunted. He had already reported on replacing Trish by promoting from within. It was clear that he was still disgruntled about the circumstances of Trish’s departure. Now he would be reporting on any oddnesses, whether or not they were connected.

  Simon was obsessed with anomalies, with breaks in the pattern. Trish had barely touched alcohol up until the day of her accident, and she claimed she couldn’t remember a thing from that day. What had caused her sudden bizarre behavior?

  Miller hadn’t been as concerned with it as Simon was. He thought that Simon sometimes over-reacted and saw problems that weren’t there.

  And now Rika was confirming there was an uptick in fires to be put out. To be clear, there were always emergencies, big and small, that Rika handled brilliantly.

  “The thing that Puma and I are concerned about—,” Rika looked at Puma and he nodded. “—is a possible increased use of illicit drugs. Something that we’ve been keeping a tight lid on are the results of Trish’s lab results—the ones that pertain to workmen’s comp.”

  Puma spoke up. “In addition to high levels of alcohol, The Rage was found in Trish’s blood.” He looked as if the words tasted sour in his mouth.

  Simon felt a ripple of alarm. He didn’t want that toxic crap anywhere near the family environment of the Faire.

  “We’re still going to help with the cost of her hospitalization and rehabilitation,” Rika said. “Although we’re not obligated to, we know that’s what you’d want us to do.”

  Simon frowned. “Does that fit with what you know of her personality?”

  “Not at all,” Puma shook his head, his brow creased in a scowl. “Completely, one hundred percent out of character. The people who’ve been busted using the Rage are almost always younger, people who have had minor problems with the law in the past, people who are kind of adrift and have no direction in life. None of that describes Trish in the slightest.”

  Rika dipped her head in acknowledgment. “But the bigger issue we’re keeping track of is whether there’s an increasing usage of the Rage at the Faire in general, or even Gardendale in general. Because if it is, we’re going to have to get ahead of it sooner rather than later.”

  “We’ll have to be prepared to have a zero-tolerance policy,” Miller said, and Puma agreed with him.

  “Not just among staff and vendors but attendees. We’ve got to have mechanisms in place to root out potential dealers and stop that from happening at the Faire,” the head of Ops said. “We’re going to start out with random drug testing, which is permitted in our employment contracts.”

  Simon pushed his glasses up on his face. “Good thinking. We already have cameras in place at all entrances recording who’s coming in throughout the day. They’re on 24 hour loops before they get recycled. I’m going to increase it to 72 hours, and Puma and Rika, you’ll both have the ability to pull footage out of the rotation.”

  “I’ll go with Puma and make that happen right now,” Miller said.

  “Thanks and—” Simon’s phone started flashing. It was Blake Rickert, his Realtor. Again. For the third time this morning. Whatever it was had to be important.

  “Sorry, guys, I have to take this.” As Simon swiped Accept Call, Miller and Puma left to work on the security footage, and Rika followed them to the door. An employee had taken advantage of the entrance opening to slip in with a crisis that needed handling, or maybe a complaint about how serving knockwurst in the Staff Caff was cultural appropriation.

  Simon couldn’t hear, as Blake’s voice came through his phone. “Hey, Simon. I thought you’d want to know that someone called my office, claiming to be a client but asking about all your properties.”

  Simon felt a chill. Blake would only be calling if the properties included all the ones listed under the various shell companies that theoretically would be untraceable back to him. Only Blake knew, along with the lawyer who had formed all the shell companies.

  “I didn’t give them any information, of course, saying that I would get back to them about whether or not they were available, if the owner could be persuaded, yaddayaddayadda. But when I looked up the name they left, I couldn’t find it or the company they claimed to be with. It’s only setting off my spidey-sense because, what are the odds that he’s asking only about properties that belong to you?”

  Simon let out a long, slow breath. What are the odds, indeed. If he were looking for anomalies, this qualified as a neon flashing, five-alarm blaring one. In capital letters.

  “Simon, you there?”

  “Yeah, sorry, Blake. You did the right thing in letting me know. Think you can find out who this person is?”

  “No prob. I can try. He left me a number—I’m assuming it’s a working one since he wants that information, so I’m on it.”

  Simon ended the call, his hand shaking a little. He pushed the glasses back up. Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm. Repeat.

  “Everything ok?” Rika’s voice was filled with concern. Typical of how awesome she was, she was ready to fix whatever was going on.

  “You’re really doing a great job, in case I forget to tell you enough.” Simon said, and the HR Director glowed with the praise. He realized he rarely saw Rika with an expression other than On my way to put out that fire, and the one next to it. And the one after that too. Shit, maybe he did need to tell her more.

  “I want you to spend whatever you need, get a larger suite of offices, hire all the people you think necessary.” Simon told her. “Give yourself and Puma a ten percent raise while you’re at it. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

  Rika laughed. “You just added to my workload, but I don’t mind!”

  Simon grinned back at her. If only he could feel this comfortable talking with women who didn’t work for him.

  The sounds of the Faire all around her faded to a dull roar. Jordy looked at her POS phone, which she was going to upgrade with her first paycheck after her promotion and raise. It was something she had to get after her father cut o
ff her access to the family plan with the huge military discount. She told herself it was the only thing she missed about being thrown out of the family.

  She was still reeling from the call that she had just received, her mouth opening and closing, over and over, in disbelief. All around her the Faire was a hive of activity, while she stood motionless, shoulders slumped in her usual slouch.

  Slowly the surroundings bled into her stupor, the sounds of people having fun or making money by facilitating fun. Ops as always in the very thick of it, making sure all the behind-the-scenes stuff was happening the way it was supposed to. Just so the crowds coming in were getting the full fledged Medieval Re-enactment Experience they were expecting.

  This was her reality, a life she was creating for herself. A life she deserved. She belonged here, calling the shots, generating the huge buzz of feeling indispensable. Making things happen. Looked up to as someone in charge.

  Yet with a single phone call, she felt completely deflated.

  She rubbed the cheap plastic of her POS phone with its prepaid calling plan, resisting the urge to hurl it, or stomp on it with the heel of her knock-off Doc Martens. That wouldn’t solve her problem, just create a new one until she could afford a new phone. She replayed the last two minutes for herself, minus the part where she had been so excited at first when she had recognized the voice coming through her phone.

  She’d been excited to hear from Cadmus. Her voice had even squeaked when she eagerly asked when they would be meeting up. But no, Cadmus had called to cancel. He’d even made up some distant, polite message about how something had come up and he had to reschedule. She noted the way he pronounced the sh in the word, as if he were freakin’ Alfred Hitchcock on the set of Psycho. One of the many ways in which the dude was cool.