by Eve Langlais
“Who says I didn’t?”
The human bar still remained full of humans, about a dozen or so scattered all around. But as his mother raised her hand, the music cut out and all the voices went quiet. Too many eyes watched. Jakob slid off his stool to stand.
“Enlisting the aid of humans?” he asked softly. “I thought your plan was to get rid of them.” He hoped to keep her distracted a moment while he reassessed.
“Are they human, though? Take another sniff.” Veronica swiveled on her seat and cocked her head as she waited.
He wanted to walk out and yet found himself taking a deep breath. The scents were as he’d expect in a bar—beer, liquor, peanuts, and wood from the furniture and floors. The patrons were a mix of sweat, soap, cologne, and… He frowned. There was something else, something that made no sense.
“They all smell the same.”
“The problem with having them all dosed out of the same batch. But nonetheless, still effective, don’t you think?”
“You did something to mask their scent.”
“And replace it with another. That’s the one good I got out of that mistake of a marriage. Access to your family’s recipe books. A little bit of that with some science added to the mix and poof!” She snapped her fingers. “The spray sells for a pretty penny.”
“Hold on a second. You sell the human cologne?”
Veronica leaned against the bar and smirked. “Among other things. It takes a lot of funds to finance the kind of research I want to do. I knew early on I’d need a way of making money.”
“Which is why you hooked up with Kole?”
She snorted. “Kole barely had any money to his name. What he had was connections. I made the money. Early on I realized we’d need a large sum to do our work. We invested in designer perfumes. Scents chemically balanced to individuals, taking their natural pheromones into consideration and crafting something unique.”
He didn’t need her to say anymore. “You made a cologne to hide a shifter’s scent.” His gaze flicked to the humans still standing, still watching him.
“Hide it. Change it. Enhance it. Amazing what a smell can do.”
She sounded quite proud.
“It’s…” He wanted to say all kinds of things, and yet, he was a man who appreciated good camouflage. “Brilliant.”
Her lips parted in a surprised smile. “Thank you. It’s been quite effective not only in funding the research but in getting the people I need into the right places. We must get ready.”
“For what?”
“Join me and find out,” she offered.
“You have to be kidding. Join you as a minion of darkness? Ha. Never. And now that you’ve divulged your plan, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.” He reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to display his badge that showed his status with the Furry United Coalition. “Official FUC agent and you are under arrest for being a danger to shifter society.”
“You don’t say?” She appeared amused. “Funny because I’m the one who is actually going to save it. It’s only a matter of time before humans come after us. We need to be ready.”
“The council—”
“Is useless. They’re being too cautious, and it will come back to bite them. I won’t let their inaction doom us all. They will bow to my demands or face the consequences.”
“You’re insane.”
“That’s what they always say of those who embrace greatness. But you’ll see. Everyone will thank me when I save us from being annihilated by the humans.”
“Co-existence is possible.”
“They can’t even live amongst each other,” his mother retorted. “You’re obviously not too bright. The lot of you always did take more after your father’s side than mine.”
“Thank you. I’d hate to think we’re anything like you.” He tossed the insult.
Her lips thinned in displeasure. “If you’re done proving your ignorance, then it’s time to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Then by force it is.” She lifted a hand, and a pair of the patrons neared.
Jakob dropped into a loose fighting stance.
Anvil chose that moment to return, carrying a case of booze. He took the situation in and barked, “Not in my bar.” He set down the case with a thump and pulled out his bat from under the counter. “Don’t even think of starting trouble.”
His mother tossed bills onto the counter. “We’re leaving now.”
Anvil tapped the bat against his open palm. “Sounds like a good idea. But you’re not taking him.” He angled his head at Jakob.
“Actually, we are,” Veronica replied with a wide smile. “And you’re coming, too.”
“Listen, lady, he might be too nice to hit you, but I’m not.” Anvil grinned, showing off his gold tooth.
“Another one who thinks with his fists.” She shook her head. “Talk about a messy way of doing things.”
“Did you really think you wouldn’t have to fight?” Jakob asked.
“Oh, I expected it, which is why my people came armed.” Weapons emerged and were split between aiming at Jakob and Anvil.
“Bullets? That’s not very sporting of you,” he said, calculating his odds to be poor against that many guns.
“They’re not going to kill you, dear son. On the contrary, I need you alive. Put them to sleep,” she commanded, dropping her hand.
Jakob threw himself to the side, but there was no way to avoid the fifteen or so darts that came flying his way.
Instant sluggishness filled his veins. He didn’t even have time to finish muttering, “Bitch," before he was sagging.
Jakob woke up face first in the dust outside the compound gate that provided access to his home. Having eaten that dust before, he recognized the taste.
It took some doing and lots of groaning to get to his feet. He wavered as he blinked away the fatigue. Last thing he recalled was someone shooting him with sleeping darts. Then nothing. He’d obviously passed out or gone into some fugue state that allowed him to make it out of the bar and back home. It must have been an epic battle, if only he could remember it.
He staggered up the drive toward the house, feeling disconnected from his body. Stupid, too. Rather than chatting with his mum, he should have found a way to contact backup. Imagine the coup if he’d managed to help bring her ass in for questioning.
The house appeared up the drive, and he shuffled faster. He couldn’t wait to flop into his bed. Apparently, his arrival didn’t go unnoticed. A welcoming committee poured out the door, a bunch of male bodies jostling and pushing to get to Jakob first.
“Little brother!”
“You bastard!”
“Where have you been?”
The medley of voices shouted at him, making him grab his spinning head. He felt strange, his mind sluggish.
His family kept yapping and, oddly, touching him. Patting him. Checking him over.
“Would you all calm down? I’m fine.” If hungover, which was a rarity for him.
“Fine! Where have you been all this time?” His father’s query cut through the din.
It was then he took in a few details, such as the haggard expression on some of the faces, the beard Jackson sported, which he’d not had the day before. The very round and pregnant belly sported by his sister-in-law. How had that happened overnight?
It took a few more seconds before he put all the pieces together enough to ask, “How long have I been gone?”
“Three and a half months.”
2
Months…
As Jakob did his best to grasp that concept, he was bustled inside. Overwhelmed by the noise and commotion, he teetered on his feet and grabbed his head.
Da was the one to declare, “The boy needs his bed.”
Hands grabbed and pretty much carried him to his room. Everyone crowded inside, staring.
Jakob swayed.
His dad snapped, “Everyone
, git.”
No one dared argue, meaning Jakob got a moment of quiet to collapse onto his bed and close his eyes. When he woke, it was to a warm broth steaming on a tray at the foot of his bed and his da still in the room, sitting beside him.
Only after Jakob drank down the nutrient-rich soup did his father ask, “What happened?”
“Mum.”
One word and yet he might as well have slugged his da. His face blanched. After that, it took only a moment to relate everything that happened. Up until Jakob was tranked. Then…nothing.
“You’ve been gone for over three months,” his da said softly. “We had no idea if you were dead or alive. We only heard about your truck being left in the Journey’s End parking lot because the coppers gave us a shout when they found it after the fire.”
“What fire?”
“The one someone set in the bar. They’ve been looking for you and Anvil to ask questions. Their theory is you set the fire on purpose to collect insurance money and skipped town together.”
“She was covering her tracks,” he grumbled.
“Aye. We know that now.” His da scrubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
His da, usually so big and brash, hunched. “For everything. I should have never married your mum. I knew she wasn’t happy. But I kept trying.”
“She hates us.” He would never admit the twinge at saying it aloud.
“Aye. But I don’t.” His father pulled him close for a hug. “You ready to see the rest of the family?”
Not really, but he knew if the roles were reversed, he’d want reassurance that the other person was okay. Jakob emerged from his room into a kitchen of chaos with brothers, wives, and uncles all over the place. Not many cousins though. Da was the only Jones senior to actually settle down and have a large family.
Given all the personalities in the room, it took some time before Jakob managed to tell everyone his story. Which then led to some even livelier discussions. All through it, Jakob remained mostly quiet, apart. It was his Uncle Kendrick who noticed it.
“The boy looks like he’s going to pass out.”
Actually, he puked. A lot. And ran a fever, a rarity given one of the benefits of being a shapeshifter was exceedingly good health. Yet for seventy-two hours after he was returned to his family, he was hacking and coughing, his eyes bleary, his fever spiking. He was convinced he would die. Especially since he couldn’t shapeshift. Hadn’t been able to since his return from his forgotten sojourn in the unloving bosom of his mother, and not for a lack of trying on his part.
His scent also changed, with his brothers muttering amongst each other that he didn’t smell the same. He actually gave off a human vibe.
“Liar!” he said, swinging a weak fist that Jackson didn’t even try to avoid. Dizzy from illness and the knowledge something was very wrong with him, he’d run from the room. On two legs, without a single hop. Nothing worse than being a kangaroo that couldn’t bounce. Couldn’t fight either.
While he knew in theory how to spar with his fists, he lacked the agility and power of before. The uncanny ability to dodge and mete out punishment had been puked out along with stuff he was pretty sure he’d last eaten a decade ago. His weakened status led to his brothers going easy on him. Worse, they pitied him.
But no worse than he pitied himself.
He told his story numerous times, everyone having almost the same reaction to Mum’s perfidy.
His big brother Jackson ranted most of all. “That lying—”
Uncle Kevyn slapped his hand over Jackson’s mouth before he could say something really rude.
“What did she do to you?” was the most pressing question everyone wondered, including Jakob.
The family called in some favors and had him checked out by a doctor, who declared him perfectly fit. The bloodwork showed him as healthy, everything in the proper ranges. Even his DNA appeared normal…for a human.
When Uncle Kyle revealed their medical findings, Jakob had blinked. “Human? What do you mean I’m human?” He stared at his hands. They looked the same. His feet. His body. Everything looked as it should; it just lacked that something special he used to count on.
“She did something to you, boy.” His father looked apologetic, whereas his brothers and uncles appeared horrified.
He understood the feeling.
Human. It explained why he couldn’t shift.
After that, things went downhill. For Jakob at least. He started drinking and easily getting drunk. A drunk and depressed Jones meant he picked a lot of fights. Lost more than a few now that he was as mundane as the rest of them. He missed his bouncy half. He spent hours on the first full moon staring at the silver orb, hoping to sprout fur, anything.
But it was gone. The thing that made him special, gone.
Because she’d taken it.
That was the message she wanted him to give the council. However, Jakob was an ornery bastard. Rather than give his wretched mother the satisfaction of doing her bidding, he moved out of the compound. He wanted to live on his own for a while, somewhere he wouldn’t be a source of pity to anyone—and so he could continue the hunt for his mother in peace, something his family had discouraged. They used the words “obsessed” and “self-destructive.” They didn’t understand.
She’d betrayed him. Again.
Worse, she’d taken the thing that defined him. His other half. His animal soul. He was nothing without it.
Jakob had to do something, and he had to do it alone. Jackson threatened to break his legs to keep him home, but desperation compelled Jakob to leave. He couldn’t stand being surrounded by the familiar and feeling as if he didn’t belong.
Not to mention, he had a mission; locate his mother and make her put his kanga back!
Finding his mum wasn’t as easy as expected, given she’d disappeared again. Something she proved to be quite adept at. It didn’t help that he’d cut off his family and wouldn’t call in any favors. He didn’t want to share his shame with anyone.
Woe is me. His depression played the world’s smallest violin quite well, and for the first time in his life, he actually managed to gain weight as he tried to eat away his blues.
As if it wasn’t bad enough he was just a human now, he sported a gut and couldn’t even walk the mile to the store for beer without gasping for breath. But in good news, it was much cheaper now for him to get drunk.
It was during his huffing and puffing jaunt to the pizza parlor that he got distracted by something that smelled even yummier than tomato sauce, baked cheese, and crispy pepperoni.
“What’s that smell?”
The intriguing scent drew him into a furniture store of all places, and he followed his nose to a table. Not a big one either, the small kind meant to put your coffee cup on, or maybe roll a joint. He knew nothing about name brands or detail work or any of the crap that a true furniture aficionado might be privy to. He didn’t actually need any furniture, although, while he was here, he really should look at getting a new mattress. His last one had developed a disturbing dent in it.
However, he couldn’t take his eyes off the table. His hand went to his pocket, the fabric one in his shirt, not the one he used to have by his belly. He pulled out a cigarette but retained enough wits to not light it. A nasty habit and yet he’d started it again because it suited his mood. Just like the city suited him right now with its dark alleys and seedy underground.
Of late, he’d been barely leaving his place, his rage having finally calmed down enough that he missed home. Missed his annoying brothers, his well-meaning but often wrong uncles. His father who said if life hit you in the chin, get up and hit it back.
Might be time to go for a visit and go a few rounds in the gym. Knock a few teeth and rattle some bones.
Nothing better than hitting something for some relief. He could use some relief, especially of late. In this past week, he’d felt odd. Itchy in his skin, lacking any hunger for his usual favorites, which truly let
him know something was amiss. It was why he’d decided to grab himself a pizza. Surely he’d find his appetite with a fresh pepperoni delight?
His belly rumbled, but not for a baked pie. Jakob dropped to his knees by the wooden side table and sniffed.
Mmm. Definitely yummy smelling. He stroked his hands over the smoothness. Admired the texture, the taste…
“Excuse me, sir, but are you licking that accent table?”
It was a bit shocking to realize yes, as a matter of fact, he was licking the table.
That was a first. He leaned back on his heels and sought a reason for his odd behavior. “Just, er, testing the impermeability of the veneer you chose.”
“Sure, you were,” said the salesman, drawing out the words.
“What kind of wood is this?” Jakob noted its pale grain and interesting knots. They tempted his fingertips, and he couldn’t help but stroke it. His mouth watered.
“This finely crafted product is made from bamboo.”
What he knew of bamboo didn’t jive with the table. “Isn’t that like a tiny stick? How can they make furniture with it?”
The salesman shrugged, and interestingly enough, his lush seventies mustache wiggled as well. “From what I know, they glue the strips together. It’s considered to be an environmentally friendly choice given how rapidly it grows.”
“How much for it?” Because the licking hadn’t curbed his interest in it.
Even the price tag over seven hundred dollars—for a table that weighed less than the ham in his fridge—didn’t deter him. His credit card cried a little as he swiped it, but he exited the store the new owner of a bamboo side table—which he had no room for. He currently lived in a cramped bachelor pad that came with built-in furniture. His home for the past few weeks. Perhaps buying the table was a sign he should move on?
He strapped it to the top of his environmentally friendly smart car, on loan from the garage that was fixing his Dodge Ram pickup truck. The tiny vehicle embarrassed him to the extreme. Real men didn’t drive around in teeny, tiny electric cars. They drove over them and crushed them with their monster trucks.