Flyers Fuzzbutts and Fisticuffs

by Jools Louise

  “Get dressed, flyers, then I’ll take you into town,” Freddy said, sighing. “Your mom says she’s giving Daddy John, Cameron, Aiden, and Murphy the night off, so I’m taking the whole tribe with me. Sherman and Chaz are chaperoning. I guess I am now, come to think of it.”

  “Will Cracker be there, too?” Murray asked, as the children all retrieved backpacks from a stash beside the security door, and began to dress.

  “Guys, I’m just the messenger, not the oracle,” Freddy retorted, rolling his eyes. “Now let’s get moving. I’m running late.”

  “Late?” Flint asked as everyone began to troop after their large friend.

  “That’s what I said,” Freddy said, entering the high school. They all clattered down the steel staircase, reaching the floor below. Sherman stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking impatient. “Uh-oh, he looks pissed.”

  “No need to sound so happy about it,” Murray shot back, poking out his tongue.

  “I just heard that you and your little army dropped muddy stink bombs on a bunch of students,” Sherman said, mildly enough considering the fierce scowl on his face. “Any particular reason?”

  “It was Flint’s idea,” Honey, Blue’s sister said, throwing the young shifter under the bus without a qualm.

  Flint glared at her. “You didn’t have to join in, buttwad,” he growled.

  “No need to get snippy, puke breath,” she said airily, flicking a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder, her blue eyes gleefully malicious. “You’re probably jealous, though, ‘cos we’re flyers and you’re just little fuzzbutts.”

  He bared his fangs at her, scowling.

  “Ease off, bro,” Moe whispered. “She’s only a girl,” he added, sneering at the eight-year-old little witch. “She just tattled on herself, too. She threw mud, we didn’t.”

  “I don’t really care whose idea it was,” Sherman retorted sharply, eyeing them balefully. “The issue is that you all had something to with it, and now there’s a thing called paying the piper.”

  “What’s a piper?” Candy asked, batting her gorgeous green eyes at him.

  “It’s who you pay when you do something you know is naughty,” he replied, ignoring the not-so-subtle attempt at innocence. “In this case, Flint and Moe’s brothers…and eight more students.”

  “They were being mean,” Moe announced. “Flint said so. And our brothers are just always picking on us. They deserved it.”

  Flint rolled his eyes. He was gonna get it for sure, now.

  “So I hear,” Sherman retorted. “Now how about we discuss everything on our way back to town. I’ll take this lot, Freddy.”

  Freddy nodded. “Do you want me to grab anyone else?”

  “Nah, Cam’s got it covered,” Sherman said. “You’ve helped enough with these guys. Thanks for finding them. Kathleen was worried when she couldn’t get through on their phones. Apparently she’s been trying for about an hour.”

  Flint flushed and reached into his pocket for his phone. He glanced at the screen, seeing several missed calls and a bunch of texts, all getting more urgent. He hit speed dial.

  “Mom?” he said, feeling a little tearful that he’d caused his mother any concern. After what she’d gone through with their dad, who’d abused her and them terribly, he should know better than to worry her like this.

  “Flint! Where were you? I was so scared,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? Arthur said he didn’t know where you were, either. He was upset when you didn’t come home.”

  “We were playing bomber command,” he admitted, scuffing his shoes on the floor. He felt really bad that he’d left Arthur out of their fun. He liked the shy kid from England who could turn into a fox. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you call.”

  “Darling, I know it’s all fun for you guys right now, playing with your friends,” she said gently, and he could imagine her shutting her eyes now that she knew he was safe. “I just need you to think a little more carefully. Especially given some of the nastier things that have been happening recently. I worry about you.”

  “I will think, Mom,” he said miserably, sniffing. “I’ll get Freddy to fix my phone so it buzzes. Then I’ll be able to feel it when you call.”

  “Great idea,” she replied, sounding much calmer now. There was a long pause. “Did you say ‘bomber command’?’” she asked slowly.

  “You did it now,” Moe whispered, covering his mouth.

  “It was my idea,” Flint said quickly. “I thought it would be fun. I’ll take the punishment. You don’t have to ground anyone else.”

  He heard her sigh again. “Darling, why don’t you all come home, then we’ll discuss what ‘bombers’ is. Then we’ll decide whether there’s a consequence.”

  “We dropped stinky mud bombs on Charles, Harvey, and Stuart,” Honey called loudly, so that Kathleen heard clearly.

  “Shush,” Blue hissed angrily, nudging her. “What did you say that for?”

  Flint glanced up and saw that he was the center of attention. His flush deepened.

  “Mud bombs?” she asked faintly. “Good grief. Whose idea was that?”

  He gulped. “Mine,” he whispered, ducking his head again.

  “Give the phone to your older brother,” she ordered, her tone brooking no argument. He passed the phone to Sherman and stood waiting for the axe to fall.

  A moment later Sherman handed the phone back.

  “Let’s go, folks,” Freddy said, eyeing Sherman questioningly. The big alpha shook his head. Flint’s heart sank. This meant there’d probably be no movie. Dammit. He hated being little. His older brothers got to do all kinds of mean shit, and no one did anything to them. When he decided to get some payback, he lost all his privileges. Dammit.

  The rest of the group followed Sherman as he headed down the corridor to the main stairwell. Flint waited a moment, then slouched off, as well, with Freddy beside him. His lower lip trembled as he fought not to be a big cry baby. He’d really wanted to see the Batman movie. Now he’d be lucky if he got to go to the cinema until after the holidays.

  They reached the ground floor, and he shivered as the wind bit, winter showing its claws. He glared at Honey, who was skipping along, chattering away to Sherman. She looked back at him, smirked, then turned back around. She was such a creep. She deserved to have something done to her, too, he thought angrily.

  * * * *

  Present day

  “Hi, Cullen,” John said cheerfully. “Coffee?”

  Cullen nodded gratefully as he approached the counter at Café Anglais. “Thanks, John.”

  “Busy day?”

  Cullen sighed, raking a hand through his hair tiredly. “Yeah. Feeling Clucky is fun, though. I love working with Oliver and Shark. Drew and Noah are a blast, too. Drew’s told me all sorts of stories from his time in England.”

  “I thought you were thinking of leaving town,” John said quietly, with none of his usual snarky humor.

  Cullen, glanced up and met the man’s intense yet sympathetic green gaze. “I was,” he admitted, shrugging as he watched John preparing a plate of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Bryce, further along, fired up the coffee machine. “I haven’t made a decision yet, though. Maybe I’ve had enough excitement for one lifetime, and need to think about settling down. But then I wonder if I’m missing out somehow, as though I’ve been living in a bubble for years.”

  “Ghost’s gone,” John reminded him, placing a pumpkin and cinnamon spiced muffin on the plate, too. “There’s no reason to hide anymore. Is there?”

  “I know,” Cullen retorted. “I saw the remains of his body.” He closed his eyes wearily. “I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel…out of whack or something. As though I’m in limbo, waiting for something else to happen. I’m tense, and it’s not just because Flashpoint have been quiet.” He was also a little concerned, because he’d helped a friend escape from her vicious husband, and hadn’t heard from her in weeks. “I think seeing Dorothy and Ar
thur, and hearing what happened to them, has made me a little antsy. I keep having flashbacks to my time with Ghost. It hasn’t been pleasant.”

  He thought that maybe it hadn’t all been so bad, since for the last few weeks he’d been speaking to Louis and Doyle, two bear shifters. They were cute and sexy, about three times his size, and he’d grown fond of the pair. If he hadn’t been so distracted by all the other crap he’d been dealing with, he’d have cottoned on to how many times they seemed to appear at Feeling Clucky, the fast food restaurant where he worked. He smiled slightly, thinking about how they stammered and stuttered out their orders when he was serving. Adorable.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” Bryce said as Cullen moved up to the cashier’s station, muffins in hand. “It’s not unusual to be tense in this town.” He grinned. “Sage does seem to attract the less savory elements. Just look who I’m working with!” he quipped, ducking John’s slap across the back of his head.

  Cullen grinned at the pair, who enjoyed winding each other up. Bryce had been rescued years ago from a bunker in Idaho, the result of an evil cult’s hatred for shifters. He and several folks in the town of Sage had nearly died, locked up and left to rot. Ethan, the café’s assistant manager, who was working in the back, kneading bread dough, had been one of the victims, too. The man rolled his eyes at his coworkers’ antics.

  “John, Bryce,” Ethan called, fixing the pair with a grim look, wagging a floury finger at them. “Behave yourselves. The naughty step isn’t too far away.”

  “Yes, dear,” John said, saluting him with a grin. Cullen laughed with Bryce, since John was always getting into trouble. There actually was a naughty step, just for John. The kids of Sage, affectionately known as the mini critters or fuzzbutts, had built it just for him.

  Bryce placed the coffee onto a tray, took the plate of muffins from Cullen’s grasp, then loaded the tray up with the plate, a fork and teaspoon, plus a small bowl of whipped cream. “There ya go, hon,” he said, smiling. The man was in his late twenties now. His hair was a shaggy brown, not dissimilar to Cullen’s do, his eyes a sparkling blue. At five foot seven, he was a shade shorter than Cullen, carrying himself with a confident grace that Cullen envied. The scars Bryce wore, claw marks along one cheek, hinted at a troubled, violent past that Bryce never spoke about. Cullen felt a certain kinship for the guy, since he had the feeling that Bryce shared a similar past to Cullen’s.

  “Thanks, Bryce,” Cullen said gratefully, taking the tray.

  “Want some company?” Bryce asked, staring shrewdly at Cullen.

  Cullen shook his head. “Thanks, but I won’t stay for long. I have something I need to do. I’m going to eat and run.” He smiled his thanks again, then turned to find a table, choosing one at the back, away from the huge picture window. He hated being on display like that. It always made him feel uneasy.

  He took a bite of a muffin, chewing hungrily, letting loose a low moan of bliss as the flavors burst on his tongue. Hmmm. Quickly wolfing down the rest of the delicious treat, he took a sip of his coffee, a milky latte, burning his lips on the hot brew.

  “Cullen?” He hadn’t heard anyone walk up, and started, spilling his coffee when he saw Ryder Black standing beside his table. “Sorry I startled you,” Ryder apologized, helping to mop up the spillage. “May I join you?”

  Cullen eyed him suspiciously. Ryder Black was head of a group of special shifter agents, working as a separate government security agency, known as the Warriors Brigade. Ryder wasn’t here to make casual conversation. He never was. Cullen nodded, and Ryder sat, eyeing the muffins hungrily.

  “Help yourself,” Cullen said laconically, smiling a little when Ryder grabbed one, taking a healthy bite.

  “So good,” Ryder said with feeling, demolishing the thing in three bites. “Bryce, could I get a black coffee, please?” he called. Bryce gave him a thumbs-up, looking curious.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” Cullen asked after an awkward pause. The two of them had a difficult relationship. Ryder was often intensely focused on his missions, to the exclusion of any empathy or sensitivity when it came to those around him, except his mates, which had caused some friction. A few months ago Cullen had quit working for Ryder, and had been doing some hacking on his own. Cullen had a background in computer savvy, and he and Drew, his accomplice, spent many nights tracking down information about the town’s nemesis, Flashpoint, and their affiliate, Fortress, which operated in the United Kingdom.

  Ryder shot him a wry grin. “That obvious?”

  Cullen smirked. “Just predictable,” he replied, with a hint of bitterness.

  Ryder sighed heavily, ducking his head under Cullen’s watchful gaze. “How many times do I need to say sorry before you believe me?”

  Cullen stared at the tabletop. “I know you’re sorry,” he replied miserably. “It’s just…”

  “It’s just that I’m a little intense sometimes, and I treated you with shocking insensitivity, disregarding what you had to say, causing damage to you, our town, and our relationship,” Ryder said with a certain droll humor that had Cullen smiling ruefully.

  “Something like that.” He sipped his latte.

  “On that note,” Ryder said briskly, which told Cullen he was back to business, putting the pseudo apology to rest. Cullen rolled his eyes, but felt amused at the man’s attitude. Ryder was at least consistent.

  “What note?”

  “I received this a little while ago,” Ryder said seriously, handing him a smartphone. The screen showed a brief, coded text message from Mikhail.

  “Toto has left Kansas. Possibility that he’s heading for Oz. No sign of a tornado.”

  “He’s really getting into this secret agent stuff, isn’t he?” Cullen asked dryly, staring at the message.

  “You understand it?” Ryder asked, sounding mystified.

  “You don’t?” Cullen chuckled. “Toto is D’Arcy. Tornado is Fortress. Oz is here.”

  “Is that it?” Ryder asked, glaring at the phone as though daring it to beep again. “Nothing else?”

  “He could be en route,” Cullen told him thoughtfully. “He was last seen in Paris, then Moscow.” He stared at the text. “He has contacts in Kiev. He’s run out of safe havens in England, so he’s obviously reaching out to some of his more nefarious contacts. Some of D’Arcy’s files were unsealed, and his covert ops background revealed. He’s had a varied and dangerous past.” He decided to leave out that he’d done the unsealing of D’Arcy’s files. Ryder didn’t need to know that.

  He felt a little twinge of fear in his belly at the thought of D’Arcy getting to some of his own contacts in Kiev. He just hoped they’d managed to get away. D’Arcy was a vicious man with a dark background that Cullen was only just uncovering. The fact that the murderer had been to Moscow was cause for some concern. Cullen knew of a few people in that neck of the woods, not known for its sympathy to the shifter community. Their policies on the LGBTQ cause was also something to be wary of.

  “You know something,” Ryder commented, his gaze laser-sharp.

  “I always know something,” Cullen drawled, smirking at his ex-boss.

  “Who have you been in contact with?” Ryder asked, arching a brow.

  Cullen pretended to zip up his mouth, playing the smart aleck, then sighed and dropped the act. “I can’t say,” he said. “Because I don’t know what’s going on. D’Arcy may be coming here, or he may stay abroad. If D’Arcy’s been to Moscow, then it doesn’t look good. He could be gaining support out there for another attack. It’s dangerous over there right now, with the gay community at risk, let alone whatever Fortress’s affiliates have been trying against shifters. I wouldn’t put it past D’Arcy to have set up a new operation over there. And we still haven’t dealt with the Shadow, yet.”

  Ryder nodded and seemed as though he wanted to ask something, but backed off, eyeing Cullen with a steady gaze, as though daring him to reveal more.

  Cullen grabbed a napkin and drew on it with a pen he retrieve
d from his coat pocket. He always had a pen on him. Just in case. Finishing his latte, he wrapped two of the remaining muffins in another napkin and got to his feet. Jerking his chin, he directed Ryder’s attention to the napkin and moved toward the door, nodding to John and Bryce. He really did have things to do.

  “Too many eyes and ears to say more,” Cullen had written. “Keep alert for newcomers to town. This war is far from over. I’ll keep digging.”

  He met Ryder’s dark stare through the window as he passed and nodded briefly, receiving a reciprocal acknowledgment in return. Smirking, he continued on his way, feeling as though they were both on the same page at last.

  Chapter Two

  Doyle punched his good friend and lover, Louis, in the arm, nodding toward the café. “We missed him again,” he said, sighing.

  “Dammit!” Louis said. “That man is always leaving somewhere when we’re just arriving.”

  “Why don’t we follow him, see if we can at least say hi?” Doyle suggested.

  Louis nodded. “Good idea.” They had to hustle, since Cullen was already out of sight. “Geez, he’s eager to get somewhere,” Louis said breathlessly.

  They saw the cinema multiplex coming into view, situated within a mini mall which had a bowling alley, games arcade, plus a trampolining center, and a tiny critters activities center. Cullen was scurrying for the cinema. They high-fived.

  “Perfect.” Doyle grinned.

  They followed, practically running when Cullen disappeared through the doors.

  “Which movie did that last guy buy a ticket for?” Louis asked as they reached the ticket booth.

  “Hey, guys,” Olivia, one of John’s brood, greeted them. “Which guy?”

  “Cullen,” they both said together.

  She grinned, tapping a finger to her lips, then hit the screen in front of her. “Here you go, boys,” she said, her blue eyes twinkling merrily behind her glasses. “Cinema 2.”

  They nodded and rushed in that direction, entering the darkened auditorium. “There we are,” Louis whispered, then he exchanged a shocked glance with his brother in arms. “Geezus, the entire mini critter community is here tonight.”