by Sharon Joss
Mike followed Yolanda through the hedge tunnel leading from the operations center into the park. As they emerged from the tunnel, the sensory overload stopped him in his tracks. The park echoed with a sudden cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. As he stared, Yolanda’s low laugh reached him in places where the neon ribbons of light, the scent of the food court and the screams of the crowd couldn’t.
Across a broad cobblestone plaza a huge red Ferris wheel stood as the centerpiece of a real amusement park. Lit with thousands of tiny red lights, each car in the rotating structure was designed in the shape of a fang; the overall effect appeared to be that of a bloody circular saw. Behind it, a wooden coaster raced along a snake-like black track streaked with orange and purple neon lighting. Cars filled with dozens of enthusiastic people screamed at every dip and turn.
On a tightrope strung some thirty feet above the plaza, an acrobat dressed as a harlequin danced with a sinuous ballerina in a froth of pink. As he watched, they bared their fangs and hissed to an appreciative crowd gathered below. Vampires.
The night air throbbed with the sounds of a heavy metal band, while the rich aroma of barbecued meats, kettle corn, and onion blossoms vied for his attention. His stomach growled.
He followed her through the crowd as a pair of jugglers on stilts tossed glowing balls of blue fire into the air above their heads. This is so cool. “I never knew this place existed. I mean, I guess I always knew it was here, but not like this. You can’t see or hear anything from the road.”
“There are twenty rides in the park, but until you pass through the entrance or the security tunnel, you’d never know it. It’s because of the wards.”
“My god, how long has this place been here?”
They waited for a rowdy crowd of people to pass by. Leggy women strutted their stuff in tattered black lace and big hair, their stiletto heels adding to the witchy, spidery look of their ensembles. Men dressed in pinstripes, bowlers, and metal-studded leather swaggered behind, admiring the view.
“The Ferris wheel came first; it was built around the turn of the century.” She pointed out the carousel--a magnificently carved folly of dragons, griffins, sphinxes, and other monsters circling a mirrored, central axis. “That’s my favorite. It was added in the twenties, I think. Varrick and Santino carved the monsters themselves. Most of the rest of the rides came in the 1960s. Tryffin told me they remodeled the whole park about twenty-five years ago, and that’s what you see here.”
Mike shook his head in disbelief. “I grew up here. I never knew about any of this. It looks like some wild carnival from the Twilight Zone.”
She laughed. “It is fun, isn’t it?”
They strolled through the crowded sector, past the Tilt ‘n Whirl, the spinning barrel, and a host of other mechanical carnival rides, all painted in nightmare colors, emblazoned with the Mythica logo. The theme was definitely thrills and chills of the supernatural variety, with a wry nod to the dead.
Yolanda spotted Trick skulking nearby and waved him over. “Mike, this is Trick Adaire. He’s Tryffin’s head mechanic and our new Beta.”
Mike cringed inwardly. The itch of her pheromones riffled across his skin when she said Trick’s name. She liked the guy. Great. “We’ve already met.”
Trick pushed at him with his power. “Hello pussy.”
Trick never took his eyes off Yolanda, and she was giving it back as good as she got. Between him and the she-were, it was all he could do not to scratch.
The touch of Yolanda’s hand on his bare skin eased the buzzing sensation. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was enjoying this.
“Mike here is joining the pack. Isn’t he cute?” She ran her hand up the inside of his arm. It felt good.
He felt like an idiot standing there. He fought to keep his cool. Trick might be an asshole, but he wasn’t the guy he was here to fight. “Hey, I’m only a lone wolf. Just a contractor.”
Trick cut him a hard glare. “And you never thought to mention that the other night.” He was leaking pheromones like a sieve. He even smelled angry. “Your Alpha is looking for you, Yolanda. You better get your sweet little ass over there.”
Mike felt the cat growl silently in his head. There were some heavy vibes going on between these two. He glanced around, looking for an escape.
“Vince is not my Alpha, and neither are you. At least not yet,” She smirked her disapproval at Trick. “I’m like you, Mike. I’m a lone wolf too. I haven’t decided whether to join the pack or not.” Her gaze settled on his mouth. “I’m still considering my options.” She made a face. “Come on.”
Mike allowed her to drag him away as Trick glared at them unhappily.
Ribbons of multicolored neon lit up the entire area, and a boardwalk between the attractions followed bright avenues lit by antique streetlamps. People pressed against them on all sides, but the lines for the carnival rides were short. Costumed patrons strolled past in every kind of macabre outfit imaginable, from Goth to Victorian; apocalyptic steampunk to zombies.
“You are taking me to Vince Dazak, right?”
Yolanda gave him a sideways look and smiled. “In a minute. There’s something I want to show you first.”
Were-women were rare as hen’s teeth, Mike knew. Packs without females probably recruited aggressively. Yolanda could probably do anything within reason to the pack or any of its members without fear of reprisals. He wasn’t certain of the pack protocol for dealing with a female lone wolf, but didn’t want to risk offending her.
She pulled him away from the bright lights of the amusements, back toward the central plaza and the sound of heavy metal music. The pounding base and drums beat out a familiar dark melody, but the band covering it had made it their own, and he couldn’t quite place the tune.
The concert hall came into view; a gloomy pseudo-gothic building with Victorian overtones. A monstrous, multi-armed, multi-jointed mechanical sea creature beckoned to passers-by from its perch on the steeply pitched copper-plated roof.
“What’s that,” he asked.
“This way.” She jerked his arm to the right, and led him down a calmer, quieter side street, lit with red paper lanterns. Her musky perfume smelled even better than the roasting meat. “The theatre is this way”
She was tall. Probably close to six feet. Muscular, but on her it looked good. She had the kind of body that demanded close attention. This was no airy fairy princess.
The cobbled street curved past a sweet pub called the Bloody Fang and widened into a courtyard populated with colorful tent pavilions. The aroma of food was stronger here.
They stopped in front of a yellow tent. The sign out front posted appointment times available for palmistry readings. This part of the park was relatively quiet and less well-lit.
“What are we doing here?” He wondered if she was playing with him.
“The white tents are food vendors, the striped are for souvenirs, and the yellow are for um, personal services.” Yolanda’s teeth gleamed like pearls in the relatively dim lighting in this part of the park. “Follow me.” She led him past another yellow tent offering tantric massage to a small red pavilion, and ducked inside.
Just a quick look won’t hurt. Another minute or two wouldn’t matter. He slipped inside.
He caught a quick glimpse of Persian carpets and poufy pillows scattered about, and then she was pressing up against him with her lush body and full lips. It had been a long time since he’d held a woman in his arms, and even longer since one had kissed him like that. It was better than he imagined.
Her quick tongue teased, her teeth nipped at his lips. She slipped her hand down between them, and made a satisfied sound in her throat as she felt him respond.
He grabbed her wrist when she reached for his zipper. The vibe wasn’t right. There was something else going on. “Wait,” he protested. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Why not?” She stepped back and pulled off her shirt. He was struck speechless when she unhooked her bra and dropped it onto t
he floor. She had a tattoo of a wolf howling beneath the twin full moons of her breasts. “Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”
He rubbed his mouth.
Her eyes gleamed hard in the dim light, as she shimmied out of her tight black jeans. Oh dear god, she was wearing a leopard-print thong.
She held his gaze as she deliberately unzipped him and took him in hand. She chuckled, low and sexy.
“No one says no to me. Not you, not Vince. Nobody.” She gave him a firm squeeze.
In spite of the warning bells going off in his head, all he could think of was getting closer to her in the most physical, intimate way possible. What the hell. He let her pull him down to the pillowed floor. The feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips was amazing. She sighed, and his focus narrowed into the now of the moment. She angled herself beneath him and bit his ear.
But before either of them had a chance to get to really get going to where they both wanted to go, the tent flap opened.
“Hello pussy. Remember me?”
Mike jumped as if he’d been burned. Standing in the doorway was Trick and what could only be Vince Dazak, the massive Alpha werewolf of Mythica.
CHAPTER 17 : BIG MAD WOLF
Heat radiated from Vince like a furnace blast.
The Alpha was the most powerful-looking man he’d ever seen. He made Mr. Universe look like a minnow. Mike scrambled to his feet as Tehuantl’s laughter echoed in his head.
The smirk on Yolanda and Trick’s faces left him no doubt that this little stunt had been their idea. Embarrassment and fury warred within him. Of course she hadn’t been serious. Two other were-men stood behind Vince, their faces stretched in silent laughter. How stupid can you get? Not inside the park for more than an hour and he’d stepped into a big stinking pile of wolf pack.
Alpha pheromones filled the tent. The huge Alpha was rigid with fury. He was older than Mike expected, his short blond hair silvered with grey.
He hurriedly tucked himself back into his pants, feeling like an idiot schoolboy. The urge to kneel before Vince was nearly overwhelming. He fumbled with his zipper, but no one was paying much attention to him. All eyes were glued to Yolanda, as she took her time getting dressed. Her eyes and fixed smile never once left Vince’s face.
“Don’t be mad at him,” she tossed her head as she glared defiantly at the Alpha. “This is your fault Vince. Any Alpha who won’t or can’t consummate-.”
“Shut up Yolanda.” Stone-faced with anger, Vince’s presence seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the tent.
Right beside him, Trick was busting at the seams for action. “You can’t let him get away with this, Vince. Let me teach him a lesson. He’s insulted the pack and violated protocol. Let me take care of this.” He bounced on the balls of his feet as if he could barely contain himself, earning a demure smile from Yolanda. Trick was taller than Vince, but the other man easily outweighed him.
“When Ambrose told me he’d promised you lone wolf status, I let it pass,” Vince said. “But neither Ambrose or Felix have authority over my pack. You’re in my territory without explicit permission, Bane.”
Mike reddened, kicking himself again mentally for his own stupidity. What the hell was I thinking? Felix had warned him. The best he could hope for now was to come clean. “I was stupid. I have no excuse. I apologize.”
A flicker of surprise flashed across Vince’s face. The oppressive tension in the tent eased, even as the other members of the pack sniggered behind him. Vince held up his hand for quiet.
Trick shouldered his way forward. “Listen to him; he’s pathetic. No real wolf would ever apologize. He’s weak.” Agitation pheromones invaded the close space. “I say we give him a taste of pack justice.” Yolanda grinned at him conspiratorially and licked her lips.
A sense of incredulity flooded through him. She set me up. His face burned. The two of them planned this whole charming scene.
“Knock it off, you two.” The anger in Vince’s voice sounded more like an irritated father now. His power washed over Mike, encouraging him to calm own. Everyone relaxed.
So this is what real Alpha dominance fells like, Mike mused. I wonder why it affects me too. Trick was just a piker by comparison.
With a start, he realized that Vince could decide to boot him out right now. Felix had told him that Vince was ex-army, and the guy still wore his military flat-top. No doubt Vince ran his pack the same way and would not respond to anything less than a direct appeal for discipline. He’d have to make this right; to ask Vince for his pardon without making himself look any weaker than he already had. If he could get Vince to deliver that discipline himself, he might stand a chance of being accepted into the pack. All he’d have to do would be to bare his throat to the Alpha, whereas if he went up against the entire pack, he wouldn’t have a chance.
“Look, I know I am the trespasser here. What do I need to do? I’ll accept whatever punishment you think I deserve, Alpha, but let’s get this over with.”
“He was going to fuck your bitch, boss. You can’t let him get away with that.”
“Shut up, Phelan. Yolanda isn’t pack.”
“I’ve made my choice, Vince. Why won’t you?” Yolanda’s protest sounded bitter in Mike’s ears. “I refuse to beg for it. Take me as your mate or I swear I’ll find someone in this pack who will and we’ll have a new Alpha. One with balls.” She reached for Vince’s belt buckle, but he slapped her hand away,
“Knock it off,” Vince cautioned. “This is not the time or the place, and you know it. I’ll deal with you later, girl.” He jerked his head at her. “Out.”
Yolanda shot Vince a nasty look, but departed without a word.
Everyone seemed to breathe a little easier.
“You’ve put me in a tight spot, Bane, and I resent the hell out of you for pulling this stunt right now. Half my pack has been with me less than six months. They’re inexperienced. I lost my Beta a month ago, and in spite of what you may have heard, I haven’t replaced him yet.” He glared pointedly at Trick.
He wants this to blow over as much as I do. Yolanda and Trick were both troublemakers. The whole pack must be in pretty bad shape.
“Yolanda is a pack prospect,” Vince explained. “It’s the first time we’ve had a female interested in joining, and as you can imagine, the tensions around here are stretched pretty thin. We’re all in a ‘getting to know you’ stage. She has the right to choose anyone she wants, and if she decides to stay with the pack, her choice may very well decide the Alpha leadership.”
Mike nodded. “I appreciate the explanation.”
“This for not for your benefit.” Vince turned to face the uniformed were-men gathered around the entrance. “I’m explaining this for everyone. I will dispense pack discipline tomorrow afternoon at three in the amphitheater. You guys can spread the word. Until then, I want everyone back at their assigned stations.” The group of security officers drifted away, except for Trick, who was still standing next to Vince, nursing his outrage. “You too Adair. Back to your post.”
Trick melted away without further protest.
Impressed, Mike wondered what was really going on here. Vince didn’t appear to be anything like the guy Ambrose had described.
When Vince spoke, his voice was utterly calm “I’ll see you back here tomorrow afternoon, Bane. Until then, get the hell out of my territory.”
* * *
The mutt was waiting for him when he got home, and the relief Mike felt when he saw Farley coming out to greet him chased away most of the bitterness he felt for being fooled by Yolanda. The deerhound held his head low as if to apologize for his earlier cowardice. Mike knelt down and hugged the big dog to him; his pleasure sparking a teary-eyed response. He cradled the dog’s shaggy face in his hands.
“You had me worried, big guy. I’m sure glad that big bad wolf didn’t catch you.” He checked the dog all over, but didn’t find a mark on him. “If anything happened to you; well, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
/> He’d been four when his mother had died; five when his father had taken his punishment for wandering out onto the Tor. His father’s best friend, Tom Jolley and his wife Florence, had taken him and the dog without hesitation. Farley wasn’t really Dad anymore; there had never been any sense that the dog was sentient, or anything other than a well-loved and loyal family pet.
To people who didn’t know any better, he was the black hound of the Tor or just Farley, a stray who’d been around as long as anyone could remember. Florence had passed away years ago. As far as he knew, only Tom, Uncle Taffy, and a few old-timers still remembered Farley Bane. But the thought of losing him had been almost as unbearable as relinquishing those boyhood dreams that one day he’d be able to lift his father’s punishment.
He let himself into the house and fed the hungry deerhound. He checked the fridge, but it was too late for dinner, anyway. Maybe he’d go out to breakfast tomorrow. He unfurled the cat and followed the mutt toward the bedroom. Mike felt the jaguar’s satisfaction echo within as he hopped onto the bed and curled himself contentedly around his friend. Welcome home, Farley.
CHAPTER 18 : THE SCENT OF BACON
Egg Heaven was an all-day breakfast café, and like the bait shops on his morning route, was running full tilt at this hour of the morning. The line of people waiting for a seat was out the door. Mike parked in the shade across the street. He left Farley in the truck and went inside hoping for a seat at the counter, but stopped when he caught sight of Sarah Powers waving to him from a booth near the window. He groaned inwardly, but it would be rude not to join her.
He slid onto the vinyl seat across from her. She smelled of bacon and coffee; mighty good. Dark crescents circled beneath her eyes, but otherwise she appeared chipper and cheerful.
“I stopped in to see Tom last night,” she said. “He’s going to make it. He’s healing faster than they expected. They’re moving him out of intensive care today. Isn’t that great?”
She wore her short hair edgy and a little spikey on top. Except for the blue eyes and red lipstick, she looked like a pixie.