by Zoe Chant
He felt suddenly, unreasonably uneasy and shook himself. If those were tourists, and they were about to get lost, they wouldn’t have any difficulty un-losing themselves. Back up Rabbit Road and follow the lights to town; easy as that. No one would thank him for following them and interrupting. Besides, it was just as likely they were heading out of town for some sky-gazing or any of the other activities people did at lonely lookouts under the stars…
Jackson shook his head. His mother was still talking, and he’d lost track of the conversation.
Louisa tutted. “I told you, no detectiving. I’ll sort this out. I’ll come visit you! I haven’t been to Pine Valley in so long. It’ll be lovely.”
“But, Ma—”
“But Ma nothing. You spent enough years telling me it’s the most Christmassy town in the world, so now I’d like to see it.”
“And this has nothing to do with my father.”
Louisa stood so still that if it wasn’t for the steam wreathing above the casserole dishes, Jackson would have suspected the video had cut out. Another set of headlights cut through the night. Not the same car—this one was coming from town and followed the road to the Puppy Express. Jackson kept his attention on his mother.
“He’s talking nonsense, but—I thought you’d be here.” She picked up the phone and held it so her face filled the whole screen. “If you do see him…”
“That’d be a Christmas miracle.”
She gave him a very motherly look. “Just—take what he says with a grain of salt. Several grains of salt. The size of that Himalayan lamp you gave me. The tasty one.”
“You know you’re not meant to lick—”
“It was once.” His mother looked prim, and only slightly guilty. “I’ll see you soon.”
Jackson said goodbye and dropped his phone back in his pocket. The conversation had left him feeling, if not better, then differently bad.
His mother must have gotten her wires crossed. Jackson’s father hadn’t seen the need to be a part of his life for the past three decades. Why would that change now?
As though he didn’t have enough to worry about.
4
Olly
Olly pulled up outside the Puppy Express a few minutes later. She’d passed the truck that made her owl go so strangely uninterested on the way there. Once again, her owl had carefully not paid any attention to it. was as though it had decided that instead of being anxious about new things, it was going to ignore them.
Good idea, she told it. I’ll get fewer chilblains if I don’t have to run circles around every building before I go inside.
Olly was just relieved not to find herself parking behind a tree and staring fixedly at some poor asshole’s car until she convinced her owl it wasn’t going to jump up and bite them. Taking her owl’s lead, she didn’t even glance at the truck in her rear-vision mirror as she drove away.
When she saw the parking lot, she frowned, and the strange truck flew out of her head. She knew she was late to the party—the sugar mice should have been done hours ago, but her owl had kicked up a fuss about being stuck inside at dusk and insisted on going flying, and that quick flight had turned into an inch-by-inch inspection of the town—but she hadn’t expected… this.
The Puppy Express building was designed to look like a log cabin, but on a massive scale. Olly’s uncle Bob had designed it and sometimes Olly wondered if he’d let his owl do the planning: everything about it was too big all over, like an owl sizing up a human residence. The front door was double-wide and had flattened more than one unwary visitor. Each window could fit four or five woeful huskies with their front paws on the sill, waiting for people to come and take them for a ride. The roof was covered with snow and the snow was spangled with tinsel and colorful lights.
Tonight, the massive front door and most of the windows were hidden behind an enormous pavilion. It glowed from within, and music filled the air. Dozens of cars were crammed into what was left of the parking lot with the tent taking up so much space, and they were squeezed in so tight she wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was hiding between any of them. The parking area spilled back into the woods, where they’d plowed out some of the auxiliary space that was normally used for dog hitching and snowmobile storage.
On some level, she now realized, she had come expecting the usual office Christmas party and gotten… this.
Normally the Puppy Express office Christmas party was a low-key affair. But this year Jasper Heartwell had gotten involved and decided to combine it with his annual Christmas spectacle after the town council had nixed its usual venue. She had hoped that it wouldn’t be as huge and loud as usual, because there just wasn’t enough room here.
Apparently she’d been wrong. If there wasn’t room, Jasper had simply made more room. He could have invited everyone in town. In fact, by the look of the parking lot, he probably had.
Inside Olly, her owl’s feathers puffed up with anxiety. She bit back a sigh. So much for her owl ignoring things instead of freaking out over them.
I’m not freaking out! her owl hissed. It’s just… a lot of people…
I know. And she felt the same. A stab of worry deep in her stomach.
She had to wedge her car under a tree at the very edge of the lot and even then, it took her ten minutes to convince herself to open the door and get out.
She was being ridiculous, she knew. But knowing it and making her fingers grab the door handle were two different things.
Her owl didn’t like surprises. She wasn’t in love with them either, and when it came to surprises at work…
She scrambled at the door handle. There! She was out. Cold air blasted her face and her shoulders tensed as she hurried around the back of the tree.
The parking lot was stuffed full. Okay. That meant she could check whose cars were there, and have some idea of who might be inside. But she still wouldn’t know where they were inside and, after all, people could have carpooled. So she still wouldn’t know exactly who, either.
All she knew for sure was that half the Puppy Express’s employees definitely weren’t there. There was no sign of Meaghan and Caine Guinness’s cars, which meant their hellhound pack must not have arrived yet.
Her jaw ached with tension, and a sudden thought flashed into her mind: What would Jackson think, seeing you more anxious about seeing your neighbors than seeing the hellhounds who terrorized you last year?
He’d laugh at her, probably. Or…
She swallowed. No, he wouldn’t laugh. Because he’d been the one who found her after the hellhounds broke into the Puppy Express and scared her senseless.
But he wasn’t here. And neither were the hellhounds, not that they scared her anymore. They were a bunch of softies—in human form, at least. Who was here, going by the cars packed into the parking lot, were most of the shifter families that lived in Pine Valley. All people she knew. She could safely walk in and…
Still, she’d feel better if she knew exactly what was waiting for her inside.
She narrowed her eyes and, moving slowly, put down her stack of containers next to the tree.
Just one circuit, she told her owl. Just in case…
She didn’t even know. But this was unexpected, and her owl was prickling at her, and she didn’t want any surprises.
Music drifted through the night air as she picked her way around the building. She knew all the best vantage points for seeing in through the windows without anyone seeing her if they randomly glanced out. But… the tent. That was new. She’d have to think about it. Around it.
It all looked innocently festive. The main building was set up as a food hall, with the souvenir displays and cushy sofas pushed aside to make way for long trestle tables. Music flooded from the tent: dancing?
It was still a Christmas party. Just a bigger one than she’d anticipated. Her heart hammered against her ribs. A Christmas party! That was fine, right? She could go back to the tree, grab her Tupperwares, and…
…Maybe she woul
d just finish scouting around the building first. To be safe.
Olly spotted her uncle Bob through a window and a tiny bit of her wariness unwound. He was dressed up as Santa and his red nose was more authentic than most Christmases thanks to the cold that had snuck up on him the week before. And—yes, there was Suki from the general store. She’d been on the invite list for sure. With all those special orders she did for dogfood, she probably made more off the Express than Bob did. And there were the Hawkinses, and that cat curled up by the roaring fireplace had to be Joanie.
And there was the new deputy. Olly was surprised to see him there. Sure, he was a shifter, but he spent so little time in Pine Valley she half-suspected he was deliberately ignoring the town. When Jackson was here—
Olly hurried to the next window before she could think too much about Pine Valley’s previous deputy, and why he’d left.
Kitchen. From the size of the roast that bear shifter Hannah Holborn was carving, Jackson was about the only person who’d lived in Pine Valley in the last decade who wasn’t invited. Except—no. Everyone she’d spotted so far was either a shifter or married to one, and Jackson was—was…
She made her way further around the building. As she reached the far side, something whined excitedly.
Olly’s owl did not react. She would have been relieved, but she’d been expecting this, so her owl must have been, too. Her circuit of the building had brought her close to the kennels, and half a dozen sad noses were pressed up against the door, clouding the glass with their breath.
“Poor puppies. Everyone got invited to the party except for you?” She felt sorry for them: sure, they had the evening off, but they loved pulling festively decorated sleds around the forest tracks so much that that was more of a punishment than a vacation. Olly was about to unlock the door and scratch a few ears when the sound of two car engines roared over the music, and suddenly, she was no longer the most interesting person at the party.
Every dog in the kennels, from loopy Loony to old reliable Hoops, was suddenly trembling with excitement.
Be careful! her owl warned her, but Olly knew who she was going to find as she darted back around to the front of the building. She ducked and dodged around cars until she found where the new arrivals had crammed in at the edge of the parking lot.
She set her lips into a determined line. The hellhounds. And their new alphas.
Careful careful, her owl whispered.
They’re my friends now, Olly insisted. They’re not a danger.
Still…
Oh, stop it. Olly clawed back the urge to circle back into the safety of the trees. She wasn’t the silly, frightened little girl she’d been last Christmas. She knew the hellhounds now, and trusted them and, more importantly, trusted their alphas.
“Meaghan!” she called out. Her owl screeched in dismay as a half-dozen people in various stages of getting out of their cars turned towards her. Mostly men, and one woman.
“Olly!” Meaghan sounded surprised, and delighted. Olly got a half-second glimpse of her curly dark hair and broad grin before the rest of her pack got out of their vehicles and mobbed around her.
“I’ll take your bag!”
“Watch out, there’s ice—”
“Is the air too cold? I heard you cough before.”
“All right, that’s enough!” Caine Guinness waded through the pack until he was at Meaghan’s side. He was tall, with dark-red hair and an athletic build. One gesture from him and the other men scattered—briefly. They backed off a few feet, hovered, and jittered on the spot as though they were about to jump back into the fray.
“Oh, for…” Meaghan buried her face in Caine’s shoulder and growled something that made him laugh. “And give me back my bag, Ryan!”
Ryan, a young man with hair like a wire brush, sheepishly held out her handbag. She grabbed it, thrust it under one arm and glared at him until his shoulders curled inwards.
Olly hadn’t moved. They’re behaving very strangely, her owl muttered suspiciously, and she had to agree. The hellhounds were always boisterous—they were all relatively new to being shifters and, like the actual Puppy Express puppies, they seemed to bounce between wild excitement and tail-between-the-legs misery at the drop of a hat—but this was different.
Meaghan smoothed down the front of her coat and walked over to Olly, her smile back in place. “Hey, babe. Merry almost-Christmas!”
She pulled Olly into a hug and Olly sensed a grumble of protective unease from Caine’s hellhound. She raised one eyebrow at him over Meaghan’s shoulder and he had the decency to look shamefaced. Her owl blinked rapidly. Him, too?
“I’m so happy you could make it.” Meaghan gave her another squeeze and let her go.
“Of course I could make it,” Olly said, confused. “When have I missed one of our staff parties? Even if it is a bit bigger this year…”
Meaghan looked uncomfortable. “It’s just—well, with how you’ve been acting this year…”
Olly suddenly felt as though she was under a spotlight. Her owl hissed and she glanced around to see every one of the hellhounds watching her intently. Fire shimmered at the edges of their eyes.
All of a sudden, she was back behind the counter at work twelve months away, cowering in fear as the strangers’ eyes burned straight into her deepest fears.
She wet her lips. “I think I’ll do, um, I think I’ll just go and check—do another circuit of the buildings,” she stammered, and Meaghan made a frustrated noise.
“Hey! Leave her alone. If you start defending me from feeling worried about people, you can all sleep in the kennels tonight. Shoo.”
The hellhounds ducked their heads guiltily and shuffled off. Olly got the feeling that if they’d been in their animal forms, they’d have had their tails around their legs. She relaxed.
“I’m sorry about that,” Meaghan said to her in an undertone. “Are you okay?”
Olly nodded quickly, her eyes still fixed on the hellhounds, and Meaghan snorted in disbelief.
“Of course you’re not. Bloody hellhounds and their freaky eyes. I can tell them to go home if they’re going to ruin the evening for you.”
“No, they’re fine. It’s just—you know me.”
“Hmmph. Yeah, I do. I know that you and the hellhounds get on so long as they keep their beady eyes to themselves, and that right now they’re having trouble…” She broke off and growled. “They are trouble.”
Meaghan’s grumpy at the hellhounds? Why? Olly’s owl stared out at them through her eyes. And it was strange, Olly agreed. Usually, Meaghan had no problem with the pack.
Don’t ask what’s wrong, her owl urged her. We can figure it out. Piece by piece.
Caine strolled up to them, hands in pockets. “I hope you don’t mean me, too.”
Meaghan had been watching the hellhounds retreat. She spun around and tapped her mate playfully on the chest. “You, I can handle. But…”
His eyes flickered. But whereas the other hellhounds came out blazing with ferocity, Caine’s hellhound’s fire was warm and affectionate.
“Is something wrong?” Olly spoke before her owl could stop her.
Meaghan and Caine exchanged a look that Olly immediately interpreted as Let’s not tell her, which did nothing for her worries. Or her owl’s.
“It’s nothing,” Caine said, and Meaghan clicked her tongue.
“It’s not nothing. They’re all on edge, and as soon as one of them tips into having trouble keeping their hellhound under control the others get suckered in, too.” She grumbled under her breath. “God save me from nervy shifters.”
“I’m sorry being the alpha of a hellhound gang isn’t everything you dreamed of,” Caine murmured. If it weren’t for the mischief in his eyes, Olly would have thought he was being serious.
Meaghan flashed him a look. “Being the alpha of a hellhound gang is nothing I ever dreamed of,” she said. “And yet…”
Caine pulled her close. “It’s not all bad, is it?”
“It has its moments,” Meaghan admitted. “But right now…”
Every inch of Olly’s skin was prickling. “Are their hellhounds—”
“They’re no danger to you or anyone else,” Caine said firmly.
“Just a pain in the ass.” Meaghan reached over and squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s head inside.”
“I’ll just do another circuit—”
“No.” Meaghan tugged on her arm until she fell into step with her. “Come on, Olls. You can do this,” she murmured in her ear. “No circuits, no spying everyone out. You’re safe here. It’s just a party.”
“I hate parties.” It sounded sullen, and teenagerish, but it was better than the truth.
Meaghan snorted. “It’s all your shifter neighbors, getting drunk and singing along to carols. What’s the worst that could happen? Wait… don’t answer that.”
Olly fetched her Tupperwares and held them in front of her like a cavity-inducing shield. The other hellhounds were straggling around the door, waiting for them. One of them—a pale-haired guy called Flea, who worked some shifts at the Puppy Express—caught Olly’s eye and looked away, shoulders hunching. She hadn’t seen any fire in his eyes, but just the glimpse of it before had sent warning bells screaming in her head.
The last time she’d gotten lost in their hellfire eyes, she’d panicked and run straight into the worst decision of her life.
She shook herself. That was last year. She knew the hellhound boys now, and she knew the hellfire was just part of what they were; nothing to be afraid of.
Meaghan might be worried about her, but she was fine. She had it all under control; she just needed to keep a close eye on things, and that would keep her safe. Get all the information, and make an informed decision. The way her owl had always done.