by Boone Brux
A mere two feet separated us, and I thought I had him, but he suddenly spun on me. For a split second his face registered surprise. I’m sure mine did too. When he realized I could see him, chaos ensued. His mouth opened, and the first note of his shriek rent the air.
Panicking, I slapped my hand over his mouth and grabbed his jacket shoulder. He twisted, trying to get away, but I stuck tight. A high-pitched growl rumbled from behind my hand, and I felt his mouth open. Not wanting to get bit by what was sure to be razor-sharp teeth, I yanked my hand back. When his mouth opened again to holler at his friends, I punched him, dropping him to the ground.
“Shut up!” Pain shot through my fingers. I shook my hand a couple of times, trying to ease the ache, but it didn’t work. “Don’t think I won’t wallop you again.”
“How can you see me?” He stopped struggling and squinted up at me. “Wait, I know you.” He jabbed the bony finger at me. “Your Zed’s granddaughter. The one that’s not a Shifter.” Confusion creased his forehead. “What the hell are you?”
“Honey, right now I am your worst nightmare.” In a few seconds, he’d realize he wasn’t getting away, and the struggle would start all over again. Hoping to head off any further injuries, I yanked him toward me and then snaked my arm around his neck. “You and your friends have been bad badgers, and it’s my job to give you a paranormal spanking. “
“Oooh, I like it rough.” He laughed. “Too bad you don’t have what it takes to give me a spanking.”
“We’ll just see about that.” I tightened my hold around his neck and shoved him forward, away from his friends, who were still trying to light the dynamite.
“Where are you taking me?” He twisted, trying to get away. “You got no right. I’m a honey badger. You ain’t nothing. You ain’t even a Shifter, and this ain’t even your land.” An electrical hum rippled across my body. My arms tingled and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. “And, I’m getting real tired of this game you’re playing.”
Though I didn’t have much experience with poltergeists, I knew he was getting ready to shift. I hoped it would be to his honey badger form and not his full-on ectoplasmic bad ass shape. His body shuddered and popped. Suddenly, I was hugging a much smaller thrashing animal, which also happened to have five times more pointy ends. On a good note, he was a lot lighter.
His teeth snapped at me, missing my arm by a fraction of an inch. I slapped my hand around his snout and clamped it shut. Still holding onto his shoulder, which was now short fur and skin, I held him at arm’s length. Even though he was a ghost, he still had some heft to him. Weight and balance were weird things in the ghostly realm. To normal humans, spirits were invisible and weightless. To grim reapers, they bore substance and force depending on how angry they were and how much they resisted being reaped. To put it simply, this moronic badger shifting poltergeist was a major pain in my ass.
My arms burned with the effort of holding him away from my body and keeping him quiet at the same time. A few times, he curled his lower body upward, trying to get at my hand holding his mouth shut. Thankfully, he was so intent on fighting me as a badger, he didn’t attempt to transform into a poltergeist.
Moving quietly while wrestling a badger was no easy feat. I glanced over my shoulder. Another ten yards and I’d be able to call my porter. My foot hooked a protruding tree root. I stumbled, caught myself—I thought—until my captive transformed back to human. His snout disappeared, and my hand slipped from his mouth, throwing me off balance. Clawing at the neck of his shirt, my fingers twined in the material. Unable to get my footing, I dropped to my knees, taking him with me. The neckband on his T-shirt tightened, choking off any warning he’d planned on making. When his knees hit the ground, he fell forward and dragged me with him.
A muffled grunt puffed from under me as I pinned him to the damp ground. Sweat poured off me from the exertion, and bits of leaves and dirt clung to my damp skin. This was by far the toughest reap I’d had so far, and thinking about his two friends I still had to apprehend made me want to cry.
Capitalizing on having the upper hand, I called for my porter. “Bunny.”
Each grim reaper got assigned a personal porter. They were responsible for transporting the spirit to wherever they needed to be, whether the good place, or the bad. My porter’s name was Bunny. I didn’t know if porters were once human, we’d never cozied up enough to have that chat, but she gave off a strong Mary Kay lady vibe. “Bunny!”
Pink sparkles twinkled in a thin vertical line a few yards away from where we lay, slowly stretching and expanding to a door that looked like an elevator. Once fully formed, the door slid open to reveal Bunny in all her splendor. Her chestnut brown hair had been ratted to an impressive height, and then flawlessly smoothed to a helmet shape. The ends flipped up and held in a stiffly sprayed U-shape. Lashes that reminded me of fuzzy pipe cleaners rimmed her big brown eyes, and brilliant white teeth gleamed behind her fuchsia pink smile. As always, she was dressed head to toe in pink. Today’s stunning ensemble was a pale pink jumpsuit straight out of the eighties, wide silver belt included. She wore matching pink pumps and a pink and silver print scarf. Pink balls hung from silver chains dangling from her ears, and a good six inches of silver bangle bracelets climbed her left wrist. She was a vision in pink.
“Hey there, Poppy.” Bunny braced her right hand high up on the door frame and held the biggest martini ever made in her left. “Whatcha doing on the ground?”
With a quick breath, I blew a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Oh, you know, just hanging out, catching perps.”
“Fabulous.” She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. “What the hell is that?”
“Honey badger Shifter slash poltergeist.”
A laugh burst from her. “Oh, Poppy, you always get the best reaps.”
He struggled underneath me and lifted his head. “Get this cow off me.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Waving a pink polished finger at him, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t insult her if I was you.” She squatted and gave him a pity-filled smile. “Then again, you don’t look very bright.”
“Bright enough to tear you apart if she ever gets her fat ass off me,” he snarled.
“You think?” Bunny’s eyes rounded with mocking innocence. “Should I have her let you up, tough guy?”
“I suggest you shut up,” I said to him. “She’s not somebody you want to piss off.”
“She doesn’t scare me.” He twisted his body, rocking me back and forth like I was riding the bull. “She’s the one who should be shaking in her pretty pink shoes.”
“Their Jimmy Choo’s, moron,” Bunny said. She straightened and smiled at me. “You heard the man, Poppy, let him go.” A wicked grin curled her lips. It was that exact expression that never let me believe my porter was a sweet Mary Kay lady. “Let’s see what he’s got.”
“If you say so.” I rolled to the side, coming up to my feet. Still crouched, I watched, ready to intervene if he decided to make a break for it. I knew what was going to happen. It went the same way during every reap, no matter how special a spirit thought they were.
“That’s more like it.” He rose and cracked his knuckles, his stare never waving from Bunny. “You scared yet?”
She motioned him forward with her free hand. “Come on, tough guy.”
His lips curled in a snarl, and he took a step forward and froze. “What the…” Like every reap before him, he’d walked right into her trap. Though he didn’t walk, his body slid forward. “What’s going on?” Waving his arms, he tried to back away from the elevator, but Bunny’s tractor beam had latched onto him, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop the inevitable. “No! Wait!”
He dropped to the ground and clawed at the dirt, leaving deep furrows. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you were going to tear me apart.” Bunny tipped her head back and let loose a purely maniacal laugh, sending shivers down my spine. Pinching the skewer holding two olives, she stirred her drink. “The anticip
ation is killing me,” she cackled. “Will he get away?”
Though there was no conceivable way he could escape, he still fought the invisible force every inch of his journey. With aching slowness, his body entered the pink-clad elevator. Though she didn’t move from her spot against the doorframe, Bunny watch his progress, clearly enjoying the adventure. Once he was secured within the confines of the elevator, I stood. There’s no way he could get out. His glare burned into me, and he lifted his hand and flipped me the bird. I gave him a solid salute and counted to three. As I lowered my hand, he dropped out of sight, no doubt on his way to a place that gave badass a new meaning.
“Well, that was fun.” Bunny set her empty martini glass on a marble stand inside the door. “Transporting assholes gives me a special kind of warm feeling.”
“Him too, I’m sure.” I strode closer to the elevator, but not so close she could touch me. That had been the number one rule when dealing with our porters. Never get close enough to touch. I pointed to the ceiling of the elevator. “Is that a new chandelier?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, it is.” She gave me a smile so filled with warmth, I could almost believe we were truly friends. “You’re the best for noticing.” She ran her hand across the wall. I’m thinking of either wallpapering or mirroring one wall. What do you think?”
There was no such thing as too much for Bunny. I held out my arms. “Why not both?”
“Both?” She stared at the interior of the elevator as if seeing it for the first time, then looked back at me. “Great suggestion. Girl, you’re a natural born decorator.”
“I try.” I brushed the leaves off my pants, and then slapped the dirt from my butt. “There’s still two more of these guys, so I’ll be calling you again.” I blew out a breath. “With any luck, I’ll be able to sneak up on them and nab each one separately.”
Her gaze drifted from my face to an inch over my shoulder. “I think you can scratch the stealth part.” She pointed. “And the nabbing them separately.” She backed into the elevator. “As a matter of fact, I think you’d better run.”
I spun. The two remaining honey badgers were bearing down on me, and they didn’t look happy. “Shit!”
I turned toward Bunny, but she’d been smart enough to book it out of there. Now it was my turn. The only problem was, I only had a vague idea of where I was, and there was no time to GPS my car. Snarls ripped from behind me, spurring me on. If these guys got ahold of me, I’d be a dead grim reaper. Ironic, but true.
Fallen trees were no match for my leaping abilities. Normally, I couldn’t walk through the woods without stumbling, but now I weaved and veered as if I knew every inch of wilderness. Amazingly, death was a great motivator. Darkness made it tough to see where I was going, but I kept moving, the honey badgers’ harsh breathing pushing me until my lungs heaved and my side ached.
Relief washed through me when I recognized the dilapidated shack I’d passed when I first entered the woods. My car was near. That didn’t necessarily mean I’d get away unscathed, but the knowledge gave me a small measure of reassurance.
Renewed energy shot through me, and I hurdled a tree stump. From my left one of the badgers appeared. He raced toward me, trying to cut off my escape. Behind me, the harsh breathing of the other badger sounded way too close for comfort. Sweat dripped from me, but I didn’t stop to think about the stifling evening heat. My lungs and throat burned as I sucked in air, and the ache in my side had taken on a whole new level of pain.
When I darted to the right, the clearing where I’d parked my car flashed ahead. A cry of joy burst from me, and I dug deep for the last bit of energy. I had no idea what was going to happen when I got to my car, but for some reason, it felt like freedom. Teeth snapped behind me, low and close to the ground. Without confirming my thoughts that the guy behind me had shifted to his badger form, I leaped over the last fallen tree barring my way to freedom.
Two things happened the second my body cleared the trees. Headlights flared to life, blinding me, and an explosion rocked the ground, knocking me off my feet. I slammed to the earth and my head struck a flat rock. Mind-numbing agony shot through me. The world spun, and my vision blurred. About three seconds before everything went black; somebody stepped into view.
Jax.
Shit.
Chapter Five
“Come on.” I shook the bars of the cell door. “Let me out of here.”
Jax sat across the room, his feet propped on his desk, his hands folded on top of his stomach. A half grin had been a permanent feature on his stupid face since he’d stuck me there last night. “Sure, as soon as you tell me what happened.”
“I already told you.” I rattled the bars again, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.
“No, what you told me was that you didn’t blow up the truck.” He uncrossed his ankles and stood. “If you didn’t do it, who did?”
“I don’t know.” From his expression, I could see he didn’t believe me. Who could blame him? I came barreling out of the woods seconds before the dynamite exploded. Even I had to admit it looked very incriminating. But what was I supposed to tell him? The truth? My gut twisted at the thought of him giving me that look I’d grown to hate. Pity, or that I’m crazy. I crossed my arms over my chest and stomped to the other side of the cell. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Turning back to him, I leaned against the wall and glared. “So, let’s drop it.”
Before he could reply, the front door opened, and two men strolled in. Oh great, if having Jax scowl at me all morning hadn’t been bad enough, I now got to endure his grandfather’s and dad’s barrage of accusations. Brooding, stern, and rather fierce looking, both men possessed personalities that filled the room. Not necessarily in a good way.
“What are you doing here?” Jax asked.
“Come to see the criminal for ourselves.” Martin Jackson skulked to the cell and stopped. His gray-green gaze traveled from my toes to the top of my head. A sneer tugged at the corner of his lip, and I think the grumblings of a growl vibrated from him. “Figures,” was all he said.
Normally, I would have argued with him and defended myself, but I could see he’d already made up his mind about my guilt. Pride pushed me not to back down. I held his stare, not moving.
At one time, he and my grandfather had been best friends. Somewhere along the way, they’d had a falling out over who owned the Snake River. Now the two couldn’t be in the same room together without posturing and throwing threats. Martin was a lot more imposing, but grandpa Burl held his own. Soon the families were drawn into the drama—except for me. I refused to take sides in an argument that had already been settled by Mac. The only time I ever got sucked into one of my idiot kin’s revenge plots was when there was a real chance of them losing a limb or their life.
“Have you pressed charges?” Frank asked.
“No, dad.” Jax shoved his hands in his front pockets, his shoulders lifting. He looked like a scolded boy.
“Why not?” Frank Jackson waved a hand in my direction. “You found the girl on our land right after my old truck blew up. Obviously, Burl put her up to it.”
“I don’t have any proof of that.” Jax’s gaze slid to me. “She says she didn’t do it.”
“You don’t actually believe her, do you?” his dad barked. “Jessup used to fish with TNT, and that ignoramus grandson of Burl’s used to light his farts on fire every chance he got.” He waved a hand in my direction, which seemed completely unfair, and took a deep breath before continuing his tirade. “I’ve lost count of the number of times the volunteer fire department was dispatched to Zed’s house due to Amaryllis Jean lighting that patch of woods on fire. It’s a wonder she didn’t burn us all out.”
“That still doesn’t prove the Dolbinrods or Poppy had anything to do with the explosion.” Jax stared at me for several long seconds before saying, “I don’t know what to believe, but until I find hard evidence, she’s still considered innocent.”
“I want to press charges
.” His grandfather’s command brooked no argument. “It’s my right.”
“What charges?” Jax asked.
“Trespassing, illegal explosives. Destruction of property.”
Finding me on Jackson land was the one thing I was guilty of, and I doubted even I could argue my way out of that infraction. A glimmer of sympathy flashed across his face before his eyes darted to me and then away.
“That’s your option, but plan on working the investigation until I have a clear picture of what happened, and going from there.”
“I’m pressing charges.” Martin Jackson spun and strode to the door. “Make it happen.”
Asshole pushed against my lips, but my southern upbringing kept the insult in place. Unfortunately, I couldn’t deny being on their land, and the explosion that happened seconds after Jax caught me, incriminated me even more. I bit the inside of my cheek and stared at the ceiling, slowly counting to ten.
“You have a duty to the family,” Jax’s father said.
“I also have one to the law,” he countered.
Frank walked to the exit, but stopped and faced his son. “Don’t disappoint me.” He paused. “Again.”
From the stiff set of his shoulders, I could tell he was pissed. I would have liked to think it was because he didn’t want to slap me with trespassing charges, but more than likely it was his dad’s departing comment. Harsh. My family might be a bunch of knuckleheads, but they’re not assholes—most of the time.
“Welcome to the club,” I said.
He turned toward me, his brow pinched. “What?”
“You know, the Disappointment Club.” I pushed away from the wall and walked to the cell door. Grasping the bars, I smiled at him. “I’m the president.”
“Why would you be a disappointment?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I don’t look, act, or talk like my family. My dad wasn’t from around here. But most of all, I’m not a Shifter.”
“Trust me, that’s not something to be ashamed of.”