by Amy Lane
“I take it Whim and Charlie are helping the boys clean up?” Green asked. Cory looked up and grinned.
“Yeah. They were pretty fucking freaked out, you know? And terrified of me and Grace, which is funny. I used to think I really wanted people to fear me, but honestly, now I just feel bad.”
“It’s not what it’s cracked up to be, frankly,” Lambent said, tossing a grape into his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Max said thoughtfully. “I mean, when you’re twenty-two years old and carrying a gun? The world’s pretty fucking scary. Knowing people are afraid of you, that’s some armor right there. That’s what the uniform helps with, you know? It’s sort of a power rush.” He paused and looked up, as though it occurred to him he was talking to the wrong crowd for this. “Well, once you realize what you do to people when you’re being a prick—then you really do feel bad. But….” He shrugged. “If you feel powerless most of the other times, you really enjoy the power. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all.”
“It does completely,” Green said softly, thinking that this young man had grown exponentially since they’d first met him. “So, our enemy—what do we think of her and her use of power?”
“Hm….” There was honest thought around the table then, but Connor had given Green some new information, and he wanted to see what they’d already made of the situation.
“She’s using werewolves as soldiers,” Cory said, unsurprisingly the first one to speak. “So, she’s… it’s like, converting humans—unsuspecting, unwilling—and making soldiers. She’s using magic—blood based, I think—to force them into doing her bidding. Which, on the whole, is pretty smart.”
“But…,” Bracken needled. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled prettily.
“But her movements… I mean, she’s been trying to work her way up here, presumably to us, just like Cami and Dylan did.”
“Why?” Ellis asked. The rest of the room startled and looked at him. He was a newer vampire, made immediately before Adrian had passed on.
It was Nicky who broke the silence. “You were probably still in the darkling,” he deduced correctly. “But don’t you have a tattoo?”
Ellis blinked and rolled up his T-shirt sleeve. A simple wreath tattoo wrapped around his bicep—a twining of oak leaf, lime leaf, and rosebush twisted around his skin like barbed wire.
“Yeah,” he said softly and then looked around. “You have to understand, I was made right before Adrian was killed. I was in the darkling, doing….” He looked around the room and smiled greenly.
“You were doing the thing on the big bed that nobody wants to talk about in case you squick the air breathers out,” Cory said with grim humor. “Don’t worry. We get it. Vampire comfort place—you all lived there when I was out of town. So there you were, getting… comforted by several people, when suddenly that mark blew through you and wrapped around your arm, right?”
Ellis nodded, relieved.
“Yeah, we marked everybody. You probably saw that too. Everybody aligned with Green’s hill got a mark like that. The people who didn’t want the mark had to fight it. It was….” Most of the people in the room had been there, and a collective shudder passed through them all. “It was horrible,” Cory said softly. “But it connected the top half of the state—pretty much everything from Bakersfield to up north. Even south to Grapevine, since Central California is sort of a big desert, you know?”
Ellis nodded.
“Well, it’s great. It makes Green powerful enough to protect us all, and it gives us strength in numbers. But it also makes us—”
“A target,” Green said for her. “She’s right. So this woman possesses some magic, some werewolf loyalties, and the ability to influence people already twisted by magic. And she’s coming after us. What’s her endgame?”
“Power?”
“Madness?”
“Revenge?”
Green hmfed, because he’d thought of all those reasons already.
“Maybe it’s all three,” Arturo said bluntly. They all looked at him with expectation. “You never just come after power,” he said. “You come after it with the expectation that you could do a better job. Now, it’s madness to think we could do a better job than what’s already in place—but what’s really madness is to use soldiers who might fall apart on you. I mean, she apparently converted half the jail, but why? What did she have to gain from that?”
“It feels….” Cory rested her chin on her hands. “And the way Dylan was in there, and Connor too—like they were being punished for not being a part of the rest. Do you think she’s joined forces with someone? Or maybe she has lieutenants working for her, like I do. I mean, Monterey was just a few weeks ago. Depending on how long ago Connor was in there, they’ve been planning this too. Maybe Monterey was just a crime of opportunity—what happened here was that we forced them to give away their plan.”
There was some pondering then, and Green saw her wavering as she sat. Well, it was nearly twelve.
“So her endgame is up here, and it involved Green and law enforcement. But that’s all we got.” Cory sighed. “That Connor kid had better have a good story,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “I’m not sure I like going to school and going to work and getting the size of a house with a werewolf army threatening to put up a fight every time I breeze off to my classes, you feel me?”
It was Green’s turn to sigh, getting himself ready for the big argument, but Grace beat him to it.
“Oh honey, really? Work too? I don’t think so. I mean, stop by whenever you’ve got time, but I’ll have Katy, and Cami is going to need some mothering, and, you know, never short of help.”
Cory opened her mouth, looking a little hurt. “But… but I love working in the store!” she protested—and was greeted by a chorus of barely suppressed groans.
“Give it a rest, lovey,” Lambent begged. “Oh, we’re going to do the superhero-martyr thing, are we? Student by day, humble shopkeeper by night, and queen on the off-hours between naps? Puh-leeze!”
“Well said!” Renny praised, holding up her fist. Lambent bumped it for her, and Green barely contained a smirk.
Cory was still flailing a little. “No! It’s not like that at all. I just want to, you know—” She yawned. “—earn my keep.”
The room broke into a general laugh, and Cory rolled her eyes. “You all suck. Well, the good news is, it will give me more time to do my homework. Eighteen units, and I’m—”
“Me or you,” Bracken said, making eye contact with Green and sounding bored. “One of us has to say it.”
Green held out his hands. “I’ll let you do it,” he said, enjoying himself for the first time that night. Whim’s voice floated in his head, asking for his help calming the boys down and putting them to sleep—probably much like Green had put Cami to sleep, but perhaps with less skin. Theoretically Whim could do it himself—but he might see it as a betrayal of their trust. “But alas, I will not be here to watch.”
“Oh, but Green!” Cory said. “We haven’t finished talking! And we need to—” She stopped and scowled, and he watched her war with herself as she struggled not to yawn. “Brack, do we have any soda?”
“Yes, but you can’t have any,” he said, voice implacable. “Sometimes, Cory, your body telling you to get some rest means you need to get some rest.”
Cory glared at him for a minute, truly speechless. Green heard the roil of her thoughts, and it pleased him to no end. “But… human doctors… not so bad… caffeine isn’t the devil… only soda!”
But her glare shorted out after a moment. Green—and the entire room—felt it when the events of the night hit her right in the chest. Her eyes grew round and shiny, her lower lip began to wobble, and her hands, which had been crossed in front of her, suddenly started to talk.
“But… I… we have…. The vampires need me!” she finished triumphantly. Marcus was going to hold his hands up in negation—they would be fine until the next night—but Green stopped
him.
“Corinne Carol-Anne?” he said sweetly.
She looked across the kitchen to him. “Yes, Green?”
“Come here for a minute, would you?”
It was painful to watch the screeching of her gears as she reversed her mad and then her sad and then her rather panicked feeling of helplessness as she fought giving in to her own body.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” She turned her head to glare at Bracken and then slid off her stool and walked around the island right into Green’s arms.
Oh, yes. Hello, warm, soft woman who loved him. How could he have forgotten? Here was the smell of her hair, just washed, and her skin, warm and sweet. She melted against him, completely undone, and he bent his head to speak in her ear.
“I’m fine,” he said softly. “Our charges will be fine while you sleep. Bracken and Nicky and I will share your bed tonight.”
“But….” Then she sighed, and the last of the fight went out of her. “I hate this,” she confessed miserably. “It’s one thing when I think I can just power through it, but—”
“You can,” he responded, rubbing her shoulders. “After you take care of yourself for a couple of years, then you can power through.”
She laughed at the absurdity of it, and then something in her face shifted. Someone—probably Bracken—had said something to her that fit in neatly with this, and she leaned her head against his chest, probably too done in to fight the wisdom of either of them.
He put his lips to her ear again, because he liked the intimacy and the sense that they were all alone in their little bubble. “I’m going to calm your mind. Not put you under, just calm your mind. Sleep will take care of its—”
That quickly, her knees crumpled and she was asleep in his arms. He picked her up and rested his cheek against her forehead, taking this moment here to treasure that she was safe in his arms, her body was well, and nothing could hurt her.
His heart charged, took strength from her sleeping weight, and he smiled with all of him for perhaps the first time since he’d felt life catch in her womb.
Bracken came to him and waited patiently until Green could force himself to let go. Brack held her in exactly the same way, tender, relieved, at peace in this moment when she let them care for her.
“I’ll be back ou—”
Green shook his head. “No,” he said, then looked out at their impromptu little group. “I’m declaring a rest on this matter until tomorrow night,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “We will have information, and our two boys will be able to speak. Our alpha werewolf will be pulling up in about an hour along with Mario and LaMark, who can be very handy in matters like these. You may talk about it if you wish, but until tomorrow everything is speculation.”
“What are you doing, leader?” Arturo asked, not in a prying way, but probably so he knew whether or not they could discuss something.
“I’ll be with the boys for a few hours,” Green conceded. “They have much to tell us, and we don’t have time to just let them talk on their own. Also, I’m pretty sure that incarceration leaves its own scars, and I’ll need to deal with those.” Yes, there were things that Green could do with his flesh that Whim and Charlie couldn’t do with kindness and misdirection. “Marcus, Phil—Kyle? Chat Cory up when you’re done feeding tomorrow, and we’ll brief you, but for now, your night is free to do what you wish.”
There was general assent, and Bracken headed toward his room with Cory, pausing to place a tender kiss on Green’s temple.
“Get some sleep too,” Bracken said softly. “Tonight wasn’t a cakewalk for you either.”
Green’s bent smile told its own story. “I can’t believe you lot go out and do that quite so often. I’m starting to feel my age. Not sure if I want to go that way so soon, if I can help it.”
“Age?” Bracken said, rolling his eyes to make the irony clear. “You’re barely old enough to be my brother.”
Green laughed, a rich rumble from his belly. “The Goddess should strike you with cramps for that, mate—you know it.”
Brack grinned cockily. “Oh, by sidhe measures, I’m sure it’s true,” he said mildly before taking Cory back to tuck her into bed.
Green felt a smile of pure joy rise up from that belly laugh, easing the melancholia from his body. The corrosive worry of the past was soothed over, and he felt, for the first time, the enormity of what he had now, as the leader of his own faerie hill, as opposed to what he’d had as a rootless wood elf wandering the forests of Great Britain and Wales and bedding any creature who thought him beautiful.
Yes, having people look to you brought along more responsibility, but it also brought support, help, brothers who would die for you, lovers who could hold their own.
It was amazing the strength hope could bring.
With a clear heart and all the strength he needed, he strode into the kitchen, well aware that nobody was going to let the night go without some chatter.
“Arturo, mate, could you make me another sandwich? Those two boys will be ready in a bit, and I’m famished.”
Arturo nodded, as though this made him happy. “Then I am at your service. Move over, my goddess, there’s some minestrone soup left, and I’ll warm that up too.”
Grace complied, and Green walked to the island and leaned where Cory had been. “All right, troops. Are there any questions you absolutely have to have me ask the boys when they come out? Speak now, or this is done until tomorrow.”
Everybody left in the room exchanged glances. Then Max raised his hand, and the fun began.
Cory: New Normals
IT’S NOT like I’m stupid. I knew Green was going to knock me out, but Jesus, it wasn’t like I could stop him either. He crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning, and I rolled right into his arms, seeking him out. Whatever had been troubling him, it was so raw he couldn’t even find words.
We didn’t need words. Green had been the one who’d taught me to speak with my body.
He held me on top of him and kissed me until I parted my thighs and rode him—slow, sleepy love that brought no real climax, but a sort of relief. We touched, and when we’d both shuddered, simply replete, I felt that something had mended inside of us. He hadn’t told us what was wrong, but he would.
Which was why waking up to find that he’d gone to go save the fucking world again was a slap in the face.
I huffed and rolled out of bed, stumbling because I still hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and barely managed to make it to the bathroom in time to pee.
For hours.
God, no wonder Brack was harping on the no-soda deal. It wasn’t a health thing so much as it was a time thing. Who had time to empty their kidneys when they were processing caffeine? I would just keep telling myself that, and it would make the whole “changing your life to accommodate pregnancy” pill just a little easier to swallow.
“Are you coming back to bed?” Bracken asked in between Nicky’s snores.
“No,” I said crossly, hating the world at this moment and Bracken most of all. “I’m going running.”
“Have something to eat first!” Bracken protested, and I’d abruptly had it.
“Sure—I’ll have me some fucking pie!”
“Goddess!” he snapped, and that pretty much sealed our fate as the Bickersons for the next hour. Bracken nagged, I snarled, Bracken wheedled, I snapped. It was our favorite dance, and for some reason Bracken was happy being my punching bag when my verbal communication skills sucked ass.
Did I say some reason?
It wasn’t until I was bent double, puking on the lovely cross-country track Green had carved into his landscape for me to run in comparative safety, that I realized why Brack let me bitch at him when I was being a completely unreasonable twunt.
It was so he could gloat.
“Now will you concede you needed something in your stomach besides pie?” he asked.
I whimpered. Oh Goddess, I’d been sick before, but this—this was a new level of nausea I’
d not explored in the past. I’d gotten pretty good at my role as Cory, The Vomit Comet when we went on rides. If the ride was too long, I just let Green or somebody put me under. If it was short, I’d drive. And if I had to throw up, it usually came as sort of a short, sharp comeuppance of everything I’d eaten in recent memory.
This was different. This felt like I was trying to throw up stuff I hadn’t eaten yet. It felt like I was trying to throw up stuff I ate three years ago. It felt like I was trying to throw up stuff Bracken had eaten, and the swirling blackness behind my eyes didn’t help either.
“Bracken,” I wailed. I was wearing one of his T-shirts, which he ripped off me with a short snap of his hands, leaving me in a jogging bra and not giving a shit. He used the shirt to wipe my face and then wiped my teeth off as well.
“C’mon,” he said tenderly, hefted me into his arms, puke and all, and hauled ass back to the house. He grabbed some saltines as he carried me to our room, and I brushed my teeth and then promptly started munching while he washed me down.
“I wuth goig oo fower,” I complained in the midst of a flurry of cracker crumbs.
“You need some gentle carbs, and some whole grains and protein,” he said, as though reciting by rote. “A hardboiled egg—”
“Gross!”
“Or a piece of meat—”
“Oh, Goddess bless you!”
“Thank you. You may also have some sugars—milk, fruit, or orange juice if you like—with those.”
I squinted at him as he efficiently sponged me off. I was seething with suspicion. “Bracken?”
“Hm?”
“What have you been reading in the past three weeks?”
“Books relevant to our situation,” he said primly, turning his attention to my hair.
“Relevant to our situation?”
“Yes. Relevant books.”
“Relevant to what?” Oh Goddess, was he bad at the elvish evade-not-lie game.