Last but not Leashed

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Last but not Leashed Page 12

by RJ Blain


  Ethel’s uncle laughed and plopped down in front of one of the lab stations, getting to work testing my DNA to get a genetics report. “We all do, son.”

  “I don’t get why you aren’t afraid. Everyone who isn’t an elf—” Ethel’s mother blinked. “Alan? Test to see if any of those unknown genes include elf.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, Missy. If he has a dominant gene in his unknown percentages, he wouldn’t be afraid of you or even your ma.”

  “How long will it take to run?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Missy. Not long, especially if I do a confirmation scan rather than a full diagnostic.”

  “Why do you have so much equipment in here anyway?” I asked.

  Ethel’s mother laughed. “We’re who the CDC go to when they have a mystery even they can’t solve. I also run a little lab for those who want information without nosy law enforcement knowing about it. Elves are excellent at that line of work. We can tell when bones have been chewed on, hacked apart—you have a mystery dealing with bones, and without fail, we can figure out the truth. Even from a fragment.”

  If I read between the lines, not difficult to do with so much evidence around me, I’d landed head first into a legal mess. Had I cared more about the law, I might’ve been disturbed by my conclusions. “Okay, I’m impressed. You’re part of the black market the CDC can’t access?”

  “She brought me home a smart one, Alan. I’m so proud.”

  “One and a half percent elf, Missy.”

  “What’s the other one and a half percent?”

  “Going to have to run a scan. It’ll be a few minutes.”

  “This explains so much. Of course she’d find herself an elf.”

  “One and a half percent hardly classifies me as an elf,” I muttered.

  “Alan? Why did my baby girl have to pick a fearless elf male?”

  “She cries when her crushes run away, Miss. We’ve talked about this before. And no, you can’t bite him—or her former crushes for running away.”

  “They should be groveling at her feet!”

  “While this is true, remember how frustrating it was when my brother kept running away? How long did it take you to convince him you weren’t going to murder him in his sleep following conception?”

  Some stories were worth hearing, and I held my breath hoping they’d continue the discussion and offer more insights into the wondrous horrors that was the Frankwell family.

  “That’s my mother’s fault for using my father’s skull as a purse! I didn’t do anything, damn it.”

  My mouth dropped open. “She used his skull as a purse? But why?”

  Ethel’s uncle laughed. “Remember this when he does something you don’t like, Missy. He asked why.”

  “Humans. My father died of old age, boy. My mother missed him. It’s elven custom. She wore his skull on her hip for ten years—the customary time of grieving. Now she shows him off to frighten the humans.”

  No wonder they ate those who cheated; if Ethel’s mother was to be believed, partnerships were serious business to them. Ten years of mourning would make most people seem excessive. “That’s oddly sweet,” I admitted. “She must have loved him a lot.”

  Ethel’s mother smiled, and something about her eyes softened, full of the sort of melancholy for a lost love so deep it could never be erased. “She did. He was loyal, and there’s little else more important to an elf than loyalty.”

  “Like lycanthropes.”

  “Essentially.”

  Ethel’s uncle burst into laughter. “Ethel’s done landed herself an interesting one, Missy.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “I figured I’d check the exotics databases on genetics first to eliminate the data crunching the machine had to do, and it didn’t take long to get a hit on that last percentage.”

  “Seriously, I thought it took hours to crunch out this information,” I muttered. “Days, even.”

  “Quiet, son. I ain’t talkin’ to you.”

  “But those are my genes.”

  “Quiet, son.”

  I sighed.

  “Stop playing around, Alan. What is he?”

  “It looks like Sjöfn had a dalliance with one of the ljósálfar seven or so generations ago. Maybe six. Six generations would be roughly a percent and a half.”

  “Norse? He’s Norse?” Ethel’s mother wailed. “That’s not fair. My line is of Celtic origin.”

  “Don’t worry about her whining, son. She’s just jealous because the ljósálfar were few and far between. Celts were more likely to roam, and don’t get her started about the Asiatic elves; they outnumber the Celtic elves five to one.”

  “How many of these…” I couldn’t pronounce the name he’d given to the variant of elf I supposedly was.

  “Not many, at least not on Earth. They play by divine rules, so they don’t visit often. Celtic and Asiatic elves stay on Earth and have no divine aspirations.”

  “Who the hell would want to rule over the heavens anyway? Boring!” Ethel’s mother declared.

  “So, that explains a lot. That three percent pre-infection is why he is as he is. When your great-great-great-great-grandmother is a goddess of love and your great-great-great-great-grandmother is an elf, you’re going to be serious about your partner. Add in some lycanthropy and otherwise pure human, and you’re going to be loyal to a fault, interested in only one person at a time, and eternally patient since elves and the divine have shitty conceptions of time.”

  “Alan, your job is to play with his genetics and extend his longevity.”

  “No, Missy. We are not experimenting with his genetics.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No, we aren’t.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  Ethel’s uncle drew in a deep breath and bellowed, “Ethel! Your ma is planning her grandchildren. Rescue your male before she makes me adjust his DNA for breeding purposes!”

  “I didn’t say that, you idiot. I said make him live longer, not breed more efficiently.”

  “That would be next.”

  Ethel’s mother scowled. “True.”

  “Next, you’ll be giving him those aphrodisiac-laced candies you made me make when you heard your baby girl had found a man.”

  “Aphrodisiac candy?” I blurted.

  Ethel’s mother reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of pink candies in clear wrappers. “These. Four for you, two for her, and I promise you’ll have the night of your life.”

  Ethel came barreling into the lab, skidded to a halt, and snarled, “You will not do genetic experiments on Dale!”

  I wasn’t sure which worried me more: Ethel’s confidence her family would attempt to modify my DNA or my acceptance of the insanity.

  I reached out and counted out six of the candies. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t take anything from her. It’s a trap. She could be sedating you, she could be giving you an illegal substance, you never know with her. Don’t do it!”

  “Aphrodisiac-laced candies, four for me, two for you,” I replied, careful to keep my expression neutral while staring her in the eyes. “I’ve been promised we’ll have the night of our lives.”

  “Oh.” Ethel blinked. “Oh.”

  “I think she likes me.”

  Ethel’s mother laughed. “I wouldn’t give your Dale any illegal substances. However, I do demand you marry this man immediately.”

  “Ma!”

  “Go on and take Dale to your room, have some candy, enjoy yourself. I’ll have your father bring you something for dinner and leave it in the hall. You didn’t kill him this time, did you?”

  “Tossed his lazy ass in the pool. He didn’t drown because I have stupid, interfering sisters.”

  “What about your brothers?”

  “Chicken shits.”

  Ethel’s mother rolled her eyes. “Go claim your man. I’ll go tame the rest of the family. Try not to break the house too much, please. Come along, Alan. Le
t’s leave the lovebirds alone.”

  “Do not trash the lab,” Ethel’s uncle ordered, glaring at us both.

  I waited for them to leave before I held out my hand to Ethel and smiled. “Shall we?”

  Her smile was the only answer I needed.

  Afterword

  Like with Serial Killer Princess, this is the story of how two people joined forces. Under threat of maiming from the editor, Dale and Ethel’s story will continue.

  And yes, you’ll find out who went after that poor security guard and why, what the deal was with that bat-winged blight, and other little tidbits the author has greedily kept to herself so she can have excuses to write about Missy.

  RJ Blain and the Finned and Furred Management hope you have enjoyed this novella, which is intended to be a fun escape from life for a while.

  Sometimes, even the author needs to step away and just have some fun every now and then, and this novella was that fun.

  About the Author

  Want to hear more from the author? Sign up for the Sneaky Kitty Critic’s newsletter!

  RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

  * * *

  When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter.

  * * *

  In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.

  * * *

  RJ also writes as Susan Copperfield and Trillian Anderson.

  If you enjoy using bookbub, you can follow RJ and her alter ego Susan there.

  thesneakykittycritic.com

  Magical Romantic Comedies (with a body count)

  Playing with Fire

  Hoofin’ It

  Hearth, Home, and Havoc

  Whatever for Hire

  Serial Killer Princess

  No Kitten Around (Late 2018)

  Saddle Up (2019)

  Grave Humor (May 2019)

  Dragon Her Heels (Late 2019)

  From Witch & Wolf World

  Series: Witch & Wolf

  Inquisitor

  Winter Wolf

  Blood Diamond

  Silver Bullet

  * * *

  Series: Wolf Hunt

  Wolf Hunt (2018)

  Wild Wolf (2019)

  The Edge of Midnight (2020)

  * * *

  Series: Nature of the Beast

  Pack Justice

  Dual Nature (TBD)

  * * *

  Series: Balancing the Scales

  Karma

  License to Kill (TBD)

  * * *

  Standalones

  Beneath a Blood Moon

  Shadowed Flame

  * * *

  Tales of the Winter Wolf

  (Short Story/Novella Collections)

  Omnibus - Volumes One-Five

  Volume Six (Aftermath to Winter Wolf.)

  Other Stories by RJ Blain

  Jesse Alexander Novels

  Water Viper

  Steel Heart (late 2018)

  * * *

  Requiem for the Rift King (Epic Fantasy)

  Storm Without End

  Storm Surge

  The Tides of War (TBD)

  Witch & Wolf World Reading Order

  The Witch & Wolf world is all over the place. I’m sorry about that—really. I’m worse than a gnat sometimes, flitting from project to project, excited to write my next story. Here’s my preferred reading order of these books. While I wrote Inquisitor first, it actually happens after Winter Wolf.

  Note: You can jump in on any series with the exception of Blood Diamond, Silver Bullet, and later volumes—they are dependent on events that happen prior in the series.

  Winter Wolf (W&W #2)

  Tales of the Winter Wolf Vol. 6

  Tales of the Winter Wolf Vol. 1-5

  Inquisitor (W&W #1)

  Beneath a Blood Moon (Standalone)

  Blood Diamond (W&W #3)

  Silver Bullet (W&W #4)

  Wolf Hunt (WH #1, W&W #5)

  Wild Wolf (WH #2, W&W #6)

  The Edge of Midnight (WH #3, W&W #7)

  * * *

  The following books can be read at any time:

  Nature of the Beast

  Pack Justice

  Dual Nature (TBD)

  Balancing the Scales

  Karma

  License to Kill (TBD)

  Standalone

  Shadowed Flame

 

 

 


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