by Hattie Hunt
Brett chuckled. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
Leslie took a step back and motioned them forward. “Then step over it and gather your broom. It is the first step in your new life together.”
Ripley hugged Joe’s arm.
“And don’t fuck it up,” Alma said. “Cake’s in the oven.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ripley hovered by the door as everyone moved back inside. There was a tension to the air, clashing with the joy only a wedding could bring. She knew she wasn’t the only one watching out for Brett’s bear. They all wanted to give Brett and Juliet as much time together as they could, but at the end of the day, none of them wanted to be bitten or clawed...or killed. And no one wanted to shoot him or see someone else do it.
Alma pulled the cake out of the oven and served it up hot. She tossed a few fresh berries on top, foraged by someone the day before. The party gathered around the counter, exchanging small talk between mouthfuls of cake.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a part of the festivities. She just sucked at small talk and she didn’t really know anyone there. She knew Joe, but he didn’t need to talk to her, and she didn’t need him to need her just then. He should be with his brother as long as he could. If the cure didn’t work, Brett would be dead soon. If the cure did work, he’d leave to create a new life for himself. That was it.
Either way, Joe needed to talk with his brother, needed to laugh with him, share what little time they had left together.
Juliet remained glued to Brett’s side, but not as a withering damsel. Her scarred face glowed with resolve. She wasn’t leaving his side until she had to. She was going to devour each moment together with her husband that she could.
That broom didn’t stray far from her side either. She held onto it like her life depended on it.
Leslie appeared beside Ripley and handed her a cup of water. “I noticed you aren’t a fan of coffee.”
As far as refreshments went, they had coffee, tea, and water. Ripley smiled at her. “It’s okay.”
“Yeah. My sister is addicted to it.”
“Which is why I don’t drink it.”
“That’s fair.”
Ripley sipped her water, then glanced up at Leslie.
Leslie smiled, looking up at the ceiling before turning to face Ripley straight on. “What? You have questions. Ask them.”
Ripley frowned. She had always been told her questions were rude, too direct.
Leslie raised her eyebrows. “I have two sets of kids.”
As if that meant something to someone who’d never popped out a kid. “Was that magick? At the wedding?”
Leslie leaned her shoulder against the door and stared at Juliet and the two Elliot boys. “It was.”
“Is that...normal?” She’d never— “I’ve never seen a witch wedding before.”
Leslie snorted a smile. “Well, it wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I was supposed to close the ceremony, actually. Say a few more words. I had planned on giving them some advice or something. I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well…” Leslie raised her shoulder and shrugged. “The morning sky whispered their need, that in order for them to make it, they needed a few more protections, the kind that only love could bring.”
“But...”
Leslie shifted her eyes, not her head, toward Ripley, her smile soft.
Ripley wanted to keep her words to herself, ashamed, but she felt so comforted by this strange woman who should, by rights, terrify the shit out of her. “I don’t love them.”
Leslie nodded slightly, but remained quiet, her brown gaze inviting.
“I...don’t love.”
Leslie took in a deep breath and looked away.
“That,” Ripley said, looking to Juliet, “that’s love. She’ll stand by him, hold his hand, fight for him.”
“Are you saying you won’t do the same for Joe?”
Ripley shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m just not built that way.”
“Everyone loves differently, Rip.”
Ripley didn’t flinch at Leslie’s use of her nickname. It kind of felt like they were bonding. Though, was that how real people bonded?
“You’re quiet, and you give people their space, and you assume that if you love someone, you won’t feel the need to be distant. You would feel drawn to them somehow.”
“Yes.” Ripley’s heart twisted at the thought that she might not love Joe enough? Might not be enough for him?
“But have you noticed Joe reacting badly to that?”
Ripley frowned up at her.
“Have you seen him hurt?”
“He does like more cuddle time. He needs to touch.”
Right now, he wasn’t touching anyone. She knew—she knew how much that hurt him. He’d told her so when they’d been dating in school. They had spent more time touching in the last few days than she ever remembered.
“Building a relationship is hard. You give a little. You take a little. Your natural instinct is to give space, because that’s what you need. Love is understanding when to give them what they need.”
“But...I’m not good with...people.”
Leslie snorted. “Who is?”
Ripley swallowed.
“In the end, that man loves you.”
Ripley’s startled gaze lifted to Leslie’s.
“Everyone can see it, including Cheryl and that’s the reason she hates you. He loves you. The you that isn’t social, that speaks her mind, that’s brass and crass at all the wrong moments.” Leslie chuckled and looked back to the married couple. “He chose you knowing your faults, Rip. Will you choose him, knowing his?”
Ripley took a step away from the door, then stopped. Decima stirred inside of her, noting a smell. “Bears.”
Leslie set her shoulders and pushed off the door. “If it’s Cheryl, I swear I’ll call up a hurricane wind and knock that woman out of the fucking state.”
Ripley’s eyes widened. She opened the door and slipped outside.
Leslie slipped out with her, closing the door firmly behind her.
A man Ripley didn’t know stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her. “I’m Earl Yazzi and these are Juliet’s closest kin. We’ve come to see the bride.”
Ripley held up a finger. “How did you find out about it?”
Earl tipped his head. “We were there when Cheryl’s messenger sent word they’d seen Brett.”
“And what are you going to do?” Leslie asked. The wind picked up, tossing her hair around.
Ripley’s hair beat against her face. Witches. Okay. Well. “Are you here to kill Brett?”
“We heard,” Earl said raising his chin in almost defiance, “that you were trying to save the boy. And, from what I heard from Cheryl, you wouldn’t have risked him out in the open if he wasn’t safe. I’m assuming you’ve given him the Yazzi potion to repress his bear.”
Ripley nodded. “I take it rabid bears happen often in your neck of the woods?”
“Let’s just say that we have our own rituals and leave it at that.” He tipped his head to Leslie. “And we have different bargains and accords. We have a great relationship with the wood witches of our region.”
“Wood witches?” Leslie asked.
Earl smiled. “We’ll extend an invitation for you to meet a few of them, if you’d like.”
“That would be nice,” Leslie said, her tone sounding curious and confused at the same time.
“What about the kill order?” Ripley demanded. “I’m not letting any of you in if your intention is to kill him. The cure is almost ready.”
“Chuck is a good alpha, but he is not ours.” Earl gestured to those around him. “And we’re not all coming in, either. Cheryl is rounding up her bears and they’re coming to us. We’re here to protect you until that cure works. We’re hoping,” he said with a significant expression toward Leslie, “that it works quickly. They do outnumber us. But only a little.”
“Yeah, well, they don’t have witches on their side.” She didn’t look too confident about that.
“And you have a newly forged alliance.” He raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re going to be in enough trouble as it is.”
Leslie rolled her eyes, but stepped aside. “Well, then come inside.”
Earl bowed his head, his hair turning white. When he raised his head again, his green eyes glowed blue. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Earl gestured behind him, and the bears fanned out. All except for one, a smaller female who looked a lot like Juliet. Earl stopped beside Ripley and cupped her head in his massive hand.
Ripley pulled back, not sure what was going on.
Earl brought his forehead to hers and whispered, “Thank you, padfoot. If there is any way to honor this gift you have given us, please, just ask and it will be given.”
Ripley relaxed a little. When he didn’t immediately release her, she nodded jerkily. “I—I will.”
He straightened, a warm smile on his polar-bear tinged face. He patted the back of her head with his fingers, then entered the cabin.
Ripley followed him inside, stepping between him and the girl trailing behind him. Inside, she stepped out of the way, and the girl hurried to catch up to him.
Juliet exclaimed in joy and met them half way. She pulled the girl into her arms, nuzzling her cheek in her hair. “Joy, I’m so glad you made it.” She reached up to Earl. “Dad.”
He pulled both girls into a close hug.
Ripley blinked back tears. Fucking waterworks. She needed to get a grip on herself. Still, she moved to Joe, her hand outstretched, seeking his before she even realized what she needed or wanted or was doing. She couldn’t take her eyes off the Yazzis. They’d all welcomed her as if she wasn’t trash. It felt like standing next to a warm fire after being trapped in a never-ending snowstorm.
Joe’s fingers wrapped around hers, then pulled her closer. He wrapped his arm around her lower back and gripped her hand with his other, pulling her close.
She hugged him, still unable to take her eyes off the Yazzis. There, she saw a chance to do good, to be a part of something that wasn’t painful every single second of every single day. She could be a part of a pack.
No. She chuckled dryly to herself. She would never be part of a pack.
Joe pulled her in tighter, wrapping her in a hug that pulled her gaze away from the polar bears. She buried her head in his chest and drank in the smell of him. Juniper and pine.
He didn’t say a word, didn’t move away from the group. One arm went around her shoulders, the other held the back of her head to him.
She drank in the comfort like a starved animal.
But eventually, even the starved needed to break away.
He kept his hand at the back of her head as she pulled away and stared down at her, his brown eyes asking if she was okay. Somewhere in there, she saw that he wanted the real answer, not the sluff answer.
She smiled and nodded.
He raised an eyebrow.
She released a breath as another wall crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes again. She couldn’t bring herself to shake her head. She was okay. She was just thinking things, feeling things she hadn’t thought she was capable of.
His expression softened. No condemnation. No worry. Just acceptance. He pressed his lips to her forehead and sighed, taking her hand so she could stand next to him. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly.
She squeezed his fingers. “I am, too.”
Leslie clanked a fork against a metal coffee cup. “Can I get your attention, please?”
Everyone closed their conversations and turned.
“The Elliots are on their way for Brett.” She smiled, though her eyes were worried. She took in a settling breath. “The Yazzis are outside to buy us time, but the time has come. The cure is ready—a little early. Barn and Alma agree that it’s done.”
“That’s a miracle in and of itself,” Alma said.
“What?” Barn asked with several ounces of snark. “That we agree?”
“Well, that’s one thing.”
Leslie quirked her lips and shook her head. “So, without further ado, let’s...” She took in a shaky breath. “Let’s try this thing out.”
Brett closed his eyes and turned to Leslie.
Joe shivered, the tremor resonating through Ripley’s hand into her entire being.
She felt for him, but didn’t know what else she could do. She lifted her skirt and checked her gun, hoping, praying she wouldn’t have to use it.
Joe looked significantly down at her bared thigh. He nodded appreciatively, though with a wizened air that made her know he was nodding at the gun and not the shapeliness of her thigh.
That was the call of courage she needed. She licked her lips, but kept her fingers wrapped around the butt of her Glock.
Leslie held up the cup to Brett and shook her head. “We’ve already done all the hocus pocus this is gonna need, so drink up.”
Brett took it, his hands shaking.
Juliet raised her glass, her eyes shining with tears, her nose growing pink. “Here’s to hope.”
Brett raised his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
Several others raised their cups and muttered something.
Joe didn’t have a cup. He stared at his brother, the shiver gone and replaced with absolute stillness.
Ripley only had a gun to lift and she didn’t think it would be appropriate. She sent out a silent prayer to whoever had helped with the broom earlier. That had been the first time in her life she she’d experienced something ethereal.
Decima rose to the surface. If you will allow?
A chance to see if the cure was working? Yes. Please do.
The brilliant colors drifted away and became a sea of grey. Except one system of bright red rivers that ran over Brett’s body.
She hadn’t wanted to see that, to see how far the virus had spread.
He drank the brew in his cup which glowed a neon green.
It didn’t sink through his throat and into this stomach like Ripley assumed it would. Instead, it seemed to evaporate into a cloud, a green cloud that muted the red, chasing it along his veins.
The grey outline of his body folded in on itself. People cried out but the sound was muffled, as if coming from a different room.
Ripley craned forward.
Joe moved with her, his bear rising to the surface, green and glowing.
The green cloud of the potion ran through Brett’s body, obliterating the red lines of the virus. Red became orange. Orange became grey. It dissolved from his head, his legs, his body.
And finally, disappeared from the bite on his arm.
He knelt in the middle of the room, perfectly grey. Just like everyone else.
Ripley blinked, searching for any remaining scrap of orange.
None. She moved to the door.
Joe followed, his hand still in hers.
She opened the door and stared at the horizon.
Grey. A few patches of orange, but normal orange. Normal death.
Decima receded from Ripley’s eyes, contentment worming through Ripley’s heart.
Ripley looked up at Joe.
He stared at her in wonder.
She couldn’t believe it. It was over. Over.
Ripley turned to the waiting crowd. “He’s—he’s cured.” A smile burst across her face. “He’s cured. The virus is gone.”
Everyone gaped at her.
Then, Juliet chuckled. Her chuckles erupted into giggles. Then, she pulled Brett to her and laughed.
The room filled with laughter and blessings from all directions.
Ripley took in a deep breath and looked up at Joe. “The kill order is still in effect,” she whispered.
He nodded, looking over her head into the clearing. “I know.”
Chapter Thirty
Joe stepped outside. “Mother,” he called. “He’s cured.
We’re safe.”
Cheryl appeared on the edge of the clearing and marched toward him, her shoulders and back of her head in bear form. “You bring him out here, Joe. You will honor this family.”
“Didn’t you hear me? He’s cured.”
Three other bears fell into step behind Cheryl, and growls and breaking branches erupted from behind them. Bears. Fighting. Ripley’s hand dropped to her gun out of instinct. They needed to find a way to get a message to Chuck.
She could call him.
No. Something like this needed to happen in person. How the fuck was she going to tell him where they even were? Of course, Barn had been able to find his way there.
Ripley ducked back into the cabin. “The Elliots are here for Brett.”
The cheers and sounds of celebration died.
“But he’s cured,” Juliet said, her joy crumbling.
“And the kill order is still out there.”
“Then we need to talk to Cheryl.”
“Well, she’s the one leading the hunting party.”
“But...she’s his mother.”
Brett bit his lip and shook his head. “She was always the alpha first. She’ll do what she has to, to protect the clan.”
“But Ripley said you’re cured and if anyone would know it’s the padfoot.”
“And Momma doesn’t like Ripley or trust the padfoot. It’s not the same here.” Brett looked at Ripley. “What do we do?”
Ripley’s mind raced. “Get to the bunker. Quietly. Hide there. She shouldn’t be able to find it unless we show her.”
Alma snorted. “And how are they going to do that. There’s only one door.”
Ripley threw her hands down to her side in frustration. “Fucked if I know.”
“We provide the wall,” Earl said with a smile on his face. “If she wants to get to Brett, she’ll have to go through all of us.”
“Sounds awesome, but we need to get a message to Chuck,” Leslie said, her phone in hand. “And...he’s not picking up his phone.”
“Can you ride a broom?” Ripley asked.
Alma shouted a laugh. “Fuck, I like that woman.”
Leslie smiled and rolled her eyes. “No.”
Ripley nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll get the message to him.”