by Kell Amber
* * *
The sound of a phone ringing snapped him awake. Quentin peered around groggily, searching for his glasses and his phone in that order. He flailed out his hand, connected to something, and heard it fall to the floor. His second outreach rewarded him with the phone.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Heart, you have a class in ten minutes.”
Quentin bolted upright as he listened to Margaret, the dean’s secretary, reminding him of his teaching promise.
“Oh crap—oh, sorry for the language. I’m on my way. Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” He hung up after a great deal more reassurances and getting the classroom number.
Quentin swung his legs around. Pain lanced through his back. He’d found the spring in his mother’s couch, and they hadn’t made friends. Rubbing his sore spine, Quentin leaned down and grabbed his glasses before they became a casualty of his feet.
A soft woof had him scrambling back against the couch. He slid on his glasses to find the leader of the bone wolves watching him with its eerie yellow eyes.
“How did you get in here?” And how had he slept through it?
The wolf nosed at Quentin as if trying to pass on a silent message.
“Yeah, I don’t know what you want. Why don’t you go back to your master?” He must’ve uttered those words a dozen times since he’d met the beast. Nothing so far had persuaded it into leaving.
Motion out of the corner of his eye had him spinning around. The other three wolves sat around the room.
“Okay, you four stay here and guard the house while I’m gone.”
He had a class to teach before he visited his mother. Luckily, he’d stayed over enough nights since she’d become sick that he kept a set of clean clothes stashed in the coat closet. As he didn’t have time for a shower, he hoped a quick swipe of deodorant would be enough effort to keep him from making the students’ eyes water. A shave was beyond the realm of possibility.
He grabbed his backup spell-casting bag from the same closet. “I guess you never really leave home, do you?. You might want to consider that,” he said to the wolves. Maybe they’d begin to miss their evil old master and leave Quentin alone.
They stared back at him impassively, all except the lead wolf. He yawned.
Quentin slipped into the straps of the backpack, then closed his eyes and focused his energy. He was about to show the students the pluses and minuses of using a spell circle. Once he had his magic centered, he released the spell.
An explosion of energy poured out of him. The world swirled around him, and when it righted again, he stood at the front of the class in room 105.
A round of applause greeted him once the energy settled. Quentin had forgotten that the beginner’s classroom had stadium-style seating.
He set his backpack on the teacher’s chair, then headed for the microphone. “Hello, class. I’m Quentin Heart. I’ll be your guest lecturer for the day. Sorry for the flashy entrance, but I was running late.”
Before he could say anything else, another dispersal of energy led to the arrival of the bone wolf Quentin considered the leader of the group.
A few screams came from the audience, not all of them female. “And in case you’ve never seen one, this is a bone wolf.”
One brave boy in the front row raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“I thought it was illegal to create bone wolves.”
“It is.” Quentin waited for the next question. His lack of aggression with the first student had others raising their hands.
He picked a young girl with pigtails and a rich aura. “Question?”
“Then why did you make one?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I did not. Last night, I ran into this one and his friends, and they seem to have bonded with me. I’m hoping they’ll lose interest and go home soon.”
The wolf gave a soft snort.
Quentin picked another raised hand. This time the boy stood. He had dark hair and a sullen expression. “What do you mean by ‘them’?”
“There are four of them. I can only hope the other three are where I left them.” Quentin hoped the wolves weren’t running down the street, terrorizing the community.
The boy spoke again, unwilling to let it go. “If you aren’t their creator, why are they listening to you?”
Quentin shrugged. “I can only surmise that their owner has died and I’m the next-strongest wizard they encountered. Now please sit down, and we can start our seminar. I was told this is to be about the importance of spell circles.”
A girl with a pencil tucked behind her ear and a weak magical aura raised her hand.
“Yes, miss.” Quentin held back a sigh. If they never got to spell circles, the dean would be unhappy with him.
“You cast a teleport spell and didn’t use a circle.”
“Excellent point.” Quentin smiled. “And did you feel the impact when I arrived?” Several students nodded or said yes. “That’s because I wasn’t inside a circle. If I’d been casting something other than a teleportation spell, I would’ve tried to contain the impact. Stray magic can have unintended consequences. Now, who here has ever cast a spell?”
Every student raised their hand. “And how many of you used a circle?”
Only a handful kept their hands up.
“Who has done one successfully?”
All the hands went down.
“Ah, there is a trick to forming a good circle.” Quentin began taking jars out of his bag. A stick of chalk, a jar of ash, a bag of salt, and one of graveyard dirt, all of which he lined up on his desk. “You have to make sure you use the right material for the right spell.”
Through the next hour, Quentin explained when to use what object and how it could change the outcome. He shared some of his own misfortunes, including the time he’d accidentally raised a revenant with graveyard dirt instead of the ghost he’d meant to contact.
Chuckles ran across his audience. The wolf sat politely beside the podium the entire time Quentin spoke.
A soft chime alerted Quentin to the end of the session. “That is about it. I hope you’ve learned something today.”
The thundering applause warmed him. For the first time in days, Quentin felt like he’d done something right.
He gathered his things and headed for the exit. Before he got very far, someone called after him. “Professor Heart!”
Quentin turned around. “It’s just mister. I don’t have my PhD yet.”
The sullen boy from before stood with his hands shoved into his pocket. “Sorry, Mr. Heart. I wanted to ask when you were scheduled to teach another seminar. I learned more in that hour than I did all semester.”
Quentin inwardly winced. Their regular teacher wouldn’t be too happy to hear that sentiment. A small group of students lined up around the dark-haired questioner as if waiting for Quentin’s response.
Quentin cleared his throat. “Could you maybe keep that a secret between us?”
Some laughter followed his question.
“Sure. But maybe you could do more guest lectures?”
Quentin shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not really an instructor type. I’m into research.”
“But you’re super powerful.” A female student eyed Quentin as if he were a tasty treat she’d like to take a bite out of.
“Well, thank you for your interest, but I’ve got to go. My mother is in the hospital.” He didn’t give any details, and the students muttered sympathetic words before dispersing.
Relieved to have fulfilled his obligation, Quentin couldn’t leave fast enough. He decided to walk the three blocks to the hospital. The cool, crisp air would be a nice reprieve from the overheated classroom.
“You can go back home,” he told the wolf. A soft snort followed that announcement. “Maybe I could take you to the pound. Is there one for supernatural pets? You can’t go inside the hospital with me. They don’t allow pets.”
The wolf ignored him as usual. Quentin would never admit he enjoyed
the creature’s companionship. If that didn’t show a hole in his social life, he didn’t know what did. It was definitely time for him to start dating again. He had pretty much put his romantic aspirations on hold while pursuing his degree and watching over his mother, but if he was looking for friendship from a cobbled-together beast, it was past time he had sex.
Chapter 3
Quentin almost changed his mind and teleported to the hospital, but he didn’t want to leave the wolf on the streets. He had no guarantee the creature would continue to follow him. If the bone wolf went on a rampage, Quentin didn’t want to be responsible.
He tried one last time. “I don’t suppose I can get you to go back home?”
The wolf’s soft growl answered his question.
“You’ll have to be invisible, then. We can’t have you walking through the hospital.” Quentin pulled some of his magic around him and then pushed it at the wolf. A light pop filled the air as the bubble of invisibility wrapped around the beast.
It sneezed.
“Well, if you don’t like the smell, you could go away.”
Quentin’s head pounded. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before, and teaching a class hadn’t helped. Maybe he should finish the day drinking. It might not get rid of his headache, but he wouldn’t care anymore. This had been one of the worst weeks in recent memory.
Luckily, the hospital was near the university, and half a mile later, Quentin walked through the oncology wing. No one commented on the wolf, so his spell must have worked. With an invisibility spell, the caster could still see the object, making it difficult to check its effectiveness.
When he entered his mother’s room, the nurse was just leaving. She gave him a sympathetic smile but didn’t stay to talk. She probably had five hundred other patients to care for that day.
Trina’s eyes were closed when he came in. The vibrant woman who had offered motherly advice alongside gingersnap cookies appeared frail and easily breakable.
Tears pricked Quentin’s eyes. In case his mother woke, he tried to keep them from falling by thinking of happier times.
“You can cry if you need to.” His mother’s soft whisper broke up his pity party.
Quentin opened his eyes to see her understanding gaze on him. “No, I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “You’ve always been strong. Sometimes it’s okay to let things slide.”
“If I let anything slide, it will destabilize the hill.” Quentin smiled. Any crack in his composure and he didn’t know if he could regain his equilibrium again. A quick cry could be the start of a three-day bender.
His mother smiled, but Quentin could see the strain in her eyes. He walked over and sat in the chair beside her bed. “Any news?”
“They said my white blood cells are low.”
“Is there anything to help that? Did they have a medical wizard examine you?” If they’d stuck to straight medicine, he’d throttle them. He took his mother’s hand while she spoke; Quentin needed the physical contact.
“Yes. He said the mass is smaller but they don’t think the medicine is doing enough.”
A sob escaped him despite his best efforts.
“Shh, baby boy. It’ll be okay.” She patted his hand.
“It won’t.” If he lost her, he wouldn’t have anyone. Friends couldn’t take the place of his mother.
A soft whine preceded a cold snout pressing against his arm.
He jerked away from the bone wolf.
“Honey, what is that creature, and why does it have your father’s soul?”
“What?”
His mother pointed to the wolf. She’d never been fooled by an invisibility spell in her life, no matter how many stray puppies and kittens Quentin tried to sneak past her. Somehow she always knew. Even with her illness, nothing had changed.
“That wolf has your father’s soul.”
Quentin kept hold of his mother’s hand but turned his head to examine the wolf. “I found him and the others near Glenn’s body. I don’t know anything about what soul it has.”
That did explain why the beast stuck close to him; maybe its soul felt the family connection.
“Glenn’s dead?”
Shit.
“Yeah, it happened last night. A rogue vampire took him out, or that’s what the police said. I don’t have the final report.” Quentin hoped they would give it to him. He hadn’t thought of it before.
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand—a faded memory of what once would have been a vibrant hold.
“Yeah, me too. I should probably check downstairs at the morgue. I bet they’ll release his body to me. He doesn’t have any other family, and I was listed as his emergency contact.”
They were supposed to call me. Remembering that, Quentin checked his phone. Nothing.
“You can check after you leave here.”
“I will.” Glenn might be dead, but he wouldn’t be buried without someone being there for him.
“When you said ‘them’, how many wolves are you talking about?”
“Four, total.”
“Oh dear.”
Her worried expression didn’t ease Quentin’s concerns. “What do you mean, ‘oh dear’?”
“Your father had three brothers.”
“You think someone trapped them in there?”
“It’s possible.”
“Why? Why would anyone do that, and why would they come to me? You said he made it clear I wasn’t wanted.”
The pain of that never got old. To know that one of the two people who made him hadn’t wanted him to be born was a raw, never-healing wound in his chest.
“I said he couldn’t be your father, not that he didn’t want you,” she corrected gently.
The subject of his father always made his mother sad, so Quentin tried not to bring it up too often. “Because he’s an asshole?”
“No, because he had another life. We were like two ships passing. It was his loss that he didn’t get to know his son, but it was the sacrifice he made in order to return to the land of the fae.”
“Are you saying my dad is a fairy?” The wolf snarled. “Shush, you want us thrown out of here?” Quentin snapped at the bone wolf.
“They are called the fae, dear.”
“I don’t care what they call themselves. He abandoned us. If he wanted to, he could’ve been part of my life. He chose not to visit me. I choose not to acknowledge him.”
Quentin glared at the wolf. The beast lay down on the floor, flattening his ears.
His mother released his hand. “Sometimes things aren’t always so clear. You need to learn to be more tolerant of others.”
“Some things can’t be forgiven. He could have called or sent me a card on my birthday. Ignoring me for twenty-three years then coming here is too little too late, and I still don’t know why he was beside Glenn’s body.” The wolf whimpered. “No, I’m not forgiving you. Why are you here anyway?”
“He might’ve been attracted to your magic.”
“Besides the fact my father is now a wolf, what does it have to do with me? He’s ignored me my entire life. Why would I care if he’s been cursed or whatever?”
“Quentin, I taught you better than that. Where is your compassion?”
“It left about the time you had to raise me all by yourself.” His mother never had a bad word to say about anyone. Someone could be an ax murderer, and she’d be all “at least he gave them a quick death.”
“You need to find out what happened to your father and uncles and break the spell.” She tried to sound firm, but she didn’t have enough energy for the task.
“I don’t have time. I’ve got to get a job.” Oops, he hadn’t meant to tell her that.
Her mouth turned down at the edges. “You aren’t responsible for my bills.”
Paying bills was no longer Quentin’s entire motivation. He wanted to go find the rogue vampire who’d killed Glenn and hand him over to people who could enact justice. “I don’t want you to worry a
bout anything except getting better.”
“Quentin, I’m not going to get better. You need to prepare yourself for my death.”
Quentin jumped to his feet. “I don’t have to prepare for anything. You will get better. You have to.” He couldn’t handle it if he lost her, and he refused to accept that as an option.
Exhaustion crossed her face. “Help your father and make me proud of you.”
Quentin’s shoulders slumped. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Exhaustion had left deep grooves in her brow and around her mouth. “Get some sleep if you can. I’ll talk to your doctor.”
“Go easy on him. He’s trying.”
“Of course.” He gave the wolf a sideways glance. “Come on, Dad.”
The wolf growled.
“Be nice,” his mother said.
“What was my father’s name?” She had never shared it with him before.
“Lars Trehorn.”
“You don’t look like a Lars,” Quentin told the wolf.
His mother laughed that time. “Behave.”
“Bye, Mom.”
He could see she was already tiring. Quentin had a doctor to harass and a friend’s body to check on, so he left his mother’s room and made his way to the nurse’s desk only to learn the doctor had left for the day.
Probably late for his tee time.
Frustrated, Quentin headed for the elevator and almost tripped on his own feet when he spotted a man who checked off all the boxes on his list of fantasies. Tall, dark, handsome, and wearing a suit that fit him well enough to qualify for Quentin’s next suit-porn dream.
“Wow,” he whispered.
He knew he hadn’t spoken loudly, yet the man turned and stared at Quentin with equal interest. The elevator doors opened beside the man and Quentin watched him enter the elevator. Seconds before the doors closed behind him, he blew Quentin a kiss. Quentin shivered at the unexpected attraction, then shook his head. He didn’t have time for romantic fantasies over strangers, no matter how gorgeous.
Quentin made it in time to take the next elevator down to the morgue. His mind focused on the handsome man, and he almost didn’t get out of the elevator when the doors opened on the bottom floor. Damn, he wished he’d gotten the guy’s number.