Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  The living room, made larger by some magic the imps had, held a good dozen people. Averill was not in sight. Mona hoped she was getting some rest somewhere. Cart was over in the corner already answering questions the crowd put to him.

  “Hey Teflon, heard you picked up a trainee, she getting in the way as usual?” a man asked, his snort letting everyone know how helpful he thought the she would be. The way he said Teflon made Mona think he didn't mean it as a complimentary nickname for Cart.

  “I like to think I’m helping,” she said as she walked over to Cart’s side. This was the attitude she was used to from Weres, but it didn’t mean she had to put up with it. “But who knows, maybe I’m just a big old pain in the ass. Because you know, sometimes attitudes become self-fulfilling.”

  “Nice,” he said, looking her up and down like she was a toy he was thinking about purchasing.

  “She’s already placed herself under my protection, Herrick” Cart put his hand on Mona’s arm.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want your protection,” Herrick said.

  Mona heard Cart’s growl. Again, he was close to shifting. And she knew, just knew, that if he hurt Herrick because of his inability to control his animal, he’d pull himself off the detail citing his attack as a sign of instability. They so did not need that right now; they needed him focused and doing his job.

  She turned back to Herrick, placing herself between the two men. The rest of the group, she noticed, had given their trio a wide berth.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Mona asked Herrick. “Because tweaking a tiger’s tail has to be one the most incredibly dumbass things I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

  She looked him over again, deeply this time, sensing his magic and intent. Irritation at Cart simmered through all of his sense of self. Evil wasn’t embedded in him, the way it sometimes became in Folk who were not pure elves. A little remnant of a spell of ill intent, likely from a recent encounter, but nothing festering. His attitude toward Cart was nothing more than any biased jealousy would create.

  “Step away, now,” she said, “unless you want to be pummeled and battered to a point where you will be no use to anyone. Not that I’m seeing you’re much of one now.”

  She glanced over the crowd, her focus still on inner magic and abilities.

  “You and you.” She chose two strong but well-grounded Weres. “Take him out of here.”

  They glanced at Cart first, who must have given his approval as they moved over and grabbed Herrick’s arms.

  “You don’t have any authority over me!” Herrick said.

  “I do,” Averill said.

  Mona wasn’t sure when she’d arrived, but was she was very glad to see her because Mona had no idea if she did have the authority.

  “I have the right to accept or reject the protectors who are in the group. I choose for you to be placed on probation and banned from the house. In three months you may appeal the ban if you wish. Take him out of here.”

  The two Weres dragged the barely cooperating Herrick out of the room and house.

  “Thank you, Leader Averill.” Mona thumped her fist to her chest in salute and recognition of the woman's position as Pack leader. “Now, if you have everything under control, we’re going to bed.”

  Again with the growling. Mona turned and smacked Cart’s arm.

  “Really, do you Weres ever think of anything else?” This earned her a couple of chuckles. “Since we both need to sleep, we’ll be doing so alone.”

  Mona turned to head down the hall, guessing it was toward the kitchen. The imp, which had followed her, darted out of the way.

  “Actually I should deal with this imp first,” she told Tiffany, who’d accompanied them out of the room. “Any place private we can go?”

  “Try the basement. There’s a futon there so you take turns crashing while the other gets some work done,” Tiffany supplied.

  Mona had to think that last bit was for the benefit of those still listening in the room. They pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen and a wave of heat swept out. Sleepiness hit Mona like a wall. She stifled a yawn.

  “Is there any update from the hospital?” Hopefully one of the calls Cart had made last night was to fill his crew in on the need to monitor Raine.

  “Nurse Ferguson said she’s holding steady.” Tiff showed them where the basement stairs were.

  Cart, who’d been shockingly quiet until this point, politely asked Tiffany to check on them at noon if they weren’t already up. Mona headed down to an old fashion rec room, sofa on the left wall, TV on a crowded bookshelf across on the right. The building was on a hill and patio doors dominated the wall across from the stairs.

  “I’d open that imp before you sit down or it’ll have to wait even longer to deliver the message.” Cart crossed to the futon and maneuvered the frame so it was flat.

  “I am Mona Lisa Kubreck. Please state your message.”

  “Mona.” Nic’s voice was loud and clear. “The cat’s out of the bag on what it is you’re doing. I expect you to fill me in ASAP.”

  Nic had learned to use an imp. Wow. Part of her struggled to grasp how far he’d come so quickly, while dying to see his magic levels now, and part was simply too tired to worry about it.

  Not bothering to stifle her yawn this time, Mona sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes. Turning to lie on her side, she found Cart had slipped in behind her and already taken the wall spot. He pulled her so she spooned in front of him then settled a light quilt over them.

  She scooted back into his warmth and immediately dropped off to sleep.

  • • •

  The richly sweet smell of hot cocoa woke her. But, oh my, was it bright! She squinted her eyes against the glare of light. Beyond the patio doors, the snow had become neon with sunshine.

  Cart handed her a mug. “It used to be hot.”

  The chocolate smelled heavenly. She looked at Cart. Not only had he slipped out from bed without her noticing, clearly he’d been awake long enough to shower and change.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost two.”

  “I thought Tiff was going to wake us up at noon?”

  “We tried; you muttered something about a damn alarm clock and slapped Tiff in the face. We decided to let you sleep.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She took a sip of barely warm cocoa, hoping the mug hid her embarrassment.

  “When do you need to be at Fat Louie’s?” Cart asked, setting his mug down on the desk. Mona set hers besides it and stretched.

  Right. She had to work tonight. “Four-thirty. I should scoot out of here and run home. I could use a shower and a change.”

  There was yelling and a loud thump from the top of the basement stairs and Mona found herself flung back on the trundle with Cart on top of her, his hand over her mouth and his gaze fixed on the stairs.

  Mona tried to ignore the warmth deliciously spreading through her body and focus on what was happening outside.

  There were some footsteps, then a muffled chortle. Mona relaxed, while Cart remained rigid. It wasn’t until they heard Averill’s voice telling people to clean up their mess that he calmed down and took his hand off her mouth.

  “And what was that?” Mona asked, continuing without giving him a chance to respond. “You had no right to do that. I was perfectly safe. You don’t have to protect me. I—”

  Cart put his hand back, then removed it again.

  “Aren’t there guards upstairs? Why would you think there was any danger?” she asked, unable to stop. “I need to know because—”

  His hand clamped back over her mouth. “You’re babbling.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re uncomfortable.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you want me to move?”

  She hesitated, and then nodded again.

  “Really?”

  He kept his hand over her mouth and kissed along her jaw line and down her neck, nipping lightly along the way.

 
She moaned his name into his palm.

  “Uh-uh-uh, I’m not removing my hand until I’m sure you’re not going to babble again.”

  He draped his leg over hers, boxing her knees between his. Heat burned everywhere they touched, sending tendrils of desire racing to her core. Any traces of cold quickly vanished.

  “Ready?”

  She didn’t move. He lifted his hand.

  “I—”

  He clamped his hand back. “Nope. No talking.” He raised his palm up.

  “But—” she got out before he pressed his fingers firmly over her lips again.

  “Quiet,” he whispered. He slid his hand off, tracing the outline of her lips with the pad of his finger. His feather light touch skated across the seam.

  She opened her mouth and gently nipped the questing tip.

  He growled and pulled it away, sitting up. “This isn’t the time or place.” He raked his hand through his hair. “What do you need to get ready?”

  Trying to adjust to his mood change, Mona took stock of what she had on. She couldn’t remember when she’d last put on clean clothes. “Black shirt, dark pants, the usual other stuff.”

  Cart nodded. “There’s a full bath through the door next to the bookshelves. Get started and I’ll find you something.”

  “Sounds good.” Mona bit her lip to keep the words from tumbling out. She held them in for one breath, two. . . “Can Tiff or someone else bring them down, though? You know, since we don’t have a lot of time and I’m pretty sure I’ll get distracted if you come in while I shower. And I think you would too, I mean I hope you would. No, I don’t hope, I’m pretty sure you just would. Plus, there’s that extra energy we create, no way to hide that, and wouldn’t that be embarrass—”

  Cart laid his finger across her lips. “I’ll send a female down. Tiff’s out finding a new place for the protector group since D’Alessandro has asked us to move. It was only temporary anyway—too small and too far away from Averill and her Pack.”

  He removed his finger and tweaked her nose. “And yes, privacy would be a good thing. Not sure when we’ll get that. Life can be perverse sometimes.”

  “I thought that was imps. Like the imp of the perverse?”

  “You called?” a voice said from behind Cart.

  Cart whipped around, this time remaining standing as he shoved her behind him.

  The voice, though, was one she knew, one she’d come to expect pulling a prank like this.

  “Hey, Puck, you should know better than to sneak up on Folk like that.”

  “Yeah, but it’s so much fun!” His chortle rang through the room.

  She stood and stepped out from behind Cart, who was gaping at the barely two and a half foot tall barrel-chested man.

  The Puck had chosen to dress in his disco finery today, complete with bare-to-navel maroon satin shirt and a thick, gold chain necklace nestled in the hair he called his “manly rug.” The guy had more clothes than a hotel heiress.

  “Puck, this is—”

  “I know who he is,” the Puck said, looking at Cart and straightening his cuffs. “We’ve met before, but it’s been a while, I don’t hang out in New York City too much. Although they’ve done a better job keeping the parks clean recently. You going by Josiah or Cart or something else these days?”

  The two obviously had a history. Mona kept quiet, not wanting to get in the middle of things.

  “I go by Cart, oh Eternal Keeper of Folk memory,” he replied.

  Hmm, Mona had never heard that title before, but it did have the effect of stopping the Puck from pointing the TV controller at various objects around the room, pretending to use it to move them around.

  “Right.” He set the unit back and turned around. “You two better ignore the canoodling for now. There are big problems around here, and you can’t be distracted.”

  “We—” Mona started before Cart cut her off.

  “Tell me more.”

  “Can’t,” Puck said. He picked up Cart’s mug, sniffed at the drink, and pulled out a flask from some unseen pocket. After adding a healthy splash, he drained the mug.

  “Won’t?” Cart asked. “And that was my drink.”

  Mona watched them both as they took up eerily similar stances and glared at each other.

  “It’s not just the humanoid Folk who are affected. I can’t.”

  Mona knew Cart well enough now to know that this was news to him.

  “Fine,” Cart said. “I assume you’ll show up again when you can use your appearance to the most dramatic effect?”

  “Gotta make it memorable or people don’t listen. See ya then.”

  The Puck popped out of the room, much more loudly than he had appeared.

  “How do you know him?” Cart asked.

  “Part of my training was spending a couple of weeks with him.”

  A frown crossed his face.

  “What? Let me guess—not standard training for a Warder, but not unique. Look, right now I’m going to take a shower and get the image of canoodling out of my head. I was doing fine until he said that, you know. Of course, he is the imp of the Perverse, so he probably did it to put the image there.”

  Mona made it the bathroom door before Cart caught up with her, grabbed her arm, and spun her around.

  “You mean we’re supposed to canoodle?” Disbelief, uncertainty, and eagerness all carried in his voice.

  “I mean we should admit it’s going to happen, set it aside until it can, and get to work. Like he said.” She looked at Cart. He had his moments of typical pack leader.

  “You’re not babbling.” His thumb stroked the inside of her elbow.

  “I only babble when I’m uncertain and uncomfortable. Now that it’s certain, I’ll be better.” Mona pulled her arm out of his grip. “I’m also certain we should wait, so knowing this isn’t going to happen soon helps my comfort level. Please send down some clothes, okay?”

  She went up on tiptoes, kissed his nose, then closed the door, immediately pulling off her shirt. She was shaking from her bravado. Hell, she wasn’t certain, but she was even more determined than ever not to babble when Cart cornered her.

  “It’s not certain!” Cart yelled through the door.

  She yanked open the door. Mona swore Cart’s eyes popped out of his head at the sight of her in a white cotton bra.

  “What, because someone states the obvious, you don’t want to have sex with me anymore? That’s stupid, and I’m pretty sure you’re not stupid.”

  His eyes snapped to her face.

  “There’re levels of stupid, Mona,” he said. “And yes, part of me thinks ‘canoodling’ with you would be stupid now that someone has put it on their agenda.”

  Mona opened her mouth to retort, but he held up a finger, forestalling her reply.

  “However, given how much we both want this, and it’s very clear the feeling is mutual, it’d be far more stupid to ignore our attraction. You agree?”

  Mona could only nod, fighting the need to pull him into the bathroom and have him join her shower.

  His nostrils flared and he growled.

  Dammed Were.

  “I’ll go find you some clothes.” He turned and stalked away.

  Chapter Nine

  Cart finally noticed her silence in the cab of the truck. Mona had showered, gotten dressed, thanked Averill for coming up with some clothes—including a very warm coat!—which fit relatively well, and managed to grab a quick bite to eat before they’d rushed out the door to get her to work.

  They’d been driving for about twenty minutes before he spoke.

  “You said stupid first.”

  Yeah, like that was going to hold water. Besides, she’d said she didn’t think he was stupid. She’d since revised her opinion.

  “Look, it would be stupid to have sex,” he said, “but it would be more stupid not to, you can’t deny that.”

  “Why?” she asked, despite herself.

  “Mona, I have a life in New York City: a job, friend
s, family. A whole network that I rely on there. My pack is small, but I am their leader. I can’t, and never have, imagined living anywhere else.”

  She nodded. Okay, and the point was?

  “You are a Warder,” he continued. “While I could live anyplace, you have to live in a specific place. A large part of me doesn’t want to give my old life up. ‘Don’t be stupid and throw out your life’s work’ I tell myself. But then a growing-by-the-minute part of me says ‘don’t be stupid, there’s something special and unique here, you aren’t going to find this again.’ And trust me, I’ve seen enough not-quite-right partnerships to know that this one is so good, it’s practically a matter of fate.”

  Mona refused to comment on that, despite the joy at hearing him say he thought there was something unique and special between them.

  “Maybe not fated,” he continued as he turned the wheel hand over hand to go around a sharp corner, “‘cause I hate that word, but definitely well favored by whatever beings foresee such unions.”

  “Like the Puck.”

  “Exactly. Which explains the energy and the quickness of our attraction and the fact that we are constantly thrown together. For instance, I tried to assign Menlo, who actually specializes in dealing with the psychology of emerging Folk, to come with you tonight. He’s now stuck on some rural highway with a flat tire.”

  Mona thought about what he hadn’t said, but implied. They could be fated, be Seele, be elf soul mates.

  But that didn’t make sense, given she had no magic. From what she’d heard, elf soul mates were absolute compliments to their partner, an equal or very near equal in magical abilities and bloodlines.

  She had no magic. And Cart definitely had a lot. So that ruled that out. Which was good because she wasn’t sure she wanted her lifetime tied to someone else’s, or theirs to hers, much less the emotional and physical connection that occurred. Feeling when Cart took a punch? No thank you.

  Although they could still be mated on a Were level, less binding in some respects but just as strongly fated.

  They drove a little further, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

  “One thing that scares the crap out of me, though,” Cart said quietly as he pulled into a spot around the corner from Fat Louie’s, “whether you want to call it fated or predetermined or goddess blessed, each couple so named has a hard task ahead of them.”