I shrugged. “I was provoked.”
Mick’s voice held a hint of steel. “And I suggest you leave before she gets provoked again.”
Emmett straightened his tie. “Yes, all right, I take the hint. One day I’ll meet you again, Stormwalker—or whatever you are. That, I think, will be an interesting day.”
“Yes, it will be,” I said, pretending I wasn’t as weak as I felt. “By the way, if you happen to see John Christianson, tell him you have no idea where Cassandra is.”
Emmett snorted. “Christianson is an idiot. If he can’t find Cassandra himself, then he doesn’t deserve to.” He gave Cassandra a mocking bow. “I applaud you, witch. I’ll meet you again one day, too.” As he spoke, his body shimmered, and then he was gone.
“Is everyone all right?” I asked wearily. I wasn’t certain I was. I was so damned tired.
No one answered. Pamela and Cassandra were holding each other, and Nash pulled himself up from behind the reception counter. I felt better. If a building in Iraq falling on him couldn’t defeat Nash Jones, a little tumble behind my reception desk wouldn’t be able to either.
Nash hauled Maya to her feet beside him. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Calling a dangerous person names makes them more dangerous. She could have killed you.”
“Just kiss her, Nash,” I said.
“What?”
Maya squirmed out of Nash’s grasp and marched away, grabbing her purse from the table where she’d left it. “Fuck you, Nash. I am so out of here.” She banged the front door on the way, and we heard her truck roar to life.
A voice came out of the saloon. “She’s a feisty beeyotch. Gotta love that Maya.”
The magic mirror. I heaved a sigh of relief. “Where the hell have you been?”
Nash answered, thinking I was talking to him. “Behind your reception desk. I was thrown here, remember?”
The mirror nearly sobbed. “I was trying and trying and trying to talk to you. But all that came out were those songs. Not even when I screamed. And I couldn’t focus anywhere but on the saloon. Good thing I love show tunes, but I missed all the sex.”
Mick started to smile. “Hey, maybe there were a few good things about that curse.”
I shared a grin with him, but I for one was damn happy to hear the mirror again. “But you shut up entirely when Emmett arrived, even stayed quiet after the hex broke. I can’t believe you did that by choice.”
“Janet, who the hell are you talking to?” Nash was in front of me now. There were actual wrinkles in his uniform shirt. Two of them.
“But I did shut up by choice,” the mirror called. “That nasty ununculous was here, and he’s got a lot of magic. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want him to know you have a magic mirror.”
That was smart, I had to admit. “Thank you.”
“Oh, you can thank me in many ways.” It snickered. “Ununculous. Sounds like a flower. Or do I mean ranunculus? Do think he’d mind if I called him Flower-Power?”
“Do what you want,” I said.
Nash slid on his jacket. “What I want is to get out of here. Things seem back to normal—that is, as insane as ever.” His shoulders slumped a little. “I can’t believe I condoned a murder, even encouraged it.”
“Coyote’s a god, Nash,” I said. “He’s probably fine.” I believed that, didn’t I? “Go see Maya.”
“In the mood she’s in, I doubt she wants to see me.”
“Go find her, help her, and go to bed with her, for all our sakes. She loves you. Damn it, Nash, you have to try.”
Nash gave me a long stare from his ice-gray eyes. Then he gave me a nod and departed. Whether he went after Maya, I wasn’t to know.
Mick drew me back against him. “Good advice. Damn, I love you, Janet. Crazy magic, weird prophecies, and all. Bed?”
“Please.”
He lifted me as he rose, my dragon boyfriend as strong as ever. As Mick started with me down the hall, all the faucets Fremont had opened during the hex suddenly exploded with water.
“Fremont!” I yelled.
“I’m on it!” Fremont grabbed his toolbox.
“Oh, and Fremont,” I said from the safety of Mick’s arms. “Next time you want to sleep with a woman—check with me first?”
“Right.” I could tell he had no interest in discussing his choice of girlfriends right now. The plumbing called. He charged into the kitchen, and Mick carried me down the hall.
“Oh, yes,” came through my bathroom mirror. “I get to see some action now. This will make up for my downtime.” The magic mirror’s gleeful chuckles died off into protests as Mick shut off the water in there and firmly closed the bathroom door.
***
Mick made me leave the hotel for a few days and take vacation. Ansel, remorseful and guzzling cow blood by the gallon, offered to stand guard over it for me, and Cassandra, her cool efficiency restored, assured me she had everything under control. Elena showed up to work the morning after the hex, surveyed the wreck of her kitchen, and started an hours-long rant. I was happy I didn’t understand much Apache. We left her to her kitchen, her diatribe, and her knives.
I went with Mick to a place outside of Santa Fe that we loved, where the air was frigid, the snow was high, and beauty existed in every breath. We basked in the joy of time alone, especially snuggled up in bed at night, but I was still uneasy.
Mick hadn’t quite come to terms with his choice of killing Coyote, even though his act had ultimately saved us. I’d tried to find out what had happened to Coyote’s body, but of course, I couldn’t. Plus, I was a bit worried about those flashes of visions I’d had while under the hex. Something coming, they implied. Something not good.
On the third night, I slid into warm slumber after wild lovemaking with Mick and found myself standing outside under the tall pine trees, stark naked in a gently falling snow.
I blew out my breath, which fogged, even though I knew I was asleep and dreaming.
Tracks of a large wolf dented the snow. I followed the tracks deeper into the woods, and there he was, a huge coyote standing in a clearing, moonlight in his yellow eyes.
I stopped myself from rushing to him and throwing my arms around him. I was naked, and he’d like that too much. “Are you alive? Or is this all I’ll ever see?”
Of course I’m alive. I’m a god. The god.
As he spoke, the coyote shimmered and morphed into the man Coyote—tall, broad chested, black haired, and as naked as I was.
“Damn you!” My voice rang to the stars. “It’s been days. Why haven’t you told us you were all right? Mick’s eaten up with guilt.”
Coyote winced. “Keep it down, Janet. Little animals are trying to sleep. I didn’t tell you right away because I needed to heal. I had a knife in my heart. Give me a break.”
“You should have told us you wouldn’t really die.”
“But I did die. I had to die. Sacrifice. Death and rebirth. I told you; I’m a god. It’s kind of in my job description.” He shrugged. “Besides, don’t you know your Coyote legends? I can only die if the tip of my tail is destroyed. I wasn’t letting anyone near that.”
“Did you know about the demon-goddess? Did you know that Emmett wasn’t the hexor?”
Coyote shook his head. “I still can’t believe his name is Emmett. And no, I didn’t know. As soon as he showed up, though, everything made sense.”
“Now explain why you didn’t tell me that your blood would help. I was grieving for you, damn it.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. But think about it. Whoever sent the hex could have been listening to us the whole time. Plus, if you’d known, you all wouldn’t have viewed it as a sacrifice. You had to believe I truly faced death—and I did. The attitude of the spell caster is as important as the ritual. More.”
I r
emembered thinking much the same thing when we chanted Fremont’s spell for his demon.
Coyote touched his chest, which bore no scars. Not one. “And don’t think it didn’t hurt. Mick’s damn strong.”
“Wait. You said that everything made sense once Emmett showed up. But you were dead. So how could you know what happened if you were lying there dead?”
“I was kind of in transition. I heard everything, saw everything, I just couldn’t do anything. I told Fremont to get her with the knife.”
“You told him? How . . .”
“He didn’t realize I told him. I planted the suggestion in his head, and he thinks he acted on his own. That’s fine with me. He needs to feel like a hero.”
“Why didn’t you plant things in my head? I was grieving, you idiot. You couldn’t at least have let me know you’d be all right?”
“Because you needed to figure out the rest of it on your own. I can’t always be there to fix all your problems, Janet. But you smacked that demon down without using any of your Beneath magic. You did good, Stormwalker. I’m proud of you.”
That did it. I ran at him, screaming. My fists met flesh, thudded on muscle.
“Ow.” Coyote caught my hands. “Easy. Still healing.”
I tried to jerk away, but he kept hold of my fists. “Just because it worked is no justification!” I shouted. “What if I hadn’t known what to do, and we’d all died? What if even one of us had? You’d have let Maya or Fremont die so I’d learn a lesson? For your principles?”
“Not principles.” Coyote’s voice went stern, even harsh. “Life or death. The lesser or the greater evil. It’s the kind of choice I have to make every day.” He fixed me with his god stare, the one that terrified me. “It’s the kind of choice you will have to make.”
I shook my head, kept shaking it. “No. I would never decide that one of my friends had to die.”
“And yet you did. You chose me.”
“Because I thought you would come back to life, you asshole! And I was right. You did.”
“Because I chose to,” Coyote said. “Because you need me.”
He finally let me go, and I backed away, jamming my arms over my cold chest. “I would never, ever sacrifice those I love for any reason. Ever. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.” His look was somber. “And yes, you will.”
I unfolded my arms. “Bite me,” I said, and I turned and walked away.
“Go on back to your lover,” Coyote said behind me, voice gentling. “Comfort each other the way you do.” A pause. “Hey, mind if I watch?”
“In your dreams,” I called over my shoulder.
“Or in yours. Whichever.” He chuckled. “You know, Janet, you do have the sweetest ass.”
I flipped him off and kept walking.
The dream faded and I woke in Mick’s arms, his blue eyes half open, his drowsy smile welcoming me.
I could still hear Coyote’s laughter in the night. It dissolved into high-pitched coyote yips and then faded on the wind.
The Stormwalker Series, by Allyson James
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed “Double Hexed,” a story in the Stormwalker series!
With desert storms, canyons, mountains, tiny towns and wide vistas, the Stormwalker series takes place in the high desert near the Hopi and Navajo Nations, in a small town known as Magellan.
People come to Magellan from far and wide to find its ghosts and supernatural events, all of which are real, thanks to the vortexes swirling in the desert to the east of town.
Janet Begay has moved to Magellan to start her life over and deal with the ghosts of her past. As a Stormwalker, she can harness the power of the frequent storms to work incredible magic. She opens a small hotel on the edge of town, where tourists and the supernatural are both welcome.
Janet is joined by her boyfriend, Mick, a wild man with fire magic, and a cast of local characters: Nash Jones, the handsome sheriff who likes everything orderly; Maya, the electrician, and Nash’s on-again, off-again girlfriend; Fremont Hansen, who believes he’s more of a mage than he is; Coyote, the trickster god, who enjoys doing as he pleases; Cassandra, a talented witch and talented hotel manager; Ansel, a vampire who likes old movies and collects stamps; Colby, a dragon with attitude; Gabrielle, Janet’s dangerously magical half-sister; and a snarky magic mirror, who keeps things lively.
Books in the Stormwalker series:
Stormwalker
Firewalker
Shadow Walker
“Double Hexed”
Nightwalker
Thanks for reading,
Allyson James
http://www.allysonjames.com
Shifters Unbound, by Jennifer Ashley
Dear Reader,
Read on for a peek at the Shifters Unbound series I write as Jennifer Ashley.
If you’re new to the Shifters Unbound world—here’s a bit about the series:
Shifters have been “out” for twenty years, collared and controlled by humans, and tamed from their violent ways. Or are they?
Shifters are made to live in Shiftertowns, restricted as to where they can work and what they can do. But Shifters being Shifters, they find ways to get around the rules, especially when it comes to protecting their mates!
The story begins in Pride Mates, in the Austin Shiftertown. After a few books, you meet the Shifters of the Las Vegas Shiftertown in Wild Cat and Mate Claimed. Onward, the action takes place in either one or the other Shiftertowns, usually with characters from both towns interacting.
Read on for an excerpt from Wild Wolf, the latest in the Shifters saga.
Come to Shiftertown, and stay a while! There’s always an adventure or two, along with steamy romance!
Best wishes,
Jennifer Ashley
aka Allyson James
http://www.jennifersromances.com
Graham McNeil slammed his massive fist into the jaw of the attacking wolf just as his cell phone rang.
He got the wolf into a headlock and tried to reach for the phone, but the wolf fought and clawed, drawing blood, its breath like sour acid. Graham’s Collar sparked heavy pain into his throat, while the Collar on the wolf he fought was dormant.
Was this where things were going with the stupid-ass idea that all Shifters should have their pain-shocking Collars replaced with inert ones? Shifters at the bottom of the food chain would use their fake Collars as an excuse to try to claw their way up, like this Lupine was. The shithead was from the family of one of Graham’s trackers and was supposed to be loyal to Graham, but today the wolf had decided to wait in Graham’s house until Graham walked in alone, and jump him.
Idiot. Graham had territory advantage, even if he still wore his true Collar, which blasted pain into him with every heartbeat. Time to show the attacking wolf who was truly alpha.
Graham’s phone kept ringing against his belt. Because Shifters were only allowed to carry “dumb” phones, he didn’t have a fancy ringtone to tell him who was calling. The damn thing just rang.
Graham grabbed the Lupine by the throat and threw it against the wall. The wolf howled, but did it stay down? Not for long.
As the wolf prepared another attack, Graham yanked the phone off his belt and flipped it open. “What?”
“Graham,” came the breathless voice of his more-or-less girlfriend, a human called Misty.
Everything slowed. Graham saw in his mind the curvy young woman with light brown hair she wore in ponytail, her soft face, and her sweet brown eyes. Every thought of her was like a breath of air, snaking into his messed-up brain and trying to soothe him. Graham wished he was with her now, teasing her, kissing her, instead of trying to beat an insubordinate wolf into submission.
“I’m a little busy right now, sweethea
rt,” Graham said loudly as the wolf landed on him. A wooden chair smashed under them as they both slammed to the floor—damn, he liked that chair. “You break my TV, you’re dead,” Graham snarled.
“What?”
“Not you, sweetie. I’ll have to call you back.”
“You can’t. Graham, listen, I need you. They’re . . . Oh, crap.”
“What?” Graham bellowed. “Slow down. What are you saying?”
“I have to go. I don’t know when I can call you again.”
Graham’s shift was coming. In a few seconds, he wouldn’t be able to hold the phone, let alone talk. “Wait!” he yelled at her.
“I can’t. I’ve got to go. Graham, I lo—”
The phone clicked, and Graham was shouting at a dead line. “What? Wait! Misty! Fuck.”
He threw the phone across the room and lifted the attacking wolf by the scruff of the neck. “Would you stop, you asshole?”
The wolf snarled, teeth snapping at Graham’s throat. The wolf in Graham responded. He felt his body change, muscles becoming harder and leaner, face elongating to accommodate teeth, claws jutting from fingers that quickly became paws.
With an ear-splitting snarl, Graham went for the other wolf’s throat, snapping teeth around fur.
At the last minute, the alpha in him told him not to kill. Graham was this wolf’s protector, not its enemy. The wolf needed to be taught its place, not destroyed.
Not that Graham wouldn’t rough it up a bit. But quickly. He needed to find out what was wrong with Misty. The fear in her voice had been clear, the desperation palpable. They’re . . . What? Here? Coming? Killing me?
Graham’s Collar kept snapping arcs into his neck. He held on to the throat of the fighting wolf, not letting the Collar stop him.
Dominance didn’t have anything to do with Collars, or pain, or fighting. Dominance was about putting full-of-themselves, arrogant Lupine Shifters in their place. Graham got the wolf on the floor and stepped on it, and then shifted to human again, breathing hard, his clothes in tatters.
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