Hoofin’ It: A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count)

by RJ Blain

  “Catching on to what I needed. This didn’t go down as I expected. I thought I’d be stuck here for a few weeks before I got my hands on a phone.”

  I gave the small table a shove and thumped my new boots on top of it, aware of the two spare phones and the battery jabbing my ankles. “I set that up hoping you’d message me with something I could use, but your way was even better. Honestly, I’d sent your picture to my parents to send to the police, hoping to hit a missing person record to justify a raid. Also, you’re going to need to be tested for the lycanthropy virus, Sally. I had absolutely no intention of—”

  Sally shifted her chin off her arm, reached over, and clapped her hand over my mouth. “My name’s Marian, I’m an undercover FBI agent, and if you ever call me Sally again, I’ll kill you.”

  I believed her. I wouldn’t want reminded I’d spent time as an animal, carted around the United States in the back of a van, and been stuck with me the entire time. Add in the run-ins with my parents, and she would definitely have just cause to hate me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What I’d like to know is how you’re here, as the last time I saw you, you were bleeding to death in a ditch. I almost had a heart attack when you came into the club tonight.” Her gaze dipped to my shoulder and the two faint scars marking where I’d been shot.

  “The feeling is mutual. I almost choked to death when that bouncer called you—”

  Marian snarled at me.

  “—by that name I’m never going to mention again if I know what’s good for me.”

  “They thought they were being gracious by allowing me to pick a stage name. I hoped someone would notice the coincidence and take a closer look because of that horrible name. I wasn’t expecting for you to show up.”

  “Consider this a lesson learned. My parents were involved. Actually, I’m genuinely astonished they haven’t broken into the joint looking for me. They fully intended to hunt and kill the stealer of my alpaca.”

  “You want to die, don’t you?”

  Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone? I blamed my mother. It had to be my mother’s fault. She was always pulling my father’s tail. “It’s not my fault my father is a werewolf and my mother’s infected. It’s in their blood—literally. Shooting me was bad enough, but to take my alpaca, too? They couldn’t let such an insult stand.”

  “Shane!”

  I wondered what it said about me that I enjoyed the way she snarled my name. “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was even possible to transform someone like that. When my godfather informed me you were probably being transported as part of a sex trafficking operation, I had a hard time believing it.”

  “Well, it’s true. I was sold to this club. How did you figure out to come here anyway?”

  “You can thank my parents for that. They did the footwork. Dad tracked you here with his nose, and once he identified the farm you’d been taken to, they did some research and found links to clubs in the city. This was the first one we tried. So, in that regard, plain luck. When the barkeeper said you were a shy new girl, I figured you were my best bet.” I pointed at my fake eye. “Since I don’t look like a cop, I got volunteered to have a look around. I’m not one anymore, but my parents try to forget that. I lost my eye responding to a traffic accident and pulling a family out of the burning wreckage of their car. Since the insurance company didn’t want to pay for a functional replacement, I’m retired.”

  Marian’s eyes widened, and she trailed her fingers along the thin line of my scar. “I wondered why you had stepped in front of a gun to protect an animal. You had no way of knowing I wasn’t actually an alpaca. At first, I thought you were stupid for putting your life in danger like that, but then you just, well, seemed like a nice guy. And since I had no idea when—or if—I’d become human again, sticking with you was my best option.”

  I thought about everything that had happened from the instant I’d seen the furry, angry alpaca in the back of the car. “I have a remarkable lack of common sense and no sense of self-preservation, as evidenced by my talking my surgeon into letting me the hospital the morning following major reconstruction of my shoulder. It’s Dad’s fault. He provided the transfusion. Would you believe they made me sign a paper acknowledging I might end up infected with the lycanthropy virus?”

  “You’re not going to let go of the lycanthropy infection issue, are you?”

  My face warmed. “I never should have…”

  Marian sighed. “I can’t contract the virus, so you have nothing to worry about. And anyway, that’s my problem, not yours.”

  “Like hell it’s not my problem!” The heat across my cheeks intensified. “And it’s definitely my problem if… if…” I spluttered at the thought of having a child with anyone, which was enough to rob me of my ability to speak.

  “You’ve never been influenced by a succubus before, have you?” Marian bit her lip, cleared her throat, and giggled. “You look like you’ve swallowed a frog.”

  I groaned and slumped over the table. “No, I haven’t.”

  “You really are Mr. Honest, aren’t you? Most guys would be bragging.”

  “If I plead for mercy, would you just shoot me now? I’m sure you can borrow a gun from a cop.”

  “No. You’re entertaining. You have nothing to worry about. It’s a simple case of economics. It’s not profitable for the women working the club to become pregnant. It’s a part of the club’s deal with their succubus and incubus—common practice. They’re allowed to siphon energy, but in exchange, they keep the girls working the club from having unexpected kids. There’s a catch to that. If a woman comes to the club and she’s not one of the workers, she’s probably leaving pregnant. Little is better for an incubus and succubus than the creation of a new life.”

  Great. First I’d learned more about my parents’ sex life than I ever wanted to know, now I was learning about a whole new species, although I’d already known some of the details from my work in Chicago. The relief of not having to worry about becoming a father beat my discomfort over another sex talk, however. “And they knew you were one of the workers?”

  Marian glared at me. “Of course. I also had birth control pills shoved down my throat before they decided I’d earn my keep tonight.”

  “In my defense, I had no idea I’d be running into an incubus and a succubus today.” Had I known, I would have been contributing to the prevention of unexpected children, too.

  “You’re so shy. I never would’ve guessed. I’ve met your parents, you know. They aren’t shy.”

  “On days like today, I want to disown them.”

  She laughed. “Well, you have nothing to be ashamed about. That said, the possibility you’re a chronically nice guy has occurred to me. This could be a problem.”

  I scowled. “How is being a nice guy a problem?”

  “Competition.”

  What the hell did she mean by that? “Competition?”

  Both her eyebrows took a hike towards her hairline, and she slid down on the bench, crossing her arms over her chest. I averted my gaze to my boots. Removing my feet from the table and turning my back to Marian, I leaned over, undid the laces, and fished out my spare phones, setting them on the table along with the battery pack. Bracing for the worst, I checked for missed calls and messages.

  I had a lot of each.

  “Now that’s clever. I never would’ve thought to put phones in my boots as backups. I’m stealing that idea. This also confirms my belief there must be competition. You’re considerate to the point of being disturbing, you’re smart enough to keep spare phones in your boots when you’re going into a questionable situation, and you’re kinda cute in a rugged sort of way. Also, that blue eye suits you.”

  Did she really think I had a bunch of women waiting in the wings for a chance at me? If so, she had a lot to learn about me. I couldn’t even confess she’d been my first; if it hadn’t been for the incubus and succubus showing up, I would’ve enjoyed a few kisses, maybe let my hand stray a little if she a
llowed, and otherwise parted ways without getting to know her intimately.

  Could I get away with crawling under a table and dying? Maybe I could convince one of the cops to arrest me. I groaned and slumped in my seat, sending a text message to my godfather to confirm I was among the living.

  I still struggled to accept my evening had gone from checking out a nightclub to being influenced by an incubus and succubus determined to liven up the party with the added bonus of the starts of a hangover.

  “There’s really no competition?”

  The astonishment in her tone embarrassed me almost as much as her implication I was worth competing over. “Can I get away with lying just this once?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m curious now. You look like you’re about to die of embarrassment.” She sucked in a breath, and I felt her hands press against my back. “Wait a second. You’re the son of a lycanthrope. You weren’t infected at birth, were you?”

  “I’ll probably be clean of the virus in two or three days unless it managed to take hold, which I doubt.”

  “I took your virginity,” she whispered in my ear, pressing against my back. “Didn’t I?”

  Evil had a name, and it was Marian. Evil was also naked and far too close for my comfort, revitalizing every memory of being with her, right up until we were so exhausted we needed to stop and catch our breaths. I’d probably relive every minute in my sleep for the rest of my life.

  The experience would color my future, too. She’d been everything I had dreamed of and more, and the incubus and succubus probably had something to do with that. I could easily understand how men could become hooked on the experience of being with a woman while under the influence of a sex demon.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “You wouldn’t let go of the lycanthropy issue, so I’m not letting go of the virginity issue.”

  Turnabout was fair play, and I’d drawn the short straw. “However embarrassing, that’s fair. Fine. Yes, you did.”

  “And there’s no competition for you.”

  “I live in Chicago. They have a rather strong dislike of those who have been exposed to the lycanthropy virus.” I shrugged.

  Marian wiggled closer and rubbed my arms. “I can’t wait to find out what you’ll be like when you partner your enthusiasm with experience.”

  If I kept blushing, I’d rupture a blood vessel in my head. “You’re still influenced by the incubus, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little. It’s your fault.”

  “How is it my fault?”

  “I find clever, nice men attractive.”

  While inexperienced with the mysterious ways of women, I knew if I ran for the hills, one of two things would happen. She would chase me down and kill me, or she would chase me down and have her way with me. For some reason, I couldn’t imagine her ignoring my attempt to escape her.

  The part of me responsible for enjoying her on my lap wanted her to chase me, and the conclusion of the hunt didn’t matter one bit. The rest of me worried for my sanity.

  “I don’t suppose we can discuss this later, after you put some clothes on?”

  Marian growled and bit my shoulder hard enough I bled.

  Not even the lycanthropy virus courtesy of my father could deal with Marian’s bite. I suspected the succubus’s influence had helped burn out the virus, but the cops called someone from the Center for Disease Control to confirm I hadn’t infected the undercover agent.

  We both scanned clean of the lycanthropy virus, which explained why her bite wasn’t healing like I expected. I shot another glare at her, poking at the injury before an EMT slapped my hand away.

  “Don’t play with it,” the man ordered before continuing to prepare a bandage.

  I scowled. While she’d made me bleed, I didn’t think the bite was worth the fuss.

  Marian blushed, and I liked the way her cheeks reddened. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  At least she had progressed from nudity to a blanket wrapped around her. Cops and FBI agents kept offering her coffee, which she guzzled as though afraid it would disappear.

  I waved away her apology with my left hand so I wouldn’t earn another swat from the EMT. “If we start apologizing for every little thing, we’ll be here all night and drive your FBI friends to murder.”

  I’d already gotten more than a few glares from various law enforcement personnel. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were jealous or because I was some random civilian who happened to be in the right place at the right time. I didn’t look forward to being questioned, which would happen after the EMT was convinced I wouldn’t do additional harm to myself.

  I sat still while he taped a bandage into place, then grimaced when he poked the gunshot wounds below her bite. “That hurts, you know.”

  “How long have those been healing?”

  “I was shot yesterday. My surgeon is from here.”

  “Dr. Harting?”

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “That would make you the ex-cop gunned down in Lincoln.” The EMT turned his attention to my back, touching the exit wounds. “And seeing the scar placement, I can understand why they flew her over. Your shoulder blade must have been a bloody mess. Why are you even here?”

  Marian leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Don’t you dare.”

  My mother was completely to blame with my tendency to enjoy testing my luck, which contributed to ignoring the woman’s hissed threats. “I was originally going to help my godfather keep my parents in line, but then they decided they wanted to sell me into slavery.” I flashed Marian a grin. “And the shooter st—”

  Clapping her hand over my mouth, Marian looked the EMT in the eyes and snapped, “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

  The EMT chuckled. “Should I be concerned your parents want to sell you into slavery? Aren’t your parents also police officers?”

  I grabbed Marian’s wrist and pulled her hand away from my mouth. “My father’s a werewolf and my mother’s infected. I’m pretty sure they won’t sell me into slavery.”

  “So we have two possibly panicked lycanthropes outside?”

  “I texted my godfather telling him I was fine. They’ve probably graduated from panicked to spitting mad.”

  Marian twisted, snagged my arm, and pulled me forward; the instant I was off balance, she tossed me over her shoulder and slammed me onto the floor. The air rushed out of me in a gasp, and she straddled my chest, planting her hands on my shoulders. “Shane!”

  It took me a few moments to figure out I’d accidentally dropped a terrible pun about her kidnapping and deserved a beating. “Sorry,” I wheezed while the room flip-flopped around me.

  My introduction to the floor caught the attention of the gathered officers and agents, although I found it difficult to care what they thought. While my head hurt like hell from smacking into the floor, the view was spectacular.

  “Please don’t kill my patient, Agent Peterson.”

  “Not even a little?”

  “He is an ex-cop. They take that sort of thing seriously.” The EMT shooed Marian away, knelt beside me, and shined his pen light in my eye. “Did you happen to get a concussion when you were shot, Mr. Gibson?”

  “That may have happened.”

  The glare the EMT shot Marian would have killed a lesser woman. “Go away and stop injuring my patient. Send someone over to make arrangements about questioning if you need something to do.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”

  “I’m not upset with you. I deserved it.” I sighed at the thought of returning to the hospital to face a scolding from my surgeon. At least I’d dodge the questioning session for a little while.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dr. Harting was not happy to see me.

  “You’re trying to die, aren’t you?” The woman prowled around the examination table armed with one of the CDC’s meters, scanning me for the fifth time because she refused to believe t
he results of her initial tests. “I present the fact you have exhausted a large transfusion of lycanthropy-tainted blood as evidence.”

  “In my defense, I had no idea it was that sort of nightclub.”

  “You shouldn’t have been going to any nightclub. Didn’t it occur to you that alcohol would be detrimental to recovering from a concussion?”

  Telling her I’d felt fine until Marian had introduced my head to the club floor hadn’t impressed her the first three times I’d used it in my defense, so I kept my mouth shut. I also refrained from pointing out she hadn’t told me I couldn’t drink any alcohol. She’d mentioned refraining from sex, but no one could blame me for an unexpected encounter with a rowdy incubus and succubus.

  At least she’d conceded that point; no one stood a chance against a pair of sex demons on a mission.

  “Am I going to survive long enough to be questioned, Dr. Harting? The FBI and police are going to be cranky if they can’t question me.”

  “I should make you stay for observation overnight, but even if I did, you’d probably find some way to rattle your brain in your skull just to vex me. Obviously, I made a poor judgment call. I should have been more thorough on my list of things you could and couldn’t do. Let me begin. No rides on motorcycles and no driving for at least three days. Do not hit your head on anything. And I mean it, hit your head on nothing. I’m going to prescribe some medication to help mitigate the symptoms because you no longer have the lycanthropy virus helping you recover. When you return to Lincoln, see a local doctor for your follow-up in four days. I’ll send my recommendations to the hospital.” She paused long enough to wave the meter in my face. “No sex, no physical labor, no getting shot, no playing cops and robbers with your parents. You’re retired, so act like it.”

  “So you’re basically saying I’m a menace to society.”

  “No, you’re a menace to yourself.” Dr. Harting sighed. “At least you haven’t undone my hard work on your shoulder. Could you explain that bite mark, though?”