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

by RJ Blain

  If Quinton’s goal was to distract me and Marian, he succeeded. Marian squirmed on my lap and turned to face the vampire. “What sort of trouble?”

  “If you ignore the death, doom, and destruction, their children are the problem. When a goddess takes a mortal to her bed, sometimes said mortal finds himself the unexpected caretaker of a human infant, a mostly vanilla one. The real trouble starts after several generations, when the bloodline is thinned. A little like you, Gibby. No one knows why the children of gods tend to be pure human while their children are ticking bombs.”

  “Think gods are good lays, Shane?” Marian murmured, and she rubbed her brace-entrapped hand over my shoulder, resting her palm over her bite on my shoulder. “Never mind. I’m not sharing.”

  “I find that promising.”

  “Hey, Quinton? What if Shane had been forty-nine percent human?”

  “You’d still be in his apartment having sex.”

  I was disappointed I wasn’t at my apartment with Marian. “If you’re trying to embarrass me, it’s working.”

  “You wouldn’t be embarrassed about having sex, either. You’d be a slut. You’d also be a very long-lived slut likely to grow a pair of wings and a tail in a thousand years if you’re a slow bloomer like Kelly.”

  “So no incubus for me?” Marian complained.

  “You got Gibby instead. He’s better.”

  “Indeed,” Abil Ili said from the doorway, carrying a silver tray in his clawed tentacles. “Honored guest, I am Abil Ili, and it is my pleasure and the highest privilege to serve you. May you find peace and shelter within our hive and home.”

  Marian’s gaze locked on the Babylonian, and her body tensed against me. I pulled her closer to offer the illusion of safety and comfort. “Thank you, Abil Ili. I owe you much for your help.”

  With far more grace than I’d ever manage, the Babylonian descended into the cushions, wading his way closer. Offering the tray to Quinton, he crouched barely out of reach. Marian took long, deep breaths. “You helped Shane.”

  “I did.”

  Although she trembled, she jerked her head in a nod. “Thank you. I was scared for him.”

  “Of course you were. He has given you the rest of his life, but you have only given him your firstborn.”

  Marian shook her head, and only the brace kept her from clutching my shoulder painfully tight. As it was, she dug her fingertips into me. “No. I’ll brand him again, over and over, if I must to keep him.”

  “How odd.” The Babylonian tilted his bird-like head, the paneled feathers of his crest rising. “But your kind is not like that.”

  “Forgive him, Marian,” Quinton said, setting the tray on his lap, which was burdened with fruits and vegetables. I recognized none of them, although a bright orange bunch reminded me of grapes. “Abil Ili is accustomed to when human men had many wives and loyalty was… not common. By nature, humans are polyamorous, but they now sometimes choose to bind themselves to only one partner, much like werewolves.”

  Abil Ili tilted his head the other way. “It is the nature of humans to change things, isn’t it? I can fix that.”

  “Fix what?” Marian growled.

  “Your bite. To make it like his. Permanent, until the end of your days. It is not difficult for me to do, this binding. His magic already touches you. I will merely reflect it back on him and tie it with yours, so you will never worry someone might infringe on your territory. It would repay the hurt and fear we caused you, however accidental.”

  “Mine, forever?”

  If Marian had had claws like the Babylonians, she would’ve shredded my shoulder with her grip. “I’m not going anywhere, Marian.”

  “You will not have to renew your bite whenever he blesses you with children,” the Babylonian cooed.

  Me, bless her with children? I was of the opinion it would be the other way around; the thought of us having children stole my breath.

  “You’re giving him ideas,” Quinton said with laughter in his voice. “I thought you wanted to hear their story first. Aren’t you doing this backwards?”

  “Every part of our relationship has been backwards,” I muttered.

  “Not my fault.” Marian sniffed.

  “I enjoyed the results, so it is your fault.”

  “Shane!”

  Quinton laughed, popped one of the orange grapes off its stem, and popped it in his mouth. “They’re perfect for each other. He’ll spend his time making certain she’s happy enough to bite him again, and she’ll spend her time making him happy enough to give her many children, which he’ll insist on raising with her, because that’s how he is. Since she won’t be able to get rid of him until all their children are grown and have moved on, she’ll inevitably brand him again, until they’re both too old and tired to have more children, and then she won’t be in any hurry to drive him from her territory, because she’ll have no interest in breeding due to her age. You could let nature run its merry course without any intervention on your part, Abil Ili, and they would persist. Shane is stubborn, as is Marian.”

  “If it makes her happy, give her what she wants.” I didn’t want any other woman, and I was glad to do the work in reverse, learning about her and learning to love her properly for the rest of my life. Maybe she’d been beautiful before I’d begun to love her, but I didn’t love her because she was beautiful. I loved her because she was the kind of woman who would sacrifice a great deal to do the right thing.

  Before I’d met her, she’d sacrificed her body to put an end to sex trafficking rings. I’d take over her mission to protect her from becoming a victim again, no matter what the cost. I’d be selfish and keep Marian for myself, but at the same time, I’d work to make sure other women didn’t fall prey to traffickers.

  When she had been busy elsewhere, she had given me the tools to protect myself, trusting in me to put them to good use.

  She had so much courage and stubborn pride I’d spend the rest of my life worrying about her and toeing the line between protecting her no matter what and trusting her to protect herself.

  I still hadn’t told her I loved her, but I looked forward to spending the rest of my life showing her how much I cared. The words would come eventually, but when I said them, she wouldn’t doubt my feelings for her.

  Abil Ili’s laugher chimed, and the crystals sang echoes of the cheerful sound. “Is that what you want, Marian?”

  “My bite hurts him and takes a long time to heal. I won’t have to bite him like that again?”

  “Never again. Your mark will remain, untouched by time, as his will on you.”

  “Shifters call it a brand,” Quinton supplied.

  “Your brand. Would you like me to make it permanent?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Abil Ili crept closer. “Show me where you bit him.”

  I stifled my laughter over how fast she moved, squirming on my lap so she could shove my jacket off my shoulder. The buttons of my shirt somehow survived her rough handling, and she shoved the material away from where she’d bitten me, revealing the scabbed wound. “Here.”

  I was so amused by her possessiveness and resemblance to my mother whenever another woman looked at my father, I made the mistake of ignoring Abil Ili. He whipped his tentacle around Marian and stabbed me with a talon in the heart of her bite.

  The pain didn’t last long. Passing out helped. I groggily became aware I was slumped against Marian, and she had her towel pressed to my shoulder. I blinked at her.

  The towel would have been more useful wrapped around her instead of serving as a bandage. “You’re naked,” I slurred.

  Abil Ili must have done something to his secretions, something that made my tongue feel thick and unwieldy in my mouth. Or, perhaps not. It might’ve been the blood loss. How much blood did I have to spare? If I kept losing it, I’d end up in the hospital again for sure.

  “Shane,” she complained, her tone so exasperated I laughed.

  “Warning him would have made it
hurt more.” The Babylonian offered no apology in word or tone, which amused me even more.

  “How long was I out?”

  “About twenty minutes.” Marian glared at Abil Ili. “Quinton, stop eating those oranges and, for fuck’s sake, stop laughing.”

  “They’re grapes.”

  “Grapes aren’t orange. Those—”

  Quinton popped an orange grape in Marian’s mouth. “Grapes.”

  She chewed, her eyes widening. “It tastes like a peach.”

  Setting the tray next to me, the vampire picked up a fresh cluster of the fruit and handed it to her. “Feed those to your man. They’re loaded full of things good for him.”

  “He is right. For vampires, it is as nourishing as a blood meal. For humans, it is nutritious and filling.” Abil Ili picked up a fruit that looked like a kiwi but was deep red, snapping the tip of his beak into it to slice open the skin. Between his claws and his beak, he made short work of the peel to get to the pale pink flesh within. “After you eat, you can tell me the story of what brought you to here and why someone would want to kill you, a child of Ernesto’s heart.”

  While I could have fed myself, I wouldn’t complain if Marian wanted to feed me. I showed my appreciation for her attentions with a careful application of teeth on her fingers and a smile. She was right. The orange grapes tasted like peach, so juicy they burst in my mouth. If I’d been alone, I would have spent a great deal of time playing with them, amused by the contradictions in its appearance, its taste, and its texture.

  The Babylonian spoke the truth; eating only a few eased my hunger and soothed the dryness in my mouth.

  “They’re so cute together it’s disgusting, isn’t it?” Quinton muttered.

  “He seems to be enjoying himself despite his recent inconveniences.”

  “There’s a naked woman feeding him grapes while she’s lounging on top of him. Of course he’s enjoying himself. Had I known her clothes were hiding such a lovely lady, I might’ve been less eager to support their pairing. Now I’ll never have a chance with her. The universe is an unfair place.”

  Marian’s left hand slithered down my chest, probably to retrieve one of my Rugers.

  “You can’t kneecap him today, Marian. I already told him you’d get a turn with him later.”

  She sighed and fed me another grape-orange-peach which I’d call a delicious devil berry for the rest of my life. “So you owe Abil Ili a story?”

  “Yes. I promised to tell him everything that happened since New York.”

  “I should start, then.” Rolling off me, she stretched beside me, oblivious to her nudity, keeping her right hand and her towel pressed to my shoulder. “My name is Marian Peterson, and I’m an FBI agent. My work, until recently, involved infiltrating sex trafficking operations so they could be dismantled. I was undercover as a young, vulnerable woman driven to prostitution—someone with no friends or family to miss her, out on the streets.”

  The thought of her alone that way made me growl like my father, but before I could say a word, Marian shoved a handful of the delicious devil berries in my mouth and pressed her palm to my lips.

  “In her hands, anything is a weapon, I’m convinced of it,” Quinton whispered.

  “Anyway, our plan worked a little too well. We hadn’t expected the sex traffickers to have practitioners capable of non-permanent full-body transformative magic. Instead of a woman, they were transporting an alpaca and could cross state lines without permit or quarantine. I’d been in their custody for three days. They bound me with duct tape, put me in a car, and planned to drive me out of New York. That’s when the body fell off the skyscraper and hit the car I was in.”

  Lowering her hand from my mouth, she kissed me, and I made an appreciative sound in my throat. “Your turn,” she murmured. “And I won’t bite you for saying that name for the rest of this conversation.”

  “So merciful.” Laughing, I stole one of the berries and fed it to her. “I suppose my part of the story starts a little earlier, when I lost my right eye. I was a cop, mostly working traffic and foot patrols, when the call came reporting a bad accident. My partner and I arrived first. He froze. I didn’t. The car was burning with three people inside, one a child. I pulled him out first, then I got his parents out. It cost me my eye.” I paused to pop another berry into my mouth, chewing to buy myself a few moments. “I knew the injury would end my career, so I decided to go away for a while—see other cities, maybe find somewhere I might like to live. Somewhere a little cheaper, a little less prejudiced against lycanthropes. Somewhere I might be able to get something better than minimum wage.”

  “It’s worse than he makes it sound,” Quinton helpfully supplied.

  I missed my false eye; without it, I couldn’t shoot him my worst glare. “Thanks, Quinton. I was trying to look on the bright side.”

  “Do not do so on my account. The unvarnished truth allows full understanding.”

  “Unvarnished truth it is. It’s simple. The police didn’t want a no-talent lycanthrope’s son on the force—not in the public eye at least. They used me to tick two boxes off their anti-discrimination list, but they wanted me out of the way and to work at cheapest price bracket possible. When I lost my eye, the department worked with my insurance company to screw me over. They made sure I didn’t qualify for a functional eye—or even a realistic imitation. Now, granted, I rather like the all-blue one. It’s different enough to be interesting, but I’ll be honest with you. It’s a piece of shit. I’m pretty sure a mass produced marble would be higher quality, but they don’t fit my socket.”

  I had tried.

  “I see. I have heard they do not like the moon swayed in the above world, but it is not a concern of my hive. It is a pity humans have not changed their ways.”

  Moon swayed made lycanthropes sound nicer, gentler somehow, although I knew the truth of the infected and those transformed by the virus’s magic. Dad could—did—rip metal apart with his claws, and on the hunt, he frightened everyone, myself included. But he was still my father, and he was always welcome to guard my back.

  “Lycanthropy has its disadvantages, but there’s no one more loyal than a werewolf. My father is one. He’d infected my mother before I was born. I grew up believing I was resistant to the virus. In Chicago, exposure to lycanthropy flags you for life as a possible contagion risk—a danger to the public. There was a mark on my badge declaring my exposure status. Add in my magic rating, and I remained at the lowest tier of the department, and only luck got me on the streets at all.”

  “And this led you to New York, where you met your mate.”

  “I was standing beside the car when the body fell on it, close enough to get sprayed with a lot of blood. While I called 911, I put the car in park. The white, fluffy alpaca in the back seat didn’t like me and showed her dislike for me by spitting. She hit three of the cops that came to the scene and annoyed one into pulling a gun on her. I got in the way, stopped them from shooting her, and claimed custody so she wouldn’t be put down.”

  Abil Ili hissed, but I waved his anger away with a hand. “They had no way of knowing she was human. To them, she was just an animal. To me, too, but I was brought up better than them. I figured I could take her to my parents’ place, keep her for the mandatory time, then find her a good home. So, that’s what I did. I went home to Lincoln, Nebraska, and I took her with me. By the time I got there three days later, I’d decided I was going to keep her. She was soft, warm, devilishly cute, and had better manners than my father most days, especially once she stopped spitting on me. My mother decided to name her Sally.”

  Talking was more tiring than I expected; I pilfered some more of the berries to give myself a chance to catch my breath. Marian made a soft sound in her throat and pressed the back of her left hand to my forehead. “Do you want me to take a turn?”

  I waved my hand and let her decide what I meant.

  “His parents have two horses, and they had made a stall for me. I… hadn’t expected a
lycanthrope, especially not one as rambunctious as Shane’s father. I thought we were both going to get eaten before I realized he was just excited to see his puppy. After an evening of watching Shane wage war against his parents—a fun war, involving the shearing of a lycanthrope male who overstepped his boundaries—Shane slept in the barn with me. Unbeknownst to Shane, his parents camped in the barn after he’d fallen asleep.”

  I should have known. Sighing, I shook my head. “Damn them, terrorizing you like that.”

  “I played dead. It seemed to work. They weren’t willing to wake you up, but they weren’t willing to leave you alone, either. I thought it was sweet.”

  Of course Marian would. She was a tricky woman.

  “Anyway, the next day, Shane’s parents went to work. They’re both police officers, though they have different partners. Shane decided to return the rental van and took me with him. The rental place wasn’t too far from his parents’ home, so we were going to walk back.”

  “We were hoofin’ it back,” I corrected in my gravest tone.

  Quinton laughed and tossed a second bunch of the devil berries at me. “Your Nebraska is showing.”

  “Fine. We were hoofin’ it back when Mark O’Conners, a member of the New York Italian mafia, pulled up, shot Shane twice, and took me. I thought Shane had been killed, since he’d been caught completely flat-footed and wasn’t armed. He dropped hard and fast, and there was a lot of blood.”

  “My turn,” I murmured, picking up the berries the vampire had thrown and handing them to Marian. “I woke up in the ER, where I was treated by a surgeon they brought in from Des Moines. My father donated blood, which gave me regeneration on par with a lycanthrope—not the expected result. I think they expected some help with recovery, but not anything to the level I got. So, instead of spending several weeks in the hospital, between Dr. Harting and Dad’s blood, I escaped the next day. I headed home where my godfather intercepted me. A neighbor had gotten it into his head I shouldn’t be left alone.”

  Marian snickered, but she didn’t elaborate, much to my relief.

  “Lewis, my godfather, decided to chase down my parents, because he was worried they would begin mass murdering anyone involved in my shooting if they got a hold of them. Which is true, because it’s essentially suicide to hurt a werewolf’s puppy. We followed them to Des Moines, and after a bit of planning, I was designated the sacrificial lamb to check out the nightclubs to see if any of them looked like they could be a part of a sex trafficking operation. I struck gold on my first try, and with a little help of fifteen hundred dollars, a good bottle of Scotch, and proof I wasn’t from the area, I got a front row seat to a sex party and a beautiful blond named Sally on my lap for the show.”