Familiar Magic

by AJ Hampton

  Her gaze settled on the bar and the man behind it, almost right where she’d left him. For brothers, Jeremiah and Trent looked nothing alike. Her gaze traveled the length of his torso before settling on his grim face.

  She watched him fumbling with the pull lever on the tap.

  “Shit,” Jeremiah cursed.

  Beer tumbled over the rim of the glass, pouring over his hand. The last time she’d done that was when Trent had strolled up to the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. When Jeremiah shook his hand, drops of moisture rained from his fingers, splattering over the bar.

  “Damn it,” he hissed. Starting over, he poured out the foam and tried again. He wasn’t half bad, for a rookie.

  “Need a hand?” she asked, sliding over the bar.

  Jeremiah shook his head. His hair moved in front of his eyes. When he pushed the strands back, a trail of moisture lined his forehead.

  “This bartending thing, a lot harder than it looks.” He set the finished pint on a coaster. “How in the hell do you remember what goes in what? Brenda’s been asking for Blow Jobs, Redhead Sluts...is she just fucking with me?”

  She leaned her hip against the counter and picked up her necklace. Determined not to let her heartbreak show, she forced a smile on her face. Normally, Jeremiah’s charm would have cheered her up. Not tonight.

  “I’ve been doing it a long time, that’s how. And with Brenda, you can’t be too sure. You should go, leave this to the professionals.”

  “No, no. I got it.” He slapped her hand away when she reached for the glass he’d just picked up. “I’m not sure what happened between you and Trent, but he almost took my head off. You should go talk to him before he does something stupid. He’s probably at home, drinking himself into a coma. Being a shifter, that takes quite a bit of booze.”

  Her smile faltered. “I’m the last person he wants to see. I really screwed everything up,” she said.

  “You? I doubt it.” He grinned when he poured a semi-decent pint on the first shot.

  She watched a stream of ale drift down the side of the cup before pooling onto the counter. A lot of good the stupid pumpkin coasters did.

  His voice jarred her back to the present. “Nine out of ten times it’s Trent’s fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

  A slow, pulsing ache moved through her stomach. She sucked in a breath, stuttered on it as her lungs froze. One second she was fine, the next she couldn’t breathe. Gasping, she reached for her throat.

  “Sam?” Jeremiah asked.

  She saw his lips move but didn’t hear anything.

  She gripped her throat. Her lips parted, and she tried to answer him. It hurt. Everything hurt. Heat flashed, her magic swelling to life in a rush so powerful she staggered forward. Trent.

  Jeremiah caught her by the arm, brought her upright, and smoothed the hair out of her face.

  “Trent. Trouble,” she croaked out, voice hoarse.

  A line knit between his brows. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  She yanked her arm free, a bolt of fear propelling her forward. Reaching around the post Jeremiah made, her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of a gun. In the twenty-five years she’d lived here, not once had she had to use it. Its weight dropped her hand against her leg. Ignoring the look on Jeremiah’s face, she scaled the bar and navigated through the throngs of tables. Jeremiah’s boots echoed behind her, nipping at her heels.

  Using the butt of the gun, she pressed it against the door and walked forward. Clouds twisted overhead, moved in front of the moon so the crowded parking lot was nothing but shadows. On a normal night, she would hear crickets, birds, maybe a brush of wind. Tonight, even the bugs were afraid to let their presence be known.

  She felt Jeremiah tense beside her. He pointed his noise in the air, sniffed. His jaw twitched when it tightened.

  “The pack never left.” With a growl, he sprinted out in front of her and jumped into the air.

  Mid leap, his body morphed. Clothes ripped, falling to the ground in a shredded puddle. Fur emerged through skin; bones popped. When it was done, all four of his paws hit the dirt running. Even in their animal form, he and Trent were opposites. Where Trent was completely black except for the barely visible gray rosettes, Jeremiah was a beautiful tawny yellow. Orange and black spots ran across his back and down stocky legs that were built of solid muscles. The yellow shade of his fur faded around his neck, melting into white along his belly.

  As he ran, all four paws met in the front, scrambling through the loose gravel, and into the surrounding forest. He disappeared into the darkness. A pitiful cry pierced the air, tore her heart in half. Heart beating out of control, she took off in the direction Jeremiah had gone. The forest closed in around her. Twigs and leaves crunched under her boots. Branches whipped her cheeks, brought tears to her eyes. The sinking feeling in her chest grew worse.

  The trees opened onto a grisly scene. It felt like her heart stopped. Trent. She watched as three wolves tackled him, tossed him to the ground like a giant ragdoll. He tried to lash out. They were quicker. Even from a distance, she saw the blood dripping from his fur. Jeremiah rushed to Trent’s defense, a flash of yellow blurring her vision.

  Snarling wolves lunged for his throat, and three animals collided in midair. She gasped, her hand tightening around the stock of metal in her hand. As Trent tried to get up, a large brown and white wolf circled him. It lunged, teeth fitting around his neck. They rolled through leaves and dirt.

  Tearing, ripping, the sound of growls…it all touched something deep inside her. She absorbed the emotion in the air, and adrenaline tightened her skin. She felt paralyzed. Trent mewled in pain, scratched with claws the size of her fingers, but the wolf didn’t back down. The instinct to protect took over. He was hers, damn it. If anyone was going to kill him, she’d be the one to do it. She cupped the base of the gun and aligned her shot. The metal trigger cut against her finger. She pulled. The gun kicked back with a bang; a scalding hot shell rained down on her.

  The wolf at Trent’s neck howled, released its hold, and jerked its head in her direction. Its mouth snarled. She watched the blood drip from its teeth. Under the blood, they were yellow. Jeremiah was there, lunging with powerful jaws, picking off the beast that had jumped on his brother’s back.

  The same green eyes she’d noticed earlier that night locked with hers. It was the biker who’d decided he wanted to make her a prize. Gray, shaggy fur ran down the wolf’s chest until the shade became brown. Its lips lifted, exposing a sharp set of teeth. Its power tasted every bit as black as it had earlier that night.

  When she took a step back, the wolf took one closer. It pawed at the earth, wrinkled its nose. Her stomach clenched with fear. Wavering with her terror, her hand shook, and she fired again. The wolf staggered, shoulder pushing back when the bullet penetrated. It didn’t stop advancing.

  Her heel caught on a branch, and the gun fell from her hand, clunked to the ground. Her ass hit the forest floor, a flash of pain radiating up her spine. She watched the wolf rush at her. This was it. She’d never even told Trent she loved him.

  A guttural roar sounded through the night. Trent pounced out of thin air, a black mist rushing from the side, stocky legs barely touching the ground. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Head over tails, they rolled to the ground. Powerful jaws opened, exposing intimidating sets of canine teeth. Trent struck the wolf at the base of the skull. He bit right through bone in one powerful motion.

  Blood rushed in a gushing sound that forced her eyes closed. Her stomach lurched, and she gripped at soft soil under her nails. Silence. One eye at a time, she opened them. Trent moved toward her, dragging his hind leg, his stride uneven. The deep blue of his eyes glowed in the night. His eyes were the one recognizable trait he carried over from his human form. When he looked at her like he was now, it was easy to picture him standing above her.

  She didn’t know if she should run or meet him halfway. His eyes closed, and all three hundred
pounds of his feline began to teeter. Three more feet. He didn’t make it. When he dropped to the ground, she felt the forest floor tremble.

  Blood ran from his neck, his legs, and from the wounds that split open the fur along his muscular back. She crawled forward on her hands and knees, moist earth seeping through her pants. A hiccupping sob started in her chest and bubbled outward. Pain cut through her chest, numbed her fingers.

  When she picked up his head and cradled it in her lap, it was large, heavier than she would have expected. Using a light stroke, she curved her fingers around his ears, down to the puncture wounds at his neck.

  “Trent.” Her vision blurred, and a hot trail of tears ran down her face.

  Bending her head, she pressed her forehead against the space between his eyes. She gripped him, hands clutching his hide. Hot, short pants came from his mouth. He twitched but didn’t make a sound. She sobbed, her body vibrating with gut-wrenching pain.

  “I can’t lose you. Please, Trent, shift.” Her words turned into a babbling, incoherent string of words. “I love you, please, hang on. I love you. Come back to me.”

  A warm hand pressed against her shoulder. In human form, Jeremiah leaned against her and buried his nose in her hair. Her eyes stung with tears. She turned, cheek still against Trent’s head, and looked at the man beside her. Jeremiah was bleeding and naked, with a wake of bloody claw marks curving around his bicep. Under the blood, the marks had already started to knit together in a raised, pink line.

  “He can’t shift. He’s too weak, injured too badly. You have to make him, like you did earlier. Use your magic,” Jeremiah told her.

  She shook her head. She didn’t know how.

  “He’ll die if he doesn’t shift back. Make him human. He can heal this.” His voice cracked.

  Shit.

  “I...” she stumbled.

  “Just do it,” he yelled. Tears clouded his eyes, strained his voice. He was trembling against her. “Sam, please. He’s all I got.”

  Closing her eyes, she searched with her heart, tried to find the spark inside Trent that connected her with him. Her fingers gripped him, and she forced her magic to the surface. Even though Trent was right in front of her, she couldn’t feel him like she normally did. They’d done this only in human form.

  Searching, digging through layers of emotions and pain, she grasped onto the faint spark of life. He was there. Everything became chaotic. The smells around her amplified, so strong she could taste the gunpowder on her hands, taste the fear that radiated off Jeremiah. The heat of the day had created a moist press of air that churned the clouds above her. It was about to rain; the fresh taste of it lingered on her tongue.

  A drop of moisture pinged off her arm. Another on her shoulder. As it began to drizzle, the ground speckled under the drops. She tried to focus, to channel her energy on Trent, on the slowing beat of his heart.

  “Shift. Human. Come back to me,” she whispered against him.

  Magic hummed, chilled her skin. Nothing happened.

  She shoved her magic inside him more forcibly, cried out, and collapsed against the warmth of Trent’s back. Come back to me, Trent. I need you. Jeremiah needs you. Please.

  Under her touch, the fur melted. Trent jerked in her arms. As she watched, her hands froze, rising up to the sky. Skin pulled taut; bones shifted. Something popped. When it was over, the slick, curling locks of his hair were under her hands. Shaking, his naked body curled into itself until his knees touched his chest. His hand gripped her thigh, hugged her closer to him. He buried his nose against her, clutched her.

  Jeremiah choked on tears, smiled, and rubbed a hand through Trent’s hair. Trent lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, and his unfocused gaze met hers. She smiled, sniffling, cupped his head, and brought her forehead down against his, like she’d done with his jaguar. Beside her, Jeremiah fussed over his brother, his hand hovering over the healing wounds on his body. The skin had knitted together, but the damage underneath was still mending. He’d walk away, be healed after another shift, but some of his marks wouldn’t fade. She’d almost lost him. They’d been given another chance, and she wasn’t going to screw it up. She knew what she needed to do.

  “You came back to me,” she whispered, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

  “Like you gave me a choice,” he rasped.

  Beaten, dirty and naked, he shot her the slow grin that made it all fade away. Trent stared into her eyes, made her heart skip a beat. Animal or man, the twinkle in his eyes was always the same.

  She loved him too much to bind him to something he didn’t want. Her magic meant nothing, not after what she’d seen tonight. Her gaze dipped toward the ground. Through the darkness and the slanting rain, all she could see were the smudges of blood that painted the forest floor. She didn’t even want to focus on the shadows of lumps she could barely make out. Bodies. People, animals, had died tonight.

  The rain fell harder, pelting the leaves on the ground, and the earth soaked it up. The pounding sound reached her ears. Her shirt stuck to her back, chilled her skin. She started to shiver.

  “We have to get out of here. Miah, you know what to do.” His voice was bruised, pathetic. She loved it.

  Jeremiah stood and took her attention with it. He was just as naked as Trent. She couldn’t help but let her gaze wander up the length of his thin, muscular legs. Well, at least everything was proportioned to his frame. She glanced back to the ground.

  “You said you’d do it next time,” Jeremiah whined, completely oblivious of his lack of clothing or the fact that they’d barely seen this fight out. Shifters.

  She looked back and forth between them. “Do what?”

  “Bury the bodies.” Her gaze shot straight to Trent’s face. He didn’t even so much as crack a grin. He couldn’t be serious.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  Trent placed a hand on her shoulder and used it as a crutch. Rising on her feet, she took the hint and helped him stand. Her arm wrapped around his back before she moved under his arm. Hugging his torso to her, she decided to ignore how it felt to have him pressed against her. All hard, lean muscle. Her gaze took in all of him at once. The trail of hair that began just below his navel was dark. It invited her gaze lower. Okay, so he and his brother had something in common. She’d felt it, didn’t know it was so... She jumped when Trent started to speak. Her eyes darted straight ahead to where the rain started to fall in sheets.

  “Come on, Sam.” Trent groaned in pain when he limped one step forward. He pressed his weight into her side, dipping her body. “What did you think happened? In this day and age, no one goes looking for a missing shifter. We’re on the bottom of the rung, sweetheart. They’re too afraid they’ll catch it. Assholes.”

  It was a sad fact. Her father had gone missing almost fifteen years ago. She still recalled the shattered look on her mother’s face when the realization that something had happened hit her. The glass in her mother’s hand had slipped, shattered across the floor. At the time, Sam had been ten, sitting at the bar playing a game of Speed with one of the regulars.

  Tears curved over her mother’s high cheeks, dripping to the floor with the first strangled sob. Her aunt had been there, clutched her and whispered into her ear. It had all been so confusing. She hadn’t understood how her mother had known the worst. It wasn’t until she heard Trent inside her head, felt his pain, that she finally realized. The bond was deeper than she understood.

  After that day, her mother was never the same. Distant. Lonely. The light in her eyes extinguished. Every day that went on killed her a little bit more. Was that what she had to look forward to? She was twenty-one when her mother threw the keys to the bar at her feet and walked out the door. The last image she had of her mother was the long, curling locks of her auburn hair bouncing against a delicate white macramé sundress.

  Jeremiah’s voice brought her out of the memory. “I’ll do it this time, but only because you can barely stand. You owe me one.”

&nb
sp; “I can stand just fine.” Trent pushed away from her.

  While he spun in an upright circle, she and Jeremiah watched. One foot propelled forward, followed by a gasp of pain. Shifters healed fast. Not that fast, though. She took a step into his side, catching him before his knees went out. His weight almost sent them both to the floor.

  “Stand up, my ass,” she muttered under her breath and directed them toward her pickup. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She looked to the side, caught his eyes. Emotion danced in their depths. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something. Things were different now. Her current life wasn’t so bad. She had her friends, the bar. If she could keep Trent in her life, somehow, she’d be okay. How could you miss what you never had to begin with?

  There were things more important in life than magic. The look in his eyes when she’d told him was haunting. She had too much respect for him to make him into something he didn’t want to be. If they went through with the ritual, she didn’t want anything between them. Would he regret it? Would he think she’d just been using him? There just wasn’t enough time.

  “You know”—she tried to force a light, airy quality into her voice she didn’t feel. The longer she stood there with him, the more her heart was breaking—”you didn’t have to go out and get yourself killed just to get away from me.”

  Not even a chuckle.

  He stopped moving, and even injured, it didn’t take much strength on his part to pull her to a halt.

  “You think I hated the idea that much?” he asked.

  Yes, she did. “Well, you did practically run from the room. We don’t need to talk about this now. You need rest. One thing at a time, okay?”

  He hesitated. It took a few seconds of her attempting to move forward for him to follow.

  “Thank you,” he said after a minute.

  “For what?” She gave him a half smile. “Carrying you to my truck? Lazy ass.”

  His laugh was rich, deep, and tainted with a cough followed by a gasp of pain. They came to a stop at her Chevy. She rolled her shoulder, used it to push him against the door. The black shade of the paint made his skin look pale.