by Julia Mills
“I think you should listen to what she has to say,” A disembodied voice warned. Whipping my head to the left and then to the right, sure I was once and for all losing my mind, all I caught was a glimpse of red then a flash of blue and a blip of green.
Turning in a complete circle, I opened my preternatural senses wide and there they were. Stumbling backward, trying to make sense of what was right before my eyes, I looked to Matt while pointing at the three miniature Dragons hovering just out of reach and stammered, “D-Do y-you see them, too?”
Laughter erupted from the ladies behind me as Matt nodded, “Sure do, Boss. And they look mad as hell.”
Sure Faith had something to do with the six-inch Dragons looking at me like they wanted to have barbequed Gator for a late night snack, I spun around towards the most beautiful, maddening, desirable, and utterly infuriating woman I'd ever met and ground out through gritted teeth, "Who and what are they?" Jamming my thumb over my shoulder, I added, "Stop this crap right now. I won't be distracted with your parlor tricks."
No sooner had the words flown from my lips than I wanted to suck them right back in. Talk about stepping in a pile of shit! Faith screamed, "You stupid son of a …" At the precise moment, a roar that sounded almost like my own shook the trees behind me.
Spinning and ducking and trying to stay on my feet, I barely missed having my hair burnt off as flames whooshed over my head. Sadly, my hat wasn’t so lucky.
Waiting until the tiny Dragons took a breath, I jumped to my feet and ordered, “Stop that shit right now!” Pointing index fingers in opposite directions, I went on, “This is an active crime scene. I am the Sherriff. Get the hell outta here before I arrest every last one of ya’ for obstruction of justice and interfering in a police investigation.”
I could feel Faith glaring at me even before our eyes met. Angry didn't begin to cover what was running through her mind. Hanging me by my toes, slathering honey all over my body, and waiting for the bears to eat me was only one of the many ways she was contemplating my creative demise, then there were the other – more inventive and enticing visions she was working really hard to ignore. Those were the ones I liked and planned to explore if she didn't kill me first.
Miss Faith Fairyflower was just as aware as I was that we were destined to be together – Fated Mates. She'd even fantasized more than once about what it would be like, but like me, she wasn't about to give up without a fight. Damned stubborn woman. (Yeah, I said it. She's the stubborn one. I'm perfectly reasonable and easy to get along with. And... Yeah, I know as well as you do that I'm lying through my teeth, but stubborn runs up and down every limb of the St. Croix family tree.)
Watching Faith as she looked to her sisters, I was sure no good could come out of whatever they were planning. Then when the Sister Witches (Oh stop, ya' know I don't mean it that way. Good grief, can’t Y'all give a guy a break?) all gave ‘the nod’ to the little Dragons, I guessed to be their newly-acquired Familiars, I knew somehow, somewhere, the proverbial shit was going to hit the fan.
As if that wasn't enough, my Mate, the pain in my butt that I wanted to simultaneously kiss silly and yell at until I was blue in the face, turned to me and with a smile that would melt snow in the Arctic, nodded, "Okay, Sherriff, whatever you say."
The glint in her eye and the purr in her voice told me she was up to something and I wasn’t gonna like it, but I had the Crime Scene Techs on the way, and I needed the Southern Fried Sass Squad out of my swamp. Begrudgingly and without questioning the sudden change of her mind, I stepped out of the way and gave a sweeping motion with my hand. “Thank you ever so much for your cooperation.”
“Can we return the chickens to Henrietta?” Daisy asked. It was then that it registered in my lust-soaked-pissed-as-hell mind that she was wearing a chicken costume and the little blue Dragon was sitting on her shoulder. (I should’ve taken a picture. It was absolutely priceless. Probably would’ve won some money on GoofyPeoplePics.com.)
Letting out a huge sigh, I reluctantly relented, “Sure, return them to Henri and Miss Bunny. Any evidence they might have had on them is useless by now anyway.”
“Thank you,” she cheered, always the happy one no matter the situation, as long as the sun had gone down.
Watching them walk away, I had no doubt they were cooking up something that would most definitely cause me a ton of paperwork and more worry than a Gator should ever have to go through. I thought about once again reading Faith's mind, but I knew without a doubt that she'd slammed her mental blocks into place. It happened every time she was near me for longer than two minutes. I'd just been lucky that she'd been so mad she'd forgotten before.
Dadgummit, if that woman couldn’t exasperate me like no other. She was sassy, smart, and hot as fire, and she was all mine. I just had to figure out how to keep us from killing each other.
Watching until she’d completely disappeared from sight, I turned back to poor Cletus. Stepping closer, I knelt down as I put on a pair of rubber gloves. There was no doubt how he died, but the why and the who were still a mystery that made no sense at all.
There was no doubt that Cletus was a pain in the ass, that he drank too much, and always said exactly what was on his mind, but none of that mattered, everybody tolerated him, even liked him. He was a mainstay in Hairy Wart. One of the many things we counted on to keep our little town just the way we loved it – ours.
Kneeling at the other side of the body, Matt began to look through the pockets of Cletus' jacket as he mused, "You reckon those little Dragons belong to Miss Faith and her sisters?"
“I do.”
“Wonder why we haven’t seen them before? Think it had something to do with that magic we felt when we were coming in?”
“I do.”
“Can I tell ya’ something, Sherriff?” Matt’s tone was almost a whisper as he continued without waiting for an answer. “I think Miss Faith is sweet on you.” He cleared his throat. “But all-in-all, those ladies scare me to death.”
Chuckling despite the situation, I shook my head and agreed, "Yeah, Matt, I know exactly what you mean. There's nothin' scarier than a Witch on a mission unless it's a Witch on a mission with her sisters at her back."
Chapter Seven
“Y’all head back and have Doc Fischer give me a call when he’s ready to start the post mortem.” Turning to my Deputy, I added, “You can go back, too, Matt.”
“You sure, Boss? I don’t mind staying.”
“Naw, you better check on things. Those Witches and their mini Dragon sidekicks have been without supervision for over half the day. I’m almost scared to guess what trouble they’ve gotten into.” I winked. “I won’t be long.”
Giving me a nod and a smile, Matt was on his way. I knew he wanted to shed his ‘human suit’ and let his Coyote run free just as bad as I wanted to let my Gator out, and I almost felt bad. However, I was older, crankier, and the boss. I went first.
Heading deeper into the marshlands, following the same trails I'd walked more times than I could count, I couldn't stop thinking about Faith. Growing up with all my kin all the way back to my great-great-granddad, (I probably should mention that Alligators live a really, really long time. And we stick together like peanut butter and jelly.) I knew finding my Mate was going to be monumental, but not one of the stories I’d been told prepared me for how I felt when Faith walked into my life.
My skin was too tight, my nerves were like frayed electrical wires, and my temper was on a hair-trigger. All I wanted to do was a bath in her scent, hold her close, and make love to her until neither one of us could stand up. And after a rest in each other arms, I wanted do it all over again for about a hundred years or so.
However, every time I was near her my tongue got tied, my heart beat outta control, and my cagey old Gator roared so loud in my head I couldn't think. From there, I went from nice guy to asshole at the speed of light. There had to be an answer, and I knew just who to ask – Granddad Joshua.
As the thick, ear
thy scent of moss and water filled my senses, I let go of the tight grip I kept on my powers. Magic flew down my spine, filled every fiber of my being, and forced me to my knees.
Tendons popped. Joints tore from their sockets. My skin stretched and ripped reforming into the bony plates that wove together to become the almost impenetrable hide of my Gator.
Lifting my long snout and letting my lower jaw drop open, I hissed my arrival before laying my underbelly on the soft grass of the shoreline and sliding into the deep, murky waters that I called home. Nothing compared to being in the swamp. It was not only life-affirming but downright exhilarating. I could only hope my sassy little Mate would feel the same way when the time came.
Making a beeline for Gator Perch, a vast island in the middle of the swamp, only accessible by water, and the ‘sunning' spot for my family, I prepared myself for a tongue-lashing from Granddad. It had been a month of Sundays since I'd been out to visit and knew he’d be waiting to tell me about it.
Taking an extra lap around the island, enjoying the serenity of the water as I let the frustrations of finding a dead body so close to home melt away, I couldn't help but grin when Granddad Joshua's voice trumpeted through my mind, "Whatcha doin' down there? Get on up here. I haven't laid eyes on ya' in a coon's age."
Using the powerful muscles of my front legs, I dug my long, sharp claws into the muddy earth and pulled my eleven-foot, thousand-pound body onto the long, soft Marshhay. Making my way to the middle of the large island, I spoke directly into the minds of everybody there, “Y’all look real busy. How long has it been since ya’ moved?”
“Watch your tongue, Boy,” Uncle Jed pretended to growl. “Some of us have better things to do than get all hot and bothered over a female.” He opened his enormous jaws and hissed before adding, “’Sides, I’m retired.”
“You retired the day you were born,” Granddad Joshua laughed.
“Retired my ass,” Uncle Robb joked, his laughter sounding more like a coughing seal coming from the mouth of his Gator. “You couldn’t keep a job long enough to retire.” The whole group of sunbathing alligators barked with laughter as he went on, “Exactly how many times did you get canned? I lost count at 37.”
“The real question is how many times did you get fired from Lucy’s place for grabbin’ her ass?” Granddad chimed in. “I’ll never forget finding you in the back alley, half in the dumpster and half out after that cute little Lynx tossed you out on your ear.”
“My ear? That crazy woman hit me with a cast iron frying pan and kicked me right in the ass with those pointy-toed shoes she’s always wearin’.” Pausing for a just a few seconds, he transformed back to his human form then added, "Hurt like hell. I still got a mark on my ass. Wanna see?" He jumped to his feet and started to unbutton his jeans.
"Hell no, we don't wanna see your bare ass," Granddad yelled, having also transformed back to his tall, lean, gray-haired self. "Thank the Goddess, we're all dressed when we shift, just the thought of you nekkid, Jed, gives me the willies."
Lucy Ledbetter, Hairy Wart’s one and only Lynx Shifter, moved away from the big city and her Pride almost fifty years ago. Headed to New Mexico from the Florida Keys, her royal blue, Dodge Ram Pickup blew a tire right in front of Miss Bunny's. Being a Saturday, the mayor put her up in the room above the diner ‘til the garage opened the first of the week. By the time Monday came, Lucy had fallen in love with Hairy Wart and the rest was history.
Saying she’s a force of nature is not giving the lithe, little Cat her due. She’s hell on wheels. It only took a call to her King, Max Prentice, for some help from her Pride Mates and sixteen days to buy the old hotel, renovate the downstairs and open Lucy’s Watering Hole. Two weeks later, and the upstairs was made into her home – it was a whirlwind to watch.
No one had ever thought we needed a bar, but as soon as it was open, every single one of us wondered how we'd ever lived without one. That's the way most things happen out here in the middle of nowhere – flat tires, darts thrown at a map, getting off the beaten path ‘cause they can’t read a map and end up in Hairy Wart – it's pretty much how our town stays populated.
My dad always said, "The Goddess and her Magic calls to those who need us. This town, these Shifters, we're all special in one way or another, that's why we're here. This little patch of Heaven is a haven. Whether they know it or not, they're all meant to be Hairy Wartians." I can't tell you how much I miss my parents, but I know they're up in the Big Swamp in the sky, looking down and making fun of me every chance they get. It's the St. Croix way.
Speaking of the St. Croixs, I turned my attention back to the boisterous conversation taking place between Granddad and my Uncles. All in human form, their hoots and hollers filled the thick, humid air. Had it been any other group of men, the animals, some Shifters, some not, who called the swamp their home would've run for cover, but because it was the Gator Family, as most called us, they all got as close as they could, some even making their way to the island. Thankfully, the conversation had moved on from Uncle Jed’s exposed butt, and they were talking about Cletus’ sad demise when I tuned back in.
“Had to be an outsider.”
“Now, how the hell would an outsider get in Hairy Wart without being noticed?” Granddad shook his head. “And more to the point, get less than a stone’s throw from us, and us not know?” Magic filled the air as he pulled wooden Adirondack chairs and a cooler full of beer out of thin air. (Damn, I wish I’d gotten that talent. I know. I know. Don’t look a Gift Gator in the mouth, I have tricks of my own, but old Granddad’s are pretty darned cool.)
Getting into his chair, he threw open the lid of the cooler and tossed ice cold cans to each one of us. Coosh and Snap were the only sounds to be heard as we all opened our beers and let the cool amber liquid quench our thirst. The first to speak was Uncle Jeremiah, my dad's twin, and usually the quietest of the Congregation. (That's what zoologists call a family of Gators. It never ceases to make me laugh since the church is not someplace you're likely to find any of the male members of the St. Croix Congregation.)
Leaning back in his chair, the ankle of his left leg balanced precariously on the knee of his right, he set his beer can in the flat side of his boot and scratched the stubble covering his jaw. Squinting in my direction, he nodded real slowly and commented, “You reckon it’s a stranger or somebody we know?”
“If it’s somebody we know, they’ve hidden their abilities from us for a long time. Not to mention, they’d have to be stronger than Great-Great-Grandad.” I looked towards the oldest among us. Sitting back, drinking a beer, looking like he was no more than sixty or seventy years old, he nodded, “Boy’s right. I’ve not felt anythin’ outta the ordinary, ‘cept those little spikes a bit ago.”
I knew he was talking about Faith and her sisters’ Dragon Familiars, and, I was just about to explain when Uncle Jeremiah changed the subject and asked, "I guess you're gonna make me ask ya' ‘bout her, ain'tcha?"
Knowing there was no way out of what was coming next, I still tried to get ahead of the jokes by answering as quickly as I could, "There's nothin' to tell right now. As it is, she can't stand the sight of me, and I act like a Class A asshole any time I open my mouth in her presence."
“Then you’re on the right track.”
Sure I’d misunderstood what Jeremiah said, I gave Granddad a quick look before asking, “Pardon me?”
Flicking his foot upward, his beer can flew straight up into the air as he dropped his boot to the ground and pushed up to the edge of his seat. Picking the can outta the air with his right hand, he tossed it to his left before he crushed it then replied, "I said, ‘Then you're on the right track'."
Completely missing the point, which happened a lot when I was around my family, I looked my uncle right in the eye and said, “The right course to get turned into a gecko.”
“Yeah, that might happen,” Jeremiah nodded. “Won’t last long, though.”
Getting more frustrated with every word my
stoic uncle wasn’t saying, it was my turn to sit on the edge of my seat. Emptying my beer can and setting it on the grass next to the leg of my chair, I perched my elbows on my knees and while trying to not sound like a petulant bastard, asked, “Can you please explain what the hell you’re talking about?”
"Well, sure I can," Jeremiah smiled. "All you had to do was ask." Catching another beer that I hadn't even seen my Granddad throw in mid-air, he sat back in his seat, recrossed his legs and took a long drink before asking, "Didn't anybody ever tell you why your daddy was the only one of us not Mated to another Gator, or at least a Shifter of some sort?"
Shaking my head, I shrugged, “No, just figured it was the whole Fate, Destiny, Universe thing.”
Taking another drink from his can, he sat that one the side of his boot as well before continuing, “Yeah, well, that’s part of it. The Mating Dance is a time-honored tradition within the St. Croix Gators. You piss her off. She pisses you off. Y'all fight and holler and raise hell with one another and bam, Y'all get your shit together and happily ever after comes knocking at the door. However, in your case, there's an even bigger reason. One that's way more important. The reason your daddy was Mated to your momma, a Fairy Witch with the power of her entire Flurry. You, my boy, are to be the greatest, most powerful Alpha Bull this world has ever seen."
Seriously wondering if the old man had been out in the sun too long, I grinned and chuckled, "Yeah, right. There hasn't been an Alpha Bull in…well, in longer than any of Y'all have been alive, and that's a helluva long time."
“Beauregard James, you need to listen, and listen good,” Granddad interjected, using my full first name and my middle name which in old Gator terms was his way of saying – Shut up, sit down and keep your mouth shut. I’m about to lay some wisdom on ya’.
“Yes, sir.” was all I could spit out as my mouth sudden became as dry as the Sahara. There were only two times in all my years that Granddad had used my full Christian name, once when he had to tell me that my mom and dad were dead and then when I was beating the tarnation out of Butch McKey for looking up Sally’s dress in P.E. So, when I heard him do it again, I was all ears.