Midsummer Curse

by Megan Derr

  "So a girl everyone knew? Anyone in particular?"

  "Too many," Peter said quietly. "She came here a lot to get patched up, medical treatment, food. She had bad taste in men—in customers, I should say. You won't find anyone willing to admit it, but she turned tricks for a goodly number of men in town, and none of the nice ones. She tried to repay me with 'favors' a few times, but I never accepted. She was a good kid, despite everything. She didn't deserve to be murdered and buried beneath floorboards."

  Brayton growled. "If the place has been cleared out, I'm going back. No one is good enough to leave zero traces of himself. If there's any evidence, I'll find it."

  Low frowned. "Sally and I cleared out all the traps we could find, but it's still too dangerous. No one is going up there."

  "I don't take orders, not even from a pack alpha," Brayton retorted.

  Eyes flashing, Low tensed and shifted his weight, and Brayton braced himself to meet him head on—

  "Oh, my god—" Peter's jaw dropped, eyes popping in disbelief.

  Ferdy looked equally stunned from where he'd been standing silently off to one side, and he drew closer without even really seeming to realize he was doing it. "They—they look alike."

  Brayton and Low both froze, then whipped around to face Peter.

  "Peter?" Low asked.

  Shaking his head slowly back and forth in wonder, Peter pointed at them. "You—I cannot believe—Low, the two of you bear a striking resemblance. I didn't notice until now because it's not very strong. It comes out more when the wolf is to the fore. Your eyes are dark and light versions of each other, the nose, the jaw… you're a slighter, much prettier version of our new friend here, but there is definitely a resemblance. I dare say it's a family resemblance."

  "What—but—that—" Low continued to sputter, staring in wide-eyed disbelief until Peter abruptly stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. For some stupid reason, it was only then that it struck Brayton that Peter had roughly a decade on Low—but they were perfectly matched. Mate was mate, after all.

  After a moment, Peter looked up at him, still holding Low close. "Do you not see it?"

  "I don't see how it's—" Brayton paused and realized abruptly that it was possible. "Nelly. Holy shit on a shingle, you're Nelly's kid, aren't you?"

  "I don't—um—I don't know," Low said, looking suddenly like a lost kid. "I'm—I've always been alone, until Peter found me, literally, on the side of the road. Who's Nelly?"

  "Aunt Nelly," Brayton said, running it over and over in his mind. It was all too possible. He had a cousin. Man, wait until Mama and Pop found out. "My pop's baby sister. She was, um, always something of a loose cannon." She'd also wanted everything to do with men and nothing to do with children. He suspected it was better not to say that part aloud. "Wait until I call my folks, they'll die to find out they got a nephew."

  Low gave a shaky laugh and only clung more tightly to Peter.

  Feeling suddenly awkward watching the couple, Brayton decided it was time to vacate the room. He strode out and almost immediately located the kitchen. There was a tray on the breakfast nook in one corner on which was set a bowl of chicken broth and a hunk of bread.

  Sneering at it, he stomped over to the fridge in search of real food.

  "Um—shouldn't you not be eating that kind of food?" Ferdy said from behind him.

  Brayton growled and yanked the fridge open. "I'll eat whatever I want."

  "You're still sick, though," Ferdy replied, and he sounded so wretched and guilty and smelled so unpleasantly sour that Brayton slammed the fridge shut and turned around. He closed most of the space between them and flicked Ferdy's nose. "I'll be fine, baby. Nothing time and real food won't fix."

  "Stop calling me that," Ferdy said with one of his pout-scowls, rubbing at his nose. "I'm not anyone's baby, and I'm not that small."

  Brayton smirked. "I told you, it's 'itty-bitty' or 'baby' but that's all the choice you get."

  "Why does it matter to you if I have a crappy name? Once we find the murderer, it's back to business, and you'll be gone."

  "I'm not calling you Ferdy or Ferdinand," Brayton said stubbornly, ignoring all the aggravating points about that question. He smirked. "It's much more fun to call you baby, especially when you get all pouty like that."

  Ferdy glared, but the flush to his cheeks only went a deeper rose, and the embarrassment was such a sweet contrast to the indignation that made his eyes spark.

  Brayton rumbled, a deep, warm sound, and scarcely even realized he was moving, cupping the back of Ferdy's head and tilting him just so.

  The kiss was even better than he remembered, and he did love the way that, pliant as he was, Ferdy still gave as good as he got. Pliant, but definitely not meek, even if he could barely string words together. Rumbling louder, growling just a bit, Brayton shifted to grab tighter hold of Ferdy's hair with one hand, sliding the other arm down to wrap tightly around Ferdy's waist, pulling until they were flush together.

  Their clothes really needed to be out of the way so he could fuck Ferdy six ways to Sunday and stake his claim—

  "Should we leave them alone?" asked a laughing voice.

  Brayton jerked back and snarled briefly, annoyed with himself, with Ferdy, with everyone, but he stopped short as he took in the most fascinating top vampire he'd ever seen in his life. Good lord in heaven, how many colors was the woman wearing?

  "Hullo," the vampire said cheerfully. "My name is Sally. You must be Brayton."

  "Hello, Sally," Brayton said dryly. "What do you want?"

  Sally grinned. "We're here to speak with Low and company. Didn't realize company had better things to do."

  Brayton finally noticed then that two other men stood just behind Sally—werewolves. They eyed him, curious and cautious. Mates, by the smell. Was the entire bloody pack comprised of gay, mated wolves? Like flocked to like, he supposed.

  Christ almighty, he hoped there wasn't a single floating around somewhere, and he wasn’t going to stumble unwittingly into a good-smelling wolf and…

  Oh, hell. Christ on a pogo stick. Brayton shifted his gaze to Ferdy, running through all he knew of wolves and mates.

  It was something no one could as of yet fully explain, though the world was rife with people eager to try and extremely dry papers discussing the matter ad nauseam. To date, the popular theory was that somewhere way back when man and wolf first mingled, a lot of things went screwy and 'wolves mate for life' became 'werewolves mate really fast and really permanent and without much choice in the matter'.

  He had to be wrong. But he had the gut-clenching feeling that he was all too right.

  At least he knew that damned scent now, and had it really taken him this long to place it? Like smelling the cinnamon meant to go on the apples his mama had always said. Which, in turn, had always prompted his father to reply I'd rather you come and put some sugar on my apples. That had always gotten his father smacked with whatever his mother was holding at the time.

  A smell like no other. Odd behavior. Extreme possessiveness. Horny went without saying. The list of symptoms went on and on. Kerry was probably lucky Brayton hadn't killed him. Any younger and instinct probably would have overridden his thick-headedness.

  Damn it.

  Brayton stared at Ferdy, completely disinterested in the other occupants of the kitchen. A shy, doormat, pint-sized gremlin with the world's cutest pout and a hell of a kiss.

  Ferdy, suddenly realizing he was being watched, flushed and scowled. "What?"

  "Nothing, baby," Brayton drawled, just to see the pout. He smirked when he got it, and flicked Ferdy's nose again, before finally deciding to address the matter at hand and then deal with the unexpectedness of finding a mate.

  Turning his full attention back to the werewolves, he asked, "Who are you?"

  The slightly taller of the two stepped forward, drawing even with Sally, and said, "I'm Connor. That's Antonio." He jerked his thumb at the other man. "My mate. I'm Peter's brother,
Toni's our cousin. Your name is Brayton, but that's about all Low told us. Who and what are you?"

  Brayton bared his teeth in an amused smile. "Brayton Montgomery is the name, and I bug you because I'm a purebred true lone. It would also seem I'm Low's cousin, though obviously not the kissing kind." He smiled sweetly when they both glared at him. "I'm a troubleshooter and problem solver by occupation, and I'm only telling you any of that because I feel like it, not because it's any of your business."

  Antonio stirred. "What do you mean you’re his cousin? Low doesn't have family, not outside pack. He grew up an orphan."

  "I guess he's got family now," Brayton said with a shrug. Which reminded him that he really needed to call Pop soon. What the hell had Nelly been thinking, dumping some kid off only god knew where instead of handing him over to family to be properly raised? Pop and Mama would have loved a cute little nephew to harangue alongside him, and Brayton could have used him as a distraction while he snuck away from the haranguing.

  The sound of movement from behind him drew his attention, and Brayton turned to regard a quiet, solemn-faced Low. Alpha he might be, and clearly mature for his age, but young was young and finding out he had a family after a lifetime alone was a doozy for anyone.

  "Hey there, cuz," Brayton drawled. "You got an uppity pack here."

  Low cracked a weak smile. "More fun that way."

  "Guess I can't argue that," Brayton replied. "So what are we doing about the poor dead woman?"

  Sally spoke up first. "I don't know what we can do, with it all five years old and the killer having gone to lengths even I can't overcome. No one knew what poor Joni was up to or where to find her on a good day; there's no chance they'd remember anything five years later. Everyone thought she took off. Hell, even I was convinced she'd taken my advice and left."

  "Your advice?" Peter asked, looking at her in surprise.

  Sighing, Sally said, "She came to talk to me once. Let's face it—she was the town prostitute, as much as I tried to help her from resorting to such methods. She said she thought about leaving a lot, and I said though I hated to see anyone leave Midsummer, a fresh start might be just what she needed. It would give her a chance to be who and what she wanted instead of just living in the rut she'd made for herself here. I always hoped she'd come back someday if she chose to leave. When she vanished a few days later, I thought that's what she'd done." She sighed again and, for a moment, looked every bit of her impressive age. "I should have looked into the matter more closely."

  Peter shook his head. "You couldn't have known, Sal. Leaving made perfect sense. I guess somebody didn't want her to go? Where is the body now?"

  "My shed," Sally said.

  "Well, bring it to me," Peter said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Maybe there's something on her that will give us something to work with—the murderer can't be so perfect he left absolutely no trace behind."

  Sally nodded and pulled a key from somewhere amongst her skirt of many colors, holding it out. At Low's nod, Connor and Antonio took the key and departed. Once the door closed behind them, Sally folded her arms across her chest and quirked a brow. "So, it would appear there is quite a bit going on here that is worth hearing in further detail. So how are you related to Low? Cousin you said?

  "Yes," Brayton replied. "On my Pop's side." He slid his gaze to Low. "Nelly always was the pretty one. She's dead now, I’m sorry to say, but my folks will make you wonder if having blood—" His cell phone started ringing abruptly, playing a funeral dirge he'd recently downloaded, and Brayton groaned. "Speak of the devil, and she will call."

  Pulling the phone out, he slid it open and slipped from the kitchen, saying "Hey, Mama. Working." He rolled his eyes and listened patiently while she droned on and on about everything on the planet. He rolled them again when she asked for the second time what he was doing. "I told you, Mama. I'm working. I've got a job helping a gremlin break a curse. What do you mean I sound funny? Like hell—"

  Brayton winced and pulled the phone from his ear for a moment, then slowly brought it back. Why did he always forget just how mad she got when any sort of profanity was used? "Sorry, Mama. No, Mama, I'm always watching myself. Yes, ma'am. I apologize." He banged his head into the wall as she went on and on and on and on. When he could simply take no more of it, he waited for her to draw a breath, then hastily cut in. "Mama, I'm working. Go look at retirement home brochures. Yes, Mama, you know I do love you."

  Brayton slid his phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket, wondering morosely if anyone would be upset if he used the now empty clock tower for the bodies of his parents.

  A soft, poorly muffled snicker made him whip around and narrow his eyes at Ferdy. "What are you laughing about, Itty-bitty?"

  Ferdy smiled. "My aunt used to be the same way. She'd yell at my uncle for drinking like three beers a day, and he always told her they were the only reason he didn't beat her. But she was always the one who bought it for him each week, and he stopped when the doctors said he should, for her."

  Brayton grinned. "Sounds like Pop and Mama, all right. So were you raised by your aunt and uncle?" he hazarded.

  "Yeah," Ferdy said. "My parents died in a car wreck when I was two. They were going out on a date, and my aunt was babysitting for them."

  "Aw, that's a shame. I'm sorry, baby."

  Ferdy nodded. "Thanks. My aunt and uncle passed away a few years ago. Your folks sound nice. Both wolf, right? Because you're purebred?"

  "That's right. My dad's true lone like me, and mama left her pack to be with him ‘cause most packs don't like true lones. She always said he's all the pack she really needs."

  "My uncle was human," Ferdy said. "He loved Aunt Helena; always joked that marrying a gremlin was like marrying a power tool come to life."

  Brayton snorted. "Bet he got smacked for that."

  "Every single time."

  Brayton laughed then said, "So what are you doing out here, Itty-bitty?"

  Ferdy shrugged. "I didn't want to accidentally touch a kitchen appliance, and I'm not really germane to the discussion. Meant just to get out of the way, but I got distracted by listening to you get yelled at."

  "Yeah, yeah," Brayton groused, though he was pleased that Ferdy was actually harassing him. "Just wait until they show up to coo over their new nephew." And their new son-in-law, but Brayton wasn't mentioning that yet. "You'll be driven insane inside of an hour, I promise."

  "They're coming here?" Ferdy asked. "That seems, uh, abrupt."

  "Family is family," Brayton said with a shrug. "Plus, Mama is twice as curious as a cat and four times as liable to cause trouble satisfying it."

  Ferdy smiled at that. "I see."

  Brayton really wished he knew how to tell him that his parents were also coming because his mother was an evil, interfering psychopath who had somehow figured out 'the gremlin' was his mate, and he so totally did not believe a word of it when she claimed she'd heard it in the way his voice changed when he mentioned Ferdy.

  There was never a good way to break the mate thing to any non-wolf. Even other paranormals had a hard time with the concept. He wasn't taking it so well himself, really, that certain parts of him were going 'oh, gremlin' while the rest was going 'the hell?'. So, yeah, he had no idea how to tell Ferdy 'Hey, don't really understand how or why yet, but we're mates, and by the way that's for life.'

  Yeah—no.

  Especially Ferdy, who was in the midst of putting up with a nasty curse and a nasty ex, and for all he obviously wouldn't mind a tumble in the sheets, Brayton seriously doubted he would be into the idea of a new relationship, and certainly not one that was permanent.

  "Brayton?" Ferdy asked, looking at him in concern. "You seem out of it. Are you okay? You're not, uh, relapsing or something are you?"

  Growling at that, Brayton moved, crowding into Ferdy's space, pushing him back against the bit of wall between the stairs and the doorway. "No, baby. Ain't nothing wrong with me that you can't fix."

  "Wha—" />
  Brayton cut off the question with a kiss, and really, he swore that Ferdy tasted and smelled even better since he'd figured out Ferdy's was his—and maybe he was still freaking out about it, but he was starting to think he wouldn't ever be complaining.

  "Mmph—" Ferdy said, trying to get words out, but he didn't seem to be trying too hard so Brayton didn't worry about it, just continued to kiss his Itty-bitty senseless.

  He really couldn't wait until they were somewhere they could get naked. Preferably Ferdy's house, where he could wipe away the scents of past interloper and make his claim loud and clear. And now he could and would tear Kerry's throat out if he so much as caught a glimpse of the bastard anywhere near Ferdy or his home.

  Growling at the thought, Brayton kissed harder, deeper, and reached out to grab Ferdy's ass, jerking them closer together, and it really was all the better for knowing why Ferdy was so damned addictive, even if he didn't get all the finer points of why he'd choose a gremlin.

  He he jerked in surprise when Ferdy suddenly bit down hard on his bottom lip. "Ow! Something wrong, baby?"

  "My name is not baby. Why do you keep kissing me?"

  Brayton stifled a sigh. "Because I find I rather like doing it. You don't seem to mind."

  Ferdy flushed, but shrugged and said, "Only a straight man or a dead man would refuse such an offer, but I'm way past done with games."

  "I don't play games," Brayton said. "Life's too short for bullshit."

  "So what are you playing at?"

  Brayton smiled, slow and hot, in a way that had always worked very well for him. "Short term—my only game plan is finding out if you're a screamer. Long term—we'll discuss that later, baby."

  "Stop calling me—"

  "No," Brayton growled and kissed him again, pushing Ferdy back against the wall, pressing against him, so hard he could feel every little twist and wriggle. In revenge for earlier, he nipped Ferdy's bottom lip, but then he soothed it with his tongue. He rumbled and growled as he did his damndest to kiss Ferdy senseless.

  Despite his plainly stated hesitations, Ferdy kissed back with equal heat and fervor; whatever Ferdy’s misgivings, he was interested, and Brayton liked to think the interested was for more than just sex. Though they could certainly start with that.