by Amy Lane
Green sighed, looked around, and found a nice tree to sit against. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. They might get damp in the November dew, but this afternoon had some thin, butter-colored sunshine to offer—and Green, like most elves, was seldom bothered by the cold.
He settled himself in, cradling Teague close for warmth, and took advantage of his height and size in the same way he had for Jacky two days ago. His children—his lost, sad, wayward children. A good father needed to be there in the calm after the tantrum. All children would frighten themselves with the force of their emotions, even the fully grown ones.
“How could he love you?” Green asked when he was settled. “How could he not love you? That’s the real question.”
Teague harrumphed, some of his usual fight back in place. “I don’t even know why I’m asking you. I’m not sure why you love me either!”
Green kissed his forehead, exactly as he would have kissed a five-year-old’s. “I love you because you’re strong, Teague Sullivan. You’re brave and you’re kind. I love you because you try, and because as sore as your heart is, you still haven’t given up on love. I love you because you defend me and mine and because you simply are. Is that good enough?”
Teague just lay there, wrapped in his arms, weeping silently in the cold November sunshine. “Bracken would have killed him.”
“Mmm-hmmm. I might have killed him. I love you both, mate, but that’s my beloved he was threatening. You did exactly right.”
“Why does he hate her so much?”
Ah, there was the brave Teague Green had been looking for. It was a ballsy, necessary question.
“Because he thinks she threatens your love for him.”
“Why can’t he see?” For the first time, Teague showed some animation. He sat up, adjusting his body on Green’s lap, unconsciously snuggling into Green like Cory would. “I… I was nothing until I met you. I was nothing before I came to work here. Doesn’t he see, I wouldn’t be the thing he loves if I didn’t have a… a family to fight for?”
Green smiled at him, for the first time making sure Teague could see his expression—the acceptance, the sober attention. Green wanted Teague under no misconceptions that he was loved and loved well. “You were most definitely something fine before you came here, Teague, but you’re right. Your belief in yourself, your self-worth, it comes from serving us, from being a part of a larger purpose. There is no shame in that. Jacky, he’s always been an island, you see? A lonely boy, up in his own head. He’s never seen the world as something that could hurt him. You’ve seen it as chaos, Teague. You know the only way to keep your family safe from the chaos is to fight on the side of order. But maybe he’d know some of this if you spoke to him.”
Teague grunted, and Green threw back his head and laughed. When he was done, he looked at the stubborn little Irishman with sincere affection and saw that Teague was blushing to the roots of his hair and couldn’t meet Green’s eyes.
Green abruptly sobered. His voice slid into cockney territory—Adrian territory—and he clucked reassuringly. “Aye, Teague, I know. You and words, not friends, not so much, am I right, mate?”
Teague grunted and rolled his eyes. “No. Me and words aren’t friendly.”
“I didn’t think so. Ye see, ducks, you and words—you’re afraid, aren’t you? You give too many words, you give too much of your heart, and that’s a bad thing, aye?”
Teague nodded and leaned his head against Green’s shoulder, probably so he wouldn’t have to meet Green’s gaze. “Aye.”
Green cupped Teague’s chin in long fingers and forced him to meet Green’s eyes. “The problem with that, luvie, is that this boy already has your heart. He and Katy, they hold it beating in their hands, aye?”
Teague blinked at him slowly. “Aye,” he whispered despondently.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, mate. They’re going to keep breaking off pieces of it—especially Jacky—if they don’t know what it is they hold. Katy not so much. She’s softer. She’ll give and yield, and you need that. But ye need yer Jacky as well, aye?”
Teague swallowed. Green watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Aye.”
“Well then, ye need to risk your words, mate. If they don’t know what it is that’s beating in their hands, they’re going to make some mistakes in the keeping of it, aren’t they.” It was a statement, in spite of the lilt at the end.
“Aye,” Teague conceded, still staring at Green with wide, childlike eyes. “Green?”
“Aye?” Green tilted his lean mouth so Teague would know he was aware of his accent and the way it went from cultured British to cockney to Lake District to Wales and back.
“Where are you, when your voice goes like that?” Teague’s voice throbbed with a need Green recognized.
“Under the moonlight, ducky, with Adrian by my side.” Ah gods, it even hurt to say. Cory knew. It broke her heart to hear the cockney in his voice, but sometimes she all but begged him to break her heart.
Teague nodded and leaned against Green again.
“You ready to go back, mate?” Green asked, although his bottom wasn’t as cold and his body wasn’t as sore as all that.
“No, Green. I’d… I’d really love just to hear you talk some more.”
Green looked down at him, but Teague was relaxed, his arms crossed against his chest, a look approaching peace on his usually scowling face.
“Aye, werewolf. We could sit here and talk. You up for some stories?”
“Yeah,” Teague sighed dreamily. There was a space, and Green knew what was coming before he even said it. “Tell me about Adrian.”
It wasn’t a hardship. Green and Cory talked about him freely now—no more of that horrible, heart-steeling silence before they mentioned his name. And Teague was so earnest—and he so rarely reached for anything.
So Green started with their arrival in the foothills, and the hard, ungiving land. By the time they’d met their first werewolf, Teague was dozing serenely on his shoulder, and Green was ready to move on. He stood quietly, then kept his gait steady and his footsteps silent to give his poor werewolf a chance to heal.
Bruises
JACK MANAGED to get his clothes back on, and for an hour he followed a grim, angry Nicky around, pretending to be useful when dealing with the Southern California werewolves. Eventually each of the “negotiators” had a room—and two roommates who would sleep in resentful shifts. By the time they were done with the logistics, Jack had the feeling the new guys would have eaten their tongues rather than do anything to further piss off one little college student and her terrible fist of death.
“You grabbed that chick?” said the last guy to get shoved into Nicky’s grasp by Bracken—who was standing in front of Cory like a sentinel of death. “You may be dumber than the assholes who dragged me into this clusterfuck.”
Jacky was starting to agree.
This house, this operation, this place, it was all so much bigger than he was. These guys he was housing, they had lost their friends trying to kill Cory and Bracken—and him and Teague. Jack had been so immersed in his own personal bullshit on the night the werewolves arrived and the battle went down, he hadn’t comprehended how ugly the massacre had been.
Now he was starting to realize how stupid his own actions were. If he’d taken control of the carload of guys at the airport, maybe fewer people would have died. Teague was right. Teague had been right all along. Jack wasn’t made for this paramilitary shit. He wasn’t good at it. He could take orders, and he’d always been good at having Teague’s back, but he’d never been great at the battle itself or thinking through the strategy or….
Or apparently seeing the big picture.
By the time the whole thing was sorted out, Nicky’s unfriendly glare had lightened up maybe one tenth of an iota. “You have possibilities for not being a complete asshole,” he said as he dropped Jack off at his own door. “Now could you stay out of the way and try not to hurt anyone today?”
Jack turne
d bleak eyes to the guy who had carried out his wife’s orders with the crisp efficiency of an army lieutenant. “Too late. Damage done.”
Nicky shook his head. “I hope you know your guy saved your life today.”
Jack frowned. Sure, Cory had told him Bracken would have gotten violent, but he wasn’t sure it had gotten that bad. “What do you mean?”
Nicky shook his head again. “You know, you really must have been riding his coattails for the last year and a half. I’ve seen Bracken kill before, and so have you. Do you remember the expression on his face?”
Two nights ago, Bracken had been pissed. He’d reached out his hand with a snarl of irritation and his teeth bared in fury and grabbed the blood and organs from his targets and yanked it across a vacant field.
Jack had seen that expression not an hour before, right before Teague had turned wolf and taken him down.
“Holy Christ.” He almost sat down right there in the hallway.
Nicky rolled his eyes in disgust. “Yeah, Jack. You know why we love Teague? It’s because he’s not convinced he’s the only person on the planet with problems. Katy should be home soon—maybe you should just go wait for her. I’m done babysitting.”
Jack made his way into the bedroom feeling numb and used. How could he have fucked everything up so badly?
He’d been eating in the weres’ common room, making tentative gestures of friendship toward some of the people there, when a sort of electricity passed through the hill. A few moments later, Green had sprinted by, moving with some serious preternatural speed. Jack wouldn’t have been able to see the elf move at all if he hadn’t been a werewolf.
In spite of the electricity and the group knowledge that something was decidedly up, nobody moved. The pretty, dark-haired girl who had been talking quietly at the table next to Jack caught his apprehensive look. “Word will spread,” she said with certainty. “And if it pertains to us personally, someone will let us know.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when Nicky appeared and gave him a nod from the doorway. “He’s fine, but you may want to see for yourself.”
Jack could hardly remember shouting at Cory after that, or Teague’s angry voice pulling him away. Until Nicky had brought it up, he hadn’t been able to recall Bracken’s murderous expression—he’d been convinced that, just like in his dream, Teague had gone and sacrificed himself for the indifferent lady of the house.
He was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling when Katy came in. He was desperately trying to recapture the smell, the touch, the transcendent moment of making love that morning, when Teague had reached up, held him so tight he couldn’t breathe, and actually asked for something.
Stay. Please stay.
Jack had lived for that moment—it had been everything he’d ever dreamed about love.
In this particular moment, thinking back on it, Jack hated himself so badly that he thought not hiding under the bed like a child when Katy walked in was one of the bravest things he’d ever done.
“Heya, Jacky,” she said happily, then got a good look at Jack’s face and let loose a string of expletives that almost rivaled what Jack had heard out of Cory’s mouth. She finished up with “What did you do?”
Jack looked away just as he had with Teague, and he had to admit it rankled. He had not known he was a coward, and now he couldn’t seem to escape the fact.
“Don’t you do that to me!” Katy snapped. She looked around wildly for something to throw, since she’d already dropped her purse, but their room was bare and spartan. Even with their personal things, it was still very masculine, which was very Teague. She settled for kicking the stuffed chair Jack had started to claim as his and then running up and grabbing his shoulders to shake him.
“Don’t you do that! It took us weeks to put that man together, to fix him, to make his heart strong enough to not run away. I walk in here and you look like you knifed him in his damned heart. Don’t look away from me, asshole—you got to fucking own up!” She was right there in his face, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.
Jack rubbed his hand across his mouth and spoke to the far side of the room. “It’s just,” he said quietly, taking some of the heat from Katy’s angry glare, “that I don’t understand why he needs the hill. When it was just the two of us, he was okay, you know? Why couldn’t he have loved me then, when it was just us?”
Katy shook her head and muttered something that sounded like “I have no words.” Then she sighed and flopped onto the bed next to him.
“He…. You may have thought it was just the two of you, Jacky. I know you did. But it wasn’t. Who were you working for that entire time?”
Jack shrugged. “Green.”
“Yeah, sure—and I know the first time you were ever at the hill was when I bit you. But Teague… he’d been here before. He knew what he was serving. He liked it that way.”
Jack’s eyes widened considerably. Of all the dumbshit things that had never occurred to him. “But why?” He was whining, and he didn’t care.
Katy stood up and started to pace. Her mouth moved quickly, as though she was talking in rapid-fire Spanish, but no words came out for a minute. “Why? Jacky, you dumbass—why not?”
Jack opened his mouth in surprise, but she just kept going right over him.
“I know you think you’re all anybody needs, but—damn! Jacky, here at the hill, you’re never lonely. Yeah, you’re never alone, but if I get mad at you, I run out that door and there are a hundred people who will sit and listen to my problems. I want to go shopping, I’ve got a pretty plastic card that makes all my dreams come true, and all I’ve got to do to earn it is go work at a place where people smile at me and make me feel like I do good just to show up. I don’t even got to do that if I don’t want to. Green doesn’t make anybody work. We just do, because not one of us hasn’t been helped in some way, and usually big shit too. They don’t just fix your flat tire in the rain, baby—they bail you out of the car before it goes off a cliff and then they give you a new one! And it’s bigger than that! You know it is. Because there I was, trapped in some asshole’s silver cage, and you know, even when I was out of my mind, even when I thought you and Teague were the bad guys, I still knew that somewhere out there, help was coming. I knew help was coming for me.”
She’d been pacing the whole time. Now she sank slowly down on the bed next to a speechless Jack, who was trying to make his brain wrap around the world she’d shown him. He’d been living in it, eating, drinking, dreaming in it, but he hadn’t known he was in it, not until now, when he saw how Katy fit in.
“Even if they didn’t get there on time, Jacky. Yes, even then. We all know about your sister, about Renny’s first husband, about Adrian. People die—people die here. I knew that. But just the idea… just the thought… that even if that asshole killed me, someone was on their way to get me….” She looked at Jack, and he met her eyes for the first time since she’d come in. “Goddess, Jacky, do you have any idea what people like me and Teague would do, just to know somebody would be coming to the rescue? They don’t even have to make it in time. They just have to give a shit.” She shook her head and sighed, leaning against him, stroking his arm and trying to get him to understand. “That’s powerful shit, Jacky. That’s big fucking medicine right there, you know?”
Jack tried to imagine it. His parents had always had money. When his sister was doing drugs, they’d thrown her into rehab after rehab, not once wondering if maybe what she needed was simply to know they’d come after her because they cared and not because they had to.
For the first time since Green had come to his apartment and offered him solace, Jack thought about his sister. He’d been angry when she died. He’d thought her new people had deserted her, just as the two of them had been deserted by the people in authority for their entire lives.
Now he wondered… seriously wondered. Were you scared, Sara? Or did you know someone would have your back? Did it matter? Did it make it easier, knowing som
eone had your back?
And someone really did have her back, Jack realized. Jack was here in the hill, the place Sara had told him would care for her. Green had come and taken care of the things she cared about, since her backup had been too late.
The enormity of what Jack didn’t know assaulted him again, and he had a sudden flash to two nights before.
They had been hijacked and ambushed, and not once had Bracken or Nicky or even Teague acted like they were alone. Bracken had been cocksure that help was coming. He’d been pissed off, because he and Cory were at odds, but he’d known she was going to save their asses.
…if we don’t kill you in the next five minutes, my beloved will when she arrives. You and your friends? You just became a domestic dispute of cosmic proportions—and that alone is a reason to kill you.
Teague had been wounded, and Green had healed him. Cory’s hands had been dripping with Teague’s blood not because she’d been hurting him, but because she’d been tending to him. And Jack had stalked in and assumed the worst, and he’d… he’d….
He told Katy then about what had happened, what he’d done. Afterward, he never could figure out where he’d gotten the words or the bravery to do it.
When her hand cracked across his cheek, it was almost a relief.
The stillness in the room was suffocating, and he was a coward again because Katy broke it.
“Jacky!” She was in tears, and so was he. “You turned away from him? How could you make him make that choice?”
“Because I’m an asshole,” he admitted. He’d never thought he was, but God… the look of betrayal on Teague’s face came back to him again, and he thought he’d be sick. Before he could actually finish his thought or say anything else, there was a tentative knock on the door.