Fur and Fangs Box Set

by Rae D. Magdon

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “and maybe meet girls who were fine with the werewolf thing and weren’t also my cousins.”

  Elyse looks at me. “Guess Izzy checks both your boxes then.”

  Riley pats my knee under the table again. “Oh, I’ve got a long list…but I took one look at her on that subway and I was a goner. I swear, I was useless as a pogo stick in quicksand.”

  Elyse glances at Riley, then stares intently at me, waiting expectantly. She’s not even bothering to hide the grin on her face.

  I sigh. “Just get it over with.”

  She cracks up. Absolutely loses it until she’s almost crying into the pickles. I laugh too, and Riley joins in. Eventually, I forget why we’re giggling, but it doesn’t matter, because it feels good. Comfortable.

  “Hope you were laughing with me instead of at me,” Riley says after we’ve recovered.

  “With you,” Elyse snorts around her lingering giggles. “It’s adorable. Don’t ever change the way you talk, please.”

  Riley flushes. “If you say so. I’ve got plenty more dumb similes if you want ‘em.”

  “Tell me,” Elyse says, without any hesitation.

  I settle back in my seat to nurse my drink. Introducing Riley and Elyse was definitely the right decision—although I have a feeling I might come to regret it sometime in the next couple of minutes. For now, though, I allow myself to relax. I have two people who love me in the same room, laughing and joking with each other. That’s all I can really ask for.

  Chapter Seven - Riley

  I CLENCH MY TOES in my sneakers and squeeze my seat’s armrests, focusing on the music blasting through my earbuds. It doesn’t do much to drown out the plane’s engine, but every little bit helps. I’ve never been a fan of flying, but today, I’m more nervous than usual. I’m headed back south for the first time since moving to New York, and I’ve got company with me.

  “Riley?”

  Izzy pops out one of my earbuds, stroking back a stray lock of my hair. Her lips move, but the noise of the engine swells louder and covers it up.

  “What?”

  Izzy rolls her eyes, although her frustration isn’t aimed at me. “I said, are you okay?”

  I clear my throat, reaching for my plastic cup of water before remembering the steward has already taken it away. I’ve had a lot to drink on the flight, mostly to calm my stomach, but now it’s coming back to bite me. I need to pee something awful, and the turbulence beneath the plane’s wings isn’t helping.

  “Yeah…”

  Izzy isn’t convinced. She puts my earbud back in for me, takes my hand in hers, and rests her cheek against my shoulder. I can tell from the way she’s gripping my fingers that she’s trying to convince me everything will be okay. Logically, I know it will. Physically, I’m not sure. Maybe vampires enjoy flying, but wolves like me just aren’t meant to go thousands of feet off the ground.

  Lucky for me, the flight’s almost finished. I wince and clutch the hell out of Izzy’s hand as the plane touches down, but after an awful squeal, the worst is over. The engine quiets and the plane slows down to a crawl.

  Izzy lifts off my shoulder and opens the window shade, which I’d politely asked her to keep shut. We’re on the runway, and I’m relieved to see the maintenance machines and suitcase trolleys, yet more proof that we’re back on terra firma.

  “Doing all right, mon chou?” Izzy asks.

  I pull my headphones out and turn my music off. “Yup. I’m alive.” My bladder starts to clench in protest. “And I hope we get off soon, because I really gotta go.”

  “Well…” Izzy gives a sly flash of her fangs. “I can’t do anything about a bathroom for you yet, but I can get you off if you really can’t wait.” She pinches my thigh through my jeans, and I push her hand playfully away.

  “Stoppit. And don’t do that in front of my folks.”

  Izzy raises her eyebrows. “Why not? I wouldn’t have thought they were prudes, judging by how you turned out.”

  “Har. Nah, they ai…aren’t. I just don’t want you to encourage ‘em when they tease me. They’re bad enough on their own without your influence.”

  “I just hope I can keep them all straight,” Izzy says. “Seven siblings. How did you even survive?”

  I grin at her. “By gettin’ good at wrasslin’.”

  Izzy looks me up and down. “Well, you have the muscles for it.”

  My face heats up. Suddenly, needing to pee isn’t the only reason I’m uncomfortable. To my relief, it doesn’t take long for the rows in front of us to empty. I slip out first and grab our backpacks from the luggage compartment over the seats. Izzy tries to take hers, but I sling one over each shoulder. She aims a disapproving look in my direction. “You do know I can deadlift about a thousand pounds, right?”

  I do know. When Izzy’s had enough blood to drink, her strength is pretty incredible. I saw her lift the front of a small car once when its tire popped in a pothole. I helped but seeing her do that did make me wonder about getting a gym membership to keep up.

  “It’s the principle of the thing.”

  I huff but pass her backpack over. We head off the plane and through the covered ramp before finally stepping out into the airport. Immediately, I sprint for the nearest bathroom sign. My eyeballs are pretty much floating.

  As usual, there’s some discomfort when I step into the ladies’ restroom. Part of me feels like I shouldn’t be there, but I wouldn’t be any more comfortable in the mens. I glance down at my shirt. It’s good I haven’t cut my hair in a bit, because my chest is pretty flat with my binder on. Less likely some nosy old hen will ask me why I’m in here.

  There’s enough stalls that I don’t have to wait. I dart into one of them and go as fast as I can. Before too long, I hear the soft swish of ballet flats against the tile floor. “Riley? You okay?”

  It’s Izzy. Some of the tension melts from my shoulders. “Yeah. Just be a sec.”

  Knowing she followed me makes me feel better as I come out to wash my hands. Izzy’s waiting there, arms folded, one hip propped against a dry and clean part of the sink counter. She didn’t have to go at all. She just came to keep me company.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “No thanks needed. How am I supposed to know where to go without you?”

  I laugh as I switch on the blow-dryer. “Oh, you’d recognize my folks.”

  “Family resemblance?”

  “Yup. Big time.”

  We head out of the restroom and follow the signs for arrivals. No sooner have we passed through security than I notice three tall, broad-shouldered, towheaded figures loitering near the baggage claim. I see them and I smell them a moment later, even through all the distracting airport scents.

  “Papa, Mama, Monty!” I hurry over, dragging Izzy along behind me.

  My parents spot me. “Riley,” Mama says, opening her arms for a hug. I pick her up off the floor, spinning her around. She’s tall, but not as tall as me, and thin too, and she still smells like a fresh baked peach pie.

  “Hey, mama. How you been?”

  “Glad to have my baby home.”

  I grin. “Thought Monty was the baby.”

  Mama chuckles. “You’re all my babies, no matter how old you get.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Monty says. He’s my only little brother, four years younger than me—a happy surprise, Mama always said. In the past year, though, he’s grown from little to not-so-little. His shoulders have filled out, and he’s not as much of a beanpole anymore.

  “Heya, bud.” I hug him too. We’ve always stuck together, me and Monty. I’m the second-youngest, so I never minded him hanging around me. We were both outsiders at school, the ones who didn’t fit in. I got into more than a couple scrapes for his sake in elementary and middle school.

  “Heya, sis. Missed you.” I can tell he means it, and I feel a little guilty for waiting this long to come home.

  “Missed you too.”

  “My turn.” P
apa nudges Monty aside and pulls me into a bear hug. My spine cracks, and the wind rushes right out of me

  “Down,” I wheeze, tapping his shoulder. He sets me down, and I kiss his stubbly cheek.

  “C’mon, girl,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Don’t tell me being all citified has made you soft now.”

  I feel a slight twinge when he says ‘girl’, but I push it down. “Not a chance in heck.” I turn to Izzy, who’s waiting a couple feet back. “Papa, Mama, Monty, this is Izzy. Please be nice and don’t scare her off.”

  “Scare her?” Papa says. “Where’d you get the fool idea we’re gonna scare her?” He approaches Izzy and sticks out his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Izzy. That short for somethin’?”

  Izzy isn’t put off by his friendliness. New Yorkers aren’t known for warm introductions, but she uses her best Southern manners and smiles wide. “The pleasure’s mine, sir. My name’s Isabeau. Isabeau LaCour. But Izzy is just fine.”

  “Sir?” Papa chuckles and looks at me. “Her, I like. She’s polite for a Yankee.”

  I roll my eyes. “Stop it, Pa. First of all, we Southerners ain’t always that great. Too many white folks ‘round here believe revisionist history, even some of the nonhumans who should know better.” Monty snorts in agreement, which I file away for later. Sounds like he’s been hanging around a liberal crowd. “And second, Izzy ain’t a Yankee. She’s from Louisiana.”

  Papa grins. “Really? The gator tail there as good as they say?”

  Izzy laughs. “Sho is,” she says, in a Louisiana drawl I’ve rarely heard from her before. Not like my family’s, but certainly not ‘citified’, as Papa would say. “But you won’t see me turning down no frog legs neither.”

  Mama goes next. She clasps Izzy’s hand, but also goes in for a big old hug. I shift nervously. I’m not sure how much of a huggy person Izzy is with strangers, since we had sex on the first date and hugs between us were kind of just assumed after that. But Izzy takes it in stride. “Nice to meet you too, ma’am. I see where Riley gets her looks.”

  “There you go, buttering me up,” Mama says. “Welcome to Georgia, sugar.”

  “Happy to be here. Wish it could be for more than a couple days.”

  “No, you don’t,” Monty says. He clasps her hand to say hello. “I’d trade places with you in a hot minute.”

  “Not ‘til you finish college you won’t,” Papa says. “I know I can’t keep you in the nest forever, but them’s the rules. Once you get your diploma, you can run away up north with your sister.”

  “Quit pickin’,” Monty grumbles, sulking a bit. If he’d had his tail, it would’ve been drooping.

  “Y’all got your bags yet?” Mama asks. “Plenty of room in the truck.”

  “Just the one suitcase.” I check the scrolling sign above the luggage carousel, and our flight number’s up. A moment later, I spot a flash of powder blue, Izzy’s suitcase. I head over to grab it before Izzy can. I know Papa will chew me out for it otherwise.

  Before I can turn around, I feel a hand on my hip. Izzy’s standing beside me. Sometimes, I forget how fast she can be. “Let me guess,” I say. “You wanna take this?”

  Izzy smirks. “I do.”

  “To prove a point, or...?”

  “No point. But it doesn’t feel right to make you do all the work.”

  I sigh. “You’re gonna wound my nonbinary butch pride and make my daddy scold me.”

  “Just give it here.” Izzy’s still smiling and sweet, but I know she’s serious. I pass the handle over, and she rewards me with a peck. I get the feeling the kiss might’ve been longer if my folks hadn’t come up to meet us.

  “Truck’s outside,” Papa says. “Y’all can hop in. We’ve got supper on at home already.”

  I glance at Izzy, then rub the back of my neck. “Uh, about that—”

  “We picked up some blood at the store,” Mama says. “I hope cow’s all right?”

  “Cow is just fine, thank you.”

  “C’mon, girls,” Papa says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Don’t let the grass grow. Riley, why ain’t you bringing this nice young lady’s bag?”

  Once more, I flinch at the word girl. I don’t hide it well this time, and Izzy notices. She holds my hand with the one that isn’t pulling her suitcase. “I’ve got it,” she says. “And I don’t know if someone on the unfortunate side of forty is really all that ‘young’…present company excluded, ma’am.”

  “Seeing an older woman,” Mama laughs. “You always were trouble, child.”

  “Now, if you were pushing five hundred, I might’ve had some concerns about the age gap,” Papa says. “As it is, we’ve both got a good twenty years on you, I expect.”

  Izzy seems surprised. “Really?”

  “Werewolf genes,” I tell her. “Most of us reach a hundred and fifty at least, even two hundred.”

  “Well, color me surprised.”

  While Izzy and my folks chat, I glance at Monty. It’s true he’s not the most talkative kid, but this is awfully quiet, even for him. Usually, he would’ve chimed into the conversation. Instead, he looks at me with a worried wrinkle in his brow. I’ll need to check in with him later.

  ***

  It’s a long drive out to my family’s house. We’ve lived on the property for the past three hundred years, and it’s a fair distance from the airport, or from any civilization, really. That suits the wolf in me fine, since it means there’s plenty of pack land to run on. The rest of me, not so much. My humanoid form enjoys easy access to drug stores and restaurants, as well as the relatively short commute New York City offers.

  I start feeling all nostalgic as Papa turns the truck onto the access road. I know it like the back of my hand, every bump and turn. Dust churns beneath the tires, puffing up on either side of us and spraying the windows with a light cloud of brown.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Izzy says, peering through the small dust storm to the landscape beyond. “There isn’t much around. Just fields, fields, and more fields.”

  “And cows,” Monty says. He’s sitting next to us in the back, since there are three seats.

  “Cheaper for the pack to raise our own food,” I explain, for Izzy’s benefit. “Be self-sufficient and all.”

  “Why Riley Evans, you didn’t tell me your folks were farmers.”

  “It’s a group effort,” Mama says from the passenger’s seat. “Pa and I handle the business side of things for the pack. Finances and all. Most of our sons help in that area, like Monty here. But a few of our boys take care of the animals with the other families instead. The ones who like to get outdoors most.”

  “Riley was supposed to join the family business,” Papa adds. “She’s the one with the head for numbers. But the pull of the big city was too strong, I guess.”

  I sigh. As much as I miss my family, being around them can start to wear on me. Apparently, it’s starting early this time.

  “You can’t blame Riley,” Izzy says, coming heroically to my defense. “I expect it’s hard to make friends and meet girls out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “True,” Papa says. “A young wolf needs to run around, meet new people, experience new things. There’s plenty of space here, but not many folks except family and pack.”

  “Sure,” I grumble, only a little sulkily. “You listen when she says it.”

  “Well, the woman speaks sense.”

  “Quit, you two,” Mama says, in a soft but commanding voice. “Riley, mind your father. James, you were awful critical of her decision to leave. Don’t rewrite history.”

  “I was just—”

  “We’re here,” Mama says before he can keep complaining.

  Papa pulls the truck to a stop on the grass outside our house. It’s a big, sprawling ranch-style affair, and despite its asymmetry, there’s a lot of love in it. My heart swells when I see it sitting there in the glow of the sunset, as if it’s been waiting for me.

  I grasp Izzy’s hand, and she threads her fingers through m
ine. “Beautiful,” she whispers, and I know she’s not just talking about the house.

  We open the doors and step out into the warm, muggy air. Cicadas buzz from the trees, and nighttime frogs in the pond nearby add to the chorus. Those are the sounds I fell asleep to as a kid, the music I remember while running through the fields on full moon nights.

  I keep Izzy’s hand close. “Well, this is it.” It feels like an important moment, sharing something this intimate with her.

  She rests her head against my shoulder. “I’m glad to be here with you, Riley.”

  “’Course. Come on in.” I lead her up the steps to the front porch and open the door. It’s already unlocked, and as soon as I open it, the smell of supper wafts out to greet my nose. I breathe it in with a grin, but the moment’s ruined when a bunch of people stampede from the kitchen to greet us. It’s my other six brothers, all blue-eyed and blond-haired, in various states of dishevelment.

  “Riley!”

  They surround me for hugs, jostling each other in the process. Poor Izzy gets caught up in it, and I shove them away, laughing as I fight a path toward freedom. “Piss off, you animals. You’re scarin’ my lady.”

  Izzy is the opposite of scared. She smirks with amusement as my brothers pile onto me. When I look at her, though, they stop fussing over me. They cluster around her instead, although they make an effort to be a bit gentler with their one-armed hugs and handshakes.

  “Izzy, right?”

  “Nice to meet you!”

  “Welcome to Georgia.”

  Izzy takes it in stride. “Glad to be here. So, I’m going to try my best with names.” She lowers her sunglasses and squints, trying to memorize faces. I don’t envy her the task. Sometimes even I get them mixed up when they’re wolves and running downwind of me.

  My brothers introduce themselves:

  “Austin.”

  “Macon.”

  “Harris.”

  “Butler.”

  “Dallas.”

  “Jackson.”

  Izzy is clearly a bit bewildered. I just shrug. “If you mix ‘em up, don’t feel bad. They’re used to it.”