by Renée Jaggér
She looked at the ground sharply. “Like, I’m happy to plunge into your tunnel anytime.’ I remember that one, boy. You’re lucky I didn’t…”
She trailed off, suddenly tired of games.
“Fuck it,” she said. “Come here.”
He stood up, walked partway over to her, then grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, pulling her straight up into him. Before either knew exactly what was happening, their faces were pressed together, mouths entwined in a kiss that seemed like it had been delayed for far too long.
They stayed like that for what would have been many minutes in Earth time. Here in the arcane realm, it could have lasted forever.
Their lips parted, and they touched foreheads. The warmth and the welcome connection like bright electricity that had always existed between them were stronger than ever.
“Roland,” Bailey breathed. “I think…now…”
He kissed her again, and his hands closed on her breasts. “Yes.”
She almost panicked. “I’ve never, uh, done this. I’m not sure how I’ll…you know…”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her and lowered her to the bed of moss. “I’ll show you. Otherwise, just do what comes naturally. It’s what you want, and it’s definitely what I want.”
Too many emotions hit her at once, but all of them were good, and she almost cried. They pressed together again. “Okay,” she whispered.
Chapter Fifteen
Fenris still hadn’t returned. Bailey had mentioned to him earlier that they’d figured out how to open portals themselves, so there was no reason to expect he’d get mad at them for heading back home of their own volition.
They stepped through the glowing purple doorway and found themselves on the wooded slopes just beyond the Nordins’ backyard. It was earlier in the day than they’d expected; about 8:15 a.m. It would be a short walk home. Jacob at least ought to be up, and possibly the other two as well.
Bailey almost wished they’d opened a portal farther out in the mountains. The two of them had a lot to talk about, and it was better said in private.
She cleared her throat as they started down the hill. “So,” she began, “um, well, I’m happy. That sounds lame, but I dunno what else to say. I’m not the poetic type. Happy about what happened, I mean. Happy with us.”
Roland just smiled. He put an arm around her shoulder and leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good. And ditto. I’m tempted to say something douchey like ‘It was well past time,’ but I won’t.”
She gently thumped his chest with her fist. “Gosh, I appreciate that. Such a gentleman. Seriously, though…”
His arm around her felt good, somehow protective, emphasizing the connection between them. In a way, it was as though a weight had been lifted. She no longer struggled with the uncertainty of their status. It was definite at last. It was real.
In a soft voice, she said, “I gotta admit, it was probably overdue. And now, well, at least we know what’s up. We’re together. ‘An item’ or whatever cheesy way people have of putting it.”
“That would be correct. Oh,” he remarked, an almost sly look on his handsome face, “I’d thought about it before. Long before. And more times than I can remember. But if you’ve learned anything about men, I’m sure that doesn’t shock you.”
“I have,” she riposted, “and it doesn’t. Buncha animals, even though I’m the one who turns into a goddamn wolf and you don’t.”
He nodded, and his smirk cracked into open laughter. “Quite the irony. Oh, you did fine, by the way. Nothing to be ashamed of in that department.”
She stopped and put her hands on her hips, looking squarely at him. “Just fine, huh?”
He pouted innocently. “Well, maybe more like ‘good.’ I mean, there’s always room for improvement, but don’t worry, you’re off to a great start. You just need more practice. The more and sooner, the better.”
She blushed. “Let’s see how things are looking in town. Got to make sure the witches haven’t blown half the place up. If not, then yeah. I’d definitely be open to more practice.”
“Sounds like a plan.” One of his hands descended behind her and squeezed her butt.
She jumped, a shiver going through her, and blushed harder. “Hey, now. Watch yourself, boy. We’re almost in my backyard where my brothers might see. Have some decency, you filthy heathen.”
He retracted his hand but quipped, “I have plenty of decency.”
They came to the Nordin property and were only seven steps into the yard when the back door opened and Jacob leaned out, taking them in at a glance.
“Welcome back,” he called. “You probably just want to sit down and eat as usual, but there’s some stuff going on you oughta know about.”
Bailey tensed, and it must have shown since her brother held up a hand.
“Nothing terrible. Not yet, anyway. In fact, it’s probably a good thing. Lots of new Weres rolling into town. People we haven’t seen or heard of, a few loners plus obscure packs from around the state, and even a few from Washington and Idaho.”
The werewitch and the wizard exchanged surprised glances.
“Yeah,” Bailey returned, “I’d say that’s a good thing under the present circumstances. How many? Weres, I mean, rather than packs.”
Jacob shrugged. “I dunno. At least thirty, maybe more like fifty. You’re going into town today, right? We can figure it out then.”
Roland raised a finger. “What’s for breakfast?”
The eldest Nordin brother made a sour face. “Uh, coffee, I guess. We haven’t made anything. Kurt’s sleeping, and Russell joined one of the patrols. I kinda wanted to go with him, honestly, but we felt like someone ought to be here to hold the fort.”
Roland pouted, but Bailey waved a hand in front of his face and spoke for both of them. “That’s fine. I just hope Russell knows what he’s doing.”
It almost made her sick, imagining him being the first one to stumble onto the next wave of Venatori and incurring their wrath. Then again, even without magic, he was about as tough as werewolves came.
Jacob held the door as they walked in. “We all know what we’re doing now,” he retorted. “Defending our damn town.”
They relaxed for fifteen or twenty minutes and had a cup of coffee. Jacob had made it himself, so it was strong, though not on the same level as Russell’s.
After a short period of conversation about how Sheriff Browne had deputized four or five more citizens and their father was rushing back to help with things, Bailey made her decision about what to do today.
“So,” she began, “I think Roland and me do need a proper breakfast, and like you said, we should go into town and meet the new guys anyway. Let’s go get something to eat at the Elk and, uh, do a round of inspection of the defenses while we’re at it. Hell, I sound like a colonel or something.”
Roland stretched his arms. “Good idea. Let’s take a shower first, though. If we do get into another battle, we’ll be sweating even more.”
Bailey pretended to ignore the implication. “Yeah. You go ahead and take yours first, and I’ll take mine right after.”
He gave her a disappointed look but didn’t protest. Bailey wasn’t about to do anything that would give her brothers more cause to make fun of her.
Soon they were in her Tundra and rolling down Greenhearth’s main street toward the diner. It seemed like there were fewer people out doing normal things, which broke her heart. She hated the thought that the locals were afraid to live their lives as usual. But there were plenty of Weres, as well as sporadic humans, walking around in small groups and keeping an eye on things.
A few of them waved as she passed. “Well,” she commented, “people are enthusiastic about the project, anyway.”
“Indeed,” said Roland. “When the sheriff’s station gets a wall blown out and one of the local cops gets killed, that’s usually something to pay attention to.”
When they arrived at the diner, it was bustling, though mo
re with lycanthropes than with the human regulars. Again, Bailey worried about how the locals would react to all this.
It’s a temporary situation, she told herself. We’re doing what we must to protect the whole community. Soon this will be over, and everything will be back to normal.
Cheryl greeted them just inside the door. “Oh, hi, Bailey. And Roland. You having breakfast?” She seemed subtly nervous, but at least she was making an effort to be friendly.
“Affirmative,” Bailey replied. “This dipshit complained when my brothers didn’t cook for him for once, so I had no choice.”
“Hey!” Roland protested. “I’m not complaining about eating here, either. Might even be better. And at least they made coffee.”
The pair drew the eyes of various newcomers as they walked past, and when Cheryl led them into the dining room, it looked as though a meeting or conference was going on. All werewolves, and only about half of them were familiar. They beckoned, and Cheryl gave them a table near the center of the crowd.
Will Waldsbach greeted her first. “Bailey. I’m the South Cliff alpha now, with the Oberlins forced out. You’re kind of a celebrity these days. Most of these guys have heard about what’s going on. Everyone in our corner of the US knows what the Venatori have been doing and that you’ve been kicking ass and taking names.”
She and Roland were suddenly surrounded, mostly by young men, leading representatives of the new packs Jacob had mentioned and even a couple of packless outcasts, regional drifters who’d barely acknowledged their Were heritage until now. There was an intensity in their eyes, but not the threatening kind.
They’d all come to declare their support for the new shaman.
A towering, gaunt-faced man from somewhere down in the southeast corner of Oregon put a fist over his heart. “You have our allegiance,” he stated. “Fenris put his word behind you, and you’ve done a lot to protect our kind. If those witches think they can wipe us out, they’re going to have to try harder.”
Another warrior, short and pudgy but still formidable with his thick muscles and cantankerous face, concurred. “After you rescued the girls in Seattle, we made a note of your name. We helped point the cops toward the assholes responsible for that. With this going on, we’re glad we remembered you. My boys and I will be staying around town as long as you need us.”
Others stepped in and made similar statements. It was overwhelming, and Bailey flushed with pride and gratitude. She tried not to let it go to her head. They were here because a terrible thing was happening, and it was her duty to lead them wisely and ensure the overall well-being of wolfdom. She couldn’t betray their trust by acting like a rock star or abusing her power.
“Thank you,” she said at the end. “I…damn. Honestly, I can’t tell you all how much it means to me to hear this. I used to feel like I didn’t fit in with Weres in general, and now, well, that’s definitely not the case.”
She smiled and looked down at the table to gather her thoughts before addressing them again. “But this isn’t about me at the end of the day. It’s about you, and about all of us. And the people of Greenhearth—the regular humans who’ve been our friends since forever, and who I’d protect the same as my own family.”
Some of those humans, she knew, were dining in the corners and overheard her. If they spread the word, it would help calm some of the tensions that had arisen lately.
The pack leaders—some alphas, some shamans, some warrior-lieutenants acting on behalf of their alphas back home—agreed and reaffirmed their allegiance, then offered to take Bailey out to meet the rest of their people and learn how all the sentries were positioned.
She agreed, overjoyed even as their loyalty humbled her.
The gaunt-faced man from the southeast looked at Roland and placed a massive hand on his shoulder. The wizard, absorbed in sipping coffee, raised his eyebrows and waited for him to speak.
“And you,” the Were rumbled. “We’ve heard of you also, Roland. You’re not our kind, but you’ve helped through all of this. If Bailey trusts you, then so do we.”
“Thanks,” Roland quipped. “I try.”
Bailey rubbed her foot against his lower leg under the table. She wondered if she ought to make some sort of announcement about them being in a relationship at last, but there was someone she wanted to talk to first.
* * *
The Tundra pulled in at the auto shop, where life and the business of fixing cars went on as usual, even with a small army of werewolves patrolling the town in case of a witch invasion. People needed to drive, after all.
Bailey and Roland hopped down from the truck and strode toward the repair bays, where Gunney and the rest of his crew were hard at work on a rusted white minivan and a red Dodge Charger LX. The crusty old head mechanic noted their approach with a short glance, then returned to writing something on a clipboard, waiting for them to come to him.
“Hi, Gunney.” Bailey waved. “Obviously we’re okay, and so are you.”
Roland fidgeted. “I think I drank a bit too much coffee, though.”
The older man looked at her, ignoring the wizard for the moment. “That we are. Lot of newcomers around town, but they’re your people, near as I can tell. Look like real hardasses in some cases too, which has some of the locals a little jumpy, but hardasses are just what we need these days. Assuming they’re on our side.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s the idea. And they…well, they pledged loyalty to me.” For a second she grinned, but it turned into a lengthy sigh. “I gotta make sure I don’t disappoint them or screw up.”
Gunney flipped his cap off his head, airing out his scalp and letting his hair spill out for a moment before returning the hat to its usual place.
“Hey, now, remember what I told you. One thing at a time and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re probably the best woman for the job of keeping us all from being turned into toads or stuck in some fuckin’ cauldron or whatever. Christ, I thought I’d seen some shit, but things just keep getting crazier around here.”
Roland nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Yeah, well,” Bailey added, “we just wanted to see how you’re doing. I’d stay and help, but I have to make sure everyone’s on their shit. This whole valley is a target. No sugarcoating it.”
The aging mechanic grimaced but wasn’t about to argue.
“Anyhow, come along out back. There’s something I want to show you.”
Bailey raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really?” She had a suspicion as to what it might be but kept her mouth shut so he could surprise her.
“Um,” Roland interjected, “I really need to use the bathroom, so I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Gunney waved a hand. “Yeah, help yourself. You know where it’s at.”
He and Bailey tramped through the dirt lot behind the shop toward the yard where the old man kept his spare cars, spare parts, and personal projects. It was the home of his beloved Trans Am, among other less illustrious things.
Bailey waited just outside the yard as Gunney went in, fired up an engine, and drove out the Camaro she’d helped him work on recently. He parked it right in front of her and stepped out.
He inhaled and looked at the car. “It isn’t fully restored yet, just matte gray with primer, but that can be amended when there’s time. It’s drivable, though. And,” he turned to look at her, “more importantly, it’s yours. Permanently, I mean.”
Her jaw dropped. She’d figured that he wanted to show her the Camaro, but she hadn’t expected this. “Damn, Gunney. I…don’t know what to say. Except thanks, obviously.”
Grinning openly, he tossed her the keys. “Consider it a gift after all your years of helping me out, including times you stayed late and worked for free just for the hell of it. I’d say you more than earned it.”
She caught the keys in midair, and he folded his arms over his chest and took on a contemplative expression.
“But,” he added, “I don’t think even you racked up enough good
will to get the Trans Am. That thing’s still mine. No way in hell anyone else is getting it.”
Bailey laughed and threw her arms around his neck, almost causing him to lose his balance.
“I wouldn’t take your Trans Am away from you. I was damn near sick, trying to keep it from getting wrecked in Seattle. And a Camaro is more than enough for me right now. Shit!”
“Just don’t let your brothers pressure you about what color to get it done,” he advised. “That’s up to you.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Kurt would probably want puce or lime green striped with hot pink or some crap like that ‘cause he thinks it’d be funny. I’m thinking either the classic red or something more subdued, like black or dark blue. I dunno. I’ll ask Roland.”
The girl glanced back and saw that the wizard had emerged from the restroom and was standing by the pit with his hands in his pockets, probably talking to the disembodied voice of Kevin. She turned back to Gunney.
“Oh,” she added in a lower voice and tried not to blush. She’d been doing too much of that just lately. “Um, I wanted to tell you, not that it’s gonna come as much of a shock, I’m sure, but Roland and I are, you know, official now.”
He didn’t react for a second or two. Then his face, so tough and yet so kindly at the same time, slowly split into a smile that was deeply warm and affectionate, yet somehow sad. His eyes seemed to crinkle.
“Well, I’m happy for you,” he said in a soft voice. “He’s a good young man. A little…I dunno, slick for my taste, but it’s not his fault he’s from fuckin’ Seattle. You two clearly get along, and he’s been with you through all this shit. Stayed by your side and watched your back the whole time, even with the world blowing up. Not a lot of guys would’ve done that. Bailey…”
He reached out a leathery hand and placed it on her soft cheek. “I want you to be happy. You’re the daughter I never had. No offense to your father, of course, but well, you know what I mean.”