The Were Witch Complete Series Omnibus

by Renée Jaggér

  Dante shook his head. “I know, right? Isn’t there some stereotype of the French being assholes?”

  “Hey!” Kurt protested. “Don’t be bigoted, you miserable redneck.”

  “Sorry,” said Dante.

  Charlene chimed in. “Yeah, Seattle is definitely a backwoods kinda place with lifted trucks and gun racks everywhere. Trust me.”

  As they stepped into the Elk, Roland kept silent, reflecting on the question of where his home was now. He’d lived his whole life in Seattle, but these days, Greenhearth was the place he cared about most. Still, he was glad to see residents of both towns coming together.

  Tomi saw them and asked, “What the hell was going on out there? Did we get attacked again?”

  “Kinda,” Roland replied. He summarized the situation, and the waitress blinked in surprise as she led them to a cluster of tables. The diner was closing soon, but Roland figured that they’d earned the right to a late meal after saving the place and the rest of the town from total destruction.

  As they waited for food and then tore in, the conversation turned into a verbal rugby match between species. No one wanted to talk about what they’d just been through or what lay ahead.

  “So,” Charlene remarked, “clearly you guys can fight and know a thing or two, and you know how to cook. I guess I’m surprised since, I mean, back home, we always kinda thought that Weres were one step up from magical furries and the source of lots of that god-awful Rule 34 shit on the Internet.”

  Half the crowd, including most of the Weres, burst out laughing at that.

  “Bullshit,” Jacob countered. “Though I guess it’s only fair since we pretty much figured that witches were all one step up from California girls named Karen who had crystal and sage collections and were incapable of doing anything useful.”

  More laughter. Roland noted an edge to it, but it was for the best that the two groups vented their age-old hostility at a time when they’d befriended each other and were only joking.

  They lingered in the diner ‘til closing time, leaving Tomi an extra-large tip for the inconvenience, then spilled out into the street.

  Roland sighed. “I think we should hang around for a while. Patrol the streets, not acting too vigilant, as a way of reassuring the locals that everything is okay.”

  It occurred to him that Fenris ought to be here. Where was he, anyway?

  Jacob nodded. “Not a bad idea. That includes you, though. People trust you after all that’s happened, and the more friends we’ve got around at a time like this, the better.”

  * * *

  Bailey stretched her legs out on the grass and basked in the cool, refreshing breeze that blew through the silvery woods. It felt like it had been only an hour since they’d left the temple, but an obscure property of the holy ground beneath her made her feel like she’d slept all night.

  The Weres around her joked and laughed in low voices or discussed what they’d seen and done inside the pyramid. Dog-tiredness lingered in a handful of them, and others seemed shell-shocked, but they were all coping well enough in their own ways.

  After a time, the alphas started to look at Bailey.

  She rubbed her eyes and inhaled. “I suppose you want me to say something, and I will. You all did well and fought bravely. I’m proud of you. Sorry as I am to have lost anyone, there’s no way that won’t happen, and it’s for a damn good cause. I think we’ve bought ourselves time, but it’s not over yet.”

  Alfred asked, “Are you still planning to kill their goddess? If it can be done, I have little doubt it will cripple the Order. But realistically, it took us to the limits of our abilities today, defeating that goddess’ mortal servants.”

  A hush fell over the group. Bailey didn’t allow it to linger.

  “Yes,” she stated. “That’s still the plan, and it’s the best plan we’ve come up with. Fenris believes it’ll work, and he’s never been wrong about anything this serious. He’s gone over the process with me, and we know how we’re gonna go about it, but there’s no way of being sure what’ll happen. Trust me, we can win. But at the end of our preparations, we’re still facing down a pissed-off deity. If some of you don’t want to be around for that, I won’t blame you.”

  The pack was quiet for the span of a heartbeat or two.

  Will spoke first. “We’ll be around. We’ll see this thing through to the end.”

  A quarter of the Weres looked nervous, but none disagreed with the South Cliff alpha’s proclamation. They all had committed to remaining by their shaman’s side.

  Bailey closed her eyes. “Thank you. Not to be too humble, but I honestly couldn’t have done it without you. My powers only get me so far when I’m alone.” She looked at them. “I was hoping Fenris would show up, but maybe Roland needed his help. Let’s go home. We should see our families and get some rest before the next phase.”

  She stood up, concentrated on the front driveway of her own house, and pulled a shimmering amethyst gateway open in the air before her.

  Alfred cocked an eyebrow. “You can open portals this early in your education? Impressive.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey acknowledged. “Mostly, my magic is combat or defense-oriented so far, but I figured that out a while ago. Let’s go.”

  To demonstrate her confidence that the gate led where it was supposed to, she was the first one to step through.

  * * *

  Will waved goodbye, nodding to the weres—and witches—who’d defended his hometown while he was gone. “We’ll be back,” he promised.

  “I know,” said Bailey.

  The alphas and lieutenants separated, departing the Nordin house to visit their families or friends, get something to eat, or catch what precious hours of sleep they could. Once they dispersed, Bailey turned back to her brothers, her boyfriend, and the squad he’d recruited in Seattle.

  “Again,” she told them, “thanks so much for what you did here. We won’t forget this.”

  Mr. Holmquist nodded. “It’s worth it.”

  A surge of anger came out of nowhere as the girl contemplated the magnitude of all that had transpired. “I should’ve been here. We knew they’d come after our homes and families, goddammit. I don’t know. Maybe I could have used those astral clone things to lead the other Venatori into the temple anyway, while the real me was back here where I belong.”

  Jacob came up beside her, and before she knew it, they were hugging.

  “Hey,” he said, “don’t worry. We handled it. We lost poor Doug, but it’s a damn miracle he was the only one. And we took out one of their strongest witches. We’re winning, and the town still stands, right?”

  She sighed. “That’s true.”

  After a moment had passed, Dante stepped up, flipping his platinum hair away from his face. “So, I was able to scrounge up these miscreants as a resistance party,” he explained, “and they were enough—thanks, guys!—but, like, I could have gotten even more people with more time. What I mean by that is, there are a lot more who feel the same way throughout the Pacific Northwest. We could raise a legit small army if we need to.”

  “Hey,” Kurt quipped, “we already have a small army of Weres. With a small army of witches added to it, it’d be more like a large army.”

  Jacob shoved his younger brother. “Good job, Kurt. We definitely needed that clarified. Anyway, I’m gonna guess my sister will approve of that plan, Dante.”

  “I do,” she said. “And shortly, we’ll decide when and where and how. But first, have any of you guys seen Fenris? He disappeared right when things got real.”

  Roland shook his head. “I was wondering the same thing. He helped us get to Greenhearth after I summoned him, but he went off somewhere after that. Must be doing god stuff.”

  The girl put her hands on her hips. “Well, we need him, so time to summon him again.” She looked up at the sky. “Fenris! Can you hear me? Come back. We need your help.”

  Roland cleared his throat. “Summoning a god is usually a bit more complicated t
han that.”

  A tall figure stepped around the side of the house.

  “Bailey,” a deep voice intoned. “Forgive me for leaving, but there were things I had to look into, and you know I could not have directly aided you anyway.”

  She had to admit she was happy to see him. “Glad you’re back all the same. Listen, we beat back the Venatori once again, but now we have to decide what to do next. Dante here has a plan you should hear.”

  The young wizard repeated what he’d told Bailey.

  “I see,” Fenris mused. “A small army of sympathetic witches? If you’re confident about that, I approve.”

  Dante beamed. “I am, especially after what we’ve been through.” He glanced at the others, mainly Charlene.

  The wolf-god gave a faint smile. “Dark times indeed have come when we’re forced to consort with casters. Sorry, that was a joke.”

  Kurt’s jaw dropped. “Fenris made a joke? Holy crap. Someone check and see if they need a space heater in hell.”

  Russell prodded his brother in the ass with his foot. “Ow,” Kurt complained.

  “Well,” Dante responded, “we felt much the same way until recently. Let’s say that things have changed.”

  “They have,” Fenris acceded. “Soon, I will aid you in opening the portals you’ll need to recruit this army. But first, there are things we need to discuss. In fact, the more allies we have for the final struggle, the better.”

  Bailey frowned. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  The hooded man leaned closer, and his voice was just above a whisper. “A thing long rumored has proven to be true. I was investigating it before I returned to you. The Inquisitors, for all their power, are not the most dangerous of the Venatori’s servants.”

  Roland sputtered, “What? You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “I’m not,” said Fenris. “Though few in number—six, perhaps seven total—they also possess witches or wizards called Dreadknights, whose existence has been kept secret even from most of the Order. Only the former Grandmistress, her second-in-command, and the Dreadknights’ handlers know about them. Along with their goddess, of course.”

  Charlene snapped her fingers. “I heard of them like, once, but I assumed it was BS. Aren’t most of them supposed to be from ancient or medieval times?”

  “Yes,” said the were-deity. “Two of them are among the living, although they may be older than most mortals. The others have been kept in a state of suspended undeath throughout many centuries. I suspect that one was created by Aradia when she first founded the Order. They are adept at every known form of magic, as well as having permanent bodily enhancements that make them at least as strong as Weres and exceedingly difficult to kill.”

  An awkward silence set in, and Bailey was pretty sure she heard the first few crickets of summer chirping somewhere out back.

  “Great,” she muttered.

  “Don’t despair,” Fenris added. “We have a hard fight ahead of us, but it can be done. Still, we must be prepared for the inevitability of the Dreadknights accompanying Aradia when we challenge her to a direct confrontation. If such is the case, then having overwhelming numbers might be the only thing that tips the scales in our favor.”

  The girl sighed. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Fenris smiled but held up a hand. “Not tonight. I’ve observed their movements, and the Venatori are regrouping. Again, we’ve dealt them a major defeat, and they don’t have the means to press another attack for at least two days. You have all been through much. I suggest you rest and relax. We’ll recruit more troops tomorrow or the day after.”

  Mr. Holmquist, in a tired voice, seconded the motion. “Great idea. I’ve kept up with you kids so far, but a man my age needs his sleep. And I suppose I should call the wife and tell her I’m okay but spending the night.”

  The wolf-god turned away. “I will perform preliminary scouting so that when we reunite, I can update you on the situation. Call me if you must. Farewell.”

  He walked into the shadows and was gone.

  Jacob breathed deeply, then whistled. “Well, I dunno about the rest of you, but I think we could all use a drink. The Elk’s closed, I think, but I believe in being prepared for emergencies.”

  He led the crowd into the Nordin house, where he busted out a pair of bottles of high-grade whiskey and assembled a line of glasses.

  “All we got to chase it with,” he pointed out, “is Coke, which in my humble opinion interferes with the flavor, but it’s there if you want it.”

  He poured drinks for everyone save Charlene, who insisted she was a teetotaler. “I appreciate the offer, though.” The young witch shrugged.

  Jacob took the glass he’d meant for her and looked instead at his youngest brother. “Kurt, I think tonight’s the night you become a man. Well, partially, since we all know you’re still a virgin.”

  “Hey!” Kurt protested.

  “But,” the eldest brother went on, “this is a start. Just don’t tell Sheriff Browne, okay? Officially your first drink is another, uh, fifteen months away.”

  Kurt accepted the glass. “Pffft. Would I do such a thing?”

  They all downed their whiskey, some passing around a two-liter bottle of cola as well.

  “Oh,” Jacob commented, “and Bailey, no fighting.”

  She scowled at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  * * *

  Bailey waved and called, “Hi, Gunney!”

  “Bailey,” he replied, whipping his cap off before returning it to his head. “Come on over. As usual, glad to see you’re still alive, even though you seem to be good at not dying. I’m not sure how the hell the rest of us made it through yesterday.”

  She strolled through the bay door and entered the shop. “Hi, Kevin. Hi, Gary,” she greeted the junior mechanics.

  Gary gave her a nod and a wave with his wrench. Kevin’s voice returned the hail from the ebon recesses of the pit.

  Bailey pulled Gunney away from his work to give him a big hug. “You knew you weren’t gonna get out of this,” she informed him.

  He sighed. “I guess not. So, tell me, is it over? Did we win? I’ve had about enough craziness these past couple months to last the rest of my years, however few those might be.”

  The girl snorted. “You’ll still be here, plinking away at a goddamn Edsel when you’re ninety-five. But sorry to say, no. It’s not over yet. We’re gonna put an end to it soon. I promise.”

  The older man gestured toward the office. “We started early, so I’m about ready for a lunch break even if it’s only ten in the a.m. I got two hoagies in the fridge, steak and cheese, if you want one. And I’m pretty sure my guests yesterday left your orange sodas alone, and we got some good root beer, too.”

  “Sounds good,” Bailey replied, although she’d had breakfast only two hours ago. “And I think I will have the root beer this time. It’s been a while.”

  Kevin’s voice wafted up. “Aww, I wanted root beer.”

  “Well,” Bailey shouted back, “how long’s it been since you had an orange soda? I’ll donate mine in this case.”

  “Fine,” the voice grumbled.

  As the young woman and the mechanic ate and drank, they filled each other in on the details each had missed.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Gunney almost moaned. “I knew some bad shit was going down on the ridge last evening, but nothing like that. And you’re luring a goddess into a trap?” His face tightened and turned red with anger. “Damn those bitches and their bitch of a goddess. Pardon my French, but we’ve all had it up to here with them. Fucking dominatrixes and Inquisitors and pagan deities and what, undead knights, you say? The hell with all that. Sounds cool until you have to deal with it.”

  The girl chuckled, suddenly feeling weary, as though she were his age. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  The man shook his head and took another bite. “I miss the old days when all you did was show up and help me work on cars, and that was that. Things we
re nice and boring and peaceful.”

  Bailey took a swig of root beer. “I kinda do too. I mean, I’m glad I’m a shaman now, but I’d like things to go back to normal too. Mostly. In fact, even though I have stuff to do, let’s work on that Model T or whatever else you got going after we’re done. Just for a bit.”

  “Sure,” said Gunney. They finished their simple meal and wandered back into the repair area. The mechanic gestured to the Model T. “As you can see, I painted it while you were away. Nice cheerful red, or at least, that’s how it looks to me.”

  “I like it,” she commented.

  “All that’s left at this point is the interior console installation and wiring. Shouldn’t take too long. Lend a hand, grease monkey.” He tossed her a rag.

  She caught it. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

  They worked mostly in silence, talking here and there of the weather and how they both suspected it would be a hot, sticky summer. Their seasons tended to mildness, but no one could ever be sure.

  Soon the remaining tasks were done. “Okay,” said Gunney, “start it, and that’s that.” He handed the keys to his employee.

  Bailey arched her eyebrows. “You’re not, uh, giving me this car too, are you? Hell, I’ve barely been able to drive the Camaro yet. Been doing too much of my travel via magic portals lately.”

  The old man chuckled. “Let’s say I might be willing to lend it to you. Then perhaps we’ll see if one of your brothers or your boyfriend could use a new ride. I dunno, I’m feeling generous. Kick this witch-goddess’ ass, save this town, and when all is said and done, well, we can talk it over.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  There had been no word from Fenris all day, and Dante had spent much of his time hitting up the Internet from the town library’s computer to do his preliminary recruiting. The other Seattleites had passed the hours mingling with the locals, including Weres, and learning the ins and outs of the town’s culture. Not to mention its geographic defensibility, in case they were invaded again.