“I can explain.”
She rolled her eyes at him and gave him an incredulous look that precluded further discussion. An awkward silence followed and he searched for something relevant to say. She steadfastly refused to make eye contact with him. She made a very cute angry person. Though, he knew this wasn’t the time to mention it.
He eyed her again, then made a show of rubbing his arms through his jacket and acting as if he’d caught a chill.
“Aren’t you cold?”
She rolled her eyes at him. Again.
“You look cold,” he said.
She made eye contact then. She placed her hobo on her lap, opened it, and removed a big scarf-looking thing so that he could see it, then put it back in her bag.
Phelan’s smartphone rang. He fished it out of his jeans pocket, saw that it was Bubba, and put it to his ear. He had long since given up trying to read the stupid little screens that smartphones had for displays.
“Hey, Bubba.” Phelan got to his feet and started pacing the waiting area.
“Hey, I have an update on the case for you,” Bubba said. For once, Phelan didn’t detect any background noise that would be inconsistent with the player bachelor Phelan knew his cousin to be. No women scolding him about his language. No small children chattering and giggling. Phelan hoped everything was okay with Bubba’s mate.
Phelan stepped out to the platform, out of earshot from Lola, but close enough that he could keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t take off to where he couldn’t follow her.
“We’ve detected some drone activity outside the Perdition treaty area,” said Bubba. “You should keep an eye out for trouble. It wouldn’t hurt to stay in town for a while.”
Phelan nodded in acknowledgement, then realized Bubba couldn’t see him. He’d have to keep Lola from leaving town, definitely.
“Will do,” said Phelan.
“I mean it,” Bubba said. “If your Lola is anything like my Vanessa, she may not listen. Human women don’t listen.”
Phelan wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who “listened,” which to the men in their family, essentially came down to obeying.
“How is Vanessa?” Phelan asked cautiously.
“None of your business,” Bubba barked, then hung up without saying goodbye.
Back in the waiting area, Lola waited for the Glide, but she had her own smartphone out and was fiddling with it.
“That was Bubba,” he said, flashing her an ingratiating smile.
“Really?” was her droll response. She rolled her eyes again, and went back to looking at her smartphone.
When the train arrived, she paid her ticket with cash she got from god knows where, since he hadn’t seen her use any since they’d been in town.
“There has been some suspicious drone activity outside of town. He suggests we stay here for the time being,” he informed her.
She nodded then continued to board the train. He had no choice but to follow her.
“I’m going to stick around. In case you need protecting,” he said.
“It’s a free country,” was her flippant reply. “Do whatever you want.”
He didn’t know how to interpret this, so he decided it was a good sign that she wasn’t actively trying to run him off. They took seats in the empty train car along the sides. The center was open, leaving plenty of room for the non-existent crowd to stand. He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles.
The train pulled away from the station and they rode on in silence for a good ten minutes, when Lola abruptly froze in her seat, alarm on her face.
“Lola? What is it?”
She looked absolutely terrified, then her features became absolutely determined. She reached in the hobo, pulled out a towel-wrapped bundle. She quickly unwrapped it to reveal some kind of hand-held metal contraption. It looked a little like brass knuckles, only it had three longish knives sticking out of it. She placed it on her lap, then extracted a second weapon, similar to the first. She slid both weapons onto her fingers, flexing them to test the grip. She jumped up to her feet, leaned against the metal hold bar. The lights flashed in the train car as it swayed.
“Something is triggering my prey instinct,” she told him. “I think something is about to attack us.”
He rose to his feet and studied her weapons. They honest to god looked like she had raided a cutlery drawer and made the world’s weirdest set of brass knuckles with blades bristling out of them. Her eyes swept the train car, wild and vigilant.
If something was going to attack them, then he needed to protect her. She needed to know he would protect unto death.
“Lola—” he started, only to be interrupted.
“It’s the changeling,” her eyelashes flickered when her gaze landed on the ceiling. “Get ready.”
He blinked at her. She was insane. She had almost been killed by the changeling. She should be huddled in fear, not looking like she was ready to attack. But part of him admired the stealth required to fashion her shank-type weapons in the past couple of days, with him none the wiser. Her cute pink dress and beehive hairdo said she was ready to party. Her weapons and pugilistic stance said she was ready to slay.
I’m going to love being mated to this woman.
Over the rumble of the train, Phelan heard something land on the roof of the car, and all thoughts of returning to the safety of Perdition vanished. There was no turning back now.
A heartbeat later, one of the floor-to-ceiling windows crashed inwards, spraying tiny fragments of tempered glass across the floor of the Glide. Cold wind blew into the train as it sped down the tracks, and Lola braced herself in a defensive stance as the changeling entered the gaping hole where the window had been.
Before Phelan knew it, his instincts kicked in. He shifted and was suddenly looking at the scene from a wolf’s-eye view, much closer to the ground than in his human form, and he shook his clothing off. Lola and the creature circled each other. She slashed at it with her blades, causing it to flail and step back, its long, scaly tail swishing behind it.
Phelan lunged and clamped down on the lashing tail, causing the creature to let out a yelping sound and turn angry yellow eyes on the big, gray wolf. It attempted to flick its tail to dislodge the wolf, but Phelan held on tight. The foul taste of the creature’s blood-filled Phelan’s mouth just as its panicked shrieks filled his ears.
Almost any creature can be gravely injured at its throat. Phelan’s overarching thought was to pin it on its back in order to expose the vulnerability. He braced himself and forced his jaws down harder, which much have angered the creature, because the thrashing became even more urgent and it was no longer attacking Lola. Phelan bit as hard as he could, his teeth biting even further through the scales until he hit the vertebrae of its tail. Then he began to shake his head, throwing the beast against one side of the car hard enough to daze it.
When it stopped struggling for a moment, Phelan cracked an eyelid to see his pint-sized valkyrie stalking the creature. She then straddled it and plunged her knives into its throat, eliciting a gurgling shriek as the changeling, now helpless, began to drown in its own blood.
The blood was dark red, almost purple, and it sprayed everywhere as the beast flailed helplessly. Phelan moved and pinned its body under his own, as its claws raked his thick fur. Lola kept her weapons in its throat.
What’s gonna work? Teamwork.
The inappropriate thought surfaced in his mind and made his wolf chuff in amusement. Lola looked at him, purple-red blood smeared across her face and dripping from her chin. Her eyebrows came together with a look that said, “What the fuck?”
They kept the changeling subdued for some time, until the animal completely bled out and no longer moved.
At length, his fierce little warrior’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion. She slipped her fingers out of the knuckle-knives, keeping them embedded in the creature’s throat. She stood up, stumbled, then collapsed on one of the seats, watching Phelan sitting on the creature
s unmoving chest. She was breathing hard, panting really, but spoke anyway, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t need you,” she panted. She nodded at the prone creature, her knives protruding from the its throat. “I don’t need you to buy me coats. I don’t need you to buy me weapons.”
In wolf form, Phelan could not talk — only listen.
“I don’t need you to protect me. Do you understand?”
A soft whine came from his throat. He understood.
“I don’t need you, not for those things,” she said softly.
Something tight inside him unfurled, and hope bloomed in his chest.
“What I need from you is simple: the truth. Always. Every single time. That’s what I need. Can you give me that?”
Her eye dark gaze met his, and he saw the love, and guarded hope in her expression. He may have fucked up royally, but never again. He raised his ears and although it offended his wolf sensitivities, he slowly wagged his tail to signal his agreement. He bobbed his head in the approximation of a human nod.
He could give her that.
When they were sure the animal was dead, Phelan shifted back to man, and bare-assed naked, pulled Lola into his embrace. And she hugged him back.
It was going to be okay.
They were going to be okay.
He could feel her relief wash over her as she sagged into his body. He was also relieved. He didn’t know whether the creature’s death or having Lola back in his arms gave him a greater sense of peace.
As they sped down the train tracks to Dallas, they were so into holding each other that they didn’t notice the dragonfly drones hovering quietly above them, recording their every move.
Epilogue
Two months later...
The light dusting of snow crunched under Lola and Phelan’s boots as they made their way to the Town Square for the tree-lighting ceremony. On one side was City Hall, a tall limestone building that housed the public utilities, the tourism bureau, and the office of Dameron Lauder, Perdition Pack alpha.
Phelan had escorted Lola to many of the town’s events in the past few weeks. As Perdition’s newest entrepreneur, she wanted to attend as many social events as possible. He admired the fact that Lola wouldn’t let anything— not even morning sickness— keep her from networking with new friends and potential clients. He was so proud of how she was already doing a brisk trade in her signature leggings, especially after an article on her designs appeared in one of the major Dallas media outlets. She’d told him last week she was ready to branch out into the lucrative market of prom and homecoming dresses, and eager to move her business out of the cabin’s back room to one of the empty storefronts in town.
In front of the town hall was a small open field with park benches and plenty of open space for children to run around, young couples to picnic, and for the occasional farmer’s market or craft fair to set up. Tonight, the area was set up as an adorable Christmas village. Pop-up stores hawked Christmas tchotchkes, and small stands offered seasonal beverages and foods.
Phelan thought Lola was quite the team player. She seldom complained about morning sickness, and was quite game about living amidst the constant construction at the cabin, which was being expanded for the six (count ‘em) children Auntie was confident Lola and Phelan would be having. As much as Lola had resisted the idea of living in Perdition, Phelan found it ironic that she spent most of her time in the town while she set up her business, while Phelan spent most of his time in Dallas, finishing up loose ends with the ongoing Harry Hines kidnapping investigation, and getting his affairs in order before his permanent move home to Perdition.
There had been a frustrating lack of progress in the case, and aside from the body of the changeling, they seemed no closer to uncovering who was responsible. Lola’s money had been restored to her accounts, the digital fingerprints of whoever had made it disappear carefully erased. Bubba had told Phelan he was bringing in someone with more resources than their small agency had. Another wolf he trusted.
No one had seen Dennis since the night of the homecoming dance. Phelan had been stunned when Dameron Lauder, Dennis’s father and the man who had banished his cousin Bubba from Perdition, showed up on his and Lola’s doorstep several weeks ago. The old alpha wanted Phelan to interview for the Police Chief’s job. The two men eventually came to an agreemen., Phelan would take over the police department after the first of the year. But tonight, the old man was nowhere in sight, which Phelan found odd.
“Hey there!” Phelan heard a cheerful voice in the crowd. Jasmine walked to them, dragging AJ behind her, and gave Lola a huge hug.
Lola returned Jasmine’s smile with a shaky one of her own.
“How are you these days?” Jasmine asked her friend, concern in her eyes.
“Oh, you know. Either sleeping or barfing.” Lola rolled her eyes and directed a death glare at Phelan, who held up his hands in surrender. “That crazy aunt of yours tried to warn me. Still, I think I’ll keep him.” Lola quirked an eyebrow at Phelan and gave him one of her heart-stopping smiles.
Jasmine let out a snortle that sounded like geese honking. The two women, who had become besties in no time, drifted away from the men, huddled in intimate chat.
“How’s it going, brother?” AJ asked.
“Can’t complain,” Phelan told him, thinking how true that was. This was the best time of his life, and he could not think of anything that would make it better.
“How’s it going with you?” Phelan wanted to know. “I heard about some kind of disaster at your place over Thanksgiving, but never got the whole story.”
“Uh, trust me. You don’t want the whole story,” AJ told him, and Phelan thought the man looked like he was blushing. “Just— trust me on that.”
Phelan decided not to press the matter. The women returned after making the rounds, chatting up folks in the crowd. Lola moved in on her man, placing her back to his front, and wiggled.
Phelan enveloped Lola in his arms and leaned in to kiss her neck.
“Does it feel like home yet?” he whispered.
She smiled at him, brown eyes shining.
“It’s always home when you’re here.”
Helen Castellano didn’t much appreciate how the holidays always rendered the corridors of Pantheon a ghost town in the middle of the afternoon. Irritating for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that Stella Washington, her assistant, always took several weeks off around the end of the year.
Helen could hire a temp to pick up the slack, but there was always risk involved. She knew Stella, and Stella knew her. Helen liked predictability from her humans, and there was risk of exposure if she let anyone else get close to her.
She’d had too many narrow escapes recently to willingly open herself up to that kind of risk.
This meant Helen was forced to fend for herself. As an executive, she was sufficiently insulated from Pantheon’s worker bee management layer and she didn’t attend many meetings. Most of her work involved approving human resource policies, orientation for high-level executive hires, and managing the concubine program.
Which left a lot of time for freelance projects.
Helen stepped into the executive elevator and pressed the lobby button. On the descent, she caught her reflection on the interior walls of the elevator car. Her features were indistinct, muted because polished steel wasn’t a perfect mirror. She rolled her shoulders back and straightened her posture, remembering how her mother, Rebecca, used to poke a spot in her back, between her shoulder blades, as a way of reminding Helen to stand up straight.
What would Rebecca think of me now?
Not that it mattered. Her mother had passed away long ago, a fact she’d occasionally forget, and when she remembered, the grief slammed into her like Rebecca had just died. Did anyone ever get over losing a parent? Helen doubted it. Her shoulders slumped, but when the elevator doors opened, she snapped to attention again.
In the lobby café, Helen ordered he
r usual tall black coffee with two espresso shots. While the coffee was being prepared, she glanced around the café. It was empty except for a lone figure huddled in a corner, a hoodie pulled low enough to obscure the face.
Helen turned her attention to her own affairs. Some random stranger didn't really interest her. She had a lot on her mind. Yet another operation had gone sideways. She’d had to tell her buyers that she would not be able to make her last delivery. They hadn’t been happy about it, but seemed consoled by her promise to resume shipments in the latter half of the upcoming year. That would give her time to hatch another changeling egg or two, allow the creatures to imprint on her, then identify new candidates. Hell, it probably wouldn’t hurt to start again in another city. She didn’t have to make a decision right away.
The counter service bot returned with her coffee.
“Thank you for your business, Ms. Castellano,” said the metallic, disembodied voice. Helen started to nod in acknowledgement, then felt foolish. It was a robot.
She turned to leave, then something caught her eye. The hooded figure in the corner was gone... but the hood itself was still there, as if the body within had simply disappeared. She realized with a start that she had seen the person before, but always wearing the hood. She wanted to see this person without the hood.
She held the coffee in one hand, her body turned toward the door to the lobby, but her eyes were held captive by the empty seat. Whoever had been there had left not only the hoodie behind, but a steamy cup of coffee as well. Helen approached the table like a marionette being dangled by tethers. Steam rose from the coffee cup. Black, black coffee, almost dark enough to be tar.
Just the way Helen took hers.
And on one side of the cup, a woman’s lip print, a dark, purplish red. Interesting, because she had always assumed the person often sitting in the back of the café was a male. She turned her head left and right, looking for the mysterious stranger. No one there. With a sigh, she turned to leave.
She jolted to an abrupt halt as she came face-to-face with a tall, striking, dark-skinned woman wearing the same lip color as the lip print on the coffee cup.
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