Hagen

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  Kari turned back to Hagen and gave him a once over. “She doesn’t look thrilled to be here either.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t use that tone on me.” Kari leaned into the counter. “You don’t scare me.” She reached out and grabbed a clump of hair attached to his chin and pulled his face close to hers. “Even with whatever sort of wild-man look this is you’re trying to pull off.”

  Hagen yanked his head back, refusing to wince as Kari’s fingers managed to keep a few of his straight, blonde beard hairs pinched in their grip. “People expect it.”

  “They’re not here to see you.” She snorted. “Not that they know of anyway.”

  “Hmph.” Hagen leaned back in his seat and went back to pretending he wasn’t wondering about the woman across the bar. Struggling not to find everything about her interesting. Alluring.

  Like the way she sipped at her tumbler while scratching a pencil across the open book set atop the bar in front of her. He wondered how she managed to end up a part of the latest group to film their trek through the mountains and why she was sitting at the bar now, an uninterested third wheel, not even trying to pretend she was anything else.

  He’d never seen anyone as comfortably out of place in his life.

  Hollering from the back pool room rattled through the dim quiet of the bar, dragging Hagen’s thoughts from Rhea.

  “I swear to God if something else gets broken I will kill those bastards. It took me forever to clean up all the glass from the mirrors they shattered the other night.” Kari’s eyes narrowed at the swinging saloon style doors separating the bar from the pool room where the last of the spring season’s ‘hunters’ were getting louder by the second. His sister threw down the white cloth she’d been using to wipe the counters and was almost to the break in the bar when the noise sharpened to distinct laughter.

  “Everything’s fine.” Hagen downed the last of his Guinness, wiping the foam off the hair over his upper lip with the tiny square napkin Kari set under his glass. “And I could use another.”

  Kari snatched her towel off the bar in front of him her eyes sparkling in the dimmed pendant lights hanging low over the bar. “You’ll have to wait. I think I’ll go check on a paying customer.” She grinned over her shoulder at him and headed for the woman he had a hard time ignoring this evening. It was making him edgy, irritable. And the night was young.

  This was the third night in a row he had to come to the bar. Once to help Jerrik walk the guys in the pool room home. Last night to break-up a fight with another group passing through on their way deeper into the mountains, and now tonight as a preemptive move. The bastards from Florida were becoming more of a pain in his ass every day. If that was possible.

  Kari leaned against the bar in front of Rhea, his sister’s long frame blocking Hagen’s view of the woman with hair the color of the sun just before it dipped behind the mountains on a summer night. His heavy boot tapped against the footrest as he fought the urge to use what his brother considered a perk of their existence. A gift to one was a curse to the other.

  It would be easy. Let that side of him creep in. Just a little. Enough that he could hear what was being said between the two women.

  That’s why Kari was blocking him. To tempt Hagen into falling back on what he considered a curse. To torture him the way all little sisters did to their brothers. Even after they grew up.

  He should leave. Call Jerrik. Make his brother come take over guard duty then go home to get a head start on the sleep he was going to lose over the next three weeks, stuck in the woods, babysitting a group of LA’s finest hipsters planning ‘the most immersed Bigfoot documentary ever filmed’.

  At least that’s what the skinny guy sitting next to Stewart dressed like Paul Bunyan in Converse sneakers tried to convince his YouTube followers of as he and his cell phone wandered through the general store recording every nook and cranny this afternoon.

  Kari sauntered back his way, pausing to fill him another beer from the tap. She set it along with a fresh napkin square on the bar in front of him. “She’s different isn’t she?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Hagen downed as much of his Guinness in one gulp as he could, trying to drown the unwarranted irritation he felt at his sister’s description of Rhea.

  Kari’s pale blonde brows lifted in surprise. “That was harsh.” She gave him a sly smile. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset.” He could feel the scowl on his face betraying him.

  Kari’s smile widened. “Different doesn’t mean bad you know.” She yanked his beard, playfully this time. “You’re different.”

  Maybe that’s why it upset him Kari put the description on someone like Rhea. His eyes drifted around his sister, catching the swish of red hair as Rhea flipped her book closed and tucked it into her purse. She leaned into Stewart’s side.

  He couldn’t resist this time.

  “You have to do all that to hear her say she’s leaving?” Kari smacked at him with her towel.

  Hagen cocked an eyebrow.

  Kari rolled her eyes. “Just because I can’t doesn’t mean I don’t know when you guys do.”

  The hair on the back of Hagen’s neck pricked and his muscles started to twitch.

  “Speak of the devil.” Kari slowly turned to look toward the back room.

  Hagen could feel the unease as it rolled off his sister’s body. She may not think it but Kari had at least a little of the family curse running through her veins. More than enough to know the tone in the pool room just suddenly shifted.

  Hagen stood up and tipped his head from one side to the other and took a long slow breath.

  One.

  He walked toward the louvered doors and his skin began to itch.

  Two.

  Without the wall of mirrors across the back side of the bar he had to guess how well he was managing to keep the curse at bay.

  Three.

  Hagen slowly pushed open the doors and stepped into the room. The smell of fear and testosterone fogged the air around him making his hair follicles tighten to the point of pain as he fought the change with every fiber of his being.

  Four...

  Five...

  Six.

  “You boys alright back here?” Hagen smiled across the room at his reflection in the only mirror to survive yesterday’s ethanol fueled brawl. He hated it, what his family was, but every now and then was a rare moment where he could forget what it cost him, what he would be without because of it, and enjoy what it did bring. This was one of those moments.

  The raging hormones dropped like humidity falling into dew and every set of beer-glazed eyes in the room widened, panic clear as day behind their dilated pupils.

  “Seemed like it was gettin’ a little heavy back here.” Hagen crossed his arms over the black ribbed tank he changed into after closing down the general store. “Just making sure you guys aren’t trying to end up like your friends.”

  Things didn’t usually get too out of hand around here but last night it took Hagen, his brother and their uncle a good ten minutes to break-up the fight that landed another group of hunters handcuffed in the back room of his brother’s makeshift station until enough deputies could be rounded up to transport the rowdy bunch to the county seat.

  The men’s eyes shifted around the room, not one single gaze making it back to Hagen. He stood taller, the wad of hair tied at the top of his skull brushing against the door jam. “It’s pretty quiet. You must all be real tired.” He stepped to one side and held one of the swinging doors open. “Probably you should call it a night.”

  Pool cues were placed back on racks and empty bottles hit the large can beside him as each man found his way past Hagen and into the bar. Kari flipped on the lights as they filed through, heads down.

  “Night boys.” Kari waved from the bar where Stewart and his skinny-jean-wearing friend were cuddled up alone, whispering to each other.

  Hagen followed the line
of sulking men to the door, holding it open as they left, watching them wander into the dark street outside. The last one cleared the frame and he pulled the door shut. “Want me to lock it?”

  “Yup.” His sister crossed to the back room and flipped off the lights. “I think I’m done serving them tonight.”

  Hagen flipped the lock. “I might call Jerrik. See about finding a way to encourage those boys to go back to Fl—” He froze every muscle in his body tight.

  Something was wrong.

  Kari’s eyes widened. She spun to look at Rhea’s empty seat at the bar.

  If she turned back around he didn’t know.

  Hagen was gone. His rapidly growing strength easily knocking the deadbolt through the door’s wood frame, sending splinters flying onto the sidewalk as he ran into the street. He didn’t have to slow down to find her. Hagen knew where Rhea was. He could smell her soft amber scent on the breeze.

  Along with fear. And agony.

  Her voice pierced the night and Hagen pushed harder, ran faster, skin burning and muscles twitching as the beast fought its way through his body. And he let it. Let the easy anger heat his blood, fuel his strength.

  Then he saw her and stopped short.

  Rhea looked up at him, her tank top hanging loosely to one side, the left strap snapped in two, leaving the swell of her breast and the delicate lace of a white bra exposed to the humid night air. Her red hair flew wildly in the winds lingering from the day’s storm and the brown of her eyes was almost completely gold, glowing in the darkness.

  A can of bear spray was clutched in her hand, still aimed at the man writhing on the ground at her feet.

  The fear he smelled was hers. The agony was not.

  Hagen ran to her, leaping over the prick who would suffer more yet tonight. “Are you okay?”

  She blew out a breath and snapped the cap back on her bear spray before tucking it into the front pocket of her purse. “I’m fine. I felt him coming.”

  Rhea looked up at Hagen and blinked her eyes several times. “He might need to go to the hospital though. That stuff’s pretty strong.”

  Hagen eased her away from the moaning man. “That’s the point.” He urged her down the sidewalk.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Should we just leave him there?”

  The short answer was yes. The bastard should get to lay there as long as humanly possible for what he tried to do. “Jerrik is coming. He’ll take care of it.”

  She looked up at him, the gold in her eyes already dissipating. “Did you call him?”

  Hagen pulled her along, the need to get Rhea as far away from that spot urging him ahead. “Something like that.”

  Rhea was safely on the front porch of the B&B just as Hagen caught his brother’s presence. No doubt Jerrik would be using as much of his ‘gift’ as possible while rounding up the rest of the group and giving them a police escort out of town. That was one of many differences between Hagen and his brother.

  Jerrik loved what they were. Embraced it. Used it as much and as often as he could.

  Hagen spent years learning how to repress it, shove it down deep enough that some days he could even forget it was there. Not many, but some was better than none.

  Rhea climbed the stoop to the front door, bringing her almost to his height. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” It was true and the disappointment ate at him.

  She looked at him, her eyes moving slowly over his face as one hand softly came to rest on his arm. The heat of her skin against his moved through Hagen like the adrenaline that fueled the changes he fought so hard to control.

  “But you would have.”

  He couldn’t move, as if her touch paralyzed him. “Yes.”

  Rhea leaned in, her lips brushing softly across the hair of his cheek. She pulled back slightly, hesitating.

  And then her lips were on his. Hot and soft. Strong and sweet. She tasted like whiskey and peppermint. Felt like nothing he’d ever had and everything he’d always needed.

  Hagen pushed against her, pressing her back against the front door, his hands cupping her face, winding in her hair.

  Her hair.

  He released her and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  And then he left.

  4

  Rhea squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was still asleep.

  Or dead. That felt a little closer to the truth.

  “Re-Re.” Stewart bounced against the mattress with each syllable. “You have to get your pretty ass out of the damn bed. It is time to go.”

  She tried to pull at the covers, needing to shut out the light filtering through the canopy draped across the bedposts.

  “No way missy.” Stewart tugged them from her grip. “You wanted to get going. So it’s time to get going.”

  Rhea rolled to her stomach and pressed her throbbing head into the pillows, groaning. “What time is it?”

  “I just told you that.” He bounced against the mattress again. The motion made her stomach roll.

  “If you don’t stop I’m going to puke on you.”

  All movement ceased. “Are you kidding? You better be kidding.” Stewart gagged. “Don’t even talk about that sh—” He gagged again. “You know I can’t even think about shit like that or I’ll be sick.” The sag of the mattress lifted as he climbed off the bed and rushed to the bathroom.

  Rhea smiled into the pillows in spite of her splitting headache. Easiest way to win with Stewart was to mention vomit. Or feces. Or the word moist. It was a dirty move but after making her sit at the bar for two hours while he and Chauncey made kissy face he deserved it as far as she was concerned.

  Squinting against the overhead light Stewart switched on when he came sneaking in this morning, Rhea tested a peek into the room. Her brain didn’t explode so that was a good sign. One of the only ones. Her mouth tasted like crap and felt like cotton. She eased into a sitting position, grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand and guzzled half, hoping to alleviate at least one of her current problems. “Where have you been?”

  Stewart appeared in the bathroom doorway, his bright smile a clear indication his spell was forgotten. “With Chauncey.”

  Rhea dropped her head to one side. “We’ve talked about this Stewart. Don’t just give it away. You have to make them work for it or they don’t appreciate it.”

  His hand pressed to his chest and Stewart looked at her as if she suggested he was a harlot. “I am not like that.” He pursed his lips. “Anymore.”

  She raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

  “I am serious.” Stewart rushed to the bed and sat on the edge. “It was wonderful. We stayed up all night talking.”

  Now she really didn’t believe him. “About what?”

  “Everything.” Stewart sighed and fell back to the mattress. “His hopes and dreams. What he wants out of life. His family.”

  Rhea wanted to smack Stewart right in the middle of his forehead. “Did you get to do any of the talking?”

  “He’s so fascinating Re-Re.” Stewart rolled to face her, his smile faltering when he saw her face. “He is. You just need to talk to him more. You’ll see.”

  It didn’t sound like Chauncey was the kind of guy who talked to you. More like at you. “Did you plant any of those seeds we talked about?”

  Stewart huffed. “You have to be patient with a man like Chauncey.”

  “So that’s a no.” Rhea slid out of bed and grabbed her backpack off the small chest of drawers tucked into the corner, digging around until she found the bottle her brain desperately needed right now.

  “I will.” Stewart sat up and smoothed his hands up and down the legs of his jeans then stopped abruptly. “Did you see what happened last night?”

  Rhea popped three ibuprofen into her mouth and chased them with the last swig from her bottle. “No. What happened?”

  “Damn.” Stewart stood up and started fishing through her bag. “I was hoping you saw something.”
He pulled out her lip moisturizer and smeared it across his full lips. “That man’s beard is killing me.”

  “That’s not a beard.” Rhea pulled a set of clothes from her suitcase. “That’s forgetting to shave once or twice.”

  Stewart tipped his head at her. “Just because it isn’t as full and majestic as Big and Scary’s doesn’t mean it’s not a beard.” Her friend shook his head slowly, eyes open wide. “You shoulda seen it last night. I swear that thing grew two inches.” Stewart motioned around his face. “It was everywhere. Looked almost as wild and crazy as he did when Jerrik drug him back to the bar.”

  Rhea stopped in the bathroom doorway. Her already parched throat went dry as the last of the night’s whiskey haze cleared.

  Oh shit.

  She turned and went back to her purse, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out her pepper spray. “Did he say anything?”

  Stewart watched her inspect the bottle. “Enough that I know he was pissed Jerrik wouldn’t let him do whatever it was he wanted to do. Those two were throwing each other around until Bigger and Scarier got there and hauled his mini me off.” Stewart shrugged. “Then Jerrik told the bartender he would handle it.”

  This was why people like her shouldn’t drink. While alcohol was pretty effective at taking Rhea’s mind off the implications of how unusually strong she could feel Hagen’s emotions, it was less effective at dulling her own. In fact, it actually loosened the strangle hold she liked to keep on them, leading her to make a very bad decision based on those feelings.

  Feelings she preferred not to have.

  Rhea put the spray back where it belonged, rubbing her belly as the full impact of what happened after too many glasses of good whiskey hit her stomach. Peppering the guy from the bar was the least terrible thing she did last night.

  And now she got to go wander around the mountains with the other man she assaulted. That should be interesting. And awkward. And extremely uncomfortable.

  But being around Hagen was already most of those things.

  Except, apparently, when she was enjoying the feel of his big body shoved into hers, tasting the stout beer on his tongue, pretending that kissing a man she was wickedly fascinated by was something a person with her unwanted abilities could do without any sort of ramifications.