Blackbirds & Bourbon (3 page)

Unaware of my train of thought, Sy eyes me up and down. Then nods as if making a decision. “We’ll start with a modified form of judo.” Apparently the heart-to-heart portion of our conversation is over. “It’s part of what I’m teaching the bruins. They’re naturals at hand to hand but not very disciplined.”

“Why judo?”

“’Cause you’re a shrimp. Did you see that move I used on Ajax?”

“Hard to miss two-hundred-plus pounds of red-headed bruin going splat.”

“How’d you like to do that to Tyr next time he shows up?” Her eyes give a speculative gleam. “Or Jack?”

I smile—my first one of the day. “Judo it is.”

Two
hours later, I’m ready to cry. My body is already sobbing metaphorically.

“Face it, I’m a wimp.”

Sy raises her eyebrows. “Stop whining.”

We’re alone. She locked the gym door after Dom tried to come in with a bag of popcorn to watch the ‘show.’

With an exaggerated pout, I stumble back as she feints. “But isn’t this the part where you say not to worry, that I’ll be a registered lethal weapon by the time you’re done with me?”

With a snort, Sy moves so fast she’s like a damn vampire, throwing a punch that I dodge and a sweep kick that I don’t, knocking me on my butt again. I’m beginning to think I should stay on the floor. My ass may be more padded than most, but it still hurts to land on it over and over. I groan and lie back, throwing an arm over my eyes.

“You want to hear a bunch of bullshit, go to a therapist. I can recommend several.” She can, too. Syana tried all kinds of therapy once she was clear of her dad, but none of it ever really took. Then she found out about my world and turned to ass-kicking. Turns out it was a better way to cope. For her. “We don’t have time to make you into a lethal anything, but that doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. Now get your whiny butt up.”

I curse but get back on my feet stiffly. “Come on, Sy. I suck hardcore.”

“You don’t actually suck, though you’re never gonna be as good as Tyr.

“Then how I am supposed to beat him or anyone else?”

“Tell you a secret. I’m not as good as Tyr either, but I still took him out. How?”

“With a frying pan, Rapunzel.”

“With the element of surprise, brat. Neither Jack or Tyr—or anyone else—thinks you’re much of a fighter, right?”

“Duh. Because I’m not.”

“Which is why we’re gonna focus on two moves that will give you the edge in a pinch. You’ll practice on me first then we’ll get Dom and Ajax in here and you can have a go at them.”

“Then why’ve we been sparring all morning? Just so you could knock me around?”

“Not completely. I had to get a feel for where you’re at,” She grins. “
And
because it was a fun to knock you around.”

“You have a sadistic streak a mile wide, Syana Jean.”

“I know.” That grin widens. “Ajax loves it.”

I am sore in every place except the tip of my nose when I slide gingerly into a seat at the dinner table later that night. Syana and both the twins insisted I stay for dinner, so I told myself it would be rude to refuse. It’s not like I’m eager to go home anyway.

The bruins have a habit of taking meals together. All of them are decent cooks, but tonight it’s not one of the guys on KP duty. There’s only one female bear at the Den at the moment, the same one who’s been a constant around here for the last decade or so. Agatha Nilson, Georg’s aunt. Tall, blonde and built, Aggies grimaces when she sees me, but gives me a semi-polite nod and slides me a fully loaded plate: fried walleye with a side of wild rice and salad. Unlike most shifters, bruins aren’t big meat eaters. Their diet is heavy on greens, fish and fruit.

I thank her with a smile. She opens her mouth and I tense, but then her nephew walks in. Dressed in a half-buttoned black flannel shirt and jeans, Georg doesn’t blink at seeing me. No surprise. I’m sure he’s known I was here from the moment I set foot on his land. Stephen is right behind the bruin king, the pair of them nearly of a size, which is pretty much huge squared. Georg is over six and a half feet tall, Stephen a shade under that. Both of them wider than the proverbial brick shithouse. But where Georg is all browns and golds—from his hair, to his eyes to his tanned skin—Stephen is black haired and blue-eyed, an anomaly in the bruin world. 

Agatha moves to serve them, whatever she was about to say to me forgotten. For now anyway. I like Agatha okay, but I’ve never gotten the impression she’s approved of me. She never had cubs of her own, and clearly she thinks of Georg as her son. The fact that I turned down his proposal, repeatedly, and am the reason for half a pack of werewolves being slaughtered on his land is not something she’s likely to take without comment.

But for now we eat.

And how.

I’ve missed this. The dining room is big and warm, crackling with the sound of fire, laughter and rough male voices. We’re ranged around the sturdy farmhouse-style table, Georg at the head, Agatha at the foot. I catch her looking at me now and then, but I avoid eye contact, not talking much. Just listening to the others and eating my food.

I notice Stephen studying me a time or two, but unlike Agatha, he merely looks speculative, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Stephen’s always been the quiet one, the enigma. But one thing that’s crystal clear about the black bear is his loyalty to the man next to him. The man who, as far as I can tell, never once looks my way.

Then halfway through the meal, Georg asks out of nowhere, “When’s the inquiry, Seph?”

The directness startles me even as the table goes quiet. I swallow my fish and take a sip of water before answering. “The twenty-second.”

Georg nods, then looks down at his plate. “Well, feel free to stay here as long as you like.”

My throat tightens. “You sure about that?” I force a laugh. “You know what a pain in the ass I can be.”

He raises his eyes, that warm brown glinting in the firelight. “Look around, Seph, I’m surrounded by pains in the ass. What’s one more?”

Despite his light tone and the laughter at the table, my eyes sting and I close them briefly. Maybe things are okay between me and Georg. Maybe I can have my friend back… Then I catch Agatha’s gaze. Even though her eyes are the exact same shade as her nephew’s, there’s no warmth to be found there.

I lift my chin and blink, turning away from her to toast Georg with my glass. “Thanks, Your Highness. I think I will hang out for a few days. Give Syana the chance to bruise the bit of skin she missed today.”

Why not?
I refuse to look at Agatha for the rest of the meal, feeling the teeniest bit relieved. I’m pissed at the world, and staying here with the bruins and Sy is incredibly appealing. Benji can take care of T&T for a few days, so there’s no real reason to go home.

At least until Yule.

I spend the next three days getting my ass kicked, stuffing my face and playing
Call of Duty: Black Ops
with Dominic, who as predicted is pretty much back to being his old self now that Georg has officially extended his welcome. All the bruins are being friendly, but I don’t see much of Georg and that’s okay. Agatha keeps trying to corner me, but I manage to avoid her by hook and crook.

Late Thursday night, my fourth night since leaving Duluth, I’m lounging in a pair of Syana’s sweats and a tank top, kicking back in the living area playing on the Xbox with Dom again. Georg and Stephen are off doing something shifter-y, and Ajax and Syana are off doing something that probably has to do with inserting tab A into slot B.

“Fuck! You really kick ass in the virtual world, Seph.” Dom gives an impressed whistle as I no-scope him yet again. Leaning back, I stifle a groan. God, my legs hurt. And my arms. And my fucking toes.

“That’s because in the virtual world kicking ass doesn’t hurt so goddamn much.”

“It’ll get better. You just need to get used to—”

“Having my butt filleted and handed to me?”

He chuckles. “You’re coming along. You can throw me around pretty good and you even tossed Jax on his ass today.”

I shake my head. “It’s not so hard when you’re not really trying. On someone who’s actually trying to kill me, I might have a teensy bit more trouble.”

“The whole point is for you to catch someone off guard so that shit doesn’t m—”

“I want a word with Persephone.”

I jump as the cool tone slices across Dom’s easy one. I didn’t even see Agatha enter the room, but now she’s hard to miss. Arms folded over her chest, she looks bigger than she should, as if her bear is trying to intimidate me. It’s kind of working.

Usually, I’m not a person who minds confrontation. I’d rather get shit over with than make myself sick about it. I despise that feeling of the other shoe about to drop. Probably why I’m not dealing so well with everything in my life right now.

The last few days, however, I seem to have gotten a bit cozy with avoidance. The thought shames me.

I sit up straighter, meeting her gaze levelly, even though inside I’m squirming.

“Aggie.” Dominic looks pained, but when she puts up a hand, he sighs and puts down the controller, shooting me an apologetic look. Bruins don’t often challenge the authority of older females, especially ones related to their king. I shrug to let him know we’re cool and click off the Xbox as he leaves us.

Night is pressing tight against the glass windows, slick and black. Agatha’s blond hair glows against the darkness as she leans back, watching me. I’ve never seen her bear, but I can imagine it all too well right now. I get to my feet.

“Look, Ag, I get you’re pissed about what Georg did to help me—”

“No,” she bites out. “I’m really not. That’s my nephew, it’s the way he’s built. Georg wouldn’t be Georg if he hadn’t gone after those wolves with you. It’s exactly that protective nature that made him propose to you.”

I wince. I do know now that Georg was trying to protect me, but I sure didn’t at the time. Though if Agatha thinks that’s the only reason he proposed, she’s delusional. “About that—”

“And I don’t blame you for turning him down either,” she says, cutting me off again. “In fact, that’s one of the few things you’ve done that I can respect. He’s too good for the likes of you.”

She may be right, but it feels like a low blow. And she’s not done yet.

“Tell me, Persephone, are you so oblivious that you don’t understand how much danger you’re putting Georg, and all of us in?” She gives me an incredulous look when I flinch. “Knowing the Council is looking at you for what happened up in Duluth—”

“That wasn’t me!”

“So you say.” She looks unconvinced. I frown, but suddenly it strikes me how other FTCs might see the mall situation in light of what I did to the werewolves.

Maybe everyone is already thinking I’m unhinged. In fact—

That’s it.
Fucking hell.

This is why Tyr set me up the way he did.

Stick the witch between a rock and a hard place, make her look like an unraveling nutcase and get her magic taken away—legitimately. Someone swoops in—probably someone he’s working with—kills me, grabs the bounty and they split the profits. Like taking candy from a baby. End-of-the-world problem solved, and Tyr doesn’t have to worry about my sisters tagging him for my demise or the rest of the FTC world giving a shit about one less witch.

Shit.
My hands clench. But what’s the damn stone for, then?

“Not to mention who else is after you, too.” Her voice has lowered to a whisper and I flinch again, yanked out of my daze. Obviously, Agatha knows all about the Dark Council’s bounty. “You would bring all this to our doorstep and act like it means nothing. Like what he does for you means
nothing
—”

““

“That’s enough, Aunt Aggie.” Georg’s voice is deep and quiet. Neither Agatha or I noticed him enter, which considering his size, is a testament to the man’s skills. He pads across the room in bare feet, his face stern.

She whirls, blond hair flying. “Georg—”

“I said enough.” The rough words aren’t so much spoken as growled. I can feel the floorboards vibrate under my toes. Agatha bites her lip. Throwing a look at me over her shoulder, she stomps out.

“Sorry,” Georg says into the sudden stillness, taking the seat Dom left a few minutes ago, looking up at me calmly, “but you know Aggie, Seph. She’s protective and she thinks you hurt me.”

“And did I?”

He leans back, his long hair loose over his broad shoulders, glinting gold in the lamplight, every inch the powerful bruin king. “Surprisingly enough I’m tougher than I look.”

“I don’t know. You look pretty goddamn tough.” It doesn’t escape me that he didn’t really answer my question, but I guess neither of us wants to go there.

“My point exactly.” Georg smiles. “Don’t let what Aggie said bother you. She worries too much.”

I can’t blame her. Georg did kind of break his word to Owen and Luna. After promising the werewolves safe passage through his lands, he led Jack and me right to them when we told him they had Carly and Sy. I shiver, rubbing my bare arms as I look away from him, out into the night and at the lake winking under the stars. The magic in our world doesn’t like broken vows; it will always seek to balance the scales. FTC karma is a bitch, a murderous one.
I should leave. I really should
—

As if reading my mind, Georg shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because an old friend is asking you nicely not to. So sit down, dammit. I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

I snort—since standing I’m barely taller than he is sitting—but drop back into my chair.

He smiles and pulls a bottle of Patron from a cabinet under the TV. “Have a couple drinks with me.”