“Shite,” Niamh grumbled, pulling the travel bottle away from her body and looking down at the spreading stain on her shirt. I hadn’t even noticed she’d been drinking from her stash—something I was pretty sure wasn’t allowed.
“Sorry, ma’am,” I told the agent, now trying to angle my body so she couldn’t see Niamh. “He didn’t mean— He, himself, is a little off-kilter.”
“How dare you,” Mr. Tom said, stepping away a little.
I yanked his ticket free and handed it to the agent. “His age has caught up with him. We’re getting him treatment.”
“This is an outrage,” he said, his hands on his hips and his wings fluttering.
The other agent, standing beside the first, noticed. Her eyes rounded.
“They’re mechanized. Here we go.” I scanned the ticket myself, something half the agents had people do anyway. I handed it back to him and magically shoved him toward the tunnel to the plane.
“All is well.”
Next I turned to Niamh and reached for her ticket.
“Get rid of that!” I whispered at her, my gaze dropping to the little bottle that she hadn’t stowed away.
“Yer such a spoilsport,” she grumbled, and, with very impressive sleight of hand, the bottle disappeared somewhere into her clothes. “I’ll scan it. Good heavens, Jessie, cut the apron strings.”
She pushed ahead of me and scanned her own ticket.
“Don’t worry about that muppet,” Niamh told the agent. “He insists on that ratty old cape. The oul codger thinks Batman stole his identity. Never got over it. Sure, our friends dress up in capes just to make him happy. Too much trouble, if ye ask me.”
“Right, okay.” I stepped in again to hurry this along. “People are waiting. No need to embellish the story.”
Despite the fact that he had a first-class ticket and should’ve gotten on the plane with the first boarding group, Tristan was the very last person, besides me.
“Hey,” I said, stepping in beside him with my ticket finally out and ready to be scanned.
“Hey,” he replied, gesturing for me to go in front of him.
“Why were you way back here? Did you decide that joining this territory was a terrible idea and, as Niamh would say, you were about to pull a runner?”
He gave me a lopsided grin, then broke down into chuckles. “No, but I decided I better take up the rear in case someone got ejected or hauled off to prison or…who knew what.”
Tristan had taken lead during Edgar’s flower show fiasco. He’d had a few moments of what the hell have I gotten myself into, followed by some hardcore self-reflection that Austin had had to walk him through. The poor guy had been thrown for a loop .
“I appreciate it,” I told him honestly, waiting for him. “Maybe you can take over my role as babysitter.”
The agent’s eyes widened as she looked up at him, taking in his height and width. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and then an appreciative flush crept into her cheeks as she noticed his handsome face.
“Wingman does me just fine, thanks,” he told me, nodding his thanks to her before walking with me toward the tunnel. “I don’t have enough patience to manage that crew. It’s like herding cats toward a bathtub.”
I laughed with the analogy. “At least I’ve earned the free champagne, huh? That’s a plus.”
“You have, no question. Jessie…if I may…” He slowed as we neared the open passenger door.
“What are we walking into with this new shifter territory? I’ve heard that Austin’s brother is a lot more intense. Is that going to be a problem for our people?”
I stopped next to him and half turned, looking back the way we’d come. “Honestly, Tristan, I don’t know. Some of the shifters are nervous, which makes me a bit nervous. I suspect there isn’t a lot of joking around in their pack, and showing any levity might make them think you’re weak. They’ll want to prove their dominance over the merged pack. That might mean a lot of challenges. I just don’t know.”
“You’re saying that if my gargoyles laugh and act like normal people, they’ll get heat from these other shifters?”
I briefly hesitated in answering. “I expect so. I was warned that they’d challenge me, and that I should go hard when they do. ‘Nearly kill them’ sort of hard. I think we’re about to walk into a turbulent situation, although I can’t say for sure. It certainly defies my logic that they’d want to challenge us, since we’re showing up to help them. And what is with shifters thinking they need to have the emotional range of a stone to look tough? It’s so dumb. But…” I shrugged. “That’s the culture as I understand it. A culture Austin has slowly started to change in our pack. Other than that, I know as little as you do.”
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes sharp and wings still. A smile slowly soaked up his expression.
“A little turbulence might help pass the time,” he finally said. “Go hard or go home, right, Jessie?”
THREE
Sebastian
THEY’D JUST ARRIVED at a motel about a half-hour away from Kingsley’s territory. Austin had booked a collection of rooms so they’d have somewhere to get freshened up and wait for the basajaunak and extra supplies on the chartered flight. Once all the species in the first wave were collected and presentable, they’d travel the last leg of the journey to their new home for the foreseeable future.
Sebastian wandered a little way from the people pulling their carry-ons from the van. The Rocky Mountains rose in the distance, huge and jagged with snow-capped mountains and formidable peaks.
The sky stretched overhead, the puffy clouds seemingly right over top of them, lower than in O’Briens, given the elevation change. Trees bordered the little town, and streetlights ran the length on either side of the street.
Kingsley’s territory was due north, nestled in the rolling hills between mountain ranges, straddling a river. In all the traveling he’d done for mage dinners or conventions, he’d never been to Wyoming. It might’ve been too rural for the mages he often meddled with, but wow, it sure was beautiful.
Regardless, he knew that if he saw any mages in this area, especially right outside of Kingsley’s territory, they were enemies. That was just logic.
He watched an old Toyota slowly roll by, the man in the driver’s seat staring out the passenger window at the vans and their group of misfits. A woman walking her bulldog down the way stopped as the dog lifted its leg to a bush. She raised her hand against the glare of the sun, checking out the strangers. News of their arrival would spread fast. With any luck, they could keep their adversaries in the dark about how many mages they had.
They’d left survivors after their battle with Momar’s people in the basajaunak lands, wanting the story to get back to other mages. But it had developed and changed in ways Sebastian hadn’t anticipated, possibly because they’d hit the surviving mage with a nightmare spell and sent him home in a coffin—not the kind of thing conducive to good mental health. It was like the story had gone through a few rounds of the game “Telephone” in a loud bar full of drunks. It had been twisted and morphed, becoming something other. Something dark, about an intensely powerful magical monster.