Jessie.
Based on what Sebastian had heard through the pipeline, Momar still didn’t know the infamous Elliot Graves was helping Jessie. Sebastian would like to make sure that stayed an open question for as long as possible. The less their enemies knew, the less powerful they’d be.
“Okay everyone, listen up,” a shifter shouted, putting up his hands to get everyone’s attention.
Sebastian vaguely recalled that he was one of the shifters who’d grown up in Kingsley’s pack and joined Austin’s pack with Kingsley’s blessing.
“We’ve got six rooms booked,” the shifter went on, “which is nearly half of this motel. You’ll need to get in, get dressed and/or showered, and get out. While you’re waiting for your turn, or waiting for everyone to finish, feel free to explore the town. It is mostly comprised of Dicks, but they are aware of shifters. The Dicks are like those in Alpha Steele’s territory—either okay with magic, or very good at turning a blind eye. However, they have likely never seen a gargoyle. Don’t mind them staring. There is a strict no-challenge policy outside of Alpha Kingsley’s pack. You can use posturing to stop someone from staring, but no violence. Not unless they start it, and they rarely do.”
“We’re not so fragile that we get up in arms whenever someone looks at us,” one of the gargoyles muttered.
“Maybe that’s because no one notices you,” said a shifter with short platinum-blonde hair—
Isabelle, her name was. She smirked, and the gargoyle glowered.
Austin nodded to the announcer before hefting a couple of bags out of one of the vans and murmuring something to Jessie. She glanced out over the crowd, a little crease between her brows, before nodding and heading toward the motel.
“John, get them a key,” the announcer said, motioning to someone in the crowd.
“Jessie’s going to hang back to make sure her team follows protocol,” Nessa whispered, walking up to stand beside him. “Betcha anything.”
“Well if it weren’t for her, I doubt a couple of them would’ve even been allowed on the plane.”
“Niamh’s on shaky ground after what happened in the air.” Nessa grinned. She’d been caught with her alcohol stash but had refused to relinquish it.
Sebastian started chuckling helplessly, remembering Mr. Tom shaking his head and muttering,
“You should never try to take a puca’s alcohol. That’s a sure way to get killed.”
“But you do it all the time,” Ulric had replied to him.
“I tell her to stop drinking, or not to start drinking, or to get rid of that insufferable cooler, but I never try to actually take her beverage. There are some lines that a body just should not cross, especially with foul-tempered, miserable old lushes.”
Sebastian sighed. “I’m surprised Cyra didn’t get arrested for what she did with that fireball.”
He hadn’t witnessed it, but apparently she’d started rolling fire across her knuckles out of boredom. When the flight attendant hurried over to take away her lighter, Cyra had taken it upon herself to prove she didn’t have one by creating a fireball.
The flight attendant had, quite rightly, freaked out, and the onboard marshal had been forced to frisk her.
“Yeah,” Nessa added. “Thank God for Jessie keeping her head and calming things down.”
“She didn’t find it as funny as everyone else did,” he said. “Cyra is a nut. I love her antics.”
“Me too. I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face.”
“Hey, Weird Mage.” The shifter who’d been shouting directions walked over to them with a hard expression and no-nonsense vibe. He held out a key. The scratched red plastic attached to it read 3.
“You and your gal pal are in the first batch to get showers. Get freshened up.” The shifter paused with a slight sneer. “Dress shirt, slacks, combed hair… You do have a comb, don’t you?”
In their territory, only the newest shifters tended to show signs of animosity toward Sebastian.
He’d proven himself in the pack multiple times over by now.
Apparently old habits died hard. Now that these shifters were heading into battle with mages, they
were letting old misgivings resurface. Sebastian had wondered how he’d be received in Kingsley’s pack. He’d probably just gotten his answer. He hoped it wouldn’t escalate.
“He doesn’t, actually,” Nessa quipped, always quick to come to Sebastian’s defense. “Not since you borrowed it to comb out your bush.” She looked down at his crotch pointedly. “You might try to trim that down, by the way. I’ve heard it helps make things look bigger, though I doubt there’s much of a point with you.”
Fire kindled in the shifter’s eyes. Nessa always knew how to cut to the quick of a person.
“And what about you, Gal Pal?” The shifter leaned into her a little, dominating her with his size.
“You always walk around looking like a little rat. Did you have to raid the lost-and-found bin for this trip?”
“The lost-and-found?” she asked innocently. “No. I needed something nicer. I grabbed the date-night clothes you use on your sex doll. I was surprised you had so many outfits. Never felt the touch of a real woman, huh?”
His body bristled, and his arms flared away from his body, the dominating posturing turning aggressive.
“What did you just say to me, mage—”
“Cam!” Tristan’s voice was a whip crack. The shifter leaning into Nessa jerked away. “What’s the delay? Get moving.”
Tristan wasn’t in charge of the shifters, but it didn’t seem to matter. Cam straightened up quickly, pulling back on the aggression. Without a word, he turned and headed back toward the vans.
Tristan stood a little removed from the others, his blank gaze on Nessa. In a moment, he went back to scanning the goings-on of everyone else.
“How gross would that be?” Sebastian asked as he grabbed his carry-on. “His sex doll? Ew.”
She grabbed her bag, and they walked toward the motel. “I know, but he’s a dimwitted grunt. I knew he’d miss the details. I would’ve had a field day if someone had said that to me.”
“I’m still stuck on ew.”
She laughed as they entered the shabby room that hadn’t seen an update since it was probably built in nineteen-too-long-ago.
“See anything?” she asked, jerking her head in the direction of the street.
“Only looky-loos so far. Our outfit is turning heads.”
“Of course it is. There’s a bunch of hard-eyed stacks of muscle standing around outside of luxury vans. Half of them have capes, for goodness’ sake. Everyone in this tiny town is going to know within the hour.” She affected an older man’s voice. “Hey, Ethel, there’s a bunch of guys dressed up as Batman at that motel on the strip. Damndest thing I ever did see.”