Witch and Werewolf: The Fire, The Pursuit, The Reckoning (BBW Paranormal Shifter Romance) (8 page)

As he worked
Deston noted the shift in temperature.  He figured the thermometer had dropped about fifteen degrees in the last hour.    Likely a storm was rolling in.  The sky darkened with clouds and the wind changed direction.  He stiffened suddenly as an unbidden low growl began to roll from his throat. 

Blood. 

Beneath the veneer of salt and surf the coppery scent was unmistakable to the wolf within him.  His eyes darted around and his shoulders tensed.  All around him workers hurriedly began cleaning up the job site for the day as the laborers glanced at the threatening sky.  He could see nothing amiss, yet he was certain he was not mistaken. 

“Hell of a squall
movin’ in!”  Deston recognized the speaker.  The man was frequently one of the crew, but never seemed to be positioned close by during the backbreaking days.   Bright blue eyes watched Deston from beneath a tousle of brown hair.  Deston recalled the foreman growling “Gallagher”, a name which fit the lyrical accent. 

Deston
nodded as the man waited for an answer.  He felt vaguely disconcerted but could not say why.  Certainly the Irishman had done nothing to alarm him.  Yet his nose recalled that brief whiff of death which still lingered.   “That it is.  But if we hustle we can wrap everything up before it hits.”  He returned to the tedious task of cleanup. 

Gallagher called after him.  “Care to grab a pint afterwards?”

Deston kept at his work, frowning.   He was not a drinker, and he didn’t begrudge those who did.  Although alcohol and werewolves did not tend to mix well.  The thought brought back the memory of the Piney Woods.  He reminded himself that Kenny and his boys would have been foolish and lethal without their beer cooler.  He started to decline, then thought better of it.  It had been a long time since he had been offered anything resembling friendship.  And with the cloud of the coven’s approach hanging over him and Alicia, any allies were welcome, even humans.  He shrugged.  “Sure, why the hell not?”

The man smiled.  “Name’s Sean Gallagher.”

“Rick Deston.”

“Good to meet you Rick
Deston.  I’m fond of a pub on Main Street.  Ray’s.  Unless you have another suggestion.”

“Ray’s is fine.”

A half hour later the crew had finished for the day and Deston entered the dim closet which was Ray’s Bar and Grill.  He figured Sean must be a favorite customer based on the enthusiastic greeting he received from the portly bartender.  Sean motioned to the far end of the counter and Deston took the last stool.  Outside the wind roared as the storm beat at the door of the small coastal town.  Deston felt mildly anxious, knowing if he stayed Alicia would worry.  He figured a half hour ought to be sufficient for the sake of civility.   He sipped the amber liquid which had been amiably placed in front of him and listened as the bartender, presumably Ray, joked with Sean. 

“How’s that fine old lady of yours, Gallagher?”

Sean took a long swallow and winked.  “She keeps me busy.”

Ray gave a low whistle.  “Well if you ever decide you’re altogether too busy, remember where I live.” 

Deston would have been annoyed by the insinuation if it were Alicia being referred to but Sean only laughed.  “Ah, I might mention it but I already know the lady does not share with your sort.”

“My loss.”  Ray headed heavily to the other end of the bar and began cleaning shot glasses. 

Deston found he was struggling with the means to make simple small talk.  For so many months Alicia had been his only companion and there was no need for such artificialities.  He started with the obvious.  “So, you’re not from here.”

“I am not, but ‘tis my home now and always.”  Sean stared into his beer mug.  “The place I come from is long ago and far away, but it does not matter.”

Deston wondered if he were drunk from one swallow of beer or if this guy was intentionally speaking in riddles.  “Oh,” was all he said and took another sip from his mug. 

Sean was quiet and then several things happened simultaneously.  The door to the tavern swung open as a customer entered, bringing with him a mighty gust of ocean air and
Deston drew his face out of his beer mug and found the faint scent of blood which had troubled him earlier.  A growl rose involuntarily in his throat as the other patrons sparred with Ray over the din of the storm. 

“You won’t wish to do that here,” Sean muttered just loudly enough to for
Deston to hear his words.  He raised an eyebrow.  “These boys won’t take kindly to creatures of the supernatural.”  He took another swallow of his beer. “I promise.”  He shifted the bar stool closer to Deston, closer than he’d dared venture thus far.  Deston knew why Sean Gallagher had usually taken pains to stay on the other side of the job site, where in the mix of human sweat he wouldn’t be so easily detected by the sharp nose of a werewolf.

Now that
Deston was beginning to process the shock, he noticed other things.  How unnaturally light Sean’s eyes were, how pale his skin was.  Whatever Sean Gallagher was, the word ‘human’ did not apply.  As the wolf within him struggled to be unleashed, Deston fought the impulse to change.  He breathed deeply a few times and leveled his gaze at Sean, who seemed blithely unconcerned with anything beyond the bottom of his mug.  Deston glanced around but the bar was buzzing and no one paid them the slightest attention. 

“Who are you?” he whispered.

Sean finished his beer and idly watched Deston.  “I told you, my name is Sean Gallagher.  If you want to know particulars I’ve been a member of this earth some one hundred and sixty two years.”  He paused.  “In one form or another.  And I suppose it’ll be that last part which interests you.  No doubt you’ve been told my kind are extinct but I can assure you that is only a rumor.” 

After this brief speech Sean ordered another round.  “Your kind?  You are…”

“Not like them.”  Sean waved towards the raucous customers who joked and parried.  He lowered his voice.  “And not like you.” 

Deston’s
mouth was dry.  “You know what I am?”

“Of course.  I knew that the minute you stalked onto my job site.  But I wanted to watch you a while first.  Didn’t take long to realize you were without a pack.  And that you were on your guard, almost as if you expected the sky to open up and rain terror on your head.”

“Or fire,” Deston muttered. 

“Fire,” Sean nodded.  “The preferred weapon of the modern witches.  I won’t ask you what you did to get on their bad side.”

“I wouldn’t tell you anyway.” 

Sean regarded him curiously.  “No, I expect you wouldn’t.  Your one who keeps his secrets.  That’s why I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in getting better acquainted.”

Sean’s words kept running through Deston’s mind like a giant marquee. 
Not like them, and not like you. 
“You’re a bloodsucker,” he whispered. 

Sean scowled but his voice remained light.  “Has political correctness suddenly become unfashionable?  I am a vampire, my furry friend.  I stay alive as long as I drink plenty of warm blood.”  He raised his mug.  “But beer is good on occasion as well.”

Deston was confused.  “Aren’t you supposed to burst into ash in the sunlight?”

Sean Gallagher laughed.  “Aren’t you supposed to eat babies for breakfast and ravage fair maidens? Let’s not indulge stereotypes, Rick
Deston.”

A long moment of silence passed as
Deston watched the vampire.  His body remained ready to change in a flash of lightning if the wolf was needed but Sean Gallagher merely began sipping a fresh beer.  Deston realized if he had intended any aggression he would not have chosen a crowded bar in the middle of town.  He tried to recall all he had ever heard of vampires, but the list was short and dominated by the perversions of popular culture.   He knew firsthand that the stories humans created about the things they did not understand were only that, stories.    When he finally spoke it was with honest curiosity.

“What do you want?”

Sean grinned briefly, then considered the question carefully.  His Irish accent was thickly prominent.   “Only to extend the hand of friendship.”  He held out a pale hand.  “From one unwholesome creature to another.”

Deston
hesitated for a moment and then took the offered hand.  The flesh was unnaturally cool and hard.  “Friends.”  His mouth twisted wryly.  “I have a short supply of those.  A nonexistent supply actually.” 

Sean nodded approvingly and rose from his seat.  “Now that we understand one another I’ll leave you to your evening.  After all, my lady waits for me as yours waits for you.”  He removed a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the bar.  He did not look back as he opened the door and stepped out into the lashing storm. 

Only when he had been out of sight for a full minute did Deston realize something which made his mouth run dry. 

“My lady waits for me as yours waits for you.”

Deston had said nothing to the vampire of Alicia.  It might have been just a matter of fact assumption.  But it might have been something else. 

***

Alicia was anxious as the wind and rain battered the small bungalow.   The construction site was less than a mile away and Deston always walked, refusing to take their tired truck on such short trips.  He was always home before six pm.  Alicia had become naturally tuned to the feel of time.  She did not need a clock to tell her that her mate was over a half hour late.  Though she realized a thunderstorm would be no challenge to a werewolf, she was still rattled from her bizarre encounter with the witch on the beach. The scream of the wind was only heightening her unease. 

Alicia sat in an old chair, her arms around her belly as the minutes ticked past.  Time was something she and
Deston may be running short of.  She had no plan for what to do when the coven finally caught up to them. 

The front door creaked open and
Deston walked into the house.  Alicia gave a little cry and hurled herself in his arms, not caring that his sodden clothing soaked through her.  He stroked the small of her back. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I never meant to worry you.  We have to talk –
“ but Alicia smothered his words with her mouth, not hearing.   She did not want words.  She only wanted him. 

He let her peel the wet clothes from his back as she hungrily sought to feel him against her.  His skin was chilled and wet so she warmed him with her tongue, tasting the salt of his sweat mixed with the cool film of rain.  She knelt in front of him and unleashed the thick, hard demand which eagerly accepted her mouth.  Alicia ran her tongue over the solid shaft and felt his shudder as her mouth cupped his balls.

Deston’s hand grabbed her hair roughly as he talked without words, showing her how he wanted to be inside her mouth.  She let him set the rhythm as he bucked his hips.  He moved so sharply his length touched the back of her throat.  She wanted to swallow him and when he came, that’s exactly what she did. 

Later, the rain had grown more subdued and they lay in bed together.   Alicia’s mind kept going back to thoughts of Ester.  She was uncertain what the witch intended by revealing herself on the beach, but Alicia felt sure there was a purpose. 

“I met a vampire today,” Deston said abruptly. 

Alicia figured she hadn’t heard him correctly.  “What?”

“An Irish beer drinking vampire construction worker.”  He chuckled hoarsely.  “Imagine that.”

Alicia shook her head.  “No, the vampires are long gone.”

“Apparently not.  And Sean Gallagher must not be the only one.  Remember what Kira said.”

Alicia frowned.  Kira had been mate to the ruthless alpha Kenny, before
Deston had killed him in self defense.  She had seemed like a spoiled, frivolous party girl.  But she had helped them in the end.  Her parting remarks had been of vampires.  Alicia thought she had spoken nonsense. 

Perhaps not.

“You met a vampire.  I met a witch.  Sounds like we both had an odd day.”

Deston sat up.  His voice was worried.  “You met a witch.  Where?”

“Down by the water.  Her name is Ester.” Alicia thought for a moment.  “She’s not like other witches.  I don’t know what she wants but I don’t believe she means us harm.”

“Us?  You told her everything?”

“I didn’t have to.  She knew the most important things.  Details seemed unimportant.”

  Deston shook his head, cursing softly.  Alicia placed a hand on his chest.  “They are still coming.”

He sounded weary.  “I know.”

Alicia nestled against her mate.  The swell of her belly was between them and Deston placed a warm hand over her stretched skin before pulling her close.  She opened her legs and guided him inside of her as they moved together, trying to forget the danger which waited in the near future.  After he had released himself, Alicia fell asleep on his shoulder. 

They had circled him.  Magda licked her thin lips and called the words as the others echoed.  Alicia screamed but she was helpless against the power of so many.  The entire coven watched her with quiet expectation.  Magda smiled terribly and Alicia realized the old witch would enjoy killing her lover.  The witch nodded and Alicia understand she and her unborn child were to be next.  She fell to the ground and wept as the heat of the fire approached….