Page 142 of Junk Magic

For a long moment, nothing happened. I didn’t know if that was good or not; if he was just struck dumb by someone being insane enough to try this in the middle of a massacre. But I kept on doing it, and added little flourishes as I went along: a tickle of a bushy tail here, as my mother had sometimes done to me, a slow slide against that horrible hide there; and then a short walk away, to sit cleaning a paw with my back to him, because I wasn’t worried.

I was Lupa, and he needed to remember that. To woo me, to placate me, to greet me properly, as he still had not done. Come on, I thought, not turning around. Even when I felt a presence come up behind me, even when I tasted that terrible breath on my neck. I just sat there, unable to do anymore, because I couldn’t take him in battle.

And not just because I physically wasn’t strong enough. But because he was Cyrus and I loved him. I couldn’t hurt him; I could never hurt him. We who had been through so much together, who shared a bond that the accepted, the loved, the approved members of society could never know . . . no, I couldn’t hurt him.

So, he would know me or he wouldn’t.

There was nothing else.

Other than for a weird snuffling behind my head, a great snout poking into my face, and a paw—massive and horrible and with claws like daggers, softly patting at me, trying to get my attention.

I felt dizzy with relief, but also felt another emotion. Because my wolf . . . was not pleased. She turned an annoyed shoulder to him, because he’d taken too long to acknowledge her, and that was unacceptable.

He pawed a bit more, and then whined, low in his throat, because she was being mean, she wasn’t giving in. She left him like that for a long moment, letting him worry, letting him stew. Unbothered by any chance that it might make him mad, because it was her anger he had to worry about, her pique that must be satisfied.

And then it was, and she turned and playfully leapt around him, bouncy and happy once more with her mate at her side. And then he was doing it, too, carnage forgotten, because it was play time. And time to introduce her to the rest of the pack he’d found.

They quickly slunk forward, heaving great monsters with heads low in obeisance, to sniff her paw and to make the acquaintance of their new Lupa, their new queen.

And then to follow her, as their captain was doing, up the walls of the ruined room, out onto the roof, and down, leaping onto the concrete. A few stopped to sniff the scraps of flesh littering the ground, all that was left of another of their kind. But he wasn’t pack; didn’t matter. And Lupa wanted to run!

They ran after her, joyously burning up the concrete and then the pavement and then the sands of the desert as the hateful city fell away, and the open skies beyond beckoned them. The stars burned overhead, a glorious full arc, and the scents of the desert caught their attention, as a whole world opened up to them. Their captain bayed his happiness at the moon, the mate of his choice at his side, and declared the night to be theirs, and theirs alone.

Chapter Forty

I awoke in a cave, somewhere in the Nevada desert. It wasn’t a nice cave. There were animal bones in it, some looking disturbingly fresh. There was scat in it, thankfully not fresh, and toward the back. And there was a man in it.

A naked man.

He was considerably nicer than the rest of the cave, with a long, lean, well-muscled body, a light mat of brown hair on his chest, and a thicker, tousled mop on his head. His face looked like he hadn’t shaved in three days, but that was simply because he was a Were who had left his razor at home. I kissed him, and he had morning breath, and also possibly dead animal breath, if the bones were of some feast that we’d shared the night before.

I was terribly afraid that they were, and that I had a tiny bit of rabbit fur caught behind a molar.

“I think I ate a bunny,” I told him tearfully, when we broke apart.

He laughed, all white teeth in a suntanned face, and kissed me again. And it was so good, so full of so many things: fear, relief, joy and happiness. And most of all the love that had saved the day when violence couldn’t, that I didn’t even care about the breath.

Much.

And then someone was yelling from outside.

I crawled over Cyrus and poked a head out, since I was as buck ass nude as Eve. And saw a lot of other naked people wandering around, looking dazed and confused, probably about being out in the middle of the desert when they were supposed to be sleeping off the excesses of the night before. Only last night had held a bit more excess than usual.

I looked back at Cyrus, who appeared to be admiring my butt, and shoved him a little with a foot. “You gonna tell them or am I?”

“Tell who what?”

He poked his head out. And then, very quickly, drew it back in again. “Coward,” I said.

“I defeated Whirlwind,” he whined. “Don’t I get some consideration for that?”

“Consideration meaning?”

He batted eyelashes at me that were longer and thicker than any man had a right to. “Could you maybe deal with this? You’re so much better at explaining things than I am.”

I sighed, and pondered logistics. Because I was not going out there naked; I didn’t care how common that was for Weres. But I wasn’t seeing a lot of other choices.

And then I heard one, because somebody was approaching on what sounded like a vehicle gasping its last. Another quick peek, and it turned out to be Caleb and the kids, in the ‘school bus’ he’d stolen from the Corps. They were throwing clothes out of the windows to the poor unfortunate ex-Relics, who seemed glad to get them.

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