Page 4 of Junk Magic

Which I guess was why Cyrus had made his own.

Two of whom were currently eyeing my bag of tamales.

“You guys want some?” I asked, and had the bag snatched away almost before the words left my lips.

The two ran off, I guess so they wouldn’t have to share, and I arched a brow at Cyrus.

“I’ve been having them do grunt work,” he told me. “They need the cash.”

“Except now we have no dinner. Guess that means you’ll have to take me out.”

“I’d planned on it. Way out.”

I cocked my head. “Do I want to know what that means?”

The grin returned. “Oh, yeah.”

Chapter Two

We took both bikes, because my beat-up old truck was not going to make it where we were going, and because the boys were coming along for the ride. “Jayden and I’ll take this one,” Jace said, staring in approval at my tripped-out Harley-Davidson Night Rod, with black chrome and blood red accents. Cyrus had a black and silver version, but I guess Jace liked my color scheme better.

So did I, and preferably intact.

“Not a chance,” I told him.

“Oh, come on. Then you can ride with Cyrus.”

I threw a leg over. “Yeah, but this way, I can race Cyrus.”

Jace’s eyes lit up.

We set out sedately enough, until we left my nice, quiet subdivision behind and hit the open road. Then we floored it. I heard Jace whoop from behind me, while Jayden clung to Cyrus like he was afraid the wind was going to blow him off the back of the bike. Which it just might have, because the open road outside Vegas is really open.

And really fun. With long, straight highways that seem to go on forever, surrounded by dusty plains, sweeping hills, and giant azure skies, Nevada has some of the best riding country anywhere. And if you add in the Valley of Fire, with the red hills glowing like embers in the sunset, it turns into pure magic.

My only question was what we were doing out here, especially with the boys. Cyrus and I frequently went camping, but usually for some alone time. Somewhere no one would hear us howl.

I got my answer when we turned off the beaten path and bumped across open country to a busy campsite, where I sent my partner a look. He just took off his helmet and shook out his hair at me; the bastard knows I love that. And then helped poor Jayden off the back of the bike, who was looking about as shaken as a Were can.

“We won! We won!” Jace said, laughing, because we’d rolled to a stop maybe five seconds before they had.

“I don’t want to race anymore,” Jayden said thickly. And then he threw up.

There was some fussing over him after that, and some teasing from the circle of young men around a campfire, who already had some hot dogs roasting. Jayden went over to sit with them, perking up slightly at the smell of meat, because nothing puts a Were’s stomach out of commission for long. Somebody threw a blanket around his shoulders and handed him a stick, and the ride from hell was soon forgotten.

Leaving me looking at the pretty picture of deepening violet twilight, with a rim of reddish orange still clinging to the horizon, and stars blooming overhead. It contrasted nicely with the firelight splashing the excited faces of nine young men, most of them in their late teens, yet looking like kids at their first camp out. Which for all I knew this might be.

“Wanted to get them out of the city,” Cyrus murmured, coming up behind me and slipping his arms around my waist. “It’s a full moon tonight.”

I nodded. Unlike the legends, Weres had full control of when and where they Changed, which was one reason they were so deadly. But the full moon did affect them, making them more reckless, less inhibited, and more prone to violence than usual. And that was for people who weren’t vargulfs with self-control issues.

I could understand why Cyrus wanted his proteges somewhere a little more remote tonight.

And it looked like they planned to stay for a while. There was a ring of tents beyond the firelight, little two-man things that blended into the countryside pretty well. And a beaten-up old Winnebago that definitely did not.

“The new digs?” I guessed. He’d said he was going to up his camping game.

“Better than a tent,” he agreed, nibbling my neck. “It has a bed.”

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