Page 14 of Jack of All Trades

“I didn’t know what…we are. I mean, it’s not for sure or anything, but with the force of…well, me flying off that ladder, the librarian said?”

“The librarian? You told someone?”

He looked like that bit of news frightened him more than learning what he was.

“Just her, and…I didn’t tell her. She told me. I researched what might have happened, and I had a stack of books on the table. She wanted to help, so I told her what happened to me, and…she gave me books to read.”

“Jack, if anyone knew-I mean anyone, we could be…we would be outcasts!”

That didn’t seem likely. There were rumors of actual gods living in Valleywood, and they didn’t have the best reputations, though it was all just gossip. “Why?”

“Jack, do you realize what hellhounds are?”

He was still pale, and his chest was moving so fast, Jack worried he’d hyperventilate. “Kind of. I mean, I thought they were like evil beings, but the books say they’re needed.”

“Of course they are! They’re needed to drag people into the underworld! No one wants to go into the underworld, Jack, unless they come from there and call it home to begin with! It’s hell, Jack!”

He was shaking, and for some reason, his distress over the matter made Jack become the caregiver. In the corner of the room, across from the kitchen, was a small table Maltin used as a bar. He poured them both what he assumed to be whiskey by the amber color of it and brought them to the couch, where he handed one to Maltin. “Drink this.”

“Not even the best cognac can calm me over this, Jack.”

He held the glass in both hands and stared at the liquid, but then he did drink, slugging it back quickly.

Jack sat beside him and drank his own glass. It warmed him, but it wasn’t like he was chilled. Being near Maltin made him sweat with the heat they were gathering between them.

“I don’t know anything about it, Maltin. I barely read a few sentences. I was freaking out, you know? Your name…it’s in the list of families known to produce hellhounds.”

He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Jack. His voice was low and far away as he said, “My father never knew what he was. He never shifted. He and my mother were never meant to be together, but they fell in love regardless.”

“Don’t most shifters know, like, pretty early on? My friend, Garvey, he knew.”

“Yes, of course. Others, however, don’t shift unless they find their fated mates.”

“It said that about hellhounds. So, your father, he was one, he just never knew? Can that be? If your names are in a book, wouldn’t those families know?”

“What book?” Maltin demanded, and Jack saw the Maltin he knew coming back. Angry, hateful of the rest of the world.

Jack took the glass from him and handed Maltin his, gently pushing it to his lips. “Calm down. It’s a book from the library. It lists names of shifter families and the shifters they’ve produced.”

“So, others know?”

“The book was pretty dusty, so I doubt anyone’s checked it out in years, if not a century. Besides, it’s not your fault, or I guess mine. I don’t know how I am, though. I come from a witch family.”

“You have powers? Why didn’t you save yourself when you were falling? You made me do it, and I have finite powers, Jack!”

He was nearly hysterical, and Jack knew he’d get worse if Jack weren’t careful. And, if he had powers, he could kill Jack pretty easily as Jack couldn’t defend himself from magic.

After pouring himself another drink, he watched Maltin get up and start to pace, his casual clothing the most expensive money could buy, white linen shirt, matching pants, how they rippled when he moved, like the waves of a lake during a soft breeze.

The cloth draped perfectly over his body, the rounded cheeks of his ass flexing and relaxing with each quick step, the shirt rising a bit to show the flesh of his stomach each time he ran fingers through his thick dark hair. The man was even more beautiful than Jack had first observed. If they were fated mates, he could have done much, much worse.

“I can’t believe this. If we’re found out, we’ll be cast out of Valleywood and any other city bearing magical people. My family, they’ll never speak to me again.”

Speaking of families, Jack wondered about his own. They already barely had anything to do with him because he wasn’t a witch like them. To find out he was a hellhound…

That raised the question again for him, and he spoke it aloud. “How did I become a shifter from witch parents?”

Maltin stopped and turned his head slowly to Jack. “Yes, indeed, how?” He raced to his small desk near the bar and sat in the chair, flipping open his laptop, fingers flying over the keys. “We’re going to find out. We’ll find out everything, then… then decide what to do.”

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