Page 46 of The Buck Stops Hare

“Hjartkær?” Brook rose from the table to approach River, whispering old words to him that River answered with in kind, his voice sharp and low, a different voice than the body I knew, that old form taking over.

“Basically, our dear boar king has spent a good amount of money hiring a witch to tear Buck down. She’s drained the land. Trees are dying, all of them infested with some sort of beetle.” River glanced toward the windows and gritted his teeth. “We need freezing rain, and I need to share. A lot. Or we’re going to lose the both of you.”

River gave me a glance up and down, something like jealousy in his eyes before he stared at Buck once more.

Brook eyed me for a long moment. Tears pricked at my eyes, but he spoke quietly. “I’ll call Sal and have the pack start prayingand giving offerings if they can. You’re strong enough to do it, my love. I trust you.”

River closed his eyes and leaned his head back, shaking as he took a deep breath. “If anyone asked me if I’d ever give two shits if the fucking bloody plinth of a god died, I’d have laughed until streams ran over with my tears.”

“But those tears will still fall.” Brook put his phone to his ear and stepped away, whispering urgently to whoever was on the other end.

I tried to listen, but only a few words came to me as Brook’s face hardened. “I’ll still be there, and if we do it right, there’ll be enough of him left, but it’ll take time, and he won’t be the same.”

All that I’d gone through just to have a few months with him. Whatever they did, I hoped he’d still be mine, be my Buck.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Buck

I’d not gotten used to sleeping yet. Closing my eyes and losing control to a baser state seemed almost like shifting into something that didn’t have enough mind for me to use. Rather like shifting into animals, surrendering to my baser natures.

Dreams came to me, images of the past and present. Some were more pleasant than others, and funnily enough, some of my good memories soured from my renewed perspective. Memories of lust, rough sex with worshipers, spun in my head. I did prefer my athletes, as ollamaliztli, as a sport, made for very strong and agile men, much like Cliff.

I struck those memories down, willing the dreams away, as those pleasant times no longer mattered when I had a mate. Only our time together. And our time had only begun.

Darkness came after the lust, empty space welcoming me into warmth and soft breath. “Buck?” a tender voice called out, and I sought the source.

From another angle, my name echoed out again, swallowed by a shrill whisper of the wind.Buckling Stone!It called out to me, and I searched, untethering my spirit, to find the source of it.

Wait for him.The command in the voice made my eyes sting and my chest grow tight.It’s not your turn to see me again, son.

“Mother?” My heart fluttered and hope rose in my chest, only to fall again.

They need you.

But only one of them mattered to him wholly. “Cliff.”

Cliff

“Did you see anyone? Are you certain?” Brook paced Buck’ssmall home, jaw clenched. “There are agreements and witches know better than to fuck with the Drowning River. And it was not always my name, the Whispering Brook. I am flood and torrent.”

I watched the male pace, broad shouldered and red-haired. He was well-muscled, more developed in his arms than elsewhere, his chest built but stomach soft in the comforting sort of way. A little bit of dad bod looked good on his form, and I could objectively appreciate why River liked him.

Not knowing what else to say, I shook my head. “No, it was just us when we got here after the other night when we left.”

“Fuck. No telling how long it’s been laying in wait. If we’d caught it sooner, it wouldn’t have been a problem. There’s magic parasitizing his power in this land. Land and worship are batteries for gods and Buck is in power-saving mode, if you understand that?” Brook ran thick fingers through his loose mane of hair, the strands falling into place in a sweep as he did so.

I understood it perfectly. “We need to get him some more worship? Worshipers? Prayer? Offerings?”

“If we had time, sure. But River is going to have to charge him. We’re not flush on power, either. River has more than most, being that primal fear people have of death doesn’t go away in the face of cold rivers and lost victims.” Brook heaved a drawn-out sigh.

“So, you don’t have enough power to charge him? Can Storm help? Grim?” I paced the floor, wrapping my arms around myself as a shiver of fear flooded through me.

“Yeah. They’re coming in. Grim hates them, but he fears River more.”

I found myself listening to Brook, sitting calmly as hot tea ended up in my hands, cutting the winter’s chill. I’d forgottenit got cold, like part of me no longer noticed the inconvenience since it no longer hurt me. The contrast, though, was nice.

I didn’t flinch when sometime later Rayne arrived with Storm in a flurry, promising me that Vida was at home and well-protected. I barely took in anything else said to me, my mind lost in a whirlwind of Buck not waking.

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