Page 115 of Home to the Hollow

“Agreed,” Wolfie says. “Once we’re all outside, Teddy can bring the car around. I’ll go with you, and Benjy can round up Doyle. He’s got a truck, so the rest will fit in the back.”

Benjy gives me a shy smile, and I follow him out to the dance floor. He holds my hands carefully, starting the waltz as the music plays. I follow him easily, trying not to let the emotions running through me show in my face. It’s not his job to clean up a messy, weepy Jolene and I hate letting people I don’t know well see me vulnerable. But the tears slide down my cheeks unbidden and when I sniff, he stops for a moment.

“Jolene, don’t cry. I’m a big , burly dude and people will think I’m scaring you,” he jokes, reaching up to wipe a tear off my cheek. “Guys like me already have a bad rap with women.”

I snort, the tears making the sound gurgly. “Benjy, your giant Hulk-ness is not making me cry. If anyone thinks that, they can get the fuck right off. I’ve kicked asses as big as yours in the ring.”

That’s not exactly true, but it made him smile, and his shoulders loosen up. I hoped he’d relax a little with a joke because I can’t control the waterworks at the moment and I don’t want people to figure out that we’re a diversion. He winks at me, then twirls me in a circle before tugging me back into the two-step frame.

“Well, you are kicking my ass at dancing. I took the ballroom classes for the wedding, but we didn’t end up using it. I think it was because Sherilynn never could find a foot that wasn’t her left one.”

Laughter bursts free before I can stop it, and I smile up at the Disney prince in front of me. “That is the second best thing I’ve learned all night. Thank you again, Benjy.”

He grins and leans in. “I think Prez is the last one out. We should start making our way to the?—”

“Ladies and gentleman, if we can have your attention please!”

I look up at the orchestra with an icy ball of fear in my stomach. At the microphone, Amy Matilda Behle and her four sycophants stand tall in their five versions of Harley Quinn costumes. Not one of them has the depth to understand that character’s inner turmoil, madness, or redemption arc, but there they are, tarted up and sashaying across the stage.

“We have an amazing surprise for you. Are you ready, Whistler’s Hollow?”

Squeezing Benjy’s hand hard, I wait for the shoe to drop. Something bad is about to happen, and I’m going to need all the support I can get.

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Idon’t know why Benjy and Tilly aren’t out here yet. It’s making the hound pace, and the other two are pushing against my control as well. I’m practiced in ensuring that all three of my sides don’t unleash at the same time—it’s how I kept it a secret for so long. However, anything to do with Jolene strains the tethers I hold them with back so tightly that I often fight for a grip like I did when I was a new shifter.

“Where is she?” Wolfie murmurs, squeezing my shoulder hard. “They should be back by now.”

Prez tugs him away, his eyes full of understanding. Wolfie needs reassurance, and I don’t have enough spoons to give it to him. “It’s okay, Lucy. We all know Benjy won’t allow anyone to harm her. The moment she walked up to him at the bar, the pull started, and he dealt with it far better than any of us have.”

Our submissive fae nods, his eyes full of worry. He believes us, but he also can’t control his reaction to his mate anymore than I can. The marks we’ve left bind us to her, and although she isn’t able to complete the rituals yet, our souls gravitate to her because of our supe sides.

He’s only made one mark, but I can tell by the cool temperature of his touch that his mother’s influence is rearing its head as well. I have no idea how that will work; that piece of him has been locked up for so long that even Prez doesn’t know how it will react to any of us.

Or if it letting it free will call a being none of us are prepared to deal with. His birth mother makes my adoptive mother look simple, and that’s saying something.

Doyle comes striding up with Jekyll, Hyde, Euryale, and my hounds as I ponder. There’s an enormous black raven on his shoulder and I’d swear it’s not a normal bird. It’s not as big as Eurayle, but you don’t have to be a bird expert like the doc to know it’s unusual. “Where’s my Tiogar? I’ve got her animals.”

“Doyle, what the fuck is that thing on your shoulder? It’s not a goddamned Raven?” Prez asks as he walks closer.

“Aye, Odie is special. That’s a story I’m not inclined to tell you just yet, Hamilton. In time, when we’re all much cozier, I’ll regale you with the tale of how I won him.”

Jesus Christ in a pumpkin carriage. He’s determined to be an ass since he thinks he’s saved the day.

“Haggerty, we don’t know where Benjy and my drugar are. They haven’t come out yet and we were about to discuss whether we should wait or go in for them,” I reply. “There are pros and cons either way and?—”

I stop short when the air grows cold and before I can warn the others, a large group of supes converges upon us by air and sky. My skin tingles as fur ripples over me, a loud howl echoes as my hound goes into protective mode. Inside, I frantically try to soothe him, but his pack is in danger and nothing I’m saying is pulling the cranky asshole back in. Before I know it, I’m half-shifted, staring at my pack and a bunch of somewhat familiar scents.

“Jaysus feckin’ Christ on a Triscuit, Boone. It’s us,” the armored woman says as she lands a giant fiery looking flying horse in front of me. She’s got MacAuley with her, and both of them look worse for wear.

I’ve not seen Saoirse shifted—I scented her sides, but never got confirmation. Guardians are so damned tight lipped you’d think they had fucking NDAs half the time. The cold air whooshes over me and when I turn my head, there’s Andromeda and Kumiko. A huge lioness bounds of the trees with a goddamned gorgon riding it, and I’ll be damned if a fucking wyvern with passengers doesn’t land next. What the hell is going on? This is a battle contingent of Guardians, and every one of them seems to be grimed up like they’ve been to war.

“Uh, not to be the doctor in the house, but all of you seem to be injured in various ways. Why thefuckis everyone injured?”

Every single person slowly turns to look at Presley. He’s the most chill of us all, having a temper that’s almost impossible to set off. He looks like he’s about to murder someone, and the silence hangs in the air as we all try to work out what we’re seeing.

“I asked a question,people! Why do you all look as if you’ve been to a war?!”

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