Page 86 of Home to the Hollow

I sure as hell don’t need to be fixed up, and he knows it. The conversation about my small town sexual hijinks had him rolling, and he knows I’m in over my head with four dudes. I’ve tried to call it a night several times since we arrived at this dive he swears by, and every time, he orders another round. I can’t figure out if he’s working up to telling me something or if he’s just missed me.

I have to drive home, though, so I used my bartender hand signal skills to let the burly dude pouring know I don’t want liquor in my glass anymore. He seemed to get it because while Jackson is still slugging back Manhattans, I’ve been getting cherry cokes for the past two hours. Jekyll and Hyde are perched on stools next to me, slurping cream out of martini glasses like royalty. I draped the damn snake around my neck, letting it lifting its head occasionally to taste the air.

No one has remarked on the menagerie surrounding us, and again, it’s strange that I’m hanging out in a place with no rules about random pets tagging along. Did the US get way cooler while I was squirreled away studying for my FBI evals or am I crazy? Everywhere I go since I moved has a bizarre set of unwritten rules that everyone but me knows. If I were the tin foil hat type, I’d think there was a conspiracy to keep me in the dark.

But that can’t be true, can it?

“This is a safe space, dear. You do not need to be afraid.”

The voice startles me out of my head and I turn to speak to the woman who reads my mind, but a rumbling growl distracts me. Kali and Hecate rise from their places on either side of my stool, ears pinned back as they glare at the biggest black wolf I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t move, it simply stands its ground in front of her with unblinking sea-blue eyes. Where did these weirdos come from and why do I always attract them?

“Sweet fancy Moses on buttered toast, lady! Who the fuck are you and why is your wolf threatening my dogs?” The snake moves, coiling around my waist and up my left arm as I point at the closest thing to the Hound of the Baskervilles that I’ve ever seen in person. How is it even allowed in this place? I look around, but not one patron seems to even notice their presence.

Whyis my life so ever loving bizarre? Did I call a disguised goddess ugly in a past life? Am I facing the consequences of an ill-fated wish on the hand of a primate? Was I born under the proverbial ‘bad sign’? I’m really wondering.

Her laugh tinkles like wind chimes and the wolf tosses its head, making a sound that might be the dog version of a chuckle. “He is not threatening your hounds, young one. If Argus wanted to show his dominance, your tiny pack could not resist. They are far too new to withstand the pull of an alpha companion.”

Arching my brow, I cross my arms over my chest and give her a look of irritation. Again, who in the sainted name of Dolly Parton does this random hippie think she is? “Lady, I’m in no mood to go to war with Miss Mitchell tonight. Back off before we have to draw lines.”

“Yes, I can see you are troubled. I am not here to exacerbate your turmoil—I’m here to prevent a terrible miscarriage of justice.” She pauses, her lips quirking as she studies me. “However, I must admit you are not what I expected when I granted this boon.”

I narrow my gaze on the sparkling sheen of her dark skin, long box braids decorated with baubles and trinkets, and the flowing wrapper and matching gele. The silver and pastel colors are not traditional, but they match the bangles, beads, armbands, and sandals she’s sporting. Her bearing screams wealthy foreigner and her attire is curated to project that image. “You’re a hissy fit with a tail on it yourself. I swear, I’m a magnet for mysterious crazies,” I mutter.

“Mow!” Jekyll cries, bobbing his head.

“No need to agree, you traitor.” I look down at Kali and Hecate, mentally willing thennotto attack this Argus if I get upset. Eurayle is off hunting, and the cats are more attuned to my whims than Teddy’s dogs, but I don’t want to explain how I let them become wolf kibble over some con artist approaching me in a bar. The exotic stranger laughs again at my vexation, and I slam my glass down. “I asked you a question. Where I come from, it’s only polite to answer. I don’t see what’s so amusing.”

“There are many things about this situation you do not understand, but if you did, you would laugh with me. Alas, I cannot reveal them, so you will need to trust me. I mean you no harm, Jolene Athena Whitley.”

Is the Universe kidding me?! How does this whack job know my name? How many stalkers can one gal have?

“Look, I don’t know if you’re a stalker or a garden variety kook who can cold read, but I really?—”

She holds up her hand, shaking her head. “We do not have time for me to explain who or what I am. I stopped in this place to verify the information given to me by an old friend. She asked me to vote in her stead and I could not in good conscience do so until I could see you through my own eyes.”

I snort. “See me do what with your own eyes? Vote for whom?” Leaning forward, I whisper, “Is this person here now? Is she telling you to creep me out?”

Argus lifts his head and howls, the collar of feathers and bells on his neck jingling. The mystery woman nods solemnly as she looks down at the black wolf, her expression serious. “Yes, my darling. We must go or we will miss our chance.”

A feeling of warmth and safety slides over my skin as my scaly companion constricts and releases, soothing the rapid thrum of my pulse as my anger rises. “Please do. I don’t know what your con is, but I don’t need my cards or palm read. However you figured out my name, forget it and go bother some other mark.”

“Destiny comes for us all, Jolene. Accept the gifts you have received, and open your mind to those yet to come. You have much to learn before we meet again. Use your time wisely.”

Uh-huh. Whatever, Miss Cleo.

A yell from the crowd catches my ears and I squint as Jackson comes stumbling towards me. His hands clamp on my shoulders and I grunt, bracing myself to catch him. He smells like a distillery and I’m going to drive him home before I head back to the Hollow.

Turning to say goodnight to the looney, I blink when I realize both she and the enormous wolf have disappeared.

Great. A lawyer, a psychic, and a failed FBI agent walk into a bar… the question is, what the hell is the punchline?

* * *

By the timeI dump Jackson at his place, I’ve had enough of his drunken sexcapade tales. He wasn’t wrong; we used to kibbutz about our conquests all night long, but I can’t connect with his party player shit now. It feels lonely and sad, and his current state doesn’t do much to dispel that notion.

It’s like I’ve been replaced by a pod person.

The Jolene that scampered around Europe and Asia with Saoirse years ago morphed into a serious workaholic who based her whole life on a career goal. Now, that focused loner is transforming again, and I'm not sure who I'm becoming. It’s not that I can’t be friends with Jax, but we aren’t in the same phase in life anymore.

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