CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bangs & Whimpers

Biff was following the conversation in a loose kind of way. He was an American werewolf, after all. Before World War I, werewolves had been outlawed in the US – after Super Saturation, they’d been integrated slowly. He’d no heritage or pack history to call upon. None of his pack were Old Ones. Not that he knew of, anyway.

But Biff did know the history of Super Saturation. Everyone did. Of how the world before had existed – quintessence trapped as a Sphere high above, people traveling within it in massive airships. Of how the British had floated mines inside this Sphere of Quintessence, trying to restrict German supplies and stop air travel during the Great War. And how one fateful accident, one exploded beacon, sparked a chain reaction and those mines destroyed the Sphere utterly. A whole world structured around Sphere-bound airships, gone forever. The entire planet had changed in one burning, raging shift. Thousands killed. Everyone traveling within the Sphere that day had died.

And quintessence was set free.

All this went through Biff’s mind as he charged the mage.

Rassolnik’s scream was gratifyingly terrified. Apparently, this man really didn’t like werewolves. Didn’t like them in a “killed my mother in front of me” kind of way. His eyes were wide and made vacant by some horrific memory, and he stank of pine and fear and coolant.

Hackles up, teeth exposed, Biff herded the trembling mage away from the pedestal and Max into the opposite corner of the room. The wolf didn’t want this stinky man near his mate or his mate’s funny round book. Rassolnik tried to flee – the wolf snapped at his heels and growled menacingly, keeping him penned.

The wolf settled into a guarding crouch, coiled and ready, his back to Max but his ears swiveled.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Max said. Biff heard him shift the wingback chair out of his way. No doubt he was looking down at the small round book under the thick glass.

The judge prepared a Surge, ready to cast it at Max over Biff’s head.

Max must have looked up and noticed because he said, “Really? In here? You’ve no idea how the enchantment will react. Even if it lets you cast, you think I can’t Place that? Don’t be an idiot.”

Movement again, and then his mate’s delicious smell as he crouched down and whispered in Biff’s ear. “Distract him. I’m going to break the glass and take pictures with my phone. Give me five minutes. Then we let him have it.”

The wolf didn’t like this idea at all. His mate would be exposed to radiation. Biff was prepared to savage-heal Max, but he wasn’t sure how well it would work on a sumage. Healing used quintessence, and by his very nature Max dispersed the stuff. I suppose I can run him to the hospital if I must. But too much radiation means death no matter what, even to a werewolf, and Max is a fragile human.

Rassolnik’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of Max cuddling up to a werewolf. His terror was still freezing him in place, but soon it would drive him from paralysis to desperate action. Biff flashed his teeth and growled again, trying to keep the judge numb with fear a little longer.

Max continued his hasty whispering. “I won’t touch it. There’s a lead page-turner for exactly this reason. Dad used to consult the darn thing regularly. Probably why he died young.”

Biff nudged him. This did not alleviate his concern.

“I’ll be careful.”

With a sigh, the wolf yipped and charged the judge. He reared up for the attack, blotting out the man’s field of vision and then forcing him sideways out the study’s open door and into the entranceway.

Rassolnik stumbled and crashed against a hall table, knocking it over. The glass bowl on top fell and shattered.

Redecorating already, Biff thought. The wolf figured his mate would be pleased. His mate didn’t like this house or its contents.

Rassolnik seemed unable to decide whether to fight or flee. He whirled to face Biff while still backing away from him. “What is a werewolf doing working with a sumage?”

Biff growled and charged again.

Rassolnik let out a high scream, then threw his hands up to protect his face.

The wolf grabbed his forearm. In an insistent toothy grip, he began to part force, part drag the now-kicking and screaming mage down the hall, intent on nothing more than keeping him away from Max.

Several pictures were knocked askew and then slid down the wall, frames cracking and splitting. A large mirror fell and shattered.

Five minutes, my mate said.

Funnily enough, it’s pretty easy to distract a mage for five minutes, if you’re a two-hundred-pound wolf without a care for his surroundings. Destruction raged. Redecoration, the wolf reminded himself.

Rassolnik tried to cast a Surge, but the wolf tightened his teeth around the man’s arm, drawing blood. He made his intent very clear. I will snap off your hand if I have to. Surges had the advantage against werewolves up to a point, and that point was close physical contact.

Another table fell over. They were in the kitchen now. They crashed into a hutch full of china and it fell with a truly tremendous crash. Biff maintained his teeth’s grip on the man’s arm throughout.

Max’s voice rang out just after the hubbub.

“Darling? What are you doing? Stop playing with your food. Come along now, time for us to go.”

Biff let go of the mage and raced back to the study. Max was kneeling precariously on the seat of the wingback chair, leaning over the back and using the lead page turner to flip through the codex. He’d put his phone away but clearly wanted Rassolnik to witness him reading.

Max, you idiot! Now is not the time for you to shove crap in this man’s face.

Rassolnik skittered in then, bleeding and blustering. “I can bring charges, you know, against that monster. Shifters are under my jurisdiction, they’re…”

Max flipped a page of the codex with his lead stick, oh so casually. “You know these notes are gonna give you trouble. They’re in code.”

“Can you read it?” Rassolnik’s attention was refocused and his tone became more combative and less screechy.

Biff couldn’t hold himself in check anymore – he needed to speak to stop his mate, so he shifted form. “Max, don’t—”

Biff was a little surprised. He’d suspected that he might not be able to shift under an enchantment. Since he had, there must be available quintessence around them, which meant Rassolnik could Surge and Max could Place.

Rassolnik spat at naked Biff. “I’ll see you in jail for this. Attacking a judge, molesting a superior human, indecent exposure, fraternization with a sumage.”

Is that even a thing? wondered Biff, even as he charged the man again, intent on stopping him before he could Surge. The judge didn’t seem as scared of him in human form – he started to pull quintessence. Fortunately, Biff was a great deal physically stronger and faster than the judge. He whipped around the man, wrapping one arm across his neck from behind to limit his breathing and using the other to lock Rassolnik’s arms behind his back.

Max glanced at them briefly, then continued flippantly, apparently determined to dig his own grave. “Is that really necessary?”

“Unless you feel like Placing while you read. If I can shift here, there’s enough for him to cast.”

Max frowned. “Behave, Rassolnik.”

The judge sputtered under Biff’s stranglehold but stopped attempting to Surge.

Max answered the question Rassolnik had asked before Biff shifted. “I learned to read family code before I learned English or Japanese.”

Biff was impressed enough to say, “You read Japanese?”

“Let go of me, you disgusting creature,” wheezed Rassolnik, kicking at Biff’s shins.

Max smiled. “And German. I’m a regular old Rosetta Stone, darling.”

Biff figured they were in for it now. I’m probably going to have to kill this judge, and I do hate killing people. It’s so messy. Might as well try to find out what’s going on, though. “So, why does he want it?” He squeezed tighter and lifted Rassolnik off the floor, shaking him slightly in punctuation.

Max frowned, clearly frustrated, and flipped another page. “I don’t know. Like I said, old Grampity Gramps was at Saturation, with the Order, as a neutral observer or some such crap. It’s possible he predicted the beacon explosion.”

Max continued reading, frowning. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Inside Biff’s arms, Rassolnik collapsed with a groan. Either from lack of air or from realization that Max had figured it out.

“Forgive us the sins of our forefathers.” Max looked up from the codex and stared at the judge. His blue eyes were full of rage. “The Order knew.”

Biff shifted his grip on the judge, preparing to leap for his mate and protect him if necessary. “Knew what, baby?”

“They knew the beacon would set off the mines. They knew the destruction of the Sphere was likely. This notation here?” Max tapped the codex with his page-turner. “It’s like he was excited about it.”

Biff felt his breath shorten and his skin go clammy.

“He wanted it.” Max turned shocked eyes to his werewolf. “They all did.”

Biff tugged his own gaze away to stare at the judge’s face so close to his own. He was near purple from constricted breathing but his gaze was fierce and defiant.

Max said, “This codex isn’t a thing you want to use, it’s a thing you want to hide.”

* * *

Max felt sick, the bile rising, queasier then he had been while passing through the enchantment. For one hysterical moment, he thought he might vomit, right on the couch, in the same spot as when he was ten and his father kicked him in the stomach.

“Let him go, Bryan.”

Bryan lifted his eyebrows.

“I can Place whatever he throws, but I think he’s done for now.”

His werewolf didn’t look pleased but did as requested. Instantly moving across the room so he was close to Max, within touching distance. Yes. Max agreed with that. That felt right.

Rassolnik coughed a few times and stood up, shaking and furious and glaring at Bryan. But he did not move his hands to call quintessence into a Surge.

Max glared at him. “I come from a long and glorious line of right bastards, but this really takes it, doesn’t it?” He turned to Bryan. Wanting something. Absolution. Or perhaps condemnation.

His werewolf was all sympathy.

How dare he not be horrified? How does a man escape a family sin like this? I guess it’s good I won’t have children, because I dare not pass on this level of douchebaggery.

“Do you know what he did? My illustrious ancestor and his little Order buddies? The first ones? Those first civic mages?”

The werewolf shook his head. Bryan’s hazel eyes were fixed on Max’s face. As if they might hold Max secure, hold him tethered to a spinning rock.

A rock that had once had a Sphere of Quintessence.

A Sphere that had been blown open by stupid men with too many weapons. That destroyed airships and scorched humanity the world over. That released quintessence onto the world and changed the fabric of life.

“Do you know what they did?”

The judge said, “Don’t.”

Bryan spoke, softly, anchoring Max with his eyes. “What did they do, baby?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. They wanted it. They let it happen. They encouraged it. All those people died, for this!” Max made a disgusted, shaky gesture at himself. Trying to encompass it all, the breeding program, and the fucked-up power, and the pain of his trace lines, and the misery of his existence.

Max jerked free of his reliance on Bryan’s kind eyes and turned on Rassolnik. “And you call werewolves monsters. My greatest grandfather whatever-the-fuck sat back and watched the world burn, for personal gain. Is there anything more disgusting? How many families were involved in the Order? Yours too, I take it? A dozen others, perhaps? And this is what you want out of my father’s house? You want this to die with history? That our ancestors allowed mass murder?”

“Yes, we want it to die. And now you have to die too. You couldn’t have just let me have the codex? You had to read it.”

Max narrowed his eyes at the man. Rassolnik might be a Surge, but Max had a werewolf on his side, and somehow that seemed enough.

Bryan’s eyes were shimmering into yellow and his teeth had elongated, as if he wanted to shift back to wolf form. That too felt right. Max jumped off the chair and moved to him, rested a hand on his lover’s arm, nodded his head. Bryan shifted forms under his touch. First, savage particles coalesced about his werewolf as invisible tingles of quintessence – to Max these felt irregular and wild, but not hostile. His tracers didn’t spark. It was almost…nice, like bathing in soda. Second, Bryan’s flesh went weirdly liquid under Max’s hand, not wet, just liquid. And then his fingers were resting on the furry shoulder of a mottled cream-colored wolf.

Max kept talking – he hadn’t yet got everything he needed out of the judge yet. “You promised me you’d show me what my father was after. Why he made me.”

“I don’t need to show you anything. I can tell you. Fourth mage type, of course. Isn’t that what we’re all after? Magistar. Full control of quintessence. Everyone’s dream. I’ve four children and every one of them a civic mage – one is even a Surge. But no Magistar. At least I didn’t breed any duds.”

“I figured as much. You really think that’s how Magistars are made, by breeding Surges? Like some weird kind of civic super mage?” Max threaded his fingers deeper into thick, coarse fur. Didn’t care how much he loved it. Hated how much he needed it.

“You have a better idea?”

“Study a Magistar? Oh wait, you can’t. They won’t let you near and they don’t need to play nice, do they? Must drive you nuts, that.”

Rassolnik’s face flushed with rage and he hurled a Surge at Max. It was quickly formed and vibrated with energy. Max braced himself to burn, but it just snuffed out against him with a loud crack. There was no pain, not even the slight tingling of inactive quintessence. It was almost like he’d absorbed it into himself harmlessly. It didn’t feel like he’d made a shield. Not that Max would know that feeling, but his father had described the cast to him. And he certainly hadn’t Placed it.

Beneath his hand, the wolf shuddered once, as though Bryan felt it. But he didn’t stumble or fall or howl in pain as an unprotected werewolf might when hit by a Surge.

Weird. “How often can you cast, Rassolnik? Because I’m a Placer and it may hurt, but I can disPlace every single one.” There was no point in revealing the curious goings-on of his abilities. It’s probably the enchantment messing with me.

The judge practically panted in anger. Surges rarely had their will thwarted when power was in play. “You useless piece of sewage. Your daddy should have put you down like a dog the moment he realized what you were.”

Rassolnik cast again. This time, he shifted quintessence into matter. A hail of glass shards flew at Max and Bryan. Max reached to Place them, to turn them to some other form of quintessence before they could slice him and his wolf into ribbons.

But once again, he didn’t need to. An invisible barrier formed around them both, similar to the enchanted barrier around the house. The glass fractured against it into powder and evaporated with a whomp, back to static quintessence.

Too weird.

The judge was staring at them, goggle-eyed. “How? I’ve never seen a Placer work like that before.”

“That’s because—” Max started to say it even as he came to the realization of his new reality. He snapped his mouth shut. If he said it, it’d be out there. Truth unwanted. No way to take it back.

He also knew Bryan had likely guessed already. Had held his tongue, because that’s what he was best at.

Max succumbed to the horror of it all at once. He stumbled under the certainty that in growing up and breaking free, becoming as much of a disappointment as he could, he’d somehow turned into exactly what everyone wanted. His own nightmare.

Max turned and fled from the room without further comment.

The wolf stuck close to his side, as if they were one unit. Bryan was there to touch as they crossed the enchantment, back out into the yard. Quick tingles and a little nausea. Easier than it should be for anyone, let alone a sumage and a werewolf. Except we aren’t either anymore. Or we’re both and yet more. Or less.

“Wait!” yelled the judge from where he had stopped at the threshold, the invisible barrier trapping him inside. “You can’t just leave me here!”

Max turned. “Why not? You’re getting what you want. The codex is in there, with you.”

“But how do I get out?”

“Ah, so you know the enchantment works both ways?”

“Of course I do! I was the second Surge involved in its formation!”

“Were you, now?”

Next to him, Bryan shifted back to human form, the brief moment of pain on his face quickly hidden. Max adored how unselfconscious he was about his nudity. But then again, if you look like that naked, why not flaunt it?

“I could kill him for you,” suggested the werewolf casually.

“Aw, now, honey, I know that’s not your style. You’re not a murderer.”

“Tell that to the deer I ate last night.”

“Really? Raw? Yech.”

“So says the man who scarfed down carpaccio on our last date.”

“Point taken. Still, no killing judges, baby.”

Bryan grinned and crossed his arms. “Fine. I could get Judd or Kevin to kill him.”

“Aw, you say the nicest things.” Max was wondering what to do at this juncture.

“Pack’s here for ya.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Takeout?” Bryan played happily along.

“Thai or Vietnamese?”

“Ooo, I could murder a bánh mì.”

“Right, murder sandwiches first, murder judges later.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bryan grabbed Max’s hand in what was likely a show of solidarity, but which felt like a disgustingly romantic gesture, and a noose around Max’s neck.

* * *

There was something wrong with his mate.

Well, something more than normally wrong.

They’d left the judge to stew, trapped inside the enchantment with an irradiated codex. Since his Surge powers still worked, no doubt he would simply destroy the thing. Presuming that didn’t release more radiation. Either way, staying alive was now his problem.

“I suppose we’ll have to get a Geiger counter in there before we can move in.” Biff tried to keep the mood light as they ate their sandwiches. Funny how light now included conversations about Geiger counters. How’d my relationship get so complicated so quickly?

“Bet that’s not standard in rental agreements,” Max quipped back readily enough.

At least he’s not gone quiet.

Nevertheless, it was clear his lover was thinking unpleasant thoughts.

Biff cleaned up the mess from their sandwiches and washed his hands. Max remained seated on the tiny couch, brow furrowed.

“You’re thinking so hard, it hurts my head.” Biff put the kettle on a burner and came back to sit.

“What happened in there, Muscles?”

“You dragged me inside this enchantment, with a judge, and a codex, and…”

“No, you dope, I followed that part. I mean what happened with us, and quintessence, and those Surges he cast at us? I certainly didn’t Place those hits. It was something totally different. It felt easy and comfortable.”

Biff bit his lip. He didn’t want to say what he believed. He was terrified of Max’s reaction.

Max glared. “Of course. You clam up.”

Biff lied. He didn’t want to, but he did. “Maybe it’s something about my savage healing and your latent mage abilities. They seem to jibe.”

“Jibe? Jibe! What the fuck, Bryan, like they’re partying down together? You saying they like each other? What kind of magic-woo bullshit are you spouting?”

“You got a better explanation?” Oh please, don’t figure it out. Oh please, give me a little more time with you.

Max winced and Biff pretended not to notice.

“No. But I got a feeling there’s some internet research in my future.”

Biff made his voice nice and plaintive. “Could we have sex first?”

“Oh thank god. Sometimes he has a good idea.”

* * *

Max could tell Bryan was intentionally distracting him with sex. But he knew his werewolf well enough now to realize that he did it because he thought Max would be hurt, or sad, or disappointed. Max was all three. But he also wanted to be distracted. Anything not to think about the future. So, he followed his man’s wishes and jumped his bones instead.

Although that’s a bit of a lie. It wasn’t exactly bone-jumping. He made Bryan lie, still as he could, naked and whimpering under his touch. He pressed him softly into the mattress, face down, Bryan burying his head in the pillows. Max explored all those glorious muscles with his lips and his hands. He trailed slicked fingertips down and inside, slow and gentle. He opened Bryan up with careful hope, the last he had to give. He slid up, against, and in, keeping everything smooth and sure and…final.

Neither of them spoke. Because both of them knew that what Max refused to accept would drive them apart. So, Max drove instead into his lover, his werewolf, his familiar, in an effort to deny, for a little longer, that he was exactly what his father had made him. Max would rather be lonely than powerful. Max would rather be sumage than Magistar.

So, he fucked Bryan with secret gentleness, no fire, only silk. He leaned to the side on one arm and one leg, not even allowing Bryan the glory of his full weight. Instead, he kept Bryan pinned with movement, rolls and undulations, long deep strokes that wrung him out, perfect and transient. They floated together. Until Bryan’s breath hitched on a cry and he shuddered. Max dropped a soft kiss to one shoulder blade, like a benediction, and crested too. Anointing his lover with sex, and then semen, and then absence.

Max rolled to his back, lying sticky and satisfied, next to his werewolf but not touching him. Afraid he might split open at the slightest contact, fruit ripe and rotting, too much for his skin to contain.

An urgent series of texts on Bryan’s phone came as a welcome distraction.

Bryan shifted and stood, unsteady, to search the pile of clothing he’d left on the doorstep. He stared at the screen, face blank. Then he shut his eyes, nodded to himself.

“I have to go. Pack needs me.”

Max was silent. He could not bear to meet his werewolf’s kind hazel eyes. They would be too full of understanding. Bryan would accept even Max’s rejection, because that too was in his nature.

After he’d gone, Max lay for a long time. He lay staring up at the ceiling and thinking about all the choices he had not made that led him here. Thinking about what he might have done differently were he some other, stronger, happier man. Wondering whether free will was as much a fantasy as love with a werewolf. But he was himself, and so he must Place even this future away, dissipate it into nothingness. Because of his past.

* * *

Biff was grateful, for the first time since they started dating, to leave Max behind. He was less grateful for leaving him in silence. For once, all the things he’d not said weighed him down. Although, to be fair, the things Max hadn’t said were worse. For all Max’s loving touches and tender need, the quiet had burdened them both. Each of them knew, or guessed, and neither understood except that everything was different now, and Max refused to accept change not of his own making.

Biff waited for his motorcycle to warm up and glanced back down at the string of distressed texts from his brother.

Manifest Destiny had returned to town.

He pocketed his phone, mounted his bike, and split the Friday-night traffic back into the city.

By the time he pulled up, the rest of the pack was already there.

Biff climbed up the stairs to the front door without much interest, most of him still buzzing with the absence of Max. He felt spaced-out, floating and lost.

He opened the door to find his pack assembled in a stilted state of awkward shock. The apartment that had been their home for a month now felt different. They had been, if not comfortable, at least familiar (ironic use of that word) with the space. Now it was entirely not theirs, some other creature’s den.

“Oh, good. Biff, this is our hostess, Manifest Destiny.” Alec’s eyes were warm and grateful but his tone was cautious, and he smelled stressed.

Biff approached with the intent of being charming. He was good at conveying welcome without words. One of his Beta skills. But then he caught a whiff of the drag queen in question and his mouth fell open and stayed that way.

Manifest Destiny smelled like something old and wild – an ancient artifact of immense power. She was also the most beautiful thing Biff had ever seen. Slender, leggy, probably about five feet tall but wearing impressive platform pumps. She had on opaque nylons, a leather schoolgirl skirt, a dark turtleneck top, and expensive-looking silver jewelry. Her long black hair was caught to one side in a messy braid, and her impeccable makeup managed to look both effortless and yet hint at geisha. No one should look so perfect just arriving from the airport.

“Uh, hello.” Biff stumbled over the words. Trying to process. There was something otherworldly about her. He sniffed again and resisted the urge to show his throat. Shifter of some kind? Old One, perhaps?

He made an educated guess based on ethnicity and size. “Madame Kitsune?”

A tinkling laugh – she looked to Alec. “You said he had the best nose of the pack.” She turned back to Biff. He basked under her regard. “Usually, I prefer Mistress, but I don’t think you swing my direction.” She gave Lovejoy a sideways look. The werewolf might be in human form, but his proverbial tongue was hanging out. Biff idly wondered how Lovejoy felt about dominance. Or cock, for that matter. He’d no doubt Manifest Destiny wielded both with wicked skill.

The kitsune evaluated Biff up and down. “Aren’t you handsome?” She sniffed. “And don’t you smell weird?”

“I do?” Biff suppressed an odd spike of shame at disappointing her.

“Very interesting. Candy coolant with a burnt-sugar core. Come with me, Stud Muffin – we must have us a chat.”

Biff fought the urge to immediately follow and gave a desperate look to his pack. They all just stared at him in surprise. Although Lovejoy was glaring.

Alec attempted to mediate while avoiding Alpha confrontation, for there was no doubt Manifest Destiny was an Alpha. “Are you hungry, Ms Destiny? You just arrived back. Should we order food? Pack our belongings? Get out of your hair?”

Manifest Destiny narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me sort this out first.”

“Biff needs sorting?” Alec’s voice went hard. He was still Alpha. He would recognize the kitsune’s power but clearly felt no urge to bow or follow her. He’d been polite because they were in her den; now he was defending his pack mate. Biff fairly glowed with pride.

She snorted. “I’ll be gentle, Alpha. No need to bristle. You just stay here, boys. Biff, is it? Come.”

Alec nodded at him that it was okay, but he didn’t look happy about it.

Lacking any other recourse, Biff followed her obediently back out the front door. He left his helmet behind.

She strolled down the sidewalk as if it were a Paris runway. Then paused and gestured him forward, linking her arm with his. With Biff in his motorcycle leathers and Manifest Destiny looking like she’d come off a fashion shoot, he thought they must make a striking couple. He found this idea oddly pleasant, which, given his sexual preferences, was out of character. He thought of Max and his heart hurt.

As soon as they were well out of shifter earshot and assured none of the pack followed, she said, “Your pack knows you’re mated?”

“Strong term, that.”

“Well, fine. Your pack knows you’re a Magistar’s familiar?”

“Ah. Well.”

“Do you know you’re a Magistar’s familiar?”

“I’d recently guessed as much.”

“Not very chatty, are you?” She looked at him out of eyes so dark, they were almost black – fierce, unafraid, immortal eyes.

“It’s a common complaint.” Biff trembled under that look but felt no need to play nice where Max was concerned. What business is it of hers?

“Shall we start this again?”

“If we must.”

“Hello, my name is Manifest Destiny. At least it is in this time and place. Most of my friends call me Mana. I think, as you’re likely to be one half of the most powerful practicing mages in this area, I should like to be your friend, Bryan Frederiksen.”

“Okay.”

The kitsune puffed out a breath. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

Bryan was still processing the truth of something he’d only guessed, now stated so boldly. Familiar. So, he said instead, “Nine tails? Old One?”

“Yes and yes. You smelled that, too?”

“No. It’s more that we just lived in your den for a month and never guessed you were shifter, let alone kitsune. That kind of hiding is learned the hard way.”

“Ah. Of course. You post-Saturation babies don’t have it beaten into your blood.”

Biff inclined his head.

“How long have you been a Magistar’s familiar, werewolf?”

Biff frowned. “Can’t quite say. An hour or so, I suppose. Though it might have started sooner.”

Mana seemed to prefer an expression of mild disgust. One that suggested she objected to your face, your fashion choices, and possibly your existence. But for one brief moment her resting bitch face shifted into surprised-gerbil face.

“You’ve no real idea what’s happened, do you?”

Biff shrugged, trying not to look as frightened as he felt. “Nope.”

“Explain.”

“One moment I’m dating this sumage.”

“Placer?”

“Yep. Next moment, I’m all wrapped up in Surges, and enchantments, and shifting both easily.”

“When you’re touching and in wolf form.”

“What?”

“Everything works perfectly with quintessence, so long as your wolf and your mage are physically touching.”

“Ah.”

Mana puffed out her cheeks. “You two need field training. I must make some calls.”

“Uh.”

“Spit it out, Motor Mouth.”

“I’m not sure he’ll see me again.”

“What?”

“He’d rather die than be a Magistar.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s what everyone wanted him to be.”

Mana looked at him out of that impossibly beautiful face. “That’s because it’s what everyone wants to be!”

“Not in this instance.”

“Look, Beta, this is not exactly my idea of a stellar homecoming. I mean, a pack of hot men in my house is one thing—”

“I should tell you that our new housing has fallen through too, because of this.”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that the last thing I want to deal with right now is a reluctant Magistar. A new Magistar can’t be left untended. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go after this sumage of yours. Right now.”

“All of us?”

“Yes. All. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need an entire pack.”

“I should warn you, there’s an enchanted house, irradiated codex, and pissed-off Surge-level judge there as well.”

“Boy. When you don’t talk, you really don’t talk.”

“You got leathers?”

“For every occasion. Do I look like an amateur?”

“There’s a fender bender that direction – we’d better take the bikes.”

“I’ve my own crotch rocket, but I didn’t hook her to the trickle charger, so I’ll have to bitch.”

Biff gave her a look. “I’m sure Lovejoy would love that.”

Her militant expression softened slightly. “He is a pretty one.”

“And available.”

No reaction, but she turned them back toward the apartment and picked up the pace. “Trying to distract me, Beta? You’ve no intention of explaining the judge or the codex or the enchantment or the Magistar, do you?”

Biff gave her a contemplative look. “Doesn’t nine tails mean wisdom?”

“But not omniscience.” She whipped out a small burner phone. “Now shut up, you – I’ve a favor to call in.”

Biff was grateful someone had finally told him to do something he was actually really good at.