Chapter Twenty-six
Parker
To say Parker was nervous about Glenn coming home was an understatement. It wasn't like he feared any physical harm from Glenn. Parker trusted him. But he was worried about that moment, just before Parker was able to clear everything up and explain why their home had become overrun.
Altogether, eight coyotes had come with Parker's aunt in search of him. There were no males Parker's age or older which worried him.
"Where did Clinton get off to?" Parker asked his aunt about his other cousin, Clyde's brother. They were his mother's sister's children, which was why Clyde was nowhere near next in line to be alpha unless he challenged for the position. His Aunt Hazel stirred a huge pot on the stove top.
"Not sure. His sister and mom don't know. He was different after the attack. Those dirty wolves came out of nowhere and attacked our boys--"
Parker made a sharp noise and his aunt stopped speaking.
"Sorry, I forgot," she said hastily. "Haven't seen Clinton since he went after lookin for Clye." She looked over her shoulder back where Brady was gathering some blankets with one of the coyote children. They were going to set up a tent in the back yard. "He's your mate?" she said doubtfully. Parker didn't like that she couldn't smell their bond right away. Part of his coyote genetics. It was great when he wanted to go undetected but that wasn't the case with Brady. He wanted to be detected. He wanted it to be impossible not to know that they were mates.
"Yes, he's mine. And Glenn too. You'll meet him soon enough."
"If your father knew you were laying with a--"
"He doesn't know, because he is rotting in jail for being a dick. That isn't his charge but that is why he is there. Same reason why your husband is fighting for his life right now."
"Now you be careful, that man is still your pack master--"
"Not mine. I'll care for you and I will still do what I can for the pack, but I will not follow his orders. You shouldn't either."
Parker left his aunt then, not wanting to fight any more on the matter. He ran into Brady as he was struggling to carry a large tent bag. Parker took it from him wordlessly.
"I can still do things," Brady said.
"I know you can. And I can still help you."
Brady gave him a long look. "What happened?"
"Nothing that you need to worry about."
Brady brushed the hair out of Parker's eyes gently. "Don't do that, Parker. Don't decide what I get to care about. Tell me everything. Always. Please."
He hadn't known how much he needed his mate's touch until that minute. Even just a sweet, chaste caress was enough to calm his body. "Okay, just my aunt still wanting me to listen to the commands of an old, drunk coyote shifter that can't shift."
"I have a theory on that. I wasn't able to test it so I didn't want to bring it up, but it may be a solution to your pack's problems. It may be the solution."
"You can't just say something like that and then expect me to put up a tent. What is it?"
Brady grabbed his hand and brought him back to his bedroom where they had already moved all the files that had been in the living room. "I got to thinking about the timeline and about Foster."
Word in town was that Foster's farm had been the victim of a random attack from an insane passerby. No body but Foster had a chance of even recognizing Clyde and he wasn't about to say that Clyde couldn't be the suspect because he'd been delivering illegally to his family for years. "I don't like a story where you are thinking about Foster."
"Understandable, it wasn't for pleasure, I assure you. Anyway, do you know much about ergotism?"
"Weirdly, no."
"I didn't really either. But then I remembered watching this documentary on the Salem Witch Trials with my mom, she was a huge paranormal buff. Odd, since she never guessed that Asher was a wolf shifter. Anyway, some historians believe that all that hysteria was caused by a fungus, ergot, that they consumed in the bread made from toxic flour. Now, I know none of you are hallucinating, and that isn't what I thought. But what if your pack was consuming something that was making its members sick? You already said that not everyone was affected, just most. So, it would have to be something that they are still consuming to this day. Something that interacts with your kind differently, making some of you sick and making others unable to shift, or weak."
"The moonshine? You think there is something in the booze?"
"I think it is possible. It could even be accidental. Foster isn't the brightest and making moonshine isn't easy or anyone would do it."
"Hand it over," Parker said, sticking his hand out.
Brady pulled the clear mason jar further away, clutching it to his front. "Why?"
"It isn't like you have the capabilities to perform rigorous testing here. So I'll drink it, and if I can't shift, we'll know for sure."
"We'll also know if you die. Or if nothing happens because clearly it doesn't affect everyone."
"That's just it. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. What? Did you think we were all raging alcoholics? No, only some of us. My mother drank like a fish, I think to cope with her loveless marriage. My uncle drinks, Clyde drinks, even that one kid who got sick, he drank whenever he could steal some from his dad."
"But your father?"
"Preferred whiskey. He wouldn't touch this stuff." Parker understood Brady's crestfallen expression. "As awesome as it would be to blame an outside source for his behavior, it simply isn't the case. He's just an asshole."
"Okay, but the fact remains, you could die, Parker. That is not a risk I am willing to take."
Parker wondered how he could convince his uncle and the rest of coyotes to give up their favorite pastime. They wouldn't trust anything Brady had to say about the matter. At this point, they could just wait for the stock to dry up. Though, his uncle could be mighty creative when push came to shove and Parker thought running out of his favorite drink might be one of those moments.
There was a loud scream and then a growl that came from the backyard. One of the children began to cry as another set of snarls split through the air. Parker knew before he'd gone around the house that Glenn had come home and he wasn't happy. From the looks of it, he'd come out of the forest right in the middle of one of the kid's camping sites. The children were all huddled behind Parker's aunt who growled loudly in her coyote form. Glenn hadn't shifted but he stood tense, ready to defend himself.
Glenn found Parker in the chaos. "What the hell is going on?" he asked much more calmly than Parker would have expected. Despite that, Parker felt defensive, like Glenn wasn't recognizing him for what he was, the possible leader of this pack.
"They need my help, Glenn," Parker said clearly.
"I told them to come," Brady piped up.
Glenn wiped his forehead tiredly. His face was streaked with dirt and his clothes were dirty. "Did you walk here?" Parker asked.
"No, I ran. And when I smelled a handful of unfamiliar smells mixed with the scents of my mates, I ran faster."
Despite everything, Parker smiled. "I'm sorry we worried you." He slipped his arm around Glenn's back and walked him to the house. "They are fine on their own for now. Just needed food and someplace safe, which Brady has provided. You look like you need a bath."
Glenn eyed him suspiciously, but it didn't last long. He settled into Parker's hold. "I do. And probably a massage."
The three of them retired into Brady's room that, thanks to their new guests, they were required to share.