Page 53

Wreck Havoc

“W e can’t let this take too long. Peanut will wonder where the feck we’ve been, and I can only make so many excuses for our absence. She doesn’t believe that we got called away as it is.”

Julia looks at me, pushing her silvery hair out of her eyes. She knows that even if I’ve rejoined her polycule, my first allegiance always has to be to my charge. Guardians frequently have to make choices they aren’t fond of when their charges need them, but it’s what they have trained us to do since birth. “Flash, you know we need to deal with this. There’s no way the coven hasn’t made their way here. We thwarted their activities in Salem until we’re ready, but…”

“I know, J. But we won’t be able to help protect them and keep her in the dark until she’s fully emerged if we don’t get there to ward off any issues.” I tap my foot, gazing into the distance, waiting for Bane to appear. She called us to fight off the ‘tiny problem,’ two weeks ago, but what we found was a major uprising.

Tharin shifts his bulk. “The increase in activity from non-Society malcontents is troubling.”

“Fuck yeah, it is. They’ve had to recall loads of retirees to assist the current Guardians. People who haven’t been active in decades or longer are now trying to catch up with both tech and magick. It’s a goddamn shit show,” Zasha grumbles. “Meanwhile, we just got settled for the first time in easily as long, and we have to zip around.”

A flash of light announces the elder Guardian, and we all wait until she stalks up to our group. Andromeda Bane has been molding pre-emerged hybrids for longer than any of us have been alive, and that's saying something when you count Zasha. Her dark obsidian eyes glitter with impatience as she runs them over us, silent until her enormous ghostly gumiho approaches. The phantom fox shakes its massive tails, sparkling magick separating over us as it takes an aggressive stance.

“There’s no need for theatrics, Andromeda. Call Kumiko off before Zasha and Seer lose control. You know we can’t have an event outside of Whistler’s Hollow,” Julia says as she rolls her eyes.

“I do not take orders from you, Ricci. The Society and the Council are my only masters and even they do not give me sarcasm when they hand down missives. Know your place.” Andromeda retorts.

“Lasses, we dinna have time to swing dicks. Our little group needs to get to our house to change and head for the ball. Bane, you need to find Mayor Nelia and fill her in on the mission. She needs to prepare her resources to create a search party—the witches and mages cannot find the entire town in one small building. It would be disastrous in more than one way.” I sigh, looking at the watch on my wrist. We’ve wasted enough time waiting for her to get here; there’s none left for disagreements.

“Aye, the pixie is correct. We all have roles to fill this evening, and our ability to stop the impending doom is waning as we waste time,” Zasha adds, yawning as if he’s bored out of his mind.

He’s beautiful to look at, but he’s such an asshat when he isn’t being entertained.

“Fine. I will make haste to the home of the Mayor, and you will take care of your end of town. Make certain you warn any of her mates or potentials when you arrive—they will have to keep their cool in order to maintain the illusion until she’s fully emerged.” Bane turns on her heel, an ear-piercing scream echoing through the hills as she calls Kimiko to follow.

Her form goes from corporeal to mist as she transforms into her supe side, and the gumiho follows suit. They fly, puffs of mist trailing behind them as they travel across the sky.

“Always with the dramatics,” Julia mutters.

I sigh. If the surrounding people could get along, it would make my job infinitely easier. Unfortunately, given the personalities of my friends, lovers, and colleagues, that's a dream I may never achieve.

Regardless, it’s time to party, and we have costumes to don.

* * *

“Shhh…” I murmur, waving at Julia and the guys. “They’re calling the debs in, one by one. After that, they’ll call the alumnae in, in order of graduation. The town elders will be escorted down the steps into the ballroom first, and if we’re lucky, they’ll call our girl near or at the end. Once she and her men are in the ballroom, we can join them.”

Tharin grumbles, shifting in the biker outfit that makes him look like the Prez of the baddest MC in the universe. Of course, he’s much older than the invention of the motorcycle. His kind doesn't even need vehicles for transportation. Zasha claps him on the shoulder, his creepy butler outfit and long twisted locks out of character for him. Neither of them complained about their costumes, and I’ll bet Peanut had a much worse time with her crew.

I did that on purpose. I wanted her to wheedle them into wearing the most revealing costumes—she needs to get her mates settled so she can emerge. The growly ass Coach texted me while I was gone to let me know her hound made an appearance, and I could hear the excitement in his voice until he added the little caveat. She doesn’t remember the run and the shifting, and I’m not sure if that’s because she’s not fully emerged or not. Even Bane had no idea why she blacks out all the time or why she loses time so often.

Holding up my hand, I tiptoe inside and slip behind the curtains so I can watch the girls as they descend the stairs. They all look like glittering Southern Princesses—a theme that could only have been chosen by the organizing committee. Their escorts are in matching princely attire, cleanly shaven and shining like Charming himself. A semi-circle forms at the base of the stairs as they all stand perfectly still and coiffed, waiting for the emcee to announce them. Once he does, they break off pair by pair, heading into the crowd to greet the honored guests.

Now it gets interesting: the old geezers, silicone housewives, Council members, and alumnae come next. Usually, the Mayor would lead this, but since she’s absent, that little rat assistant and his cunt daughter command the crowd with their Alice and White Rabbit outfits. He waves magnanimously, looking for all the world as if he owns the town. What a feckin’ joke that wee runt is.

Following that act are a slew of people dressed as everything from the Duke of Bridgerton to the evil queen Cersei—all making their way down the staircase after they’re announced with the pomp and circumstance of a royal ceremony.

Oh, for the love of Guinness stew, I’m dying to see what happens when Jolene and her boys hit the top step!

I adjust my top hat, creeping closer so the tap shoes don’t click on the tile. Julia and her men are inching closer, curious to see what I’ve done. I don’t blame them—they don’t get the reference even though Julia is in a slip dress. That’s okay with me, but I know Peanut figured it out as soon as she saw the alpha dickface’s costume. Oh, to have been a fly on that wall…

“Miss Jolene Athena Whitley, class of 2007. She is escorted by…” The announcer’s pause is heavy before he continues, and I growl under my breath. That’s another name to add to my revenge list for later. “… she is escorted by Mr. Edgar Olivier Boone III, Mr. Wolfgang Lucien Fletcher, Mr. Presley Hemingway Hamilton, and Mr. Doyle Aloysius Haggerty.”

Covering my mouth so my giggles don’t alert anyone to my presence, I watch Peanut step up in the sexy maid outfit with the teased hair. She’s got Edgar on one arm in his leather and fishnets, his lips bright red and eyes rimmed in kohl, and on the other, a glittery, oiled up Wolfie in his gold briefs. Presley looks so much like his character in the glasses, boxers and Oxford that I almost want to shake my hand, and Doyle is smug as fuck in the tweed suit. I knew giving him the clothes that cover the most would spark a fight, and I can’t say I’m not loving it.

The gasps fill the room, and I clap from my little hiding place as they descend the stairs with their heads held high. Edgar surprised me—I figured he’d refuse and in the end, Peanut would have to cajole him into something close enough to match them all. I’ll be damned if he’s not wearing every piece from corset to three-inch heels, giving evil glares to anyone who looks at them speculatively.

“ Edgar Olivier Boone III ! What in the name of Zeus are you wearing?!!”

Uh-oh.

Margaret Emily Boone and her husband, the Senator, step out of the crowd in not-very-subtle Jackie O and Kennedy get-up that makes me want to puke. Her face is a mask of horror, and for that alone, I feel like I’ve won. I know he couldn’t have had a simple life with parents like that, and after spending time with him at Peanut’s, I understand why he was such an ass as a kid.

“I’m Dr Frankenfurter, Mother. Don’t be ridiculous,” he replies, waving his gloved hand airily.

Her face gets even redder and Julia whispers, “We should get in there before someone slips. Your girl’s eyes look like they are getting heated.”

I nod, motioning to Zasha and Tharin to follow us into the crowd. We sidle up to Peanut and the prodigal son, making a visual show of our support. His parents can’t be so ignorant as to not recognize that the four of us are Guardians, and even their status as elders in the town won’t save them if they cross us.

“You are humiliating us ,” Margaret hisses at him.

I wait for Peanut to snap, but before she can, the cutie vet moves forward. Blinking, I watch our Rocky, clad only in his hot abs and tiny shiny undies, step up to the most powerful family in town. He glared at the two idiots, his chest puffing, and I’ll bet he’s struggling not to release his wings. His eyes go frosty as he stares them down, refusing to speak first.

“Fletcher, this is none of your concern, but your mother would have fits if she saw this nonsense.” The Senator fiddles with his suit, trying to make himself appear larger.

“My mother has fits regardless of what I’m wearing; she’s in an asylum, Senator. Thank you for drawing attention to that,” he shoots back. The temperature drops a few degrees in the room and I look at Julia, hoping we won’t have to intervene. “However, she’d never treat me the way you’re treating your son in public. The tone and words you just used would horrify her, and your intolerance should horrify everyone else.”

“Pup…”

Peanut holds her hand up to her ex-bully, joining Fletcher as he stands firm with the arrogant elders. “He’s right. Edgar is ten times the man today than he was when we were younger, and he’s infinitely more of a man than you, Senator.”

The jowly politician makes a strangled sound, but his wife stops him. “You don’t want to make this choice, son.”

“Mother, the choice has already been made,” Edgar replies, cutting his eyes to the blackened teeth shaped burn on Jolene’s neck. “More than once.”

A shriek of recognition escapes her as she follows his gaze to the shiny, half-naked doctor sporting a matching mark on his shoulder. The vet in question bats his lashes, smirking as she realizes he has a cascade of feathered marks on his other shoulder. It must belong to the other doc, but clearly, young Wolfgang is a mated man.

Peanut frowns, not understanding why old Maggie’s having an episode, so I push through the crowd to shield the lot of them. My eyes flash with the power of my people as I stare her down. I can call upon immense strength if I need to, and the powers from the other side aren’t anything to shake your head at. She may be a harpy, but I am much more powerful, and I can take her down without revealing what I am.

“Perhaps ye might reconsider your position, Missus. Insulting my mates innit the best plan, ye see. I won’t hesitate to defend my girl and her men. I doubt the higher ups would forgive us if this devolves into something… less friendly.”

The old bird’s eyes widen, and the Senator stiffens.

“Mother, this is my family. I have plenty of money and influence, even if you threaten to cut me off. You don’t have a card to play. Back off and let the debutantes have their stage back. We’re supposed to be the adults in the room,” Edgar calls from behind me.

His words make Peanut flush and she edges closer to him, holding onto his arm. The doc comes to the left side, and the vet steps back to be welcomed into the arms of all three. Doyle moves to flank her from behind, his eyes dark as he watches the self-righteous couple huff. He’s older and more powerful than me, Andromeda, or any of Julia’s boys, and boy, does he look pissed.

I wouldn't want to be the Boones in a few days. That shifty little arsehole will make their lives a misery for some time. He doesn’t appreciate humans or lesser beings judging his antics—I can’t imagine how he feels about them criticizing people he’s taken as his own.

“Peanut, if we’re done taking out the trash, I’ve got a mind to find some alcohol. How about you?”

She grins, her lashes fluttering as tosses a sarcastic smirk at the stodgy old buzzards. “Bourbon is the balm for all wounds, Seer. Welcome home, bestie.”

I don’t know if I agree with the bourbon, but I am glad to be home. I missed my girl, and I can’t wait to hear what she’s been up to.