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Week Four

I haven’t seen my Tíogair since the other night, but I’m not worried. Awakening her hunger was immensely satisfying, and even if she takes a minute to reconcile what happened, I can deal with that.

After she ran away, I went home, biding my time until the hour grew late enough here for it to be morning on the Mount. Time moves differently there, but in the early 1900s, my irksome uncle declared they would run parallel to the human time zone of wherever it was located geographically. His decree forced his children to stop moving their home so frequently, but it also makes it impossible to figure out if I’m going to show up in the middle of the night by accident.

It’s not like they send out postcards when they move the damned mountain.

Currently, they’re settled off the coast of England, so they’re six hours past the meridian. Before that, they were just outside of New York—it just depends on the whims of one or more of my relatives. Some random event will catch their interest and they’ll move within range so they can meddle.

Dear Auntie wasn’t particularly helpful, unfortunately. She brushed off my questions about my father’s species and mating, preferring to discuss her opinion on current events and what mischief the family is getting word in edge wise.

Immortals can be dreadfully dull and self-centered when they surround themselves with an echo chamber.

In all my years of existence, I’ve never heard of someone with my bloodline finding a mate. Sure, some of my aunts and uncles took spouses; hell, some of them were even faithful to them. Their progeny had tumultuous love lives as well, but mating is typically a lower tier supernatural custom. Since my mother can’t be arsed to name my father, I don’t have the luxury of knowing if that part of me is why I feel the pull.

I’ve made my own way for eons, so I’ll figure this intriguing development out on my own. I’m quite certain Jolene has more mates than the four of us, and perhaps one of them will shed light on the subject. She seems to attract a veritable cornucopia of rare men; myself included.

My goal for the day is to dive into the records room at the Town Hall. She was there after she first arrived, and I’d like to see just what history she was keen on pouring over. I pried some information out of Mayor Nelia about why my Tíogair moved home and now that I’m working with facts rather than Aldous’ gossip; I have an inkling why she was digging into the archives.

Jolene is trying to figure out why she was rejected by the FBI.

I could give her that answer without lifting a finger, and I’ve considered breaking the oath to do so. This newfound desire to make someone besides myself happy is odd, and it’s irritating that I can’t solve the problem for her. It would only make things worse, though, to open her eyes when her mind wasn’t ready.

Not to mention, all of her men are going to have to grovel for a bit when she figures out we’ve been lying to her. It won’t matter that we were bound by a sacred oath rumored to be sealed with a spell so nasty that it drives oath breakers mad. Our girl will be furious, and there will be Hades to pay.

I’m prepared to kneel for her again when she demands it.

As I walk down the street to grab a slice of pizza, a sudden wave of emotion hits me. I shake my head to clear it, then look around to figure out what in the merry fuck is going on. I’m no empath like the vet, nor am I accustomed to accessing others’ thoughts without specifically endeavoring to do so. But this is pure, unbridled rage and I feel it pump through me as if it’s my own.

How very bizarre.

I follow the thread of the fury, walking down the street until it expands into a throbbing fire in front of the office of the Hollow Hollar . The yelling inside makes deciding to intervene easy—Amy Matilda Behle is threatening someone, and I’d lay money I know who it is. Throwing the door open, I take in the scene in front of me before I unleash anything I can’t take back.

A shiny snake bigger than my forearm surrounds Amy, gasping for air and gurgling invectives as it coils tighter. My Tíogair looks like she’s trying to placate the reptile, and all of her furry companions are standing in attack position. The rest of the bobbleheads who work with Amy are wringing their hands and whimpering—not lifting a finger to help either of the women locked in some weird version of a standoff.

Life in Whistler’s Hollow has gotten so much more fun since Jolene came to town.

“Aye, lass. Looks as though you’ve got a bit of a cat on a melodeon here. Allow me to assist,” I say as I give her my most helpful smile.

“Doyle, baby, stop this freak from killing Amy!”

Arching a brow, I try to remember which simpleton this is. I’ve tried dating a few of the town’s elite and eligible, but I found their inability to think for themselves lead me to grow before the main course. This one might be… Barbie? No, not Barbie, maybe… Belinda?

Shit, I will not be much help if I can’t calm this situation down.

“Bambi,” I begin, watching for acknowledgement and breathing an internal sigh of relief when I hit the mark. “I am not, nor have I ever been, your baby . I wasn’t even my mum’s baby for very long. Now shut up and let the adults handle this, you twit.”

Jolene smirks and I beam as she turns to me. “Well, Lucky, I woke up this morning, and decided since the paper called me everything short of a snake charmer, I’d try my hand at the hat trick.”

I burst out laughing; I can’t help it. The article in the paper was bound to be trouble, but I’d hoped someone would handle it before she found out. Boone seemed like the likely candidate, though it appears he fell down on the job and I have to clean up his mess. Sidling up to my Tíogair, I whisper in her ear, “I believe you know exactly how to accomplish that feat, but let’s try it on the real one together, aye? Talk to the git before the melters in here get their friend killed.”

Her frustrated look is adorable, but she steps closer and does as I asked. “Come on, dude. Amy won’t even taste good. You will not squeeze the bitter out of her, and when you go to chow down, she’s gonna give you indigestion. Hell, she gives me an ulcer and I’m not trying to digest her mean ass.”

Watching as the serpent bobs its head and scent the air, I wait. I can definitely make it let the dipshit loose, but I think this might be a new companion, and if so, my Tíogair needs to learn to control it. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay if it gets out and starts hunting her enemies on its own. She keeps murmuring, and it finally loosens its coils one by one, and Amy’s rattling breaths get deeper. After a few minutes, it unwinds from the woman and slithers over to our girl, wrapping around her leg and sliding upwards.

Ooh. Now this is a picture I can get into—she looks like a goddess and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t remind me of home.

“Looks like ye found another admirer, though I have to admit; I’m a lot more fond of this one than the giant feathered git or the doggies,” I admit as I walk closer. My auntie says my fondness for reptiles and felines comes from my father, but who in Hera’s name knows if that’s true or a misdirect? I only know that my girl wrapped in a giant rainbow python is hotter than fuck, and I’m game to play snake charmer with her any day.

“Of course you like the snake and my cats. If you were some sort of Wuzzle, you’d be a mix of those animals, Lucky.”

What’s a fecking Wuzzle? Nevermind, I don’t care as long as she’s being feisty.

“ Why hasn’t anyone told this bitch ? She’s dangerous!” Amy shouts, pointing a shaking finger at my Tíogair. “The Mayor should have her locked up like a zoo animal !”

That’s awfully close to breaking an oath, and though I’d love to see this moron fry for it, I don’t want her revealing things before Jolene is ready. I can feel her rage surging again, so I take her hand and squeeze it. My touch seems to prevent her from losing her temper just long enough for the front door to fly open behind us. Boone and the doctors come stomping in like a boy band, and I’m surprised to see the oft henpecked Benjamin from the Speakeasy in tow.

I wonder why he tagged along…

“Amy Behle!” Edgar thunders. “You need to Shut. Your Mouth. Now!”

Lust swamps me, and I chuckle as I watch my Tíogair struggle with what has to be a mess when her body reacts to the growled command. I don’t know if this woman could be any more perfect for me, but her response to a Dom’s rumble is absolute bliss. I can’t wait to flip the script on her power trip and get her to look at me like she is the hound.

“But Edgar , her stupid snake tried to kill me !”

The dark-haired judge gives her an irritated look, and Jolene presses her thighs together. This entire situation is pure chaos, and I’m enjoying every second.

Of course, there’s going to be a price, but I’m certain we can handle it for our girl.

“Amy, your father and the Mayor need to see you immediately. Your stunt in the paper has triggered a protocol and they need to speak with you.” The submissive vet is oddly firm, and I tilt my head as he continues. “Don’t dig the hole deeper; you’ll be lucky if you get out of this one without a lot of groveling.”

Hamilton gives the rest of the simpering staff a dirty look as he gestures to Amy. “Get her out of here and to Town Hall. Lock this place up and go home—all of you. I’d suggest looking for jobs, as you may not have one when this is over.”

“They won’t if I have the Mayor’s ear on the topic,” I add, giving every single woman in the room who caused this situation a malicious grin. “They’ll be lucky if they aren’t re?—”

“That’s enough, Haggerty.”

Rolling my eyes at Boone, I sigh dramatically. He’s going to be a major buzz kill, I can tell already.

“C’mon, Jolene. Why don’t you and the guys come down to the store and I'll let you in the Speakeasy early? I have the feeling you could all use a drink, and I’m happy to help.” Benjamin looks at my Tíogair shyly and, in that moment, I know why he’s here.

Ladies and gentleman, contestant number five has entered the game!

She nods at him gratefully and turns to me. “I’m going to need another form, Doyle. It doesn’t seem like this snake is going anywhere.”

“Aye, milady. I’ll get one right quick and join you all at the bar once I have it in hand.”

With that, Jolene Athena Whitley spins on her heel and whistles loudly. In less than a second, a cadre of animals and men follow her out the door obediently. When they’ve gone, I smirk at the remaining bimbos before I go.

“You may think you can tear her down, but none of you have a clue what’s in store for you when my girl comes into her own. I suggest you find somewhere else to peddle your bullshit, because that woman is going to blow every single one of you out of the water.” Pausing, I add, “And even if she never emerged, she’s already worth more than the lot of you covered in platinum and tied up with a bow.”

Choke on that, ye floral printed bints.