Page 4 of Were-Geeks Save a Kitten

Which, of course, was why he had no time for Kit.

Kit was the man who made him follow seemingly nonsensical protocols, fill out reams of paperwork, and report to their pseudo-shrink, the alien named Gelpack. And now Kit was here to offer the man a lifetime of setting policies, doing reports, and forcing others to check in on their own mental health.

But maybe there was a way Kit could pitch it so Yordan would be interested. There had to be some way to get through to the guy.

He began with a warm smile as Yordan’s van turned the corner into the large motor pool lot. The garage was separate from the regular estate, barely paved and treacherous in winter, but necessary given the extent of Wulf, Inc.’s operations. It had been on Kit’s list to get the whole area upgraded—potholes were the least of their problems—but life had been one long hop from crisis to crisis since the shit hit the fan in Wisconsin over a year ago.

The van looked like shit. He was used to salt-covered sludge on their cars. They lived in Michigan after all. But this looked like the van belonged in a Swamp Thing movie. Or it was the Swamp Thing.

Kit frowned, wondering what the hell had happened, when the daily slip and slide occurred. Yordan’s van hit a patch of black ice. They salted or sanded the lot daily, but some things were determined to go disastrous no matter what they did. Apparently, swamp muck and black ice did not go together safely.

In his defense, Yordan came in at a prudent speed, but he’d clearly forgotten that the lot was cursed for one accident a day, no matter the weather. They didn’t know the cause, but everyone suspected fairies. They just couldn’t figure out who had broken Wulf, Inc.’s prime directive. Don’t negotiate with fairies was burned into every new recruit’s mind, and yet somehow, people still did it. Everyone thought they could come out ahead with the fae, but the magical assholes always found a way to get you in the end.

And they got Yordan.

The van spun out on a patch of black ice that hadn’t been there two minutes ago. Kit saw Yordan try to adjust. The man could drive, that was for sure, but no one could maneuver on fairy ice. Not if it was determined to hurt you.

Like everyone else, Yordan turned the wheels into the spin. That was what you were supposed to do on normal ice. Unfortunately, the minute the wheels were going in the same direction as the spin, the van started spinning faster.

Chunks of muck shot everywhere. It was like putting the vehicle in the spin cycle. Kit ducked. It was a natural instinct, but he didn’t run. He’d seen this too many times to be anything more than exhausted by it.

The brake lights kicked on. Yordan was trying to slow down. It didn’t work, of course. All around the vehicle, people were putting their hands up in the air. It looked like the motor pool was in a stickup. Even Kit put up his hands in surrender because that was the point.

The only way to stop the spinning was to give up total control. There was nothing Yordan could do to slow the vehicle down. In fact, any attempt to move the wheel or—God forbid—cut the engine, would result in the van becoming a spintop they’d once clocked at 400 rpm, which was enough to make an ice skater hurl.

Fortunately, Yordan was no fool. He threw up his hands, and the car started slowing down. Kit caught his gaze every time the van came around. He knew it was an illusion. There was no way Yordan was seeing anyone in the nauseating spin, but Kit couldn’t shake the feeling that Yordan was looking straight at him.

So when the van started to slow down enough that a normal man would think of putting his hands back on the wheel, Kit dropped his clipboard and jammed his hands in the air. “Up! Up! Up!”

That was the last fairy trick. If you tried to reassert yourself before the vehicle came to a full and complete stop, then the thing would speed up for another half hour, and nothing would stop it. Not counter spells, no amount of brute force, nothing. The driver had to be patient until the thing was at a dead stop.

If he or she touched the wheel too early again, that would be a disaster that required medical. The last guy who had been stubborn survived only because he passed out. God willing, Yordan wasn’t that stubborn. But just in case, Kit had everyone hold their hands up high as a message.

The van spun around again, nearly stopped, and Kit was horrified to see Yordan’s arms start to lower. Kit cried out a sharp command in as powerful a voice as he could manage.

“Hands up!”

Yordan’s gaze locked on his, and his arms snapped high enough to press into the roof of the van.

“Stay!”

He saw Yordan’s face tighten. No one liked the insulting dog command, but every puppy knew the word and respected it. In a paranormal world, sometimes freezing was your best option. And so, Yordan froze, hands pressed upward, while the van finally stopped with an audible groan.

“Two minutes!” Kit bellowed, keeping his eyes trained on Yordan. “Stay!”

Back when this fairy game had started, they’d made the mistake of opening the van door too soon. That hadn’t been good for anyone, so Kit had decided on a two-minute wait time for everything to turn off. It had been long enough so far, but one never knew for sure.

He waited, his arms still stretched upward, while the seconds ticked by. And then, once it was done, he slowly crept forward to the van.

“Don’t move until I open the door,” he instructed. “Pop the seat belt as fast as you can, then we’re both going to dive free. Understand?” He pointed to where a pad was being placed to catch them.

Yordan nodded in a quick, curt jerk of his chin.

This was the part that Kit didn’t trust to anyone else. If the van started spinning again, he would have to dive inside or risk being thrown across the lot into any number of hard or pointy things. His particular “issue” when he shifted made him the best candidate to manage the maneuver without massive debilitation. Sometimes the reflexes of a cat were an advantage, even in a roomful of dogs.

Especially in a roomful of dogs.

He locked eyes with Yordan and said, “One, two, three.” Then he pulled open the van door while Yordan unbuckled with a speed that impressed Kit. Yordan uncoiled from the seat belt with a fluidity surprising in so big a man, then wrapped his free arm around Kit.