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“Yup, you should get your reward.” I scuffed my nails along my chest. “After all, you worked so hard to pick up the phone when the Boralis guild told you they thought their scout was in danger on your land. And it was tough work calling me to come and rescue him.” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, and careful you don’t injure your finger when you dial the Boralis back up to let them know where he is. Wouldn’t want a worker’s comp case on your hands.”
Zane let out a reverberating chuckle at my obvious sarcasm. I couldn't help but admire how his shoulders rose to stretch his already-taught shirt across his corded arms and toned physique. This wasn’t the first time I had been tempted to stare at his firm muscles and perfect backside, especially when he came in from a run with all that sweat-dampened skin. Hey - he may be one of my oldest friends and over double my age, but I wasn’t infallible to the animal magnetism all alpha wolves possessed, especially one as gorgeous as Zane, who looked to be in his early thirties instead of whatever age he was. What could I say? I liked damaged goods.
Zane raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a small wad of cash wrapped tightly in a series of rubber bands before handing it to me. I pulled up an innocent expression akin to “Who, me?” but his low growl made it clear that he wasn’t buying it. Tugging gently at the hairs that had loosened from my messy bun, he winked at me playfully and folded the cash into my right hand.
“Four hundred, just as I promised.”
I blew him a kiss.
“Do I want to know what you did with the bastard?” he questioned as he took note of the blood that splattered me like a Jackson Pollock painting.
I cocked my hip and folded my arms. “They’re hell bears, not bastards. And I sent them North. It was easy enough, but you can call Tange if you’d like to verify.”
“I was talking about the Boralis guy, smartass. And I already did.” He admitted with a shrug, heading to the wide double sink twice the size of all the counter space in his kitchenette combined. “How much did Tange pay you for the rights to collect the bears?”
“Two grand, and before you ask, no, he didn’t try to short me like last time.” My favorite local beast transporter had a serious tie to greed and often tried to pay me less than I should have for capturing the beasts so that they could be transported to sanctioned divine beast sanctuaries. “Probably took pity on me because of selections today.”
“I’m sure he’s not looking forward to having to butter up the next supernatural dog catcher Chartin sends to follow in your footsteps.” Zane frowned. “I’m certainly not. Do you think they’ll send another intern?”
“Maybe, but hey, you’ll probably get someone worth the going rate this time,” I replied, trying to dismiss the heaviness that clung to my heart. For better or worse, I would belong to a brand-new caster guild in four days, my choices be damned.
Sensing my discomfort with the conversation, Zane switched directions.
“So tell me, little cherub,” I cringed at the childhood nickname I was forced to endure, “what happened to the lucky sucker who confused your shirt for a blood bank. Don’t get me wrong, I love the payout from saving his sorry ass, but I’d kind of like to know what the fuck he was doing here in the first place.”
“Playing catch a cub.”
“And let me guess, mommy dearest wasn’t so fond.”
I laughed, “She looked like a kitten with a ball of yarn. And get this, he was wearing bright red fatigues. Great camo, am I right?”
Zane hung his head and shook it back and forth; annoyance mingled with disappointment, showing the depth of his age in a rare moment. He hated death, but unlike other shifter packs, the Ravenwings did not begrudge hell beasts or heavenly creatures their natural inclinations so long as they didn’t harm any of his pack and continued on their route to designated safe zones.
“I saved the moron, though, even healed him up a bit. I would appreciate it if you kept that on the download; I don’t want the guilds paying much attention to me going into the selections.”
“You mean down low?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Zane shook his head as I walked with him back outside the trailer, the crumpled fabric of the new clothes strewn over my forearm. I stalked toward my bike, which was a sixteenth birthday gift from Zane so that I would stop bitching for a ride everywhere. Despite being nothing much to look at - I loved it; even with the cracked leather seat, stripped handlebars, and aging suspension, it was the first real thing I felt truly belonged tomeand made me, well...a bit normal.
But before I could mount it, Zane stayed my hand with a warm grasp on my shoulder before reaching into his pocket and tossing me a pair of clunky metal keys attached to a worn plastic keychain that still had the information for the first shop he had ever worked at decades ago etched in the translucent red plastic.
“The truck?” I squealed, unable to hide the excitement from my voice. Since Zane had taken Ness and me over to Red Deer for our driver's tests (an activity strictly forbidden by the academy) on faked documents that he would never admit he paid a pretty penny for, he had only let me drive the thing a handful of times. It was an antique: a baby blue 67 Chevrolet C/K10 series with a fully restored 4.79L inline-six engine that cranked out 153 horsepower under a white roof with matching blue hubcaps.
“Yeah, well, Ness has been beating my ass through text all morning for pulling you away from Shindig prep,” he palmed the back of his neck sheepishly.
I scuffed my boots against the pea gravel driveway, squeezing the wadded-up cash in my pocket like a lifeline.
“Listen, Ryn, you probably have enough money to get away at this point,” he said cautiously. “Go into hiding, escape. You of all people can-”
I cut him off with a mad wave; the last thing I wanted was a pity party. I’d trained my whole life for these selections and would make it out okay. I had to think positively, or else the knot forming in the pit of my stomach would finish regurgitating my peanut buttery breakfast.
Zane took the hint and pulled me roughly into an embrace. His hugs were always delightfully awkward and a bit stiff, showing how out of practice he was with the gesture, making it all the more special when he deigned to give you one.
After a minute, I let go, managing a forced saucy smile before turning and heading up to the cabin he'd converted into a workshop. It was the only place with a full bath, and I desperately needed to rinse off the traces of the morning's activities before I could even consider showing up back at Red Pines Academy.
I dug into my pocket, pulling out my decrepit flip phone and pressing a few quick keystrokes to call the one person who might finish what the hell bear had started earlier.
