Bramble Burn Page 11

  She smiled, feeling better. “No slinking off in the woods?”

  “No hiding in your tree,” he corrected. “In fact, now that I know your situation, I know a couple of guys who might be good matches for you.”

  She groaned. “Not you, too.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about him matchmaking, knowing that part of the motive was probably guilt. Of course, he wouldn’t feel guilty if he weren’t a nice guy. It would be stupid to throw away a friend because there was no chance of romance.

  “Face it, you’re stuck with F&R. Between Mia and me, we’ll get you fixed up.” Faolán might not want her, but he was determined to be friendly. It took backbone to want to work through this kind of awkwardness. His manner now was distinctly brotherly, no flirting in sight.

  That was awkward, too.

  “You don’t have to do this. I am busy,” she said firmly. “Maybe in a year, I’ll let you set me up.”

  “Life is short,” he said, holding the door for her as they went outside. “and no one is too busy for romance.”

  Dead boars were not romantic. Juniper grimaced at the partially butchered carcass on her front lawn.

  She’d noticed the “Sour Cherry” sign someone hung on the dead gang leader’s tree and stopped to check it out when she’d seen the activity in the Bramble. Several werewolves, some in human form, were carving the boar with quick efficiency, thanks to the chainsaws, axes and machetes. There was no flatbed this time, but they had several trucks and a trailer…and an audience. Klara was watching, her older brother Sergei hovering protectively. Like his brother, he was armed with machetes, and he held a rifle in one hand, the butt resting on the ground. He was alert but relaxed, equally interested in the butchering.

  Juniper smiled with approval. Klara was loved.

  She dismounted and let Twix do as he wished, grimacing when he swallowed something wet and red. Blech.

  “That’s the heart,” Klara said, fascinated as only a kid could be. She pointed to the bright red thing on the tarp covered truck bed, set aside with the other organs. Clearly the butchering had been too interesting for her and Sergei to miss.

  “Actually, that’s the liver,” Kjetil said, wiping his hands on a wet towel as he joined Juniper and the kids. “That’s the heart.” He gestured to a blunt, vein covered pyramid.

  Klara looked uncertain. “It doesn’t look like a valentine.”

  Juniper laughed. “That’s what I thought when my stepfather showed me a cow heart. Makes you wonder where the heart shape comes from, doesn’t it?” She looked at Kjetil, partly to avoid looking at his furry friends. “Are you going to eat it? It’s the hunter’s tradition, isn’t it?”

  “That’s a lot of heart, but someone will. Do you want some?”

  “Ew,” Klara whispered.

  Juniper looked at her, amused. “It’s not bad, actually. Tastes like steak. Mom used to slice it thin and cook it like chicken-fried steak. It’s the liver that’s gross.”

  “I like liver and onions,” Klara disagreed. “You should try Mama’s liver. She’s making it tonight.”

  Juniper shivered. “No, thanks. You should give the heart to your girlfriend,” she told Kjetil. It came out sharper than she’d meant, so she tried to make it a joke. “Make her a romantic dinner.”

  “We’re no longer dating,” he said calmly.

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” She looked intently at the quartered boar to hide her discomfort. She wondered why he’d dumped the woman, annoyed at her interest. His single status shouldn’t be this fascinating, because he was wrong for her. Being friends with a wolf was tricky enough, because she still wasn’t certain she trusted them. At least with dragons, she knew how they thought, what to expect. Who knew what went on in the mind of a werewolf?

  The hunters were fast. Strong, too, she thought as she watched two wolves carry a quarter to a truck, which sagged under the weight. She hoped she didn’t see any boars tomorrow. She looked at Sergei. “Tell your brother I won’t need him tomorrow. I’m going out early to start another tree.” The sooner she got started, the sooner she’d finish the job. She’d been distracted too much lately.

  Kjetil looked at her. “Oh? Where will the next one be?”

  “Compass points,” she said briskly to cover her unease. “The next one is in Felony Flats.”

  There was a small silence. Felony Flats used to have another name, but it had been a long time since it was a nice neighborhood. When the worlds merged, it was mostly the landscape and buildings that were affected, buildings and infrastructure merging and sometimes layering with disastrous effects.

  Something had gone horribly wrong in Felony Flats, and the Convergence melded human and animal with tragic results. Some humans had gone mad, others were dangerous. Crime was horrible, and the local cops weren’t safe. The army wasn’t safe, for that matter, and the government couldn’t simply slaughter the whole neighborhood. It was an excellent place to avoid the police…if you were desperate.

  It might only be blocks away, but Felony Flats was another level of bad.

  Sergei looked at the thick bramble hedge that failed to keep out the boars. Juniper kept reinforcing it, but the boars had some magical means of penetration in addition to being armored against thorns. “Are you going to ride through the park to make your new tree?”

  Juniper shook her head. “I’m not stupid. The park is bigger inside than out; what you see is an illusion. If I tried to ride across it, it would take days…if something didn’t eat me first.” The park was its own pocket dimension and poorly understood. She felt confident she could pin it one day, but it would take years. Until then, she would travel along the edge like everyone else.

  Sergei opened his mouth to ask another question, but a giant explosion shook the earth. Kjetil took her to the ground, covering her with his body. Juniper cried out as the explosions kept coming, stiff with terror. Where they under attack?

  “Are you all right?” Kjetil asked, pulling her to her feet when the explosions stopped.

  “It’s all right,” called the lookout stationed in the top of oak, a rifle scope to his eye as he investigated the damage. “Remember they were going to demo that ruined skyscraper today? They just blew it. It’s pretty cool, actually. You can see the dust rising from here.”

  Sergei and Klara took off, presumably to view the damage from their greenhouse.

  “Sorry I yelped. Scared the crap out of me,” Juniper said, staring at the cloud of dust above the skyline, lit by the sunset. Why had they blown it so close to dark? “I’ve got to pay closer attention to the news.”

  Kjetil grinned. “No worries. It’s always a pleasure to cuddle a pretty girl. You smell like lemon pie and Faolán. Did he take you to dinner?”

  She blinked at him. Clearly his wolf nose worked just fine in human form. “Er, no. We met for coffee, but it turned into a meal.” They’d wandered around outside for a bit, circling a small park with a duck pond, and she’d ended up eating her pie while they talked.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yeah. We talked. I think he’ll be a good friend.”

  He looked surprised. “You’re not dating?”

  She fidgeted. “We’re not suited. Anyway, I’d better go in. I need to rest up for tomorrow.”

  “About that…I’d like to go with you. It’s been a while since I was down there, and the hunting is bound to be good.” When she hesitated, he added, “We’ve enjoyed hunting boar, and it’s not that we wish anything more dangerous on you, but we’d love to see something more challenging.” His eyes twinkled. “I just broke up with my girlfriend. I need a distraction to take my mind off it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Manipulation. You’re not even being subtle.” She studied him, thinking about the way he’d killed a dragon. If she went alone, there’d be no one to protect her back, and it was out of Grigori’s league. Besides, with his mom working, someone would have to stay here and protect his family. Sergei and the wolves would try, but the kids were import
ant. “Sure, you can come. I’m leaving after breakfast.”

  “I’ll bring cinnamon rolls and a big gun,” he said, walking her to her front door. He waited until she was inside and headed over to the guys wrapping tarps over the last of the meat.

  “Do I get to go?” his friend, Jordan Grimm, asked. Lean and blond, the wolf was a vicious fighter, brother to the wolf who’d helped him bring down the dragon.

  “What could I do? You followed me,” Kjetil joked. “Better bring a hummer and extra ammo.”

  “She said Felony Flats, right? I think we should invite the other guys, too. Bound to be some action there.”

  “You’d think,” Kjetil agreed, climbing into the cab. Two wolves were on duty at all times, and they’d scared away more predators than Juniper probably realized. It was excellent training, but Kjetil was glad the Russian family had someone there to protect them. Juniper had impressive abilities, but she was vulnerable.

  “I talked to Faolán a few minutes ago,” Jordan said casually. They’d been buddies for a long time and gossiped like old women. “He sounded a little shell shocked.” He waited until he had Kjetil’s full attention before relating the details.

  Kjetil considered it. “That’s a lot to take in on a first date. I can see why he panicked.” He imagined it had been hard for Juniper to explain her situation, too. The girl had guts, he thought, and grinned at the memory of her screaming at the explosives. She might be tough, but she was all girl. It was cute.

  “His loss,” Jordan said. “You know how many men would jump at the chance of guaranteed children? Dragons are always looking for powerful, fertile mates, and elves and humans don’t breed easily. Maybe it even applies to our kind. Wouldn’t that be something?” His wife was wolf, but they’d had difficulty having children, waiting five long years before they had their treasured daughter. Wolves and humans interbred so rarely as to be nearly nonexistent.

  “That’s a poor reason to marry,” Kjetil said, but he knew Jordan was right. Dragons weren’t very fertile, and the long-lived elves rarely had children. Many of them would love to have a nubile wife with excellent genes.

  “I think she likes you,” Jordan said.

  Kjetil smiled but didn’t comment. He’d seen the signs, and he’d liked the smell of lemon on her lips.

  “Of course, she has options. Faolán said she wanted him to pass the word so she wouldn’t have any more awkward explanations. I know a couple of guys who might be good for her.”

  Kjetil gave him a sharp look. “It doesn’t sound like she’s looking for a lover.” His kind didn’t mate outside of marriage; once body fluids mixed, it set up a permanent bond. Infidelity caused madness and death. It took a year of celibacy to get one’s former mate out of one’s system.

  That didn’t mean that a wolf couldn’t satisfy a woman. As long as he didn’t enter her body, they could play all night.

  The thought of another wolf with her made his fingers twitch, longing to feel claws. He flexed his hand to shake the feeling. He barely knew her, but he felt protective. Perfectly natural. He looked out the window and thought about other things. He’d send a scout to look at the tree site, see what to expect; he liked to be prepared.

  Juniper might not realize it, but her days of working alone were over.

  Chapter 7

  Juniper frowned at the hummer full of wolves.

  Mindful of Twix, Kjetil handed her a paper sack. “The cinnamon roll I promised you, and they had lemon poppy seed muffins, too. They’re still warm.”

  She looked at him a long moment, then chose the muffin, savoring the taste of lemon. “These are good, thanks. Now that I’m eating your bribe, why the extra guys? I’ve done this before, you know.”

  “I know. This way, if you want to investigate a lamppost, there will be someone to carry you home.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she shook the muffin in warning. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” She mounted Twix and looked at him from her superior height. “Coming?”

  He grinned and hopped in the truck, keeping pace. Twix snorted and decided to ignore him. Clearly wolves were beneath his notice.

  On maps, the park was only a few blocks long, and the trip around the border shouldn’t have taken long. In reality, it took twenty-five minutes over increasingly rough ground to reach the tree site. When they stopped, Juniper looked across the road at the dilapidated houses that made up Felony Flats, and then at the marsh that was this part of the park. She shook her head. “This park is weird. I wonder if the council knows what they gave me.”

  “Did you know what you were buying?” Kjetil asked curiously, getting out of the truck.

  “I don’t think anyone did,” she admitted, dismounting. She frowned at one of the large, fleshy-leaved flowers dotting the marsh and grabbed her staff. The center of the flowers looked like white glass light globes and was the size of basketballs, like the kind she’d had on her ceiling growing up. She’d never seen anything like them, which meant she would exercise extreme caution.

  She sent out an energy probe, standing well back, prepared for squirts of poison or carnivorous tendrils. When her probe disturbed the flower, the globe opened like an eye, releasing a puppy sized spider. She froze in horror. She hated spiders.

  As if it were a signal, other flowers shivered open, vomiting tan and black arachnids. They paused as if to orient, then scuttled her way.

  Juniper forgot she was a mage. She screamed in blind panic and ran to Twix, screaming again as Kjetil caught her, thrashing to get away.

  “Easy,” he said, trying to calm her. “We won’t let them get you. See? The guys have this.” He made her look, steadying her when she flinched at the sight of exploding spiders. The wolves were shooting them with evident pleasure, decimating the flowers as well.

  “Thank God,” she said with feeling. “I hate spiders.”

  “I see that,” he said, laughter in his voice.

  She glared at him, noticing movement behind them. “We have company.”

  A short turtle man raced across the road, waving his thick green fingers and cursing. “Stop, you fools!” He waddled to a stop next to them, shell heaving, and looked with horror at the dead spiders. “Look what you did! You killed them.” He exploded into profanity, his wrinkled turtle face livid. Others noticed, and he was quickly joined by a crowd of freaks.

  A gray skinned man with an oversized jaw and shark teeth pushed his way forward. “What do you think you’re doing, coming over here and killing our spiders?” he bellowed. He had a studded club and looked ready to use it.

  “Were they pets?” Kjetil said. His men stopped firing at the spiders and faced the crowd, ready to defend Juniper.

  “They kept the slime grubbers out of the neighborhood,” the turtle said, spitting with ire. He waved his hands at the spiders, looking sick. “I raised this batch, and you’ve nearly killed them all.”

  Juniper straightened and drew a steadying breath. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to begin this project. “I’m Juniper Baily, owner of Bramble Burn. I came to plant a tree, but I didn’t expect spiders.” She suppressed a shiver. “I’m sorry they were killed, but maybe I can help. What’s a slime grubber?”

  There was muttering as the crowd recognized her name, but the shark didn’t look impressed. “What can you do? Your trees make brooms and crap like that.”

  “They eat giant boars, too,” Kjetil said warningly. He glanced at the marsh. “Slime grubbers come from there?”

  Juniper turned her back on the crowd to probe the marsh, seeking a disturbance that might be a slime grubber. She wasn’t sure what the unknown monster looked like, but there were several things in the water she hoped would stay there. She sized up the space, considering what the best tree would be. “Weeping willow,” she murmured, and looked at the shark. “How do I find a slime grubber? I need to teach my tree to watch for them.”

  Shark man smiled nastily. “Take a swim, bitch. It’ll find you fast enough.”

  She l
ooked at the turtle, hoping he’d be more productive. “Do your spiders attack people? Would they nest in a tree?”

  “We don’t need your help,” the turtle spat. “Stupid humans, wrecking our stuff, acting like you own the place.”

  Juniper’s eyes flared green with temper. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She reached into Twix’s saddle bag and called the seed she needed to hand. Weeping willows weren’t her first choice of tree, but she had a little bit of everything, just in case. She placed the seed on the ground at the edge of the marsh…and a huge pink thing jumped out of the water.

  It happened so fast. She glimpsed long, praying mantis legs, slimy pink flesh and many, many teeth. Instinct made her lash out with her staff, blasting the thing with pure energy. Kjetil hit her at the same time, wrapping her ribs with a hard arm, flinging her out of the way. She hit the marshy ground, skidding in the muck, and scrambled to her feet, dripping mud. A large, ugly monster lay on the ground, smoking from her strike.

  Kjetil rolled to his feet and helped her up, watching the crowd and the water. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m good,” she said breathlessly, shaken by her close call.

  The crowd looked uneasy, eyeing her as they edged back, so she took the opportunity to fix the turtle with a stern eye. “Slime grubber?” she asked, pointing to the beast.

  The turtle nodded warily.

  “Fine. Avoid touching me,” she warned Kjetil. Her staff was spent, depleted in the blast, so she centered herself and dug deep. She could do this without a battery, and the adrenaline would help. The seed became a willow, the willow, a tree. The trunk curved gracefully, becoming the silhouette of a curvy woman reaching for the sky. Branches sprouted from her fingers and hair, dripping greenery. A lacy walkway of roots formed a platform under her canopy, providing sanctuary for the two intact spider flowers. On the base of the willow, she inscribed, “Willow Woman, by Juniper of the Iron Oak”, and the date.