Oak and Ink
A SOULS OF THE ROAD NOVELLA
Devon Monk
ChapterOne
Fate was coming.The roar of her motorcycle rumbled at the edge of my hearing and rattled through the magic in the ground beneath me, shaking that damn pecan tree I was scowling at.
I set my hammer and bucket of nails on the sawhorse and wiped my arm over my forehead, mopping sweat even though it was barely dawn.
“You hear that?” I asked the ghost. Valentine was lounging on the pile of wood I wanted to turn into a shop, even though the damn tree was in the way of the roofline.
“Did I hear some woman cussing about not having any help, and for reasons unknown to me, angry at a pecan tree? No, Ricky. I haven’t heard a thing you’ve said.”
Val had been a werewolf in life and was a smart-ass in death.
Built lean and rangy with a bit of hungry-wolf to him, he was too skinny to be my type. But with his scruff and wicked dark eyes, he pulled off the good-looking bad-boy vibe.
Me? I was a mountain. Over six-feet tall, with broad shoulders, wide hips, and thick everywhere else, I knew my size could intimidate. Counted on it, really.
Val claimed he had a tattoo on his body somewhere, which I wasn’t about to ask him to show me. I, however, couldn’t hide my ink and was absolutely painted from collarbone to fingertips, back, butt, legs and feet.
Every one of my tattoos carried magic that allowed me to access and look after the magic in the Crossroads.
“The engines,” I said. “Can you hear them?”
He tipped his head. The ghost wolf, who was always with him, lifted its head, too, ears pricked up.
“No?” he said.
“Well, I can. It’s Fate.”
“The god? How concerned should I be?”
“Depends. Did you do something to piss off the gods?”
“Not lately.” He grinned. “Haveyou, Ricky?”
“Probably. Seems like everyone has something to complain about.” The engine was a little louder but still a long ways out.
I tugged my gloves off and stared at the space beneath the tree where I’d been trying to build a shop for weeks.
“You know what I want, Val?” I asked, without looking at the ghost. “I want a shop. I want it to somehow fit under this pecan tree without me having to saw off half the branches. And I want whatever god-awful mess is about to show up on my doorstep to be something I can ignore.”
“Didn’t know a Crossroads could ignore god-awful messes.”
“We are exceptional at ignoring and saying no to chaos.” I turned and started toward the big house. It began life as a warehouse, but was now a gathering place for all manner of magical odds and ends that washed up the drive.
Magical people, magical things, magical troubles all ended up here some way or another looking for help, guidance, sanctuary.
“Sure,” Val said. “I’ve seen you totally ignore chaos. Like when you helped Lula and Brogan find the rabbit-that-was-not-a-rabbit by battling an ancient evil a couple weeks ago.” He floated along next to me, his wolf keeping pace. “All that ‘no’ you said to all that god-awful mess really worked out for you.”
“We won, didn’t we?”
“The Hush almost killed us.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, giving him a look, “some of us were already dead.”
