“Better or worse?” Tristan asked.
“Better. Much. They’re actually a joy to be around now. They used to be a nightmare.”
That seemed like the summary of Jessie’s whole crew.
“Training Wheels told me about the trouble shifters are having with mages,” John said.
Tristan furrowed his brow. “Who?”
From the corner, he saw a hand go up and a finger point down. Aurora.
“Miss Alpha’s Daughter, Alpha-in-Training, Training Wheels.” She burped. “All right here.”
A laugh escaped Tristan. “Good one.”
“He certainly thinks so,” Aurora groused, and even though shifters seemed to have a great tolerance, she was in an alcoholic haze. Niamh and Phil had really done a number on this crew.
“Nessa, before all the shots…” John paused as she staggered back over to Tristan, threaded her way between his legs and draped herself over him, tucking her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. “She filled me in about mages in general. Why would the gargoyles join a fight that doesn’t belong to them?”
Tristan pulled Nessa in close, supporting her weight and feeling a delicious hum between their bodies. She moaned softly.
“Because gargoyles are made to battle. Wewantthe fight. And we need a strong commander to lead us there. Give the gargoyles a cause and they will give you a favorable outcome. Why do you think Jessie and Austin are spending their time and effort trying to barge their way into a community that doesn’t think they belong? We need them if we want to win, and wehaveto win. If we don’t fight for each other, who will fight for us? Shifters are currently the targets, but if they fall, who is next? This isn’t an individual sport, it’s a team effort—for those who have the balls to play, at least. And Jessie and Austin have the biggest balls of them all.”
“Lady balls, made of iron.” Natasha tried to put up a fist but failed. “Did I win?”
“Did you win what?” Tristan asked her.
“Did I win the shot war?”
Jasper put up his hands. “I win! I got up so I win. I am still standing for the foreseeable future.”
“You’re leaning against the wall,” Natasha said, her face still tucked into Tristan.
“Whatever. You’re being held up. I win.”
Ulric jogged out of the archway that led to the restrooms, clipped his toe on the corner, staggered, and sprawled across a table, bringing it crashing down.
John bounced up.
“You didn’t win!” Ulric climbed to his feet as John righted the table. “You did not win!” Ulric put a fist into the air. “I am not done yet!”
“Atta boy,” Niamh said, still without turning around.
“They’re cut off,” the bartender said, watching the melee.
“Ah,schure,” Niamh said in a thick drawl, “they’re just gettin’ goin’. Leave ‘em at it.”
“No.” The bartender shook his head. “No more for them.”
“Yes, please,” Aurora murmured from the corner. She groaned and thunked her head against the table. “Cut me off.”
“Time to go.” Tristan stood, cradling Natasha in his arms. She snuggled in close. “I just need to tuck her in, and then I can come back and see the others home.”
“Nah.” John stood and stuck out his hand.
Tristan balanced Natasha before shaking it.
“Thanks for not giving a shit about what I might do with my life.” John grinned. “It’s refreshing.”
