Seth nodded, his own personal possum spirit giving a brief shudder—Seth distracted the anxious critter by tuning in to cricket song, promising an upcoming feast.
This close to sundown, the humid heat of September in Georgia eased, forecasting a bit of chill later on. Despite a cooling breeze, sweat beaded on Seth’s forehead. He’d tuned into Dustin’s unique essence before stepping foot off the porch and picked up Junior halfway across the yard, followed by Widow Pickens and a few elders while opening the gate. Monica’s energy hummed around him like a swarm of angry bees. He imagined the two of them stepping out to a wrestling ring, posturing to intimidate their opponents.
At last they came to the edge of the field. Seth stopped, closing his eyes and recalling the times as a kid when he’d stayed with a babysitter. He imagined his parents and great-aunt standing in this same field. How he’d love them to be here for him now.
The air seemed to vibrate with nervous anticipation, emanating from a circle of possum shifters. Dustin stepped into the circle. “Tonight marks the third full moon since our beloved leader passed beyond. As is my duty as her appointed, I’m prepared to name her successor.”
It seemed as though even the crickets and frogs fell silent, waiting for Dustin’s verdict. “Jacks, jills, and joeys of the passel, I give you Seth Aaron McDaniel, our former Jill’s only remaining kin, and heir.”
Seth took a deep breath, his heart pounding out a punishing rhythm.
“Are there any here who disagree with my decision?” Junior stepped forward. “I do.”
“On what grounds?”
Seth longed to smack the smirk off Junior’s arrogant face.
“The line dies with him. He won’t father an heir and has no brothers or sisters to provide one.” Yeah, and Junior had an imbecile nephew—big deal!
Monica stepped into the circle. “Not true. He will be a father.” She patted her belly—her flat belly. Granted, she didn’t actually lie, she merely made creative use of the truth, for they had planned for future McDaniels, hadn’t they?
Uncertainty passed over Junior’s face, gone in an instant. “You’re carrying his child?”
Seth got the feeling Monica wanted to stick out her tongue at the asshole. “Not yet, but I will. More than one way to skin a possum, Junior.”
Junior scowled, taking a step closer to Monica. Dustin neatly inserted himself between them. “Seems your argument is invalid. Do you have any other objections?”
“This man is a stranger here, to our ways. How can he make decisions affecting the passel if he doesn’t even know us?” A good point.
“He’s a McDaniel, he can learn,” Dustin replied with icy coolness. “Who would you name in his place?”
Junior responded with, “Myself.”
Dustin directed his attention to those forming the circle. “Do any of you have any reason why Junior’s challenge shouldn’t be accepted?”
Seth held his breath, waiting. The good deeds of the past few weeks hadn’t gained him a champion, apparently, though none spoke up on Junior’s behalf either.
“The challenge stands. May the best man win.” Dustin stripped off his jeans, and the rest of the passel followed suit, Seth going last. The dark shapes hovering at the edge of the field suddenly disappeared, though their energy remained, hidden in the knee-high grass. Only Seth, Monica, Dustin, and Junior maintained human form.
Seth watched Junior’s transformation, then Monica’s, then Dustin’s. Satisfied all was as it should be, he turned his consciousness inward. One moment he stood on two feet, the next on four. Between clumps of grass, possums crept closer to witness his upcoming battle with Junior.
Out of the corner of his eye, he registered a dark blur streaking across the field. Anger flooded him, bright and hot. He’d told Monica not to send the coyote shifter, damn it! He’d deal with her later! He turned, ready to send the mutt packing. The passel noticed the intruder, some hissing and running, some flopping on the ground to play dead. Junior scurried into a groundhog burrow. The coyote made a beeline for Seth, who stood his ground. A toothy mouth opened and snapped shut.
A scant second before impact, Seth realized no human awareness existed within the canine’s skull. This was a real fucking coyote! He closed his eyes, expecting to be snapped in two. An agonized squeal split the night, and he opened his eyes to the horrifying vision of Dustin clutched in slavering jaws. With no time to consider the danger, Seth acted.
He latched all fifty-two of his teeth onto the dog’s ear. The monster dropped Dustin, then whipped around to snap and growl at Seth. Searing pain shot through Seth’s naked tail. The beast shook its head, weakening Seth’s grip. If Seth let go, the bastard would surely kill him.
Suddenly the attacker yelped, his thrashing dislodging Seth and sending him flying. Seth started to run for the trees. A pained moan stopped him in his tracks. A few feet away, Dustin lay on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his middle. A furious Monica crouched over his body, ready to fight to the death, by the looks of it. Seth’s blood boiled. How dare the son of a bitch coyote hurt one of the passel! Worse yet, hurt his lover!
He whipped around, ready to single-handedly tear the beast limb from limb, to find he no longer fought alone. Three juvenile possums had joined the fray, two hanging from the creature’s ears like bizarre matched ornaments, the third clinging to the beast’s tail. All the flailing, whining, and barking in the world wouldn’t dislodge the Larry, Curly, and Moe of the possum shifter world.
Seth went for the jugular. The coyote yelped, instincts turning from fight to flight. Seth chittered for the boys to let go, and he felt the relief in the beast’s mind, as well as the triplets’ reluctant compliance. He reached out mentally, hoping to find the Johnsons far away, along with Dustin and Monica. A solid wall of possum power stood at his back. None too gently, he released his hold on the coyote’s throat, dropping to the ground and then regaining a fighting stance, lest the brute hadn’t yet learned its lesson. As one, the passel surged; the coyote tucked tail and ran.
Tired, sore, and anxious, Seth staggered toward where he’d last seen Dustin, trying his best not to show the passel his weakness, and worried how he’d ever defeat Junior in a fair fight tonight. He hunkered down next to Dustin’s too-still body. Even in animal form, his heart somersaulted when he took in the puncture wounds on his lover’s side, heard the painful-sounding rasps. Monica’s gaze, when it met Seth’s, held no promise.
I’ve got him, take care of them, she communicated, tossing her snout toward the passel.
Too weary to think straight, Seth limped back to the people, determined to be the leader they needed now. Rather than cowering like frightened animals, one by one they approached, starting with the Widow Pickens. She performed a possum bow at Seth’s feet, offering her cheek.Lick it, she murmured, possibly sensing Seth’s bewilderment. Seth obliged, giving her reddish muzzle a quick flick of his tongue, and then she ambled away to allow the next elder to make a public statement of support. One after the other of the senior members of the passel acknowledged Seth’s claim to leadership. After the third one, he discreetly wiped a paw across his tongue, spitting out loose hair. Did possums hack up fur balls?
