Page 65 of Werewolves and Witches AU

I nod at Magpie and reset our hands so I have his firmly inside mine, then tuck him in close behind me. He’s tall for a human, but I’m werewolf tall. Only when I have him fully shielded do I crack open the door and let my wolf come forward, leaning into his heightened senses.

There’s nothing to be found. If I could shift fully, then I’d have an even greater capacity, but this is suburbia at midday, and I can tell Time Guy hasn’t frozen our neighbourhood like he did the coffee shop. Shifting is too risky.

I wait a moment or two for the gentle breeze to blow the other way, in case he’s hiding up-wind, but there’s still nothing. If the purple flash wasn’t Time Guy, what was it? If it was him, how is he tracking Milo? And most importantly, how is he able to vanish without a trace?

Turning my head halfway back to Magpie, and with a low voice, I command, “My bag is packed and under my bed. Go get it.”

He doesn’t move, but tightens his grip on my hand.

Milo isn’t a werewolf, but he is supernatural and should still respond to my alpha command. I let a little more authority slip through this time. “Magpie. Bag. Now.”

Milo’s eyes refocus and he nods, but still, he doesn’t move.

“Quickly.”

This time, he does, long legs easily climbing the stairs three at a time.

I pat down my pockets, checking for both my phone and keys. With my wolf still forward, constantly scanning for any immediate danger, I disable the alarm on the car. The confirmatory bleep is loud.

Magpie’s hurried footsteps thud on the floor above me, then comes the heavy scrape of my case as he drags it out from under the bed.

My wolf remains focused on the external environment. How do I protect Milo from an enemy I can’t fight unless he’s right there with me?

Magpie charges back down the stairs, and without thinking too closely about it at all, I retake possession of his hand. I need him close. Thankfully, he doesn’t resist, and his cold fingers link with mine.

Keeping my voice low, I whisper, “We’re going shopping for that hairbrush ye wanted.”

“Now?”

“Now. Truck’s unlocked.” Magpie’s grip tightens once again. “Ye going to stay as close as ye can to my left side, keep ye head down, and yer aiming for the middle passenger door. Got it.”

The echo of Magpie’s rapid heartbeat is clear through our joined hands.

“Words, Pup.”

“Yes,” he acknowledges, but it’s quiet. Unsure.

Maintaining a direct line of sight on our intended destination, I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Ye remember that it’s my job to keep ye safe? I’m not going to let anything happen to ye, not on my watch. Do ye trust me, Magpie?”

He blows out a long breath. “Yeah, Ranger. I trust you.”

There’s that odd curling and coiling sensation in my gut again. “On three, Magpie. Shut the door behind ye.”

“One,” he says, and I risk a quick look over my shoulder to find a steely determination written over Milo’s face.

“Two,” I add.

And on the next breath, Magpie has neatly stepped into my left flank, and it’s as if that space had been designed with him in mind.

Together, we evacuate the house.

In a few long strides, I have the truck door pulled open, and then both of us are safely inside.

Neither of us speak.

Our combined heavy breaths are loud in the otherwise silent truck. Then Milo releases a soft burst of laughter.

My smile is indulgent. “Ye good, Magpie?”