Page 5 of Poet & Protector

“That’s how I felt when I first came here.”

She led me to a group of chairs. We’d barely sat down when I saw someone coming toward us quickly, an elder Bane.

Jackie noticed me bristling. “Easy, Mason.”

I had to press my lips together because my canines had sharpened.

“Mason, meet Caleb,” Jackie said when he arrived. “He’s usually behind the bar. He must be feeling extra friendly tonight.”

Caleb laughed. “It’s not that busy and I didn’t want our friend here to think we let new arrivals go thirsty. Hospitality first and all that.”

He held his hand out and smiled at me. No sharp fangs in sight. “Caleb. Welcome to the Bunker.”

“I’m Mason.” Shaking hands with a Bane was bizarre. This place was going to take some getting used to.

“Can I get you anything, Mason?”

When I hesitated, he flashed another smile. “We don’t card.”

A beer was tempting, but it was probably smarter to keep my head clear until I found my footing.

“A Coke is fine.”

“Jackie?”

“I’ll never pass up one of your old-fashioneds.”

“Be right back.”

I watched Caleb return to the bar, still feeling unsettled at the casual, friendly exchange.

“It’s an adjustment,” Jackie said to me, understanding. “But I think you’ll find the Banes are not what you’ve always been told. At least the wolves who come here.”

“If you say so,” I replied. “So how is it that I got invited? Or can you not tell me?”

“I can tell you a little,” she replied. “You’ve been on the radar since you were ten, after your mom told her sister about your reaction to the mates ‘talk.’”

“My mom wanted me to find this place?”

“Your mom doesn’t know about the Bunker,” Jackie replied, smiling sympathetically when I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “But she expressed some worries about you to Brigid a long time ago. Anytime a conversation like that happens, and someone connected to the Bunker—like Brigid—finds out, there’s a system in place to keep tabs on the individual involved. If by the time that person turns sixteen they still appear to be someone who would benefit from this community, they’re contacted.”

“Through the notes,” I said.

Jackie nodded. “That’s how it works for Nightshades. The Banes have their own system that’s more tailored to each individual, but ours doesn’t have to vary because we have the protection of our alpha.”

I felt blood draining from my face. “Stephen Tor knows I’m here?”

“He only knows you received an invitation. Don’t worry.” Jackie leaned over and patted my arm. “Stephen quietly supports our work. Whenever a Nightshade shows signs of needing this place, one of our liaisons gets approval from our alpha before making first contact. He believes happy wolves are better, more loyal soldiers. I wholeheartedly agree with him.”

“But Emile doesn’t know, does he?” I didn’t try to mask the horror in my question. Only in an alternate universe would the Bane alpha be okay with a secret meeting place for queer Guardians.

Jackie grimaced. “No way. He’d turn any of his Banes over to Efron in a heartbeat. Or he’d simply kill them himself.”

“Not a surprise.”

Caleb returned with my Coke and Jackie’s cocktail. I thanked him and managed a friendlier smile. He smiled back, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. Apparently, I wasn’t as good at hiding my inclination toward violence as I thought.

After Caleb dropped off our drinks, a man with a hard, weather-worn face and a heavy five o’clock shadow approached us. He looked like he was in his early fifties; his black hair was beginning to silver at his temples and was long enough to brush the tops of his shoulders. He wore a faded gray denim western shirt with jeans and heavy work boots. His scent told me he was human.