Chapter Eighteen
Lamont ended the call and resisted the urge to hurl his phone across the hotel room. Another FBI field office, another bureaucratic brush-off. Send the evidence first. Someone will review it. We’ll be in touch.
Right. They’d be in touch approximately five seconds before someone at Arcturus got tipped off that a whistleblower was making noise.
“No luck?” Ewen glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been on a video call with Der Spiegel’s fact-checking team for the past three hours.
“They want me to email everything to a general inbox.” Lamont dropped into the chair beside Ewen. “We might as well take out an ad in The Washington Post announcing we have evidence and provide them with a contact address.”
Ewen grimaced. “That bad?”
“Worse. Every agent I’ve reached keeps insisting that protocol requires submission of evidence through official channels first.” Lamont scrubbed his hands over his face.
“Which would be fine if we weren’t dealing with corruption that goes high enough to pressure a major news outlet into erasing your employment records. ”
“So, we’re back to publishing first, authorities second.”
“It looks that way.” Lamont watched Ewen scroll through a document covered in track changes and comments. “How’s the verification going?”
“Slowly. I’ve got to admit these guys are very thorough.
” Ewen’s fox gleamed in his eyes. “They’ve confirmed the financial transfers, tracked down two of the former Hardline employees for interviews, and cross-referenced the casualty reports with military records.
Everything checks out so far, but they want to verify the metallurgy analysis on the armor samples before they’ll commit to publication. ”
“How long?”
“Another week, maybe ten days.” Ewen closed the laptop with more force than necessary. “I know they’re being careful. I know this is how real investigative journalism works. But every day we wait…”
“Is another day Arcturus could come after you again,” Lamont finished. “I know.”
They’d been in Germany for seven days now, staying in a mid-range hotel close enough to Der Spiegel’s headquarters for easy meetings but anonymous enough to avoid attention.
Lamont had warded the room against magical intrusion and kept careful watch on anyone who showed too much interest in them.
So far, nothing had happened, but Lamont knew it was only a matter of time.
His hound paced restlessly beneath his skin, unhappy with the forced inactivity.
Ewen must have felt it through their bond, because he reached over and laced their fingers together. “You’re wound tight.”
“So are you.”
“Fair point.” Ewen’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We could both use a break. When’s the last time you shifted?”
Lamont thought back. Not since Egypt, when he’d raced around their hotel room in joyful zoomies after Ewen had collared him. Weeks ago, in other words. His hound rumbled at the reminder, wanting out, wanting to run.
“Too long,” Lamont admitted. “Do you want to go for a run?”
Interest sparked in Ewen’s expression. “I’d love to, but where? There’s no real room for you to run in this suite, and while I think your hound is adorable, you’d scare everyone in a two mile radius if we went to a local park.”
“We can go to the Underworld.” Lamont stood, pulling Ewen up with him. “The wastelands are perfect for running. There’s no one around, just miles and miles of space, and we won’t have to worry about startling any humans.”
Ewen bit his lip. “I can’t say I’ve ever shifted in the Underworld before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Lamont tugged him close, already reaching for the familiar pull of translocation. “Besides, my hound wants to play with your fox.”
“Play?” Ewen’s fox gleamed brighter in his eyes. “That sounds…yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”
The hotel room dissolved around them.
/~/~/~/~/
They materialized in the wastelands. It was exactly as the name described - red sand stretching endlessly beneath an equally red sky with no sun to indicate the time.
The ground was hard-packed and warm under Lamont’s boots, and the air tasted faintly of copper and ancient stone.
Dark black rocks jutted up in scattered formations, casting no shadows in the strange perpetual twilight.
In the distance, dark cave mouths could barely be seen in the equally dark cliff faces.
Ewen turned in a slow circle, taking it in. “It’s beautiful, in a desolate, end-of-the-world sort of way.”
“Wait until you see the River Styx. That’s actually beautiful.” Lamont looked around, trying to see it through his mate’s eyes. “The wastelands are more...functional. Good for running, and not much else.”
“Do I need to get naked here?” Ewen gestured at his clothes.
“Nope. Since we’re double-claimed, you can shift with your clothes on, just like I can. They’ll come back with you when you shift to human form.” Lamont chuckled at the look of surprise on Ewen’s face. “It’s one of the perks of mating a hellhound.”
“That’s incredibly convenient and certainly does away with any awkwardness in being naked in the wilderness, let alone the wastelands. How does that even work?”
“I have no idea, I just know it does.” Lamont grinned and let his hound surge forward.
The shift rippled through him, familiar and welcome. Within seconds, he stood on four massive paws, shaking out his dark coat. His hound huffed with satisfaction, finally free.
Ewen stared up at him, eyes wide. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how big you are.”
Lamont’s hound lowered his enormous head and bumped Ewen’s chest gently, careful not to knock him over.
“Right. A few quick scritches first…” Lamont’s hound waggled his back end as Ewen’s hands found that special spot behind his ears.
But he stepped back when Ewen said, “My turn. If I get stuck in my clothes, you’ll have to shift back to get me out.” Ewen took a breath, and his form blurred.
The shift was quicker for him, smoother. Where Lamont’s transformation involved a massive redistribution of mass, Ewen’s fox was compact. Black fur rippled across his body as he dropped to four paws, his bushy tail already swishing.
The fox looked up at Lamont’s hound and yipped, ears perked forward.
Lamont’s hound rumbled a greeting, lowering into a play bow.
The size difference was comical - his hound could fit Ewen’s entire fox form in his mouth - but his hound made a point of being extra careful.
This wasn’t play time with other hounds, this was his mate.
His duty was to protect the smaller fox, not overwhelm him.
Ewen’s fox padded forward cautiously, nose working. He circled Lamont’s hound once, twice, testing the air. Apparently satisfied there was no danger, the fox darted forward and nipped playfully at Lamont’s front paw.
Then he ran.
Lamont’s hound gave chase immediately, loping after the smaller canine.
Ewen’s fox was fast, darting between rocks and kicking up red dust, but Lamont’s hound had to deliberately slow his pace.
Each of his strides covered what would take Ewen three or four.
He let the fox stay ahead, enjoying the game.
Ewen dodged around a boulder, then doubled back, racing past Lamont’s flank close enough to brush against his fur. The fox yipped again, clearly delighted.
They ran in wide circles across the wasteland, playing chase and tag.
Lamont’s hound would catch up and gently nose Ewen’s fox, who would spin and dart away in another direction.
Sometimes the fox would hide behind rocks, then pounce out at Lamont as he passed.
Other times, he’d race straight at Lamont’s hound, sliding beneath his belly at the last second.
Lamont’s hound rumbled with contentment. He’d never done anything like that before. His packmates were fun to run with, but they weren’t inclined to play. Ewen didn’t care about looking tough or maintaining an image. He was just happy to have his mate to play with.
After what might have been an hour, Ewen’s fox finally slowed, panting. He flopped down in the red sand near a cluster of rocks, tongue lolling.
Lamont shifted back to human form and clicked up two large glasses of cool water. “Here.”
Ewen shifted as well, his clothes returning as if they’d never left.
He grabbed a glass and sculled back half of the contents in one day.
“That was amazing. I haven’t run like that since…
” he paused. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever run like that.
It’s not like I had an invitation to run in the wastelands before meeting you.
Most of my shifting was done in parks, at night, hoping that if anyone saw me among the trees, they’d think I was a fluffy dog. ”
“Your fox is wonderfully fluffy.” Lamont settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. “We can come down here anytime you want. The wastelands are always open.”
“Even when we’re back in New York?”
“Especially then. Manhattan’s not exactly fox-running territory, as I’m sure you know, although remember we have other options for where we want to live after all this as well.”
“We can talk about that when all this business is over. I need to check my house at some point as well.” Ewen leaned against him. Through their bond, Lamont felt his mate’s contentment, the pleasant exhaustion in his muscles, the quiet joy of having a fun run.
“Thank you,” Ewen said quietly. “For this. For everything.”
Before Lamont could respond, a shimmer in the air announced an arrival. A demon materialized a respectful distance away, dressed in black leather pants favored by Lord Hades’s household staff.
“Hellhound Lamont.” The demon inclined his head. “Lord Hades and Consort Ali request the presence of you and your mate for dinner this evening.”
Lamont exchanged a glance with Ewen. “Is this a formal summons?”
“Lord Hades specified it’s a casual dinner. Just the four of you.” The demon’s expression softened slightly. “Consort Ali has been asking when he would get to properly meet your mate.”
Right. Ewen had met Consort Ali exactly once, and he’d been wearing nothing but a bathrobe while half-asleep at the time. Not exactly an ideal first impression.
“What about our clothes?” Ewen gestured at his jeans and T-shirt.
“Consort Ali said, and I quote, ‘Tell them to come as they are. We’re not doing the formal thing tonight.’” The demon’s mouth twitched.
“He may have also mentioned something about how traumatizing it was for a hellhound’s mate to meet a god for the first time while wearing only a bathrobe.
Consort Ali was insistent that he wasn’t about to subject you to formal wear on top of that. ”
Ewen’s face flushed. “He remembers that? I was hoping he’d forget about that side of things.”
“Consort Ali remembers everything.” The demon’s tone held definite amusement. “The dinner is in an hour at the mansion. Shall I tell Lord Hades you accept?”
Lamont looked at Ewen, who nodded slightly.
“We accept,” Lamont said. “Thank you.”
The demon bowed and vanished.
“So.” Ewen stood, brushing red sand off his jeans. “We’re having dinner with the god of the Underworld and his consort. A casual dinner.”
“Consort Ali’s good people.” Lamont rose as well. “He’s been mated to Lord Hades for a few years now. You have to remember that back before he met Lord Hades, the consort was a shifter living a regular life, just like you did before you met me.”
“A chipmunk shifter married to the god of the Underworld.” Ewen shook his head. “My life has gotten very strange.”
“Says the investigative journalist who’s mated to a hellhound and about to expose a multi-million-dollar defense contractor fraud scheme.”
“Fair point.” Ewen’s fox gleamed in his eyes. “Do we need to bring anything? Wine? Flowers? What’s the protocol for dining with gods?”
“To just be ourselves.” Lamont pulled Ewen close, already reaching for the translocation magic. “And maybe prepare yourself for the consort to ask at least a million questions about how we met. He loves a good romance story.”
“I thought you’d already told him we met because I got kidnapped and you had to rescue me from a basement.”
“He’s going to want to hear all about it from your perspective.
It has been said, although I haven’t noticed it myself up until now, that Consort Ali has a very definite interest in all aspects of his mated hellhound’s lives.
He worries that hellhounds are useless at making sure our mate’s needs are met.
He feels, based on my packmate’s issues with their matings in the past, that we are lousy at dating apparently. ”
“He could have a point.” Ewen laughed as Lamont pulled him to his feet. “It’s not like I’ve seen a lot of dating in our relationship either.”
Lamont groaned as he held Ewen close. “Please don’t mention that too loudly in Consort Ali’s presence. We’ve both been really busy. I’ll do better, later, I promise.”
“If an actual god’s consort asks me a direct question…I’m just saying.”
“Oh, boy. I’d better be prepared to be reprimanded.” But Lamont was laughing as he held Ewen close and translocated them to Lord Hades’s mansion.