Chapter 6 #3
An hour and a half, six serious disputes, two pulled muscles, and a truckload of my patience later, I declare the tournament winner.
Honestly, it’s been kind of fun, in a weird, hellhound way.
You’d know what I meant if you’ve ever been to a hellhound party.
You don’t expect to enjoy yourself when you hear what’s planned, but somehow, you always do.
The applause begins to fade as Alistair comes to stand beside me. He’s pouting a little because he got knocked out of the tournament a few rounds back, but there’s a sparkle in his eye that concerns me.
“Before everyone disappears,” he says, raising his voice above the babble that’s breaking out.
“It occurs to me that we’ve been horribly rude.
Aidan, our beloved species leader, has tirelessly and selflessly overseen our amazing inaugural limbo tournament without a single word of complaint about the fact that he hasn’t gotten a turn. ”
Oh feck no.
My brain is whirling through a million possible excuses when he turns to me with a beatific smile.
“Give me the baby, Aidan, and take your turn.” Wild applause and cheers break out amongst the crowd, and I close my eyes for a brief moment of defeat.
There’s no way I can refuse. No excuse will be good enough.
“I hate you,” I tell Alistair as I carefully hand him the baby, who woke some time ago and has been gurgling cheerfully throughout most of the tournament.
“So many people say that, but it just can’t be true,” he replies cheerfully as I turn toward the broom two of the kids have snatched up and are holding way lower than I would like. “Hey, Aidan?”
I look back at him, and his smile this time is downright dirty.
“How low can you go?”
If we weren’t surrounded by over a hundred of my people, including dozens of children, I’d flip him off.
Instead, I ignore him—and the way my cock has perked up with interest—and take a deep breath.
It’s been a long time since I’ve limboed.
More than a hundred years—maybe closer to a hundred and fifty.
It might interest you to know that I actually visited Trinidad around that time and learned it there.
But it’s not like I ever devoted all that much time to it.
Still, I’m fit. I’m flexible. And I have the advantage of being the shortest adult here.
The music starts up again, and as I give myself a little shake to loosen up, the crowd begins chanting. “How low can you go? How low can you go?”
I study the level of the broom. It’s about hip height on me, which is only a few inches higher than what the tournament winner managed. I consider it and then decide to just do it.
The hellhounds go nuts. So does every single muscle in my body. But I make it through to the other side, where I’m met by a mob of cheering hellhounds slapping me on the back.
Thankfully, people are bringing out huge platters of food—lunch—right now, so the crowd gets distracted and begins to disperse. Alistair lingers for a moment longer.
“Want the baby back?” he asks, and I hold out my arms. It’s entirely possible that my whole body will go into spasm in a second, but until it does, I will show no weakness.
Before he slips away, he winks. “You’re awfully bendy, Aidan. That bodes well.”
Lunch has been cleared away and I’m discussing economic reform, of all things, with a group of older hellhounds when Alistair reappears.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, flashing a charming smile. “I need to borrow Aidan for just a moment. Also, there’s about to be a flash mob over there”—he points—“and you should definitely be watching if you want to avoid disappointment and tears.”
Almost as one, they turn in that direction. I turn too—although a flash mob at a hellhound gathering really isn’t rare—but Alistair grabs my arm and tugs me toward the house.
“Gideon just called,” he murmurs, pitching his voice so that only I can hear. “The hellhounds in custody were shocked to meet Percy. He’s sending a full report by email and wants to set up a call for later but said we should consider the theory confirmed.”
My heart drops to my feet.
“Is—” I clear my throat, remembering to speak subvocally.
“Okay.” I don’t know what to say. A million questions are teeming through my mind, but I don’t know what to say.
I want to get in the car right now, drive out to Beker County, and take all those children into my care.
“Is it that they don’t know what the magic is, or they just don’t get taught that it selects leaders? ”
He shakes his head. “Gideon didn’t give me details, and with so many people around, I didn’t ask questions.
” Off to our right, a group of young teens suddenly come together and begin singing.
They’re fairly terrible, enough so that I can’t tell what song they’re butchering, but I turn to watch anyway, half of me loving the grins on their faces as they dance, the other half aching for those who don’t have this security of pack.
“We’ll eat here and then ease away, if that’s okay with you.
We can set up the call back at the condo. ”
“Of course.” I tear my gaze away from the happy teenagers. “Did you learn anything this morning?”
The grim set of his mouth is something I’ve seen far too often in the past twenty-four hours, and it doesn’t belong.
“Yes. I’ve spoken with the children and the younger adults, and the Beker County people don’t mingle well.
They’re polite but not friendly. And often they break off into their own little groups at pack gatherings.
It wouldn’t be obvious unless you were looking for it, because…
” He gestures around. As usually happens with large gatherings, there are many smaller groups clustered around.
People move from one to another as conversations shift.
It would be very easy for a few people to remain isolated from the party at large.
“Yeah. But was there any sign they might not…?” I can’t bring myself to say the words—not right now.
I don’t need to, though. Alistair knows what I mean, and the look on his face is answer enough.
I suck in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to need to brief Jun on this, but not yet, so you need to tell me a joke or something. I feel like my face is frozen into this horribly sad expression.”
He tilts his head to one side and studies me. “Not sad, exactly. A little sad, but more horrified and… angry? Like you opened a bag of M&Ms and found no chocolate but instead rabbit turds.”
The sound that bursts from me could possibly be considered a laugh… if one usually only heard screams of torture.
“Rabbit turds? What… what?” I don’t even know what to say to that.
He tilts his head to the other side. “That’s not really any better. The horror is just magnified now. How about this: Why do fish live in salt water?”
Okay, a joke. This is more like it. It’ll be only vaguely funny, because it’s a joke about fish, but it’ll get a weak laugh and change my facial expression.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because pepper makes them sneeze.”
I gape at him, blinking, then groan. “Alistair, that was awful!”
“It wasn’t that bad,” he protests. “Wait, I’ve got more. What does a zombie vegetarian eat?”
I don’t think I can handle this. “Lettuce?” I suggest weakly.
He grins. “Graaaaaaaains!”
I turn around and walk away. “Never mind,” I call over my shoulder. “I now have a legitimate reason to look horrified.”
“Then my work here is done!” he shouts after me.
It’s a good thing my back is to him and he can’t see my smile.