Just A Small Town Orc (K!nktober #23)

Chapter 1

Put Me In, Coach

Fall evenings spent on the baseball field were special—the smell of campfire smoke from folks stoking fires around town, the bright lights of the field, and the crisp, cool air biting at everyone’s senses.

It was offseason, so the game-time pressure was nonexistent.

Every kid who showed up for practice genuinely wanted to be there to help their shot at starting next season.

And thank every goddess around that it wasn’t cold enough to switch to the indoor gym yet.

Indoor gym practices were boring compared to being out in the dirt of the field, experiencing the burn of a slide on your calf or hearing the echoes of balls hitting deep in the pocket of mitts.

It was magickal, and as I breathed in the fall evening, I paused for a moment of gratitude that I’d found this sliver of happiness.

“Come on, coach.” A nasally voice interrupted my moment of peace. “If you give my boy a shot behind the plate, I know he’ll prove himself.”

And back to reality, because while baseball was meant to be a fun time for the kids and maybe an opportunity for scholarships later down the line if the kid was hungry enough for it, there were always parents who ruined the blessings of fall ball.

I fought the eye-roll begging to unleash itself, instead nodding along to what Jeb was saying. I’d been coaching youth sports long enough to know there was always one, if not more, parent who did way too much in the name of their offspring hitting it in the big leagues.

Even if they were still learning how to field grounders.

Or connect the ball to the bat.

Or even catch a pop-up without tripping over their feet.

I didn’t pay for someone to embroider the word COACH on my polo because I felt like it.

I was the head baseball coach for the middle and high school teams and had been for the better part of two decades.

Yet parents were still somehow under the impression they could get me to do whatever they wanted because I “was employed by the town of Maplewicket and paid with their tax dollars.” Therefore, I was their underling and answered to them instead of my own coaching staff.

Despite the fact I stood well over a foot taller than most of them.

Why weren’t orcs intimidating anymore? Even in a town of monsters I should still be feared, and instead even a ferret-shifter like Jeb who had to crank his neck to look into my eyes felt he had a right to dictate my lineup.

I was too goddess-damned nice.

“Like I tell all my players, Jeb, if they want a shot at a different position, they need to let me know so we can practice and get them where they need to be.”

This seemed to placate the little guy who’d told me at the beginning of season he’d been a catcher back in his day and knew his boy would follow in his footsteps.

I also knew Mav, his son, had as much desire to wear the lobster legs and train like a catcher needed to as I did in talking to his old man about it.

“All lineup decisions are between me and Lyle. I’ll make whatever choices are best for the kids and the success of the team.”

Jeb nodded enthusiastically as if he’d succeeded in somehow influencing me. “Sure thing, coach, sure thing.” He reached out his small hand, and I grasped it in my own, putting enough firmness into it to be respectful while not crushing his bones like I could.

It was all about balance.

The rest of the players were still clearing off the field after packing up their bags.

I didn’t let slobs in my dugout, and even though we weren’t sharing this community field with any other teams at the moment, I wasn’t encouraging bad habits for the youngsters to take up to high school ball, since I’d have to deal with it then too.

I shook a few more hands and exchanged a few more pleasantries with some of the parents who wanted to chat. I normally left this part to Lyle—the charismatic bastard was way better with the parents—but he was sick and had stayed home from practice.

Twenty minutes later I stood by the cab of my pickup as the last car door shut. I heaved a sigh, then went to grab the last bucket of balls and a few other items the kids hadn’t loaded into my truck for me.

That’s when I saw Chester, sitting on the bench with his head tipped back resting against the wooden slats of the dugout wall.

Poor kid looked way too stressed out for a thirteen-year-old.

I didn’t say anything as I sat next to him and mimicked his pose, staring up at the wooden ceiling and making a mental note to get the boys to dust it next time they pissed me off.

“I’m guessing my aunt had something come up,” he muttered.

I nodded, letting the sounds of the slight breeze ruffling the fallen leaves keep us company.

“Want to talk about it?”

I didn’t expect him to take me up on the offer.

Normally, I didn’t volunteer to chat with the kids unless it was about the game—again, I had Lyle for the interpersonal aspects of the team.

But I’d known Chester’s parents since they’d moved here.

I also knew they had to take a trip for a family emergency and decided to leave Chester and his younger sister Marigold with their human aunt, so they didn’t have to disrupt their school year.

And then they got snowed in because, of course, the emergency was in Alaska.

Would I have left my younglings in the care of even my closest brother, if I had one?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. But I’m not a parent.

Declan and Dolly Carew were two of the folks in town I thought were excellent parents, though, so maybe if I were in their shoes I’d have left the kids with their aunt.

I didn’t have many friends, but I’d considered Declan one of the few who earned the title.

Chester sighed. “Is it okay if I just walk home? It’s not too far.”

I considered it. There was a team rule that every kid had to get picked up by a parent or guardian or catch a ride with a friend on the team.

I couldn’t have a kid traipsing home in the dark, despite the fact the most dangerous thing he’d encounter in this town was a feral raccoon.

Even then, Chester was a young vampire and could handle himself.

“Nah, but I can give you a lift, kid.” I got to my feet and stretched my arms above my head. “Help me finish loading up the truck.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood and grabbed a bag of extra bats before walking toward my rig.

The Carew house was truly within walking distance, but I didn’t mind chauffeuring the kid home. It’d also give me a chance to see little Marigold and check out his aunt. I’d seen her briefly around town, and it sounded like she’d be here until Dolly and Declan made it out of the Alaskan wilderness.

The Carews had hosted enough events in their large colonial home right in town square that every townie had probably been inside their place at some point.

They were both active members of the community, and since it was already mid-October with no definitive time on their return, the Halloween season was going to be without two of the more active participants.

I’d heard more than a few parents discuss how to fill the gap their volunteerism left, and several mentioned the aunt wasn’t up for it.

Specifically for the Carew Haunt, the most attended house party within the town limits on Halloween night.

Because the aunt was…how had they put it?

Flighty.

Too loud.

A hot mess.

Definitely not like her sister.

I’d been intrigued, and since she hadn’t shown up to pick up Chester, I knew the folks circling the town gossip had gotten the flighty part right.

“What are you listening to these days?” I asked, trying to make some sort of conversation.

“Nothing,” Chester said solemnly before staring out the window.

Yikes.

Teenage hormones were brutal, but he’d been more upbeat before his parents left. Their unexpected absence was felt in a lot of ways.

I didn’t press him. That was the aunt’s job. Or Dolly or Declan’s when they got back to town.

The truck rattled as I shifted into second gear and headed toward the Carew house. I tried to calm the rising anger in my blood that he’d been forgotten at practice.

I know she wasn’t a forever-guardian to these kids, but she was their aunt. How hard was it to make sure her nephew had a ride?

Maybe don’t agree to something if you can’t see it through.

I shook my head, hoping my asshole thoughts would leave, and I could just drop Chester off without even interacting with the aunt. I wasn’t in the right headspace to talk about the pickup rule.

We pulled up about five minutes later to pure chaos. If I weren’t still trying to calm myself from the upset in my gut on Chester’s behalf for being essentially abandoned at the field, I’d have laughed at the sight in front of me.

Marigold, the cutest five-year-old girl who already had everyone she met wrapped around her finger, was running around the front yard.

The little spitfire was covered in what looked like strips of newspaper stuck to her with orange and black paint smearing everything else, screaming at the top of her lungs, “YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!

YOU CAN’T CATCH ME! I’M THE PUMPKIN QUEEN, BOW BEFORE ME, HUMAN SCUM! ”

And since the tiny papier-maché menace was half-vampire, the speed alone was a sight, let alone the antics of who I assumed was Dolly’s sister. She trailed behind the blurring Marigold wielding a large beach towel, covered in her own layer of paste, looking like she needed a break.

And a stiff drink.

Stiff.

“Marigold Mae Carew! Little miss thing, you had better check yourself before I wreck you! We’re already late to pick up your brother!” the aunt bellowed across the yard, louder than I expected a human female to be capable of.

Too loud, I thought about the townsfolk describing her.

I mean, to be fair, she’d have to be with little Marigold keeping her on her toes. The aunt slowed down to take a few deep breaths, murmuring something that sounded like a lot of obscenities.