Some Were In Time (11 page)

Hank shrugged and grinned. Granny just patted Dwayne's head like he was a dog.

"She's correct," Granny told Dwayne.

"That she's the boss of everyone?" Dwayne asked, confused.

"Hell to the no! I'm the boss of everyone," Granny said. "Always have been, always will be. However, Essie is correct about you not going off half-cocked and getting into it with the Cow Dungs."

"The Dung Cows," Dwayne corrected her.

"What?"

Now Granny was confused.

"Bottom line," I ground out, not wanting to get into a semantics debate that could take hours. "We're a family. We work together. First the Dragons, then the Dungs, and then the Council. You understand me?"

"I'm farklempt," Dwayne blubbered as he fluttered his hand in front of his watery eyes. "Not really used to having backup."

"Well, now you have it, and if you go off by yourself
I
will decapitate you," I said as I bent over the passenger seat and gave him a hug.

"That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," he said as he sniffled.

"You're welcome." I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"Everyone out of the car," Hank directed. "Stretch your legs and prepared to get stabbed."

"Sweet hell, is this a Werewolf thing?" Dwayne asked as he got out.

"Nope," Hank said as he pulled a sharp pocketknife from the glove compartment. "It's a safety thing. We're all getting homing transmitters put in so Junior can track us if we get separated."

Hank quickly inserted the small knife into both Granny and Dwayne's hips and placed tiny metal chips inside them. They healed immediately. He then sliced his own hip and slid a transmitter under his skin.

"Why doesn't Essie have to get stabbed?" Dwayne complained as he stared at his healing hip.

"Because I already have one in my butt," I said as I narrowed my eyes at my mate.

Hank didn't give me a heads up when he stabbed me in the ass two weeks ago to plant a transmitter in me. We were going after the Dragons and time was of the essence…

"Would you have let me stab you in the butt if I told you I was going to?" he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a lopsided grin.

"Yes," I said, not making eye contact. I could throw down with the best of them, but I really hated getting stabbed.

"Really?" he prodded.

"Yes, really," I snapped. "You might have had to chase me down for an hour."

"Or two," Granny chimed in.

"Fine. It was better to just blindly stab my ass. You happy?"

"Yep," he said as he grabbed me and swung me around.

"You're a dork."

"I'm your dork," he shot back and punctuated it with a kiss.

"Are we going to stand here and watch you two suck face or are we gonna go get some Dragons?" Granny asked with a grin.

"Actually, Dwayne made a fine point," Hank said as he gave me one last peck and then got all sexy serious.

"On my god, I did?" Dwayne asked.

"The element of surprise will go a long way in not getting gored by the Cows," he said. "We are heading into Indiana in the next hour."

"Yes? And?" I needed some facts—not hints.

"The Dung's main compound is right outside Indianapolis. I saw we pay the Cows a visit before they extend an invite."

"Won't this screw with Angela's schedule?" Granny asked gleefully.

Soon I'd have to get the full story from Granny about her time partnering with my boss.

"Do I look like I care?" Hank inquired with an evil smirk.

"Nope, you don't," I said. "Furthermore, I think making Angela and her Dragon buddy come to us somewhere outside of Chicago is safer."

"Brilliant! Damn, I should marry you," Hank yelled.

"You already are." I laughed and held up my left hand, showing off my beautiful ring.

"I sure am a smart guy."

I threw my arms around his neck and laid a big one on his full beautiful lips. "Yes, you certainly are."

***

"Is this a joke?" I asked as we stood at the rickety wooden gate of a compound with a stench that made my eyes water. The enormous hand painted sign read,
DUNG FARM. We Moo For You. All Trespassers Will Be Eaten. Open To The Public On Mondays For Milk. Bring Your Own Damn Jug.

"I told you they weren't very bright," Dwayne whispered as he held his nose. "They eat their mates. Which begs the question, how are they still here?"

"Maybe they're hermaphrodites and can impregnate themselves," Granny suggested. "You know, they take themselves out to a nice dinner and then dance a little and then feel themselves up and get all randy and then WHAM. Next thing you know… preggers."

That pretty much rendered everyone silent while we contemplated her absurdly wrong and horrifying nugget.

"I'm gonna have to go with a no goddamned way on that theory," Hank choked out as he put his hand over his mouth to keep from hurling.

"I'm with Hank on that one," I said as I struggled not to gag.

"Just a thought," Granny huffed defensively. "I don't hear you brainiacs coming up with a logical possibility."

"It's a fine hypothesis," Dwayne told her with a weak thumbs up. "It's simply a bit vomit-inducing."

"It might be," Granny agreed with a shudder, "but it makes sense."

"God, I really hope you're wrong," I said, joining her with a shudder of my own.

We had parked the Hummer at a Krispy Kreme about five miles away and hoofed it to the Were Cow's lair. Granny had polished off a dozen doughnuts on our hike and still complained about being hungry.

Indiana was flat with very little brush—no place to hide. Thankfully we had waited till dark to approach.

"Do we have a plan?" I asked.

"It's a dairy farm," Hank stated the obvious.

"Yep."

"I'm thirsty. Let's go in and buy some milk," Hank said with a grin.

"Um, it's ten at night on a Tuesday," I said, just in case no one else had actually read the entire sign. I was all for walking in and shaking it up; I just wanted to make sure we all had the intel.

"Oh my Donna Summer, this is exciting," Dwayne squealed as he bobbed up and down. "Of course we could be walking into a bloody and violent death, but it's just so naughty. Reminds me of the time I streaked in Pamplona at the Running of the Bulls about eighty years ago. I lost my left leg and my right test… "

"Stop," I said as I slapped my hand over Dwayne's mouth. "I just can't. Not right now."

"Later?" he asked.

"Possibly," I muttered.

"Anyhoo, thankfully it all grew back," he explained.

"That's… great," Hank said with a wince. "Back to the matter at hand—we go in diamond formation. I'm in front, Dwayne in back in case they recognize him, and Essie and Granny flank my sides. If it goes bad quickly we shift and go back-to-back. Dwayne, be prepared to do a mind meld."

"Oh dude," I moaned and paled. "I was hoping to never see one of those."

"They are a bit messy and stinky," Dwayne admitted, "but they get the job done."

"It couldn't reek any more than this place already does," Granny grumbled as she pulled a colorful scarf out of her cleavage and tied it over her nose. "Anybody want a kerchief?"

She pulled several more out of her bra and handed them out. On any other day, I'd hesitate to wear something that had been nestled in my Granny's bosom for twenty-four hours, but the stench was horrific. We looked like a band of designer burglars.

"Everyone armed?" Hank questioned as he checked his guns and knives.

"Yep," I said as I felt for my Glock.

"Locked and loaded," Granny said.

"Dwayne does not need weapons," my BFF reminded us. "Dwayne
is
a weapon."

Hank shook his head and looked up to the Heavens for a moment. "Let's do it."

"Wait," I spluttered. "Is there anything I need to know about a Were Cow before we go in… considering I was, you know… absent the day it was studied in school."

The laughter from my posse made me want to punch them in their heads. However, I knew I deserved it.

"I get it," I admitted sheepishly. "I do get it, but giving me shit aside, is there anything I should be aware of?"

"When they shift they're roughly the size of a Hummer," Dwayne said with a smirk.

"You really enjoyed saying that," I said as my eyes narrowed at him.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Anything else?" I asked and then instantly regretted it.

"Stay the hell away from their asses," Granny instructed.

"I don't want to ask why—but
why
?" I could tell Granny was going to explain whether I wanted to know or not. I was simply expediting.

Hank just pinched the bridge of his nose and stared off into the darkening sky. I was unsure if he already knew all of this information or if he was simply too smart to have opened a can of worms—or ass.

"Because they blow wind that can singe the hair right off your head. The Were Cows’ gastric explosions are directly responsible for the Greenhouse Effect," Granny said.

"Bull crap," I said as I rolled my eyes.

"That too," she added.

"Wait—what?" Following her train of thought was headache inducing.

"Were Cow patties are destroying our ozone too." She shook her head with disgust. "Their rectal issues are gonna be the end of the world. I really think they should have their rear ends permanently plugged up."

"They'd simply start producing killer stanky burps," Dwayne told Granny.

"Sweet Jesus in a mini skirt, you're right."

"Oookay guys, I think that's probably enough," I stammered.

Note to self: stop asking questions of Granny and Dwayne. Or at least make sure my stomach is empty if questions are necessary.

"Remember how they said Mrs. O'Leary's cow started the Chicago Fire?" Dwayne asked.

"That was totally disproven," I argued.

"More like covered up," Dwayne sniffed. "A Were Cow ate twenty-six pounds of baked beans and tooted next to the lantern that started it all. Damn thing blew up like a bomb."

"Enough," Hank said in frustration as he ran his hands through his hair and gave Dwayne and Granny a look that would have scared the hell out of most people. Granny and Dwayne were not most people. "Most importantly, if they shift don't let them gore you. The tips of their tusks are poisonous. Also, their hooves are razor sharp so… "

"I really think the ass part is more important," Granny interrupted Hank. "Of course, Dwayne would be fine because he's bald."

"And don't step in their poo poo—it will eat your foot right off your body," Dwayne added.

"I'm actually really sorry I asked." My gag reflex was so close to the surface I had to pace it off.

"Okay," Hank said as the color began to come back into his face. "We ready now?"

"I was born ready," Granny crowed.

"Of course you were," I mumbled as I swallowed carefully to make sure nothing was going to come back up.

"I would just like to say that I love all of you and if you die tonight, please accept my sincerest apologies." Dwayne hugged each of us and then dropped to the ground and did eleven one-handed pushups.

"Does that help?" I asked as I watched him.

“Not at all," he replied.

"Move it," Hank said in exasperation.

I grinned and slapped his butt. Even annoyed he was hotter than asphalt in August.

The dirt road was rutted and uneven. Rusted-out junk cars and garbage littered the fields on either side. Up ahead I spotted several rundown trailers. The entire place made me sad. What could have been beautiful property in its stark simplicity was an unkempt pathetic disaster.

"This confuses me some," Granny said quietly as she took in the abject poverty. "How does a powerful species come to this?"

"Don't know," Hank said tersely. "Maybe it's a cover to keep people away."

"Possibly," I whispered, "but I don't detect power here. I smell desperation."

"I feel sick," Dwayne said. "If I'm the cause of this… "

"How could you be the cause of this?" I asked.

"I don't know." He wrung his hands and then wrapped them around himself. "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling."

I did too, but not one of fear for my life—one of fear for the state that the Cows had gotten themselves into.

"Desperate people do desperate things," Hank reminded us. "Stay alert and let's find out what's really happening here. Do not kill unless provoked."