Word of the Day Prompt
Date: March 11, 2015
Universe: Haskell Investigations
Word of the Day: variorum (adj;1. Containing different versions of the text by
various editors; 2. Containing many notes and commentaries by a number of
scholars or critics)
Timeline: post-book one, no major
spoilers
A small bubble of panic welled in Rick’s throat. He’d let go of Az’s hand for one second –
just long enough to shield his eyes from the fireball – and lost her. He stood still in a swarm of firemen, police
officers, paramedics, and screaming witches.
Sharp eyes scanned the crowd for a bobbing blonde ponytail. With the smoke from the fire and the acrid
odor of burning herbs, he couldn’t use his enhanced senses to locate her
magnolia scent.
Had she gone into the burning building?
Had she been knocked down by the explosion and trampled? Had one of the witches attacked her? Az got along with the Sisters of Munificence,
but it had been five weeks since their last witch fight. They were due.
There was no sign of Az in the crowd.
He should have carried her away from the house when the first spark lit
up the night. He should have handcuffed
her to his wrist. He should have locked
her in the truck. He should have left
her at home with the rest of the pack.
Rick retrieved a roll of antacids from his pocket and popped two
cherry-flavored tablets in his mouth.
The grit stuck to his molars as he chomped on the pills. The mild cooling sensation did little for his
churning gut. Doc Taylor was on his ass
about his blood pressure. Rick was going
to send Az to Doc Taylor for a week to prove that medication was unnecessary. His blood pressure would return to normal
just as soon as he had a void who didn’t run off whenever a thought popped into
her pretty, reckless head.
He dug into his other pocket for his phone. After dialing Az’s number, he jammed one
finger into his ear and held the phone up to the other. One ring.
Two.
His ass vibrated.
Twice.
Anger swiftly replaced the panic. He reached into his back pocket. The neon pink smartphone was still
vibrating. His face, slack with sleep,
filled the screen. When had she taken
the picture? Why was he listed under
“Growly”? Did she really enjoy running
with Greta and him in the mornings? He’d
practically tattooed the rule about phones on her forehead. Why had she slipped her phone into his
pocket? Why hadn’t he noticed?
Rick popped another antacid before pocketing both phones. He grabbed the shoulder of a passing
uniformed police officer. “Have you seen
Az Stanton?”
The cop’s forehead scrunched up.
After a moment, it smoothed out and a grin slowly spread across his
face. “Cute little blonde thing,
right? Great smile, decent rack,
downright sweet ass? Consults with the
supe squad?”
Rick ground the antacid into fine powder. He balled his fists to keep from wrapping his
hands around the cop’s scrawny neck. The
cop didn’t know it yet, but his career was over. Rick was going to use every iota of influence
he held to ensure the cop never guarded anything more than a crosswalk.
A crosswalk in front of a retirement home.
Oblivious to how close he was to certain death, the cop chuckled. “I haven’t seen her tonight. Wish I had.
I hear she’s close with witches.
Big explosion like this is bound to be upsetting. I wouldn’t mind offering up my shoulder for
her to cry on. I could take her mind off
this tragedy, if you know what I mean.”
Rick bared sharp, gleaming fangs.
Fur sprouted along the back of his hands.
The cop went ashen. He finally
focused on Rick’s face. Went even whiter. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. “You’re the Alpha of the Pack.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Ms. Stanton is a member of your pack.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Sweat dotted the cop’s
forehead. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
“Play nice, Ricky!”
At the laughingly-issued command, both men turned away from the
house. A slender, pale figure emerged
from the shadow of an ambulance. Az, hem
of her prissy skirt coated with ashes, waggled her finger as she approached.
Rick quickly scanned her for injuries.
There was a small scrape along her left cheek and red handprints on each
of her forearms. He checked her eyes for
signs of a magical overload. The blue
gaze locked on to his was sad but clear.
As soon as she was within reach, he looped an arm around her waist and
dragged her to his side. Aware that the frightened
cop was watching, Rick let his lips linger on the warm curve of her cheek
before resting his chin on top of her head.
“Oh, Jesus,” the cop muttered, backpedaling.
He stumbled over his own feet.
“I’m sorry.”
He melted into the crowd. Rick
let him go. He’d memorized the cop’s
badge number. Retribution could
wait. His attention turned to the woman
snuggled up against him. He dragged her
away from the swarm of first responders.
The heat from the fire was only fueling his simmering rage.
“There are no words for how much trouble you’re in, Astraea.”
Az sighed. Her fingers dipped
into his back pocket, but she didn’t immediately grab her phone. “Somehow, I doubt that. You always find the words.”
His growl made the ground beneath their feet rumble. “There isn’t enough cute in the world to get
you out of this one, either.”
“I’d be willing to test that theory.”
She flashed a small, seductive smile.
“I’ve been reading this book on -.”
“You disappeared. Before we got
out of the damn truck, I told you to stay with me. It was an order. Not a suggestion. But what did you do as soon as I let go? You disappeared. Not a word.
Not a warning. Nothing. Just poof.”
“Rick, I -.”
“And then,” he snarled, “you left your phone with me! What have I told you a thousand times about
that damn phone?”
“Rick’s electronic leash law,” she said, smile slipping away. “I don’t have pockets and you made me leave
my purse in the car.”
“Then maybe you should think of that before you pull another
ridiculously impractical outfit from your closet.” Rick’s angry glare pinned her in place. “If you’re serious about this shit, Az, then
you have to start obeying me. All the
time. Not just when it’s convenient for
you. Probation period is over,
sweetheart. Time to prove you’re ready
to be pack.”
“I am ready!”
“Prove it.” Rick shook his head
disgustedly. “Sometimes I swear you’re
more trouble than you’re worth.”
Az stiffened against him.
Stilled. Her chin dropped to her
chest. Rick felt the tremble of her
shoulders. His anger cooled
instantly. Ah, hell. He’d let his fear-driven fury get the better
of him. At times his tongue could be sharper than his claws, and Az pushed his
buttons like no one else.
“You don’t mean that,” Az said softly, hesitantly. It was more question than statement.
“No, I don’t.” Rick wrapped both
arms around her to cradle her against his chest. He buried his face in her soft hair. “Of course I don’t mean it, sweetheart. You know how I feel. But you have to stop doing this to me. You make me crazy.”
“I’m sorry. I needed to get away
from the house. I was trying to avoid
the Sisters of Munificence. I warned
them that this would happen. I warned
them every chance I got. I had to get
away, clear my head. I thought I was
good, but then I ran into Matron Laurie.”
She sighed again, melted against him.
“It was ugly.”
Rick remembered the marks on her arms.
Marks he was more than willing to repay on Matron Laurie. “She hurt you. She’s an empath, and she felt your
guilt. Two of her girls died; she took
it out on you.”
Az swallowed. Her hands settled
on the small of Rick’s back. Her nose
pressed against his sternum. Rick gently
stroked his hands up and down her spine.
There were no tears soaking into his shirt, yet. His poor, compassionate void took her
responsibilities far too seriously. She
considered every misstep by a witch as a personal failure on her part. The deaths of two witches would haunt her for
weeks. He’d have to watch her closely –
make sure she didn’t fall into a funk. He
was going to be on nightmare duty, too.
“It’s not your fault, Princess.
The Sisters of Munificence are notorious for resisting change. You could
have talked until you were blue in the face and it wouldn’t have done a lick of
good. Laurie’s a third-gen Matron. She should have known better. It’s not your fault.”
“Damn straight it’s not.” Az
pushed back just far enough to scowl up at Rick. “I
told that obstinate hag that she was playing with fire. Literal fire.
She didn’t listen. This is on
her.”
Rick floundered for a moment.
She didn’t feel guilty? She was
angry? At the witches? “Huh?”
“I told them to stop being so damn tight-fisted and buy unadulterated
copies of their spellbooks. Variorums
are cheaper, but something gets lost with all those commentaries and
unnecessary edits. This was a disaster
waiting to happen.”
Rick shook his head and tried not to laugh. Az took her books seriously. She couldn’t understand that not everyone
shared her passion. Especially not
cost-cutting witches.
“So what happened to your arms?”
“Matron Laurie started screaming about sabotage or an attack. It pissed me off. We just got tensions down to a reasonable level. The last thing we need is someone from
another coven to hear her running her mouth and firing things up again.”
“A fair point. That doesn’t
explain what happened to your arms.”
Az lifted her chin. “Matron
Laurie wouldn’t shut up. I asked
politely.”
Rick reached for another antacid.
Evasiveness meant that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “What.
Did. You. Do?”
“Punched that old biddy in the collagen-enhanced mouth. It took three of her witches to keep me from
breaking her hook of a nose.”
Rick knew he should discourage her occasional bursts of violence. She was usually the even-tempered, diplomatic
half of their team, but every now and then she gave into the anger. He needed to teach her his breathing and
meditation techniques. The witches she
had to deal with on a weekly basis were enough to try the patience of a saint.
He should discourage violence, but he was a Shifter. Violence was as much as part of him as
breathing or eating. Az wasn’t a
Shifter, but she was pack. And her
violence made him proud.
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
