The Lion, the Witch, and the Werewolf Read online

  I met him at my home in Hawaii and then traced him to Pride Palace so he could meet Lesya and visit with the rest of my family. I kept glancing at him while we took the elevator up to the top floor. The last time I'd seen Tristan, he had deep red hair and a smooth jaw. Now, he had platinum locks and a full beard. From boy to man; he looked fantastic. But he didn't look like Tristan. And then there were the faint wrinkles and dark circles around his eyes.

  Living around immortals did a funny thing to you. Time became less important; at least in the way that it can affect a body. The years that had passed since I'd seen Tristan were etched on his face while mine had stayed the same. It hurt a little to realize that one day he'd be an old man, and I would still be as I was today. Would our friendship last through that? Between my ruling the Intare and the Fire Fey, being a mother to three magical children while being pregnant with a fourth, being a wife and girlfriend to seven men (Jiminy Cricket! I had seven men!), and being the Godhunter, it was hard to find time to have a moment to myself much less go out to lunch with a friend. It was seeming more and more unlikely that my human friendships would endure.

  And that hurt. But not as much as Tristan was hurting.

  “Why didn't you tell me?” I asked gently as I led him to the table in the small kitchen of my master suite.

  As soon as I'd opened my door in Hawaii, Tristan had launched himself into my arms and sobbed. Then he'd told me that Jackson and he had broken up. He cried awhile, and we drank awhile, and then we decided to come up to Pride Palace so he could meet my daughter and congratulate Re on our recent nuptials. I hadn't been able to invite any of my human friends to my wedding since it had taken place in Osiris' Kingdom in Aaru and getting there would mean taking them through some scenery that humans shouldn't see until after they were dead. Even then, I don't think humans should see it; it was some frightening stuff.

  “The last time I texted you, you sounded really busy,” he said softly. “I didn't want to worry you with my suspicions.”

  “Damn him,” I swore under my breath. “I can't believe Jackson cheated on you.”

  “And now, he's engaged,” Tristan said morosely.

  As if he sensed that he was needed, my gray tabby cat, Nick, came sauntering into the room and rubbed up against Tristan's leg. Tristan smiled brightly and reached down to pet the cat.

  “Hey, buddy! It's been awhile since I've seen you,” Tristan said to Nick.

  Tristan and Jackson used to check on Nick every few days because I never knew when I'd be away from home for awhile. A cat doesn't forget that kind of relationship. Nick started purring but before he could settle in against Tristan, a werewolf ruined the mood.

  “Tristan!” Trevor exclaimed as he came into the suite. “Damn, dude, it's been forever.” Trevor hugged him. “How are you? Where's Jax?”

  Tristan teared up, and I shook my head at Trevor vigorously. Nick gave Trevor an affronted look as well and strode off with his tail lifted indignantly.

  “Oh, sugar cookies,” Trevor whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Did you just say; oh, sugar cookies?” Tristan sniffed and blinked at Trevor.

  “We're trying to keep the language clean because of little ears.” Trevor nodded his head toward Kirill and Lesya who were just coming down the set of tower stairs on the left side of the room.

  “Who's that?” Lesya asked as she pointed at Tristan imperiously.

  “Zat is your Uncle Tristan,” Kirill said with a smile. “Hello, Tristan. It's good to see you.”

  “You too, Kirill.” Tristan went to hug Kirill and then held his hand out to my daughter. “And judging by your pretty face, you must be Lesya.”

  “I am!” Lesya cried and launched herself at Tristan.

  Tristan managed to catch her and hugged her back, his face shifting instantly away from sadness. “It's very nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Lesya said. “I learned to hunt today.”

  “Did you?” Tristan took Lesya to our dining table and sat down with her on his lap. “How old are you? I thought you were born last year but that can't be. You're a little lady.”

  “I'll be two in June,” she said proudly.

  Tristan looked up at me in surprise.

  “It's the lion in her,” I explained. “It accelerates growth. It should stop soon.”

  “Wow,” Tryst whispered. “The Twins must be big too then.”

  “They're about to turn four, but they look closer to nine,” I confirmed. “That seemed to be the stopping point for them. With lions, we think it will be around five or seven; that's what Zariel stopped at.”

  “Five to seven?”

  “Well, it's hard to tell.” I shrugged. “No precedents. Zariel could be tall or small for her age. We just don't know.”

  “Wow; the growing patterns of supernatural children,” Tristan murmured.

  “I'm sorry I haven't come down to Earth to spend time with you, Tryst,” I said softly.

  “It's okay, V; I understand. You got a lot going on.” Tryst looked pointedly at Lesya.

  “It was nice to meet you,” Lesya said as she slid off Tristan's lap. Her long, ebony curls bounced around her butt and her deep-sea eyes, so like her father's, blinked up at Tryst. “But now, I've got to go play with my friend Zariel.”

  “Okay.” Tryst nodded. “Have fun.”

  “Thank you, I will. She has a tea set.” Lesya gave me a pointed look.

  “Lesya, so help me Gods, I will blister your butt if you mention that tea set again,” I growled at her.

  “I'm just telling Uncle Tristan why I'll have fun.” She gave me a look that was all me.

  “Come on, Kotyonok,” Kirill said as he scooped her up and laughed. “I'd best get you to Zariel's before your mama spanks you for acting too much like her.”

  “Hey!” I scowled at Kirill.

  Kirill paused to kiss my cheek on his way past, and I stopped scowling.

  “I'll be back in a few minutes,” Kirill promised before taking our daughter downstairs to Sam and Fallon's suite to play with their daughter, Zariel.

  “You want some coffee, Tryst?” Trevor asked. “Or some vodka? Or perhaps coffee and vodka? I think we even have Baileys; that would probably go better in coffee.”

  “We've been drinking wine,” I said as I went to look in the cabinets for a bottle. “Aha!” I held a bottle of white aloft triumphantly. And then I grabbed one of red. “Hey, look, Tryst; we got red, we got white,” I said it in a thick, deep, pidgin accent. Pidgin being the local dialect of a mishmash of languages in Hawaii.

  Tristan laughed his ass off as I put the bottles on the table and went hunting for a corkscrew.

  “Do I even want to know?” Re asked as he came downstairs from his tower room.

  Tristan's jaw dropped. He'd met Re before—at my first wedding—but Re has that effect on people no matter how often they see him. Today, in particular, the Sun God looked exceptionally hot; and yes, I meant that to be a pun. Re had on a pair of worn jeans and a Fisherman's sweater he'd bought on our honeymoon in Ireland. His deep-brown hair was getting longer; curling at his broad shoulders and glinting with blond highlights in the afternoon sunlight while his gold-dusted skin had a softer sheen to it that begged to be stroked. His eyes, an even brighter gold than his skin, seemed to glow and his sensual lips spread lazily into a smile when he set that golden stare on me.

  “Tristan, it's good to see you again,” Re said as he sauntered over to the table and sat next to my friend.

  “Um, yeah, you too,” Tristan said and then cleared his throat.

  “And that was a rhetorical question,” Re said. “I do want to know.”

  Tristan blinked at him.

  “About the red and the white,” Re prompted.

  “Oh, that's Vervain's story to tell,” Tristan said. “It's far too detailed for me to get it right.”

  I pulled out the cork on the bottle of red—the white went into the fridge for later—and started pouring wine for all of us. The
men took their glasses as they were filled and then I took a seat.

  “It's a long story about my cousin's graduation party,” I said. “You don't want to hear it.”

  “I think I do,” Re said and then shared a look with Trevor. “I think we both do.”

  “Oh, go on, V; it's hilarious,” Tristan prompted.

  “It's drawn-out and not nearly as funny as it was to experience it, but all right; you asked for it,” I said. “My Aunt went all out for her daughter's graduation party and rented out the Honolulu Aquarium.”

  “You can rent out an aquarium?” Trevor asked.

  “Honey-Eyes, you can rent out anything if you have enough money,” I said and chuckled. “My Aunt's a doctor; she has more than enough. Despite that, she made her family come in and help set up for the party and even cook most of the food.”

  “She made you guys cater after dropping a load of cash on the event?” Re asked in surprise.

  “She wanted Hawaiian food made in the way she liked it.” I shrugged. “I didn't care; I wasn't the one cooking. I happen to hate Hawaiian food.”

  “You do?” Trevor asked. “I'm learning new things about my wife. Go on.”

  “This is my dad's side of the family,” I clarified before I went on. “I rode down to the party with my grandma and had to give her therapy in the parking lot before we even went in. She was feeling neglected and threatening to move to South Carolina.” I sighed. “That was just the beginning. My family and I get inside and help set up tables and chairs. Some of the tables had these reserved signs on them; we figured they were for us.”

  “But they weren't!” Tristan said gleefully.

  Re and Trevor looked at me expectantly.

  “They were for my Aunt's doctor friends,” I said. “My cousin only got one table for her friends even though it was her party, and the family got nothing.”

  “I don't understand.” Re frowned.

  “It wasn't about my cousin,” I explained. “The party was a chance for my Aunt to show off to her hoity-toity friends. She paid for a local celebrity to emcee and an opera singer friend of hers came to perform.”

  “You're getting too far ahead,” Tristan warned me.

  “Right, back to setting up,” I said. “So, there I was, setting up the tables, and I see a guy I went to high school with. He was the brother of my Aunt's husband; the same Aunt who was putting on the party. Not so surprising that he'd be there to help since she was enlisting everyone she could. What was surprising was that he hadn't aged a day. He looked just as gorgeous as he had in high school.”

  “I'm sure you did too,” Re said with a shrug. “So what?”

  “Thank you, but it was surprising because his older brother, the one married to my aunt, had once been just as handsome as Caleb; that was the guy I went to school with. But a lot of Hawaiians have an issue with their weight once they get to a certain age; it has something to do with their genes and the way they react to our modern diet. Anyway, Uncle Stan had gotten really large—as in morbidly obese, large—and I'd expected Caleb to go the same route.”

  “Okay, so you were shocked to see that he was still handsome.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “We get it.”

  “Just listen,” Tristan urged him.

  “So, I go up to my grandmother and I say, 'Wow, Caleb looks good,'” I went on. “And I pointed over at him. Grandma makes a comment about recalling that we went to school together but then frowns and says, 'That's not Caleb; that's Caleb,' and she points to this horrifyingly ugly man, large enough to be a sumo wrestler, standing a few feet away. Well, I'm flabbergasted. I argue with her until she calls out, 'Caleb, come over here please' and here comes the big guy. Now, I'm the last person who would normally make comments about people gaining weight. I come from a family of happily heavy people, and I'm no supermodel myself. The struggle is real. I get it. I especially get it with Hawaiians; they're fighting an uphill battle. I'm in no way trying to make fun of this man. But it was such a massive difference in his appearance—in both facial features and body—that I simply couldn't conceive of it. He had gone from hot jock to Jabba the Hutt.”

  “Who was the other man?” Re asked. “The one you thought was him.”

  “Caleb's son,” I said with a grimace. “I was horrified. In high school, all the girls drooled over Caleb. I'd never actually spoken to him, being the weirdo, witchy girl so I was even more shocked when he started talking to me in this thick, local accent and ended up being terribly dumb and boring to boot. It was all I could do to not run away screaming.”

  “Still not funny,” Re said. “It's a little depressing actually.”

  “You're telling me,” I muttered.

  “Just listen!” Tristan smacked Re and then took a gulp of wine as he refocused on me.

  Re lifted a brow at Tryst and then shrugged and looked back at me.

  “My brother T.J. was there with his wife,” I went on. “He was pissed off when he found out that we didn't get one of the prime tables after we'd helped Aunt Aggie set up. In fact, as soon as we'd finished getting everything to her specifications, she'd ignored us. On top of that, T.J. shares my dislike of Hawaiian food so there wasn't anything for us to eat besides cupcakes.”

  “What is so horrendous about Hawaiian food?” Trevor asked.

  “Some of it is okay,” I amended. “I don't mind lau lau or haupia, but a lot of the old school Hawaiians like stuff that I won't go near; like squid luau which is a black, soupy stew with tentacles.”

  Re made a disgusted face while Tristan giggled.

  “They also like raw crabs,” Tristan added, “raw fish, raw opihi—those are tiny mollusks that cling to rocks—raw oysters—”

  “We get it; they don't like to cook their food,” Re cut him off. “Go on, Lala.”

  “Anyway”—I laughed—“T.J. was pissed and muttering like a serial killer—a hungry serial killer—so I grabbed his wife Renee and my Aunt Ray and headed for the bar to let him calm down and grumble into his cupcakes while we got some real sustenance. I figured that we might as well get drunk since the highlight of the party was the open bar. But we got to the bar and guess who the bartender was.”

  “Caleb,” Trevor said.

  I tapped my nose and nodded. “Yep. I ask him what he's got and he points out the drink dispensers—those big plastic sorts—and tells me they have water and beer in them and I can help myself. I want neither of those things. I ask him if he has any hard liquor. Nope, none of that.”

  “What kind of bar is that?” Trevor asked.

  “Exactly.” I grimaced. “And it was like pulling teeth; trying to get a drink from this damn bartender. I finally tell him, 'Okay, I know you have wine back there; I saw the bottles being carried in.' Caleb says, 'Yeah; I got red, I got white.' I grimace at him and say, 'Thanks so much for the description; you should be a sommelier.'”

  “I take it this Caleb didn't know what a sommelier is,” Re said dryly.

  “He thought she'd insulted him!” Tristan chortled.

  “Which I did with my sarcasm. He got the tone if not the word.” I shrugged. “Before he could squash me with his big, meaty fist—”

  “Or sit on you and smother you to death,” Tristan added.

  I gave him a look, and he giggled.

  “Before he could say anything more,” I amended, “my Aunty Ray stepped in and asked him if they at least had any wine coolers. Hell, all he would have needed was some 7up and he could have made her one. But he's nearly as baffled by wine coolers as he was by sommelier. He says, 'What? I got wine in da coolers, but I no more wine coolers,” I mimicked Caleb's thick accent, and Tryst giggled.

  “Classy,” Re said dryly.

  “Oh, she's just getting started,” Tristan said.

  “Aunty Ray says, 'Fine, give me a glass of red.' Caleb fills up a plastic party cup with red wine and hands it to her. Next comes my sweet sister-in-law. She says, 'Um... can I have a CabSav?'” I mimicked Renee's sweet voice and finally got a giggle out of Re. “Cale
b looks utterly dumbfounded; the three of us were his first customers and there we were throwing all these strange words at him. He obviously thought that bartending was just pouring wine into cups. Caleb scowls at Renee and says, “I got red. I got white.”

  The guys kind of chuckled but Tristan motions that there's more coming.

  “Renee just blinks at Caleb as if she can't comprehend his level of stupidity. So, I tell him that she'll take a red and, ironically, it turns out to be Cabernet Sauvignon.” I rolled my eyes. “Caleb fills a cup up to the brim and hands it to tiny, Japanese Renee, whose eyes go wide as she holds the cup up to her face. She starts to say something, and I whisper, 'Just say thank you, Renee.' She meekly says thank you and then whispers to me, 'But I'm going to drink it all.' Japanese people don't waste, you see. I told Renee that was the point and ordered a red for myself.”