Lex, the good guy in all this

Sorry about the plain text, no frills post, but Blogger and I are disagreeing again. ~Rebecca



"Good morning, Marissa," Lex trilled happily as he walked into Marissa's office. She looked up with an annoyed glance,one eyebrow cocked and her mouth twisted to one side making her look very much like a tiny, pissed off goth princess. Her hair was mostly black today with only the tips dyed electric blue and she had a heavy coat of kohl around her eyes, reinforcing the goth princess impression, though she was actually a very highly skilled witch and herbalist. The pissed off look was quite genuine, of course. She was always harangueing him to knock before barging into her office. To be fair, Lex had considered knocking but discarded the idea. He'd already called her by her name rather than the pet name he'd given her when she first came to him as a child. Knocking on top of that would only serve to put his former ward on guard.

"Did you want some thing or did you just want to stare at me and grin like a cat?" she asked peevishly. Lex grinned even bigger. He couldn't help it; he loved it when someone said he was grinning like a cat. He was a cat part time, of course. But as an Egyptian demi god, his animal form was that of a sphinx cat and that breed was not known for its charm. Lex liked to think his sly grin evoked thought of the Cheshire Cat from that delightful children's story. He had, in fact, read that story to Marissa quite often, though she had been too old for bed time stories, just so she would always associate him with the grinning cat head.

"I was just wondering, my dear, what your plans were for the fair next week." The monkey-child--no, no, Marissa! rolled her eyes and huffed. He knew full well she had a booth at the fair and was planning to spend the time selling iced coffee and hand-blended frappochinos while her werewolf husband and stepsons enjoyed the festivities. Which was what brought him here, of course. "Oh, that's right," he purred. "You are planning on working the whole thing rather than relaxing with your family."

"Do you have a point and are you going to get to it anytime this year?" she said snidely.

"I was just thinking," he said as he slinks deeper into her domain, that since I was denied a vendor's license to sell beer, I could, perhaps... spell you at the Java Joe's booth so you can spend some quality time with those darling pups of yours. They are only young for a short time, you know--"

"Mayor Gil made me promise not to let you sell or give away any free samples of any of your brews as a contingent for allowing me to have a vendor's license," she said woodenly.

"I'm not asking to be allowed to distribute any of my concoctions, child. I am offering to watch your booth so you can have some quality family time."

"What's the catch?" she asked, suspicion coloring her words.

"No catch, I assure you. Only I overheard those darling nephews of mine commenting about how it would have been nice if their mom could have joined them. Something about having two parents available to get them on the throw-up rides." That last bit was absolutely true. Loki and Thor had wanted to pair off with their parents on the tea cups so they could have a contest to see who could get the most spins without ralphing. Lex knew he had her with that one. Despite not being the boys' real mother, Marissa loved them fiercely.

"You promise not to do anything that could get the booth shut down?" She demanded. Lex held his right hand solumnly over his heart and bowed, an Egyptian vow he knew she would accept readily since no god, even a demi god like him could violate such a vow.

"We'll, ok, then. You better not make me regret this."

"You won't. I too have no interest in annoying Gilbert on this matter. No, no Egyptian Gold. No Dead Jackel Ale. Not even any glow-in-the-dark soft drinks. I also promised not to sell any of my concoctions at the fair."

"Not even your Ever Fresh Ice or Nubian Frozen Treats?" Marissa demanded.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Lex replied seriously. "This is a family friendly event, after all, and most of my concoctions are either medicinal or erotic in nature. Besides, my specialty ice creams count as concoctions and are therefor covered by my promiss on threat of being thrown out of the poker club." That was also regretfully true. He like Gil a great deal, but it rankled him to have been banned so callously. No, the whole point of this was to get back at his erstwhile friend. So long as he was working the Java Joe's booth, Gil was going to have to post someone on him to make sure Lex kept to the bargin. This time, he was going to be bad by being in his best behavior. And while every official eye was on him... who would be available to make surethat no one else was selling Lex's wares on his behalf?

Wearin' Their Kilts at the Talbot's Peak Fair

Late Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Apologies for the delayed posting. A lightning storm moved in when I was just beginning this flash scene, and since I had to shut the computer down, there was no way to finish in a timely manner.

However, Duff McDuff, my Scottie dog shapeshifter, returns in this scene. He has a dual purpose for having a food and drink booth at the fair. He'll be offering a friendly paw to the fine folks of the Peak, and advertising his Scots Best of Breed Tavern. Also, he'll be introducing Donnie and Dristan, his new partners -- and so much more than their outward appearance. As is always true in Talbot's Peak.

Read on, if you will...
~~~~~~

Wearin' Their Kilts at the Talbot's Peak Fair

Duff McDuff threw his arm around the stout shoulders of his last customer, walking the wolf hybrid shifter to the door. The man's Scottish blood hummed, bold as the wind blowing over the heather moors.

Duff opened the oak wood door wide, letting the forest-rich, night air pour inside his tavern. He gave Dante's longtime, biker buddy a hearty slap on the back before wishing him 'goodnight'. Given the tough as a Dire wolf shifter could handle himself, and was headed to the Pleasure Club -- not a great distance -- he didn't concern himself about the man's safe passage.

"Donnie me bonnie lad," Duff barked, as he turned, "yer stirrin' the fire like a crone with a pot of o' special brew."

"The fire's not complainin', as you can well see, ya old growly Scottie dog." Donnie straightened, whipped his lean length around, and winked. A grin spread across his face, long as a bean pole, but uncommonly handsome.

Certainly, the maidens had not a whit's problem stroking the Scottish Deerhound's human face, or his dog face, either -- for that matter.

"Not enough spirit in that wee fire to do any complainin'." Dristan smirked good-naturedly at Donnie.

In a show of playful temper, Donnie brandished the fire poker at Dristan before placing it in its proper place.

Taking his time, Duff strode toward his two warrior comrades from the olden days of epic battles and magnificent magickal chaos.

"Lads, it's summer here in Montana. I'ma takin' the chill off the stones. Givin' the place a proper atmosphere. Don't want me guests to be sweatin' like hogs on a spit."

"Not a pretty picture, Duff," Kyrbella trilled from the kitchen doorway.

Pleased his wee fae-fox shifter had ventured this close to Donnie and Dristan, Duff paused in his steps. "Will ya join us, love?"

With his heart glowing like the bright moon above, Duff smiled. "I promise the lads won't bite," he encouraged in a tender tone.

"No..." her fae light flickered, a sign of Kyrbella's distress. Duff knew little about the small-statured woman he'd rescued, the woman who now held every beat of his heart in the palm of her tiny hand.

"I wanted you to know," she softly voiced, "there are still helpings of tatties, and the onion herb stew is hot." His Kyrbella had taken to religiously watching over the vigor of his health.

"Thankee, love."

She shimmered just for him, beautiful as a rainbow, his fae-fox woman. With another burst of radiance, she disappeared. Most likely he'd find her at the spinning wheel, or weaving the fine delicate cloth she favored.

Duff scowled at the curious, trouble-about-to-happen expressions on Dristan and Donnie's mugs. He knew it well from their days together, an age now lost to history.

"No questions," he mouthed, then curled his lip in fierce Scottie dog warning.

"Yer like cats wantin' to know what could turn 'em stiff as a house plank," Duff continued, closing in on the hearth. "Ye only need to know it was Kyrbella's magick which assisted me in bringing both of you lads through the mists of time -- dense as bowl of over-cooked porridge, I tell ya."

Dristan nodded once, eyeing him with the noble wisdom that was his collie dog nature. "A second chance at life is worth more than a pot o' gold. I'ma agreein', Duff."

"Lot of fine shapeshifter lasses you'll be meetin' at the fair in Talbot's Peak proper," Duff tempted in a lighter tone. He propped a boot on the hearth. Gazing into the flames, he enjoyed their gentle dance in the bed of peat moss.

"The modern kilts arrived," Donnie laid on the brogue. "They'll do, but nothin' like the sweet heavy wool we rolled in, dressing our loins for battle, for livin' in the wild clan lands...once upon a time."

"Once upon a time," Dristan echoed. Sadness laced his voice for all that had been lost to them -- the good sweet life that could have been.

Despite their many victories, their fight to live as a free people, the dark shroud cast by the evil ones had overcome the world.

"The breath of freedom blows from our lungs, just in our livin', in the fight we'll be givin' alongside Dante, and his clan of warriors," Duff solemnly reminded.

"I smell it, Duff, when I run the land in this haven for the shifter-likes of us, for other supernatural beings. The breath of freedom splendidly, savagely whirls like the winds of the White Goddess," Donnie spoke as poet. "Besides," he continued a moment later, "I'll be showin' off me sexy legs to the pantin' ladies when we're servin' real Scotch shortbread -- the old recipe."

"I'll be outdoing ya, spinning me kilt high, when I'm servin' Apple and Bramble Pie, then dancin' with the single maids," Dristan bantered.

In his mind's eye, Duff saw the collie shifter's thick ruff stand, giving him a majestic appearance. Still entranced by the tame fire, Duff grinned to himself. It was a true sweetness to have Donnie and Dristan by his side again. Thank the Great One Above.

"The Fruit and Nut bread tastes like the loveliest dream," Duff straightened, then stretched mightily for moments. "My Kyrbella added a touch o' love magick, so be aware, lads."

"Ya didn't say, Duff, ya big-hearted dog, what liquor stocks you'll be offering the fine shifters and other fair folk, at the fair," Donnie sang in a lilt, the tone he used when courtin' the ladies. "That is, once the wee ones are slumberin' and dreamin'."

"A bit of golden ale, the kind the maids favor. A couple of dark hefty brews for the lads. See for yourself." Duff gestured toward the cases he'd stacked in the far corner that very morning.

Dristan aimed his nose and took several long sniffs. "Heavenly...just a bit 'o heaven in me nostrils. The Scotch," he began, then offered an appreciative, human-sounding bark.

"Yup, lads," Duff proudly woofed. "The Scotch has been aged in me original oak barrels."

"When the stag gods ruled the forests," Donnie spoke like a bard of old.

"When the dragon race still flew the mist-curtained skies," Dristan roughly crooned.

"When the battles were fought without a stitch of clothing," Duff reminisced, a tear in his eye.

"How old are ye?" Dristan and Donnie barked the words in concert.

Seeing both of their brows raised high, the true surprise in their gazes, he winked -- his little tease before answering. 

"Scottie dogs rule in that realm, me bonnie canine lads. We're older on Earth than most of the wolf kind." Duff savored their astonishment for a bit. "Why doncha go don those kilts, me boys. Let's have a proper look at ya before I let you loose on the ladies."

~~~~~~

 
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance
~~~~~~

Testing ... Testing ...

Gil consulted the crude map drawn up by the Talbot’s Peak Fair Committee and compared it to the reality. So far, so good. Which, experience had taught him, was usually the point when things started to go down the toilet.

Not this time, he vowed. Lives were at stake.

He rolled up the map and approached Ride Team Alpha. “How’s it going?”

“Like a dream,” Hank, the foreman, told him with breezy whinny. At six-foot-six, Hank towered over Gil as well as his fellow laborers, even the oxen. Every one of those inches was muscle. Hank’s Percheron-shifter ancestors had carried swords and sometimes knights in the Crusades. These days he plowed fields and pulled hay wagons for extra cash, when he wasn’t working his own spread. Between his strength and that of the oxen, they would have the fair’s rides up in record time.

But would those rides stay up? That’s what worried Gil.

Reading the look on his face, Hank added, “Lighten up. They’re sturdy. Dante sent a couple boys over to handle the fine-tuning. They’re mechanical-minded.”

“Who? Oh, them.” Gil followed Hank’s gesture to a pair of hunched figures fussing over a kiddie ride featuring flying zoo animals. He vaguely remembered them from the meeting: Lutz and Bortz, European wolves somehow related to the Hancock pack. In his mind Gil had named them Nutz and Boltz, given their inclinations. The two kept tractors, cars, and anything else with an engine running in Talbot’s Peak. Last Halloween they’d disassembled ex-Mayor Link’s beloved banana-yellow Cadillac and rebuilt it on top of City Hall. Gil couldn’t remember how they’d gotten it down again. This had happened before the election, and hadn’t been his problem at the time.

The kiddie rides, however, were his problem, and his responsibility. Usually when an adult got hurt on a carnival ride, it was their own stupid fault. If a kid got hurt, there’d be hell to pay, especially if the parents were shifters.

He waved the wolves over. Lutz came trotting up; Bortz continued to tinker with the struts. “Is that thing safe?” Gil asked.

“Ja, is zafe. Run goot.” The wolf looked offended that Gil would question him. “You vant to test?”

“Isn’t that up to the safety inspectors? For that matter, aren’t there supposed to be outside crews who come in and set all this stuff up?”

“Well, yeah,” Hank admitted. “They’ll be here the day before we open, make sure everything’s shipshape. We just figured we’d, y’know, get a jump on it.”

The light dawned. “You guys want to get your rides in before the fair opens.”

Hank shrugged massively. “Won’t be time during.”

Of course. It wouldn’t be Talbot’s Peak if somebody didn’t try to milk something out of it. “Okay, okay. Take me on the grand tour.”

Since the town had no actual fairgrounds, the Committee had put the food and game stands along the streets, entertainment in the town square, exhibits and contests in the fields on the outskirts, and rides wherever they could squeeze them in. Luckily most would be child-sized and would fit in blocked-off side streets and parking lots. “Where’d you put the Ferris wheel?” Gil asked.

“Behind the hardware store. It’s only thirty feet high, but—aw, no! Andy! Get off there!”

Gil looked up to see a hefty man the size of an ox pumping his fists in the air at the top of the Ferris wheel. One of his brothers manned—or oxed?—the controls. “Get down!” Hank bellowed. “Rufe and Rafe are supposed to check that one.”

“Rufe and Rafe?”

“Golden eagles. Won’t matter if they fall off. Stu, I sure hope you didn’t test-drive that tiny little carousel.”

The ox-man at the controls looked nervous. “Of course not,” he said hastily.

The mini-carousel appeared intact, except for one horse with a stuck pole. Gil made a note for Nutz and Boltz to check it out. As they walked down the block toward the next ride, another ox came staggering off a side street. He lurched up to a trash receptacle and bent over it. The sounds he made required no explanation.

“Tilt-A-Whirl’s working,” Hank observed.

“That reminds me. We’re going to have a ton of sweet and greasy foods, and little kids of both species. We’d better be ready for the inevitable. We’ll need a cleanup brigade, plenty of buckets and mops and bleach and what else, oh yeah, sawdust or maybe cat litter. You and your team—hey! Where you going?”

SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY: Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys ~ Chapter Nine

Her Midnight Stardust Cowboys

Chapter Nine:
Sherilyn was half-frozen with fear.

Sherilyn was half-frozen with fear. Even though, the sight of the humongous, dangerous, panther-like creature--who looked more like a cougar--acting like a cute frisky kitten...and Zance laughing his head off beside her...okay, she felt herself begin to unthaw. Amazingly.

She also numbly considered that maybe she'd entered another dimension, the hapless victim of some weird blip on the grand cosmic screen of life. Because now, Dontoya, apparently a midnight-black big cat if her eyes didn't lie, lay flat on his back.

His giant paws were folded over, limp as he gazed at her with bronze-blazing eyes. As she'd said, he was positively adorable, even though every sleekly defined muscle of him screamed predator.

Damn if he didn't smell ferocious, and potent. His smoky musk intermingled with the burning firewood, and the fragrance of cedar.

And with Zance's cowboy-outdoorsy....was that a canine type of scent?

Oh, God. Oh. Dear. God.
~~~~~~

For more Sunday Sneak Peaks  ~sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com~
~~~~~~  
***Blurb & Excerpts for HER MIDNIGHT STARDUST COWBOYS are on my page above.*** 

~~~~~~

 
Wishing you shapeshifting love on the wild side… 

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Brewski Brewed for Full Moonlight Ale

Gill wiped down two more bottles and set them next to the case on top of the bar.  Three full cases sat halfway down the bar.  Another fifteen were loaded on the panel truck outback of Rattigan’s.   Ten more cases to go and they’d have enough liquor to get them through the fullest moon nights to hit the Peak in over a year.  This had to happen right on top of Fair opening night.  They’d done what they could to mitigate the circumstances.  

The contents of each bottle held the ale Lex and Louie carefully mixed and aged under Dante’s care.  More like threat of shredded asses if shifters only got potioned.  Dante didn’t like the idea of trickery.   Local shifters would understand the hint due to the ale’s name, Full Moonlight Ale.  Humans would think the name was a play on the other two major brewers using moon in their names.   Anyone who drank the smooth pale amber liquid would get a mild buzz that lasted for a few hours.  Hops mixed with other fermented grains produced a higher alcohol content than regular beer and kept the proof well below harder stuff.  Mystic Falls would have a hard cider lemonade stand next to the Rattigan’s as well as Sandy Valley’s twisted tea booth.   Who knew that the growing shape shifter communities in Mystic Falls and Sandy Valley would vote to join in on the idea of selling alcohol to help control an

 outbreak spooked humans if and when the shifters morphed?

  

Gill glued labels on the bottles close to him.  Rattigan’s Microbrewery distilled small amounts of beers, liquors, and the occasional fermented drink for a small group of local connoisseurs.  They usually provided their own ingredients for the obnoxious smelling concoctions they fermented.   

 Two months ago, Bettina started experimenting with the fermenting process.  Her results yielded a blood red ale and beer combination she named Vampire Surprise.  The fangs that drank it loved the kick and the lingering buzz.  The brew contained enough sanguine ingredients to sate their blood lust.  Louie sold out of the stock almost as fast as Bettina and her business partner, the local blood bank, could distill the drink.  The blood bank mixed human and shifter blood together in the pouches they delivered while still fulfilling their community obligation to the hospital and vet clinic.  

Louie’s voice followed by Dante’s flowed out the open kitchen door.  “Dante, thanks for helping us come up with a solution to what might otherwise be a full moon fiasco.”

“You’re welcome, Louie.  I’ve got pledges from shifters and humans to help with policing attendees and keeping their consumption within reason.”  Dante’s voice carried his businessman tone.  Gill knew Dante respected and loved the Peak as much as any citizen, but Dante pulled no punches about where his ethics stood on keeping everyone safe.  

“I hope,” Louie started as a yell sounded.  A loud rumble followed by the floor shaking.  “Shit, some dumb shifter is tinkering with the fermentation process again!”   Any more of Louie’s response was lost as a loud clanging started as the floor quaked harder.  Gill shook his head and ran around the bar.  

As he reached the kitchen door, Gill found Dante was holding his sides laughing.  Bettina’s six-foot-ten body guard stood in front of Louie looking down at him.  Louie stood toe to toe with the brute shaking his meat clever at him while holding a sharp wooden stake in his other hand.  Nelson kept nodding as Louie cussed, said something in Jersey speak and cussed again.  The chef hat Nelson wore bobbed every time he nodded.  And the white butcher’s apron he wore fit him like a 1950’s housewife apron.  His cameo t-shirt and black jeans served to make the hat and apron standout more.  Yet, he was the chief brewer and fermenter.  Bettina mentioned Nelson’s assorted past and alluded to bootlegging and moonshine recipes.  

Dante wiped his eyes and turned to Gill.  “We got things under control for now.  I might need to talk to Lex about having Marissa set up a pastry stand next to their coffee booth.  Her anti-angst muffins and other soothing magical sweets might be the offset we need.  Not to mention making sure plenty of food is available period.”

Gill grinned.  “Hot, horny shifters, booze, sweets, and lots of other food, right!  I hope the humans attending don’t give us as much trouble.  Good thing we set a curfew on kid attendance.”

Gill moved back into Rattigan’s dining room.  His term as mayor was turning out differently than he expected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Weekend Gang!

Sorry for the late post.  This flash required some finessing after the scene came to me.  Looks like Talbot's Peak Fair is getting ready to commence.  Join us beginning next Saturday for the Fair.  Our week long posts will bringing you snap shots of the happenings along with

vignettes of the folks attending and running the fair.   We look forward to

you and our Talbot's Peak group enjoying Fair week.

Until then, remember to share a good book of two with your loves and spice!  I know I will!

Smiles, 

Solara

Getting Wild in Talbot’s Peak!

“A kissing booth?” Ziva offered up to the group surrounding the table.

“Oooh I like.” “Sweet!” “Who will do the kissing?” “Ziva.” “Penny.”  Everyone spoke at once which was typical for the group at this table.  Lamar, Mooney, Jamie, Penelope and Ziva sat in a semi-circle facing their boss and doling out ideas for the upcoming fair.  What kind of booth could the town newspaper offer up?  Their latest idea was a kissing booth.  Everyone liked the idea, or in Ziva’s case just put up with it to finally have some resolution on the entire event.

Nick just growled.

No surprise he hated the idea of a kissing booth, she, herself, was less than certain she wanted him offering up his soft lips to any other females.  This on the heels of the football fiasco made Nick one unhappy canine.

“Listen, Bossman,” Penny huffed, leaning toward the aggrieved wolf. “The suggestion could have been for a fucking booth.  Would that make it better?”

“Now that’s a booth I can get behind.” Lamar crooned.

“Lamar!” Jamie barked impressively for the shy wolf.

“Marissa would never allow me to participate in that…” Mooney chuffed, a blush rising from chin to forehead.

“Leave him alone, Penny…”

“That’s Mistress P to you Z.”

“…There will be no fucking booth.”  Ziva winked at Penny, giving her a smidgen of submission to settle her down, before looking back to her mate.

“What,” he growled.

“Nick, we’re running out of time here.  We need to think of a booth.”

“Why can’t we just do what we do…the news.”

“What, and let people stand around us as we write?”  Ziva snarked, her frustration rising with every pout Nick presented.  “We’re a newspaper, Nick, not TV news.  Not much to watch here.”

“FINE!”  Nick’s hand hit the table with such force the others jumped a bit in their chairs, but Ziva knew the sting of flesh to wood ignited his blood.  “Have a kissing booth, but you, Ziva, will not take part.” Her mate leaned in close, his lips a heartbeat away from hers.  “No one kisses you but me!”

“I’d say the same to you, Nicky, but where would that leave us?  We’re both out; Mooney’s out because magick with flow from Marissa's witchly britches if she sees him kiss someone else and just looking at the vein bulging on Jamie’s forehead make me think Lamar would have to be scratched from the list as well…”

“What!? Oh I’m so in.  Someone has to kiss the boys and make them cry…you know, not everyone in town is hetero-specific, some are omnisexual and will be looking for some boy smoochies.”  Lamar reached over and smoothed Jamie’s forehead.  “Sorry, lobo rojo, just consider it research.”

“Excuse me,” Mooney interjected, loudly from his place at the other end of the table.  “How about we adjourn for a few hours and everyone thinks up at least two non-sexual options for a booth.  Then we can reconvene and vote on a winner.”

“Good idea, Moon.”  Nick smiled for the first time since the meeting had started.  “Marissa and the boys are a good influence on you.  Meeting adjourned.  Be back here in two hours with better suggestions.”

##

Two hours later…

“I think we have a workable solution to the booth problem.”  Ziva said, standing in front of the group of hair tousled, stressed out people in charge of the fair booth for the G&B.

Nick looked up from his desk.  “I’m all ears.”

“A kissing/picture booth with a banner that reads… ‘Getting Wild in Talbot’s Peak’ People could kiss a wild animal and take a picture home as proof.”

Ziva waited for Nick’s outburst.

“What happened to non-sexual?”

“No one could think of anything totally without fun.”  Penny quipped.

“So we’d be going furry?”

“Some of us would.” Ziva nodded as she spoke.  “But some would need to stay in human form.  Jamie needs opposable thumbs to work the camera and you, Nick, need to play the alpha card to keep the animals in line.”

“But you’ll still be kissed…”

“Only the top of my head, not my lips.”

“Fine.  But make sure we have an assortment of animals to choose from and you stay in the background.”

“No worries, jefe,” Lamar smirked.  “Everyone will want to lay lips on my snake.”

Most of the group laughed.

Jamie growled.
~~~

Will it work?  Will the gang be able to turn furry when the time comes or will the kisses be doled out human style after all...  Don't miss the fair, coming soon to a town near you!

Serena