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Mongrel
Ivywood wasn’t far from Soul Reaper Pack territory so I’d been into town plenty. The grocer was a kind older man who always had a good word for us, and the gas station in town stocked my favorite rolling papers.
The one place we’d never been was the dive bar just outside of town.
The Ivywood Pub had a reputation for catering to both man and wolf alike. However, when you get free—okay, so dues went toward the booze, but free enough—at the clubhouse, why go out and spend your hard earned money on alcohol elsewhere? Especially when you’d have to balance a bike on the way home.
Dumb fucking move if you asked me.
At nearly four in the afternoon the pub was mostly empty. Only a few cars were parked in the dirt area and only one rusted-out piece of shit sat in the back of the lot where the employees parked. I would’ve bet a fistful of gold the one on its last legs was Sasha’s uncle’s.
Victor Quinn—or Dear Old Uncle Vick—had a stellar reputation in Ivywood all of his own making. The man was a drunk and a gambler. How he’d managed to hold onto his bar all these years was entirely due to his niece. According to Silver, Sasha had been single-handedly running the place.
All three of us sidled up to the bar, dropping our asses onto bar stools as we took stock of the state of play. The lights were low enough that the room glowed with the eerie crimson moonlight spilling in through the filthy windows. Further down the ill-kept bar, two stools were occupied by regulars, their seats practically molded to their hindquarters.
Grimm gave them a small nod, then looked toward the door. Neither needed more encouragement to leave. The front door banged shut behind them. It wasn’t until we could hear the squeal of tires in the parking lot that Dear Old Uncle Vick emerged from the kitchen.
“If you want grub, Jenkens, you’re gonna have to fucking make it yourself.” Victor was wiping his hands on a dirty rag. The stink of unwashed human and cheap booze rolled off of him, permeating the bar. “My good-for-nothin’ cook has met with a cold he can’t kick.”
“I think Jenkens was feeling a little under the weather himself,” Grimm drawled back. The piece of shit finally glanced up and blanched at the amiable but deadly look on our Prez’ face. “And we sure as fuck wouldn’t eat at a hole like this. What do you say, Sergeant? Reckon this place has gone to the dogs since the girl left.”
I smirked and nodded in agreement.
“Phew, man,” Carbon complained, waving a hand in front of his face. Uncle Vick’s eyes narrowed on the blood still encrusted into his fingernails from our last stop. “And they call us the animals. Don’t you know what a shower is? Soap? ‘Cause you fucking need it.”
“Look.” The revolting human threw down his rag and leaned against the bar, the bottles on the shelf behind him giving his stringy hair a garish red halo. “I ain’t got nothing else but this bar, and I’m sure as shit not trading it after you lost your last investment. Which I told your friends yesterday.”
“Investment?” I growled, getting up to start whaling on this son of a bitch.
He was gonna talk about selling our mate—his own flesh and blood—to those fuckers like it was a business transaction? I’d show him a fucking business transaction he’d never forget.
Grimm’s hand came down on my shoulder and shoved me back into my seat. His smile was gone as he slowly rose to his full height, wolf seething right under the surface.
“Is education in the valley so bad that no humans read?” Grimm spoke soft and slow. The man’s eyes slid to the patch on my alpha’s cut and flew wide before his gaze zipped back up to Grimm’s. Sweat began to gather on Uncle Vick’s brow. “I mean, I haven’t had a chance to see if the humans we rescued back at the clubhouse read. Though Addy sure picked up that dirty card game Silver was teaching them over breakfast quick smart.”
“Stupid comes in many forms, Prez. Humans and wolves alike.” Carbon cracked his knuckles. “Louise’s asshole of a stepfather was a wolf. But I think the sniveling creep saw the error of his ways by the time we left him.”
“Rogues don’t count,” I grumbled. “Bet he went to human schools. We teach our pups to respect their womenfolk and to read.”
“Let’s try this again, Victor Quinn.” Grimm jumped onto the countertop, crouching low to look down at the bar owner who was looking rather pale as he grasped the severity of his situation. It wasn’t smart to mouth off to a predator to begin with. But to talk down to the three shifters who’d already cleared out your bar? Not smart at all. “My name is Grimm, and I’m the Prez of the Soul Reapers. You heard of us?”
Victor gulped, then shook his head. I smiled. Looked like the bastard was set on denying reality which meant more fun for me. “Y'all are a myth.”
Carbon cackled, head thrown back in mirth. “We come through town on the regular, you dumb fuck. Pay our respects to the likes of old man Dobson over at the store. He even stocks my favorite coffee ‘cause I ask real nice. We avoid the shit holes, though.”
“Soul Reapers are ghosts, they don’t exist.” Victor shook his head over and over, like something had shaken loose inside that mushy brain of his. “My grandpappy said you were. They tell kids the Soul Reapers will come for the bad little boys and girls. Sell them to pack for hunting practice.”
“Looks like your father’s ghost strikes again, Grimm,” I teased, going for levity but knowing it’d fall flat.
My brother didn’t like being reminded of our MC’s legacy, back when the Soul Reapers ran with the likes of the Bone Crushers and worse. Grimm’s face had already gone dark. Uncle Vick shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking toward the exit like he was considering making a break for it.
I sure hoped he gave it his best shot.
Taking my time, I rose and rounded the bar, grabbing a pool cue as I went.
“That what they say?” Grimm hopped off the bar, pinning Victor between himself and the rattling bottles of booze. “And you still sold your own niece to wolves?”
“They paid well,” Uncle Vick snarled back, rallying a bit. Good. It was no fun beating down on a man who started off crying. “Needed the money to keep this place running, didn’t I?”
