Poison Fruit

“Did your wolf even know what I was doing?” I asked.

Cody gave a slight shrug. “Is he okay? Ludovic? I know I drew blood.”

“Stefan’s fine,” I said in exasperation. “He’s fine and he’s mortal and he broke up with me, and you’re not answering my question.”

He stole a glance at me. “He broke up with you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Stefan Ludovic and I are no longer together. Now, will you please tell me what I want to know?”

Gazing at the ceiling, Cody blew out his breath. “You want to know why, Daise? It’s because it’s not just this shape that has feelings for you. It’s all of me.” He looked directly at me, a hint of phosphorescent green flashing behind his topaz eyes. “That’s what I learned out there in the dunes. My wolf? It chose you, too. And yes, it knew what you were doing. We knew. I knew.”

“Jesus, Cody! I could have destroyed the world,” I whispered.

Cody nodded. “Yeah. But maybe a world where I couldn’t have you wasn’t worth living in anyway. Anyway, you didn’t. I trusted you, okay? I promised you, no matter what, I’d always have your—”

That’s all he got out before I grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him, long and hard and deep.

It felt good.

“Ow!” Cody winced. “Stitches.”

Oops. I wasn’t quite sure when or how I’d straddled him. “Sorry.”

His hands caressed my back. “It’s okay. Totally worth it.”

Settling onto Cody’s lap, I gazed down at him. “What about the clan?”

Narrowing his eyes, Cody smiled up at me. “The clan can go fuck itself. How’s that, Pixy Stix?”

I smiled back at him. “Not bad.”

      Fifty-seven

It’s funny how things turned out.

If real life was like a fairy tale, Stefan and I would have had the happy-ever-after ending, since all the obstacles that divided us had been magically swept away.

Cody and I . . . not so much.

For one, the Fairfax clan was furious over Cody’s decision, although they did stop short of ostracizing him. Apparently I’d gained some serious clout in the process of saving Pemkowet by almost destroying the world; which was ironic, since that leverage was gone forever. But the fact that I’d been willing—or crazy enough—to do it in the first place had earned grudging respect.

Eldritch and their love of hierarchy. Go figure.

And then of course there was the fact that Cody and I were what we were: a hell-spawn and a werewolf. For the rest of my life, assuming we stayed together, I’d lose him to the full moon once a month. Cody would spend his life never knowing what it was like to hunt with his mate beneath the full moon. As far as we knew, having kids wasn’t an option.

Maybe it wouldn’t work in the long run. Who knew? There were no guarantees.

And yet being with Cody felt right.

No regrets, though. If Stefan and I hadn’t had our affair, I’d always have wondered what it would have been like. And frankly, the highlights had been pretty mind-blowing. I didn’t feel like a schoolgirl with a crush around Cody anymore. I felt like a grown-ass woman with some pretty strong ideas of what I wanted out of a relationship, in and out of the bedroom.

Along with sorting out my love life, I spent my time updating the X-Files and the Pemkowet Ledger, and assessing the damage the war had wrought in both the mundane and the eldritch communities.

I reassured everyone I encountered in town that the war really was over and that the Wild Hunt wouldn’t return.

I hung out with Skrrzzzt, drinking beer and playing Battleship, complimenting him on the emerging regrowth of his arm.

I tracked down the hobgoblins’ den—my status among the fey had risen, and an obliging snowdrop fairy led me to it without a single insult—to offer my condolences.

I sat in silence with the surviving troll, whose name was Blunthuf, grieving for the loss of his mate.

The one thing I didn’t do was visit Little Niflheim. I didn’t know how badly the interior of Yggdrasil II had been damaged by the drone strike, and I didn’t want to intrude while the world tree was healing.

Hel always knew where to find me. She would summon me when she wanted me.

Persephone kept her word and deeded the property back to the City of Pemkowet with the stipulation that it could never be sold without Hel’s explicit approval. Not only that, the contract included a provision stating that Hel’s liaison be granted oversight of the territory and paid a monthly stipend.

It wasn’t a huge amount, but it was enough to pay my rent and bills, and even set a bit aside for a rainy day . . . and actually, for me, that was huge. For the first time in my life, I opened a savings account.

The tri-community councils and boards held a second town meeting to decide whether or not to appeal the decision in the lawsuit. Now that the community was flush, Lurine declined to repeat her offer to underwrite the legal costs of an appeal. Unsurprisingly, the members of our local governments decided that a bird in the hand was better than two in the bush, and voted to quit while they were ahead, using proceeds of the sale of Hel’s territory to pay the damages and split the extra five million dollars among them.

Too bad.

Among other things, it meant that the legal precedent of holding mundane authorities accountable for the actions of the eldritch would stand. I hoped we wouldn’t have cause to regret that someday.