How Beauty Loved the Beast

chapter Eleven



Hauk should not think lustful thoughts at a funeral; it was generally considered the wrong frame of mind for the occasion. But memories of the last sixteen hours kept intruding on his consciousness, swinging his mood from anger to joy at inappropriate moments.

Technically he wasn’t at a funeral. He was near a funeral, sitting on the pink granite tombstone of the dearly departed Potts family. An untamed shrubbery blocked his view of the somber crowd, including Jolie, all bowing their heads at Cassie’s graveside. Whenever he’d peek around the bush at the mourners, he’d sober up. He hadn’t known Cassie, but the way she’d gone made him seethe. He owed Ric Suarez a funeral of his own.

Hauk sighed and checked his watch. Another inappropriate action. Good thing he was hidden. Funerals made him restless. Funerals and ramp ceremonies. Last roll calls. At nineteen on the runway at Kandahar Air Force base in Afghanistan, he’d helped carry the flag-draped coffin of a guy he’d met at the enlistment office. Bearing those empty remains to angel flight, the reality had sunk in that there wasn’t anything he could do for Todd anymore. Todd wasn’t in pain. At best he’d reunited with some good folk and at worst he’d gotten some peace.

One day, one way or another, everyone had a last roll call. When that day came for Hauk, he’d rather people think about the good things in their own lives and not imagine his dead ass moldering in the ground. The living might be offended by his changeable mood, but wherever Cassie was, he didn’t think she cared.

He took another glance around the wild greenery at Jolie and wondered how she was doing. A perfectly constructed funeral expression hid any real emotion. Drove him crazy when she did that. He wanted to protect her, to help her and make her happy—or happy as she could be under the circumstances, anyway. But with that damn mask hiding everything inside he had no clues to help guide his actions. He’d do the best he could when she got back to him.

She made him so happy, more than he’d thought he could be again.

Beside her, Catrina resembled a bumblebee in her bug-eyed sunglasses and black suit over a traffic-light-yellow top. Mercedes was there, too, in her policeman’s uniform, as well as Brayden and a few other Underlighters in more traditional funeral attire. Not as many as would have liked to come, but ever since the discovery of Dr. E people were getting afraid to go topside. In theory he agreed with the open knowledge policy of the Underlight, but sometimes people behaved more rationally when they were a little more ignorant. Ignorance truly was bliss sometimes.

The service ended, and he watched Jolie’s bright hair wind through the black-draped crowd. Sometimes knowledge was bliss. Like knowing the wide-eyed wonder on his girlfriend’s face in the middle of passion. The way her skin felt. The way every part of her tasted. That reality was so much better than anything he’d imagined.

And he was doing it again. Lust-brain at a funeral.

No, after a funeral. Far more appropriate. Hopefully.

Jolie scanned the graveyard, and he stood just enough for her to spot him. In another minute she, too, was standing on the Potts family plot. She dropped into his arms and curled herself against him, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Love swelled in his chest for the woman who’d turned his life around into something shiny and new.

Last night she’d been above him, her curls waving as she moved. She’d smiled as she came. He’d joined her, and she’d fallen on his chest. Still joined, they breathed together, her body pressing against his with each inhalation.

And suddenly he’d wanted everything off. He’d wanted to rip away all the pieces between them and enjoy her skin on his, the way it should be. He’d held her close until the feeling passed. It wouldn’t have survived the space created by her body’s absence, short as it would have been, as he’d tried to get his clothing off. It would have been fumbling and embarrassing and finally a failure when what they had was close enough.

But the fact that he’d felt that way for even a second...it was a start. He’d made an oath, and come hell or high water by the end of the year he’d take his damn clothes off in front of her. He didn’t want to merely have the guts to strip, though. He could force himself to do pretty much anything he put his mind to; the ability to box up everything he felt and get the job done was one of the consequences of the life he’d lived.

But intimacy with Jolie wasn’t something he wanted to get done. He wanted to like it.

“How are you?” he asked.

She swayed in a noncommittal gesture. “Funerals suck.”

He kissed her forehead, trying to make her feel better.

Instead of leaning in as he expected, she straightened up and smirked at the oversized tombstone next to him with the family name blazoned triumphantly across. “I think if my last name was Hooker, I may not order that big of a marker.”

He didn’t think it was a rebuff, just Jolie trying to be strong. He loved that about her, but he wished she’d let herself lean on him a little. Especially now with all the shit going on. He was worried about her safety. “So...about these attacks. What are you thinking?”

Her focus trailed back to the dwindling group. “I don’t know. I wish I knew what Ananke’s endgame was. I’m...” Her voice trailed off.

Scared? Please, for the love of the gods, could she for once in her life show a little fear of something she should be afraid of?

“I don’t think they’ll attack me,” she finally said. “My dad—”

“Is in Houston,” he finished. “And they’ve attacked you before.”

She didn’t say anything, which he took as a good sign she was listening.

So what was the best way to phrase his request? “I’d like to watch out for you. How much are you going to let me?” Otherwise known as, how much was he going to have to sneak around trying to keep her safe? And how much was she going to kick his ass when she caught him? Worse, how long would she not sleep with him?

He could see her protest already forming.

“Not forever,” he assured before she could say it. “I’m a big fan of having individual lives and don’t want to live in your pocket. But we don’t know what’s going on, and I’m going to...” Stress? Panic? Take up stalking his girlfriend like an a*shole? “Worry.”

“Come on, Hauk, be reasonable. Are you going to go to class with me? Rehearsal? Happy hour with the p-ssy Will-Oh! dancers on Tuesday? You’d hate that.”

He lowered his head. She was right. Nervous as he was, life went on. He tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy her and the churning in his gut when the back of his neck tingled. Violence was going on somewhere nearby. He scanned the scene.

Jolie tensed. “Pain-dar going off?”

That was Brayden’s name for his sixth sense for violence, part of the package deal he’d gotten after he burned. Movement caught his eye. “Mercy. Let’s go.”

Trusting she’d follow, he ran for the street.

* * *

Jolie sprinted after Hauk, feeling warmth beneath her worry. She was backup, huh? Nice. Definitely an upgrade from “wait-in-the-car-girl,” her job on the last mission he planned.

They dashed into the street that separated Oakwood Annex from the main cemetery and found four thugs accosting Mercy. No sweat for the three of them.

Heck, no sweat for Hauk by himself.

He grabbed one of the attackers by the collar.

In the older section of the cemetery, a flash of color caught Jolie’s attention. Catrina wandered between headstones, talking to herself and staring at the ground. The sunshiny yellow of her undershirt, Cassie’s favorite color, blazed brightly now that her funereal jacket was off. She rotated her pearl necklace around her fingers, and her eyes were red.

Hauk and Mercy had this situation completely under control. Jolie decided to check on her boss. She’d taken Cassie’s death hard, and nobody should be alone right now for safety reasons if nothing else. “I’m heading for Catrina,” she called as she jogged across the street and past the other gates. “Catrina!” she yelled.

Her boss’s head popped up, startled. Seeing Jolie, she waved a gloved hand and managed a sad smile.

Jolie caught up with her. “Everything okay? What are you doing over here? You didn’t lose any time, did you?”

She glanced back at the street, where Mercy had a guy against the car, Hauk had one on the ground and the other was nowhere to be seen. Mercy flashed her badge and appeared to be telling the few gawkers to “move along.”

Catrina followed her gaze. “Goodness. No. I was looking at markers. We McGregrors have been in Austin since the mid-eighteen hundreds. Did I ever tell you that? I took my great-great grandmother’s name. Her grave is over there.” She pointed, a hint of her sly smile peeking through the grief. “She was a hellion.”

If someone had asked where Catrina came from, Jolie would likely have answered that she’d sprung fully formed from a velvet curtain, already bedecked in heels and feathered lashes. Her boss had never spoken of family, which seemed odd if they lived here in town. Jolie wondered if they’d accepted her decision to live as a female.

As if reading her mind, Catrina added, “It’s sad when you have to go back a century to find somebody who’d approve of your lifestyle. I suppose you can relate.”

Jolie shook her head uncomfortably. “Papa Marcel, my grandfather. He died this summer.” She rubbed her hand across her tattoo, a gesture that wasn’t lost on Catrina.

“Ah. That explains a lot.” Catrina smiled warmly and squeezed her shoulder. “Well then.”

Jolie returned the smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Hauk thinks everybody who lives topside is a target, so I was worried. Both of us do have a history with them.”

Catrina’s smile melted into frustration. “You’re not interrupting. I dropped my sunglasses and I’m trying to retrace my steps. But don’t worry. I’ve been taking extra precautions.” She gave a significant glance back at Hauk. “I hope you have, too. I imagine you’ll have ’round-the-clock protection if you let a certain muscled beast with superpowers have his way.”

Jolie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. He’s offered. Let’s look for your sunglasses.”

Catrina stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Violet eyes—Jolie was surprised her boss had bothered with her contacts this morning—took her in resolutely. “I hope you take that offer. Don’t be stubborn about this, Jolie. Not after Cassie.” Her hand moved to Jolie’s cheek, patting it lightly. “I don’t mean to sound like your mother, but you are one of my girls.”

Jolie squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. ‘Please hop into bed with a felon for the next few weeks’ is, shockingly, not one of the things my mother ever said to me.”

Catrina cackled in surprise.

“Besides, you’re far too young and naturally gorgeous to be my mother.”

“Incorrigible,” Catrina muttered, but she sounded somewhat mollified.

The path from whence Catrina had come was filled with wildflowers. Jolie headed back that way, eying the bluebonnets for hints of the black Fendis Catrina never left home without.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Hauk around. The problem was, she did. An amount that terrified her. The last twenty-four hours, even with their fight, had been some of the best ever. Despite their relatively brief acquaintance, Hauk knew her like nobody did. She felt so relaxed around him, it was easy to just fall into the moment and not think about the future or what sort of appearance she was giving off. Maybe the whole “just be” thing was a goal for some people, but a lifetime of formal events among Houston’s elite, alongside over a decade of ballet with its mirror-gazing precision, made that transparency terrifying. Wildly out of control, even.

She wasn’t the kind of woman to turn her safety, her leisure time, her future plans—all the things that made her her—over to a man. And Hauk made her want to do just that.

A spot of black amidst Indian Paintbrushes made her stop, and she kicked at the green with the toe of her pumps, just in case it wasn’t expensive plastic she’d noticed.

Success. “Found ’em!” she called as she kneeled to retrieve Catrina’s sunglasses.

A boot appeared from behind the gravestone to her left. Jolie scanned up black pants to steroid-sized biceps and a brainless grin.

“Get Hauk!” she yelled and popped up to standing.

The man wound back, as if to toss something at Catrina.

Jolie knocked his elbow up, sending whatever it was flying off course.

Catrina screeched and ran for the gate. Another man shot out toward her from behind a monument. The first guy grabbed Jolie by the waist and yanked, slamming her back into his concrete torso.

She elbowed him in the jaw. He released her, and she sprinted toward Catrina’s assailant. As long as one of them got out, they’d be okay. Catrina could get Hauk.

Jolie grabbed the second man’s jacket. He spun and swept a kick at her feet.

She tried to sidestep; her skirt tacked her legs together. His foot hooked her ankle and she fell to the grass.

The first man jerked her by the feet, dragging her farther into the graveyard.

* * *

Jolie was missing. Dammit. Had she said something about Catrina? Hauk had dodged the crowd and crouched between two vehicles parallel parked on the street. In all likelihood he was overreacting, but he didn’t like Jolie out of his sight. Especially not after Mercy had been attacked. His neck was still buzzing, and he didn’t know if it was a hangover or something new.

They’d stopped the attack before anyone got needle-happy, but the evidence was in the man’s jacket. Fortunately, the other police wouldn’t ask as many questions when a fellow officer had been accosted on the street.

In broad daylight.

In front of a crowd.

What the hell? Ananke was many nasty things, but discretion was usually one of their better traits.

Screaming his name, Catrina came hauling ass out of the old cemetery. Being seen be damned, he popped up and ran to her. “Where’s Jolie?”

Catrina folded in half, sucked in air and motioned behind her.

“Get in your car and get out of here,” he ordered as he ran past the old gates.

Nothing. No sounds, no flash of movement, nothing to tell him where in the forty acres of markers Jolie might be.

A hop off a lower tombstone got him onto the massive Benson crypt. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the uncanny sensation in his neck, trying to pinpoint a direction.

There. He opened his eyes. Two men had her by either arm as a third approached. She used the leverage of her captors to kick him in the chest with both feet.

Good girl.

The man on the ground pulled a needle.

Hauk was going to be too late. Unless... He despised the berserker rages and the loss of control they entailed, but right now it was his best bet to get to her. No question then. “All-father, get your holy ass down here. We’ve got a woman to defend.”

He leaped from the crypt. His gut ignited, burning from his center and radiating out as an unwelcome guest took up residence. The fire mellowed to an electric vibration that shorted out all thoughts but the mission. With Odin he was faster, stronger and more resilient.

Better able to get to Jolie.

* * *

Jolie’s captors slammed her forward onto her knees then face down in the dirt. She tried bucking them off, but three on one was not going to go well, no matter how much of Hauk’s training she remembered. A needle pierced her skin, and she howled in anger.

The pressure on her back released. A hideous crack of bone and a scream sliced off into silence.

Jolie flipped over, yanking the syringe out of her arm. Full still; he hadn’t depressed the plunger. Relief flooded through her.

The needle-wielding guy was dead beside her, his neck at an unnatural angle. Another’s head had made a bloody encounter with a headstone. She snapped her attention away from his crushed-in skull. Her final attacker backed up in terror.

The hair on her nape prickled with fear. She peeked over her shoulder to where his gaze was fixated.

Hauk advanced, his hoodie thrown back and the sunlight pouring full on his wrecked face. The fresh blood spattering his leather jacket was nowhere near as terrifying as the bloodthirsty expression that said he’d mentally checked out.

The beast was in.

Her last assailant tried to run, but Hauk caught him by the throat. With a quick twist of his wrists, the man joined his partners dead on the ground.

Her nerves jangled in his unnatural presence. She tried to keep the fear from her eyes as Hauk faced her. Running was a terrible idea. Keeping calm was her best bet. “Well, there you’ve gone and killed them all, and you’ve got nobody left to play with.”

His breath heaved in and out in erratic bursts. He shook his head as if to clear it and stared at her with one eye the normal blue and one grayed out. Like Odin, the god who possessed him in a rage, he only had one good eye in this state.

He reached down to help her up, his lips moving until they finally managed, “Are you—” gulping breath, “—okay?”

Deciding it might be bad form to refuse a god, she took his hand. It was hot to the touch and vibrated with energy. “Yeah. They didn’t inject the formula. Nice timing. I take it you’re sorta in there?”

He nodded, his head wobbling on his neck as he waved a hand to say, “so-so.”

In the past, a berserk rage—a berserkergang, Hauk had called it when he’d tried to explain it to her in the hospital two weeks ago—took him over completely. He had no choice in his actions or memory of them afterward. But recently he’d discovered that if he called it on himself, he kept some measure of control and some dim recollections. He was still prone to more bloody violence than normal, which made sense as he had a Viking god sharing his head, but they “worked it out together more” was his exact quote.

Thus far, Odin had at least let Hauk decide whom not to hurt. Even in a full-on craze he’d never done a thing to her, other than his tendency after the fight to cart her around like war spoils. A habit for which she’d endlessly teased him.

It was unnerving to see him in this state. Freaky even. But no matter what, Hauk was still in there, and he’d saved her ass quite a few times as his alter ego.

She stepped up onto a tombstone to see how much of the crowd was left at the gates. Maybe they should get Mercy, although she hated to involve her in hiding bodies. The dead were all Atropos, but until “magical lobotomy” was a recognized legal construct, ditching bodies was a great way to get a policeman into spectacular trouble.

“Hauk...” Hauk was stacking bodies onto his arm. All three of them. At once. “What are you doing? We have to get rid of them.”

He looked around at the graveyard, a hint of amusement on his face.

She glared. Yes, ha-ha, there were a million dead bodies here. She mimed digging up a grave. “Not gonna work.”

He stacked the last body and nodded at one of the few mausoleums hulking over the graves and marched.

“They’re locked.”

With a firm twist of his wrist the handle cracked past the lock.

“Well, okay. That works. Unofficial Hamiltons they shall become.” She kicked the blood spatters on the ground and shivered at the gravestone with gore stains.

Hauk came back out empty-handed and started rubbing dirt on the blood.

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I have no idea how to hide murder evidence. I’m utterly useless in this.”

He laughed. After a moment of rubbing, the red was almost gone. The rest would probably soak in or disappear with a rainstorm, and nobody was looking for these guys anyway.

She glanced back toward the street. “I think if we hold tight for another ten minutes it’ll be clear enough for us to get to my car unseen. I can drive you home.”

Hauk’s voice was gravelly but amused as he asked, “Gonna carry me to it?”

She’d forgotten about that. Once Odin got bored and left—usually after the fight, but sometimes he found something else amusing and stayed a bit longer—Hauk passed out for eight to ten hours to heal up his wounds.

While she contemplated other options, Hauk swept her up into his arms.

“Whoa. Again? Seriously?” She suppressed the desire to struggle as her feet left the ground. It wouldn’t do any good. “Don’t you dare throw me over your shoulder.”

He shifted her back down to cradle her like a child and started toward a side gate.

“You have a bad habit of toting me around when you get like this. Please tell me you are not walking us back to the Underlight. We’re too far.” Not that that had stopped him before. His endurance in this state was spectacular. As long as he was still active, he seemed to go forever.

“My bike. This way.” His voice had the same timbre, but the cadence was different. Almost like English was his second language.

“I can drive your bike.”

He grunted.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You can put me down, you know. I will walk with you.”

He faltered.

She pitched her voice as low and calm as she could. Panic typically made him clutch her tighter, no matter what she was saying. Calm made him listen. “I’m still yours, even if you put me down.”

Reluctantly, he stopped and set her on her feet. His face scrunched as if he was listening. Then he shook his head and lurched forward again.

“What?” she asked.

“He likes you.”

“Who? Odin? Odin the Pagan god likes me? He told you that in your head?” She hurried to catch up with him.

He increased his stride as a blush tinged the back of his neck. “Yup.”

“Uh, cool. Is that why you keep picking me up all caveman style? Odin’s whispering in your ear, compelling you to snuggle with the hot redhead so he can cop a feel?”

He flipped her the bird. She laughed, feeling more relaxed around rage-Hauk than she ever had.

Out a side entrance, Hauk’s bike was parked behind a bench. It was his pride and joy, specially designed for him by Tally and LaRoche to run on a cup of water instead of gasoline. Plus it looked damn sweet, in a junkyard-salvage sort of way.

Jolie had driven it once. While not the fastest thing on the road, it responded like a dream and took corners like nobody’s business. She slid onto the front of the bike. “No offense to Odin, but I’m driving.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Hauk got on behind her.

* * *

We shall let the woman drive if it pleases her so.

Hauk didn’t like anyone else driving his bike. The last time Jolie had done it, she’d gotten his tires slashed. But he pictured her happy and naked, and suddenly it was easy to let her have her way. As he wrapped his arms around her stomach, he felt an extra buzz of excitement. Mine, he mentally reminded his brain-partner.

Yes. Ours.

Before he could argue, adrenaline jolted him, putting him back on edge. Something smells wrong.

Jolie threw the switch. The engine roared to life.

He tossed her off the bike and followed.

His bike exploded.

A boom, and shrapnel blasted into his back and side. Heat blazed fast then evaporated. A small bomb. But enough to do a killing job.

If they’d been on the bike.

Jolie screamed in pain.

Only then did he realize he’d only covered half of her. His hands shook as cold rage numbed him.

A metal rod, the shock absorber coil, had embedded into her abdomen. Blood soaked her clothing, and burning scored the edges of the wound. Her breathing came out in gulping pain.

“No, no. No,” he muttered. So much blood. The shaking moved inward, until he was trembling all over.

His own body began its rapid healing as Jolie’s eyes rolled back. Small explosives ripping through people. Men died from this. He’d seen it too often in the war.

We must move. Someone will have heard.

He shook his head and dug in his pocket for his phone. Call 9-1-1. Get help. Too much blood. Had to fix it.

We’ll get caught. You’ll go to jail.

“Don’t care.” His phone was broken. He could go to the street. Get help from somebody. He didn’t want to leave her. She was crying. “Sh-sh. Baby, it’s okay. I got you. You’re going to be okay.” Was she? The bomb was meant for him, but it had gotten to her instead. He couldn’t lose her.

We can take care of this. Give her cider. Cider was the food that made the Northern gods immortal. When they were sharing space, Odin transferred it to Hauk to heal his wounds. We can get it to her. Get somewhere safe. Give us free reign.

Hauk pulled Jolie close to him. He never knew what Odin would do when he let him take over completely. The god was known for having his own agenda and not being entirely honest.

But Jolie was limp against him. “Cold...” she murmured.

That was it. “Please, please, please, baby. Hang on.” He kissed her lips. Her arms wrapped around him with feeble strength.

He let Odin take over.