Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” She looked out at everyone. “I honestly don’t know how this happened. A couple people at the challenges today were disappointed they couldn’t come to dinner, and before I knew it…” She motioned to the large crowd in front of her.
“Who organized?” Kingsley asked.
Jess put up her hands helplessly. “Everyone.” She laughed as the alphas nodded at her in hello before wandering out into the crowd. “I called Mr. Tom about it, and the shifters who first invited themselves said not to worry, they’d bring stuff for a BBQ. Their friends all wanted to come, and then someone mentioned it to the garhettes, and one of the basajaun said he’d just finished some brew, and this would be a good time to unofficially try it out…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Here we are.”
“Anyone go sailing over the trees?” Kingsley asked.
“Because of the drop-kicking contest?” Jess rolled her eyes. “I swear, those basajaunak are more aggressive than any shifter. No, and they’re mildly annoyed about it. They’d be more annoyed, but they’re having a good time. It’s really…” She shrugged again. “It’s really chill. I warned everyone that’s the only way I’d have this thing. We’ve had a couple people puffing up, and a few gargoyle-shifter issues, but all the hostility has been dissolving really quickly. I think people are tired from earlier today. Everyone just wants to hang out and have a good time.”
“The threat from Jessie and the basajaunak is a good excuse to let bygones be bygones.” Kingsley put his hands into his pockets, a sign of trust that no aggression would happen. “Did Aljoe make an appearance?”
Jess’s lips tightened in embarrassment. “Yeah. People keep saying he at least didn’t end up in a tree.”
Kingsley huffed, nearly laughing. “That’s true.”
“Did Armendale’s people come?” Austin asked
Jess lost her smile. “No. They aren’t welcome here. Neither are their friends. They seem hellbent on terrorizing people. I don’t get it.”
Austin told her what Kingsley and he had talked about not that long ago.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “A few people seem ready to spiral at any given moment. It’s weird how shifters can’t be in each other’s company without starting trouble.”
“Too much emphasis on hierarchy and power,” Kingsley said thoughtfully. “All the sanctioned challenges will help. Everyone just needs a moment to figure out where they stand with people they don’t know and maybe to get out of their own way. It’s obvious we don’t value control as much as we need to. The gargoyles are making laughingstocks of us in that regard. They seem to get along in big clusters just fine.”
“Yet another thing for you to figure out.” Austin patted his brother on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” Kingsley said hollowly. “I’d ask you to switch jobs, but…I don’t want yours.”
Austin and Jess both laughed.
“Shall we?” Austin said, indicating for them to move forward. “Is Calvin okay with the change in plans?”
“I offered them the use of Ivy House and a quiet meal, but they wanted to be out here. The basajaunak are waiting for you guys before they light the bonfire. Then we’ll say a few words and bring out the brew. After that, there will probably be drunken brawls and a great many dropkicks, for which I will be inside. I warned them. That’s all I plan to do.”
21
Jessie
On the third day of the conclave, I faced the Ivy House woods with lead in my gut. Gargoyles and anyone in my team that could fly hovered overhead to watch. Austin, Kingsley, Aljoe, Aurora, and Drex all stood near me in shifter form, my allotted shifter guardian crew, handpicked by the Elder. She didn’t say why. They’d shadow me and act as refs, like in a normal challenge.
Everyone but Austin was wary about that—they didn’t want to mess with that Elder—but they’d all agreed without hesitation.
Other shifters, most from last night, some I didn’t even know, had taken off into the woods as spectators. They hoped to catch the action from a safe distance.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I muttered.
“Nonsense.” Patty patted my arm on one side and Aunt Florence did the same on the other.
“I’m dangerous,” I told them.
“She’s dangerous,” Patty insisted. “She might be more dangerous, even. But it’s okay, dear. She said she wouldn’t kill you. I think we can believe her.”
“Assuming you can’t die from being drop-kicked, of course.” Aunt Florence patted my arm again. “I don’t think you can. No one died last night, and a great many people went sailing.”
Sailing: when you crossed the line and the basajaunak kicked you over the trees. Unless they were too drunk to properly stand, of course. Then the offender ended up tumbling along the ground and into tree trunks.
A couple people who’d gone sailing had to be retrieved by gargoyles who, by then, weren’t such steady fliers.
Drunken brawls had kicked off last night, with the basajaun brew fueling terrible decisions, and giving the basajaunak the competition they craved. The Elder had won, but Dave’s mom had put in a good effort. The basajaunak agreed that she was slightly off in her technique. Too much brew.