Gateways: The Guardians

Chapter 1: Country Roads

Warm light filters in through the ages curtains casting a muted gold glow over sun-bronzed skin. A pair of pale green eyes fluttered open, reluctant to greet the new day. The hesitation resulted from too many beers and shots of whiskey the night before. But then again.. what a night it had been.

Had the owner of these sea-green orbs been human, he'd be worshiping the porcelain god and swearing he'd never drink again. Fortunately for him, or perhaps more fortunate for his liver, he was not. Lycans tend to have a high tolerance for beverages of the adult variety.

Therefore, the unhealthy choices of the night before would be gone before noon, leaving only hazy memories and the stale stench of a subpar IPA in its wake. Oh, but what fun and festivities it was. He had a whole head full of great memories he'd file away.

The wolf sighs, a deep rumbling sound that sends a warm vibration through the room and stretches still-tired limbs. He takes a moment after this morning ritual, admiring his slumbering bed partner.

Damn... you did well. Jasper Blackstone thinks to himself, the quiet self-congratulation as he admires the long, lean planes of porcelain flesh. She has a marking on the back of her neck, a Wizkin coven sigil. He sighs; he hasn't had the best luck with witches, but damn, are they good in bed. Between magic, charms, and potions to increase every sense .. s*x with a witch was like seeing color for the first time. Both are amazing and a little confusing.

Jasper rolls over to admire her voluptuous form. He Briefly closes his eyes as he takes in her scent, it's warm and dark with notes of cloves and pottulli, and it all comes rushing back.

Passion and a little bit of pain, teeth scraping the flesh of his shoulder as he held her tight, skin to sweat-soaked skin. They melted into one another, and she whispered, “Who's a good boy?”

He should have been mad, but it was playful enough. So he showed her he wasn't just a boy; he was a man. More than a man, he was a wolf, an alpha, and a respected grandson of the pack leader. Well...maybe 'respected' would be pushing it. Jaspers' playboy ways left respect a bit reaching in the form of descriptors.

Judging by the still pink fingerprints on her hips, however, he did an excellent job of it. It would be a night she'd remember fondly and dream of for nights to come.

Jasper relaxed back into the pillows before a soft, almost imperceptible sound drew his attention. It wasn't coming from his bedmate but from the bathroom down the hall. The thing was... Jasper lived alone.

He gently slid out of bed, eyes flashing a silvery white. No need to wake up..what was her name again? That didn't much matter right now. He did wish the place didn't reek of booze and s*x, or he might be able to tell who or what was down the hall. Everything smelled like her, and while that was odd, even Jasper knew some beings had stronger scents than others.

Blackstone began to creep down the hall, grabbing a decorative boat oar from the wall for a makeshift weapon. Sure, he could have used his claws, but then...there was so much paperwork for that. It wasn't like back in the 'good old days that the old long tooth at the meeting lodge liked to boast about. Back when the Buero only slapped you on the wrist for disemboweling some unlucky soul who stumbled upon something they shouldn't see.

Not now; there was paperwork and inquisitions. Inquiries and Investigations, before you knew it, you'd be ass over a tea kettle in all the red tape.

It just wasn't worth it, so boat or it was.

Just as he narrowed in on the door or raised it, he heard the shower ignite.

Why would an intruder be showering?

The answer was pretty simple. When Jasper entered the bathroom, it wasn't an intruder..it was a twin. The witch from the bedroom twin.

Jasper had a grin a mile wide...Twins...you old dog you.

As it turned out, their names were Cyrstal and Sage, and they were very accommodating, making breakfast and coffee while recounting the events for Jaspers' foggy brain. Apparently, after darts and a round of karaoke, he was incredibly charming. Thanks, Bon Jovi, you've never steered me wrong.

Even with all his charms, however, he'd not be seeing the lovely Ms. Crystal or Sage again. They were passing through on their way to the northwestern gateway. They were trying to stay within the border lines as much as possible, as both were less than fond of humans.

Jasper couldn't understand that with Wizkin, they passed well, sure they aged a bit slower, but a few calculated moves would make that less noticeable. He supposed history had ruined it for most of them, even if most of those who died during the witch trials were falsely accused. The few that did get caught were enough.

Jasper could sympathize; the werewolves and others in the shifter communities hadn't faired well through the centuries. They had found it hard even to be recognized as intelligent beings. Many felt their animalistic sides and traditions made them less than civilized. To humans, they were among what supernaturals like to call “The big 4”. Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Demons, and everyone's bogeyman. So he wished them a safe journey and told them if they ever went back this way again, they were both more than welcome to...stay the night.

As the twins were heading out, the brunette wolf watched with interest. He was always so fascinated by the Wizkin. Crystals' wand was hidden in her hair. Pulling out a thin pin resembling a daisy, the form shifted and shimmered into a golden oak wand with intricate flower patterns. Sage tugged at the dangling dagger, shaped earring on her left ear. The item was transformed into an ash-grey wood with a rounded hilt. The two young women waved back at him before drawing sigils on the ground. The signs lit a glowing flush column of light that the pair entered. In a flash, they were gone.

Meanwhile, an old, beaten pickup had been making its way up the cabin drive just in time to see the girls on their way. The door opened, and a tall skinny man with long black hair stepped out. Lj Greenfield, Jaspers' dearest and oldest friend, was more like brothers at this point.

Lj climbed out of the truck and leaned into the open window; he shook his head toward the departing young witches before looking back at his friend. “Witches...really, Jas? Do you not learn, Brother! One of these days, you'll cross the wrong one.”

Jasper laughed and took a swig of his coffee. “Who says I cross them? I'll have you know I am a complete gentleman to all the lovely ladies who cross my threshold.”

A soft snort escapes Greenfield as he slams the truck door before heading to the cabin. “Oh yeah, such a gentleman. That's why you got hexed for a month with pink hair.”

“That was once,” Jasper countered. “It was a misunderstanding. Plus, you know what the magical types are.”

“There isn't a girl, not your type.” Lj shook his head. “Oh wait, maybe there is because you won't give any of the females at the meeting house a chance.”

The other waved him off. “I like variety! It is the spice of life, as they say. You know I'll settle down...eventually. But until then, why not sample some of the finer things in life.” Jasper grinned.

Lj sighed and followed his friend inside. “ Oh yeah, you do like to sample. Let's see...there was the Sasquatch.”

“She was a Yeti, and she had softer hair than anyone I've ever met. And she had that good beef jerky; how could I say no?”

Pouring a cup of coffee, he smirked at Jaspers' rebuttal. “Ok, fair enough; the Mer girl from a couple of summers ago?”

“It was spring break, LINDSEY!”

“it's Lj, you know I don't like the... it's a girl's name. My mother was weird.” Lj huffed. “Still doesn't negate the fact you, sir, are a bit of a man whore.”

Jasper flounced on the sofa and glared, be it not too strongly. “You know I hate it when you're right. Toss me a beer, would you? Also, why are you even here this early? Patrol isn't for another two hours.”

Greenfield fished a pair of brown bottles from the old fridge and frowned at the labels. Jasper always bought the weirdly named craft beer, and these were no exception. The bright gold and purple shark on the label declared Royal Bite Pale Ale. “Did you forget it's the last Monday of the month?”

“ughhh, say it ain't so!” Jasper groans, reaching out for the beer. “Clan home visits are the worst. Don't get me wrong, I know we need to check in and make sure everyone's taken care of, but jeez, it's going to be a long day!”

“Cheers to that, my friend...cheers to that.”

The long day had only just begun, and it was sure to be the longest day either man had seen before it would be over. The pleasant sunrise and cheers with friends would end with heartache and memories Jasper Blackstone would love to forget.