Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(58)

"Terrorist?" Erik snorted a laugh. "Really? Who did he terrorize? Or do I need to start quoting conspiracy websites again, because I have about fourteen of them, along with the July, 2005 edition of Fortean Times, which features an article about our terrorist. Or," a wide, mischievous grin crept across Erik's face, "are you not wanting to talk about the fact that he can magically turn into a bear?"

A hush fell over the room. How could a bunch of top-secret paranormal agency investigators come to Jamesburg and not know about us? Jamie felt one of her wings twitch, and realized that every time she'd been around Branson, or any of the others, she'd been wearing a coat, a jacket, something to cover them up. Was it possible they had no idea where they were?

"It sounds silly when you put it that way, but... No, no, it doesn't matter. None of this is any of your business, Danniken," Branson said. "Your job is to help us find this dangerous criminal, not to try to make me feel stupid."

"You do a pretty good job of that on your own," Erik fired back. That time, at least one of the suits broke character and might have sorta-kinda-almost chuckled until boss man shot him a nasty glare.

Outside the room, something was shuffling around in the corridor. Or, rather, it sounded like more than one something. Jamie turned to look back, curious as to who among Jamesburg's population would bother coming here this early. Sure, it was a quarter past nine, but in Jamesburg terms, the day didn't really get going until about noon. A second later, she heard a groan and then a shuffle.

This is gonna be good.

"Er...ik!" came a booming voice from right outside the door. "Are... in there?"

Atlas's bass carried through the heavy oaken doors. Immediately, everyone who knew him, started laughing, almost uncontrollably. Erik furrowed his brow and looked back toward the door. "Er, not now, Atlas!" he yelled back. "Sorry," he turned to Branson. "It's just my... uh, just my brother. He's a little soft-headed, but sweet as can be."

"E...rik! Need you... something?"

"Is he asking if I need something," Erik turned to the Jamesburg side of the table. "Or telling me that he needs something from me?" Everyone shrugged, almost in unison, except for Duggan, who had somehow begun to snore again.

"I dunno," Jamie said, "but he's not very patient. And he isn't very shy or modest either." She wondered if any of them had seen his traffic directing uniform. From the confusion on their faces, she thought probably not. "Oh boy," she said under her breath. "Oh... boy."

The doorknob turned, and before Erik could yell that he'd be there in a second, it swung open, and in walked Atlas, in all his slightly-green, stitched-up glory. And just as expected, he was decked out in his workday best - the purple sash, the big plastic sheriff's badge, and his giant, swinging dork.

Which was still covered in glitter.

Jamie had never in her life seen an entire room full of men get so wide eyed at the same time.

"Yes, uh, like I said," Erik was laughing nervously as he quickly crossed the room. "I'm sorry, my brother isn't exactly—"

"Bro...ther?" Atlas laughed so hard that his belly began to shake, and his glitter stick helicoptered slightly. "You not... brother! Funny Erik," the giant patted the town alpha on top of the head. "No, I need..." he paused for a very long time. If not familiar with Atlas, you'd think he'd just fallen into a standing stupor, but when he was trying to remember a word, he just stared blankly ahead, often drooling.

"Oh! Stop sign!" he announced, triumphantly. "Lost... one?"

Erik squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Yep, okay, I can get you a stop sign."

Smiling, the giant skipped away, a tendril of drool following behind him.

"Welcome to Jamesburg," he said as he turned back to the crowd. "But then again, if you know as much as you're supposed to, none of this is a surprise, is it?"

Branson's eyes were still wide as beach balls. "Werewolves, bears, witches, magicians, I've encountered every last one of them," he said. "But... that?"

"That," Erik said, "is a he. And is a good friend of mine. And if you're going to find your magic bear man, you better get to work."

"Yeah," Branson said, his voice hollow and slightly amazed. "Yeah, I guess I should. All right boys, let’s... shit, let’s go, I guess."

As soon as the room was emptied of suits, Erik turned back to his council with a smile. "That's how you handle government agents," he said. "You blow their f*ckin' minds. But now we got work to do. Jamie, you need to find your boyfriend before they do, and the rest of you need to start chopping wood."

Jamie and Izzy exchanged a glance and then both looked at Erik, confused. "I made a promise," he said. "I told him I'd take care of all those old people, and if nothing else, I'm not a liar. Quit staring at me and get busy!"

As they were filing out, almost as confused as Branson had been, Izzy turned to Jamie and grabbed her sleeve. "It's been a long time since I thought this, but holy hell that was hot."

Jamie snickered slightly. "You know, I always make fun of Erik for having the approximate level of subtlety as a locomotive, but that?"

"Hell," Izzy said. "For Erik, what just happened was almost as subtle as a ballet."