one. But hey, I’m game. Ah—Vishous?” Then on a mutter, “Helluva name you got there.” More normally now, “This is from your good friend, Lassiter. He wanted you to know that he’s really sorry for what he had to do. It was for your own good, and you know this, but he probably could have handled things better.” Another mutter, “Hope this doesn’t involve a woman.” Normal again, “Anyway, he wants you to know that he respects the hell out of you, and he said to tell you congratulations on your historic win. You and your roommate have saved everyone who matters and he promises that he’ll stand by both of you, forever.” Mutter. “Seems like a nice guy.” Normal. “Oh, and he tells me that not only are you and your roommate, Butch, watching this together, the two of you are diehard Red Sox fans. Go Sox!”
Schilling turned around and fiddled with something behind him. “One more thing. He paid extra to Cameo for this. He said it would mean the world to you both.”
From out of a stereo speaker, the unmistakable strumming and horns started.
Then, Neil Diamond’s famous voice: “Where it began, I can’t begin to know…”
The anthem of the Sox. The song that every Sox fan knew by heart. The lyrics that took you back to your first game at Fenway, and the hot dogs, and the sunshine on your face as you cheered for your team, and prayed that maybe this year, after so many years, after so many struggles, after whole generations of fans had been denied the victory, now this year it would happen and the faith and the hope and the loyalty would be rewarded.
With the win everyone wanted.
“Fuck,” Butch choked out.
“Goddamn it,” V muttered.
“—was in the spring,” Diamond continued, “Then spring became the summer…”
As tears started to fall, messy, nasty, thank God-they-were-alone-in-the-dark tears, V grabbed for Butch’s hand—or maybe it was the other way around.
And then, all three of them, TheCurtSchilling included, sang at the top of their lungs: “Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet Caroliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine…”
In the aftermath of unexpected, hard-fought, and hard-won victory, Butch held on to his very best friend, and sang the one song that could have broken through his manly shell to expose the child’s heart that still beat within his fully grown chest.
That fucking angel was so hard to hate, he really was.
The night after the end of the war, Jo woke up in a bed with her male. They were both naked between soft sheets, and the silence in the luxurious room, in her body, was a relief.
“You okay?” Syn asked in a groggy way.
“I think so.” As his eyes popped open and it looked like he was about to run for a crash cart, she smiled. “I mean, yes, I am. It’s just a new me, you know?”
Stretching everything she had to stretch, she was relieved to find that the aches and pains that had racked her for the last twelve hours were abating. Her stomach was hungry, the chills were gone, and other than a pair of sharp-and-pointies where her canines had been—the pair she’d been born with had fallen out like baby teeth sometime during the day—not much was different.
She’d made it safely to the other side.
And she was with exactly who she wanted to be with.
On that note, they spent some time smiling at each other. She knew that there were big adjustments ahead. A new way of life, a new way of being, and she was nervous about it—but excited, too. In the intervening days since she’d learned of the transition, she’d had some time to preemptively consider the repercussions of being another species entirely, but that was nothing compared to the yup-it-actually-happened.
Two things calmed her, however. One, she had come through the change healthy. Thanks to Syn’s blood, she was alive and well.
And secondly? She had him. With Syn by her side, she knew she could handle anything life threw at her.
As if he knew she was thinking about the future, he said, “We can take it slow, if you want.”
“You mean… like, us?”
“Yes. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come live here with me—”
“Where are we?”
“The First Family’s mansion. With the Brotherhood and your brothers and my cousins and the other fighters… their families… and a lot of doggen, including Fritz, who you’ve met.”
Jo glanced around the beautifully appointed bedroom. Antiques. Silk wallpaper. Drapery that was like a ball gown.