"Quinn, hang up," Santana called from the bottom of the spiral staircase, "dinner is ready."
She heard shuffling and could make out Quinn's fuzzy gray slippers at the top of the stairs. She walked down with her cellphone pressed to her ear. Santana scoffed, shaking her head as Quinn cut through the living room and into the kitchen. Feeling her fiance's disapproving eyes, Quinn paused at the threshold of the kitchen door holding up a finger, requesting one more minute.
"No Kitty, I don't want to do a reading and I definitely don't want to do it in Connecticut," Quinn paced back into the living room. "I just want to work on the third book and you already have me doing one tomorrow. No. No...fine, I'll do another one in the city. Send me the details."
Santana glanced over her shoulder with a glower, and a pan in hand. She watched Quinn drop her cell on the coffee table and enter, a pout on her face. Santana turned off the burner. Quinn threaded her fingers through her bangs before pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I have to do a reading and signing," she said.
"That's what The Bitch has been whining about all week?" Santana mocked.
"Do you have to refer to Kitty as 'The Bitch'?" Quinn said taking the bowl of biscuits from the counter. "She's my publicist. It's her job to set these up."
"The girl is like Snixx Jr and I don't like being out-shined," Santana said as she gathered two plates from the upper cabinets. "She also has a middle school crush on you that's borderline obsessive. I'm getting serious single white female vibes. I think she's just pissed that I bagged you first."
"You're being ridiculous, San," Quinn chuckled, nibbling on a biscuit as she watched Santana fill the plates with steak and mashed potatoes. "She knows we've known each other since birth and that we're getting married."
With a shrug, Santana dumped a spoonful of assorted vegetables on each of their plates and added a biscuit on the side from Quinn's bowl. Quinn took a seat just as Santana came over, setting the plates on the table and going back to the kitchen to collect two cups from the drying rack and a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. She returned to the table to find Quinn already eating. For a time, the sound of their cutlery on their plates filled the silence and a contented sigh Quinn made over Santana's cooking. Looking across the table, Quinn chuckled, pausing with a forkful of mashed potato as she realized Santana already finished with her own potatoes and was halfway through her steak. She watched Santana scarf down the rest. As she cut into her last bite, Santana's cellphone started ringing from the living room end table. Her eyes shifted toward Quinn, whose pretty features had pulled into disdain.
"Don't answer it," she pleaded, "it's never anything good when it's this late."
Santana glanced to the clock behind her on the kitchen wall, it was pretty late, then turned back to Quinn. She set her fork on her plate and slid it forward. She felt Quinn's eyes on her as she picked up her phone and read the caller ID.
"It's Jake. He probably just wants me to come and distract Sam from trying to re-organize his stockroom again," she said, sliding her finger across the screen and pressed her phone against her ear.
"I need a favor," Jake said.
Santana's jaw clenched and she felt the edges of her mouth sink into a scowl. He never asked for anything unless it was important. Santana inhaled. Quinn watched her over her shoulder, her food untouched. Santana could see the muscles in Quinn's back and shoulders go taut as the conversation continued.
"What is it this time?" Santana probed.
"Mutts in the East Village."
"I should be getting paid," she mumbled, then louder. "This is the third time this week I've had to save some Alpha's ass."
"The Alpha has given us permission to handle it so long as he comes with us. His name is Emilio and he runs a lower level pack," Jake said. "Marley, Sam, and I will meet you at the bar."
It wasn't her job to help any packs but her own. However, as a visitor in New York City with no land, it's easy for Alphas to avoid getting their hands dirty in another's affairs by asking her for help. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She wanted some territory for Quinn and herself and she knew better than to disrespect an Alpha's territory.
"I'll be over in five," she said, hanging up.
She returned to the table, placing a hand on Quinn's back, rubbing the tight muscles. She gave her a short kiss on her forehead. Quinn's brows sunk down into a frown. The tension in her shoulders increased further and Santana felt the muscles ripple under her hand.
"I'll be back in an hour," Santana said.
"Why can't you sit this one out?" Quinn asked while the fingers of her right hand tensed around her fork.
"Jake needs help," Santana took a hold of Quinn's hand and squeezed it, "a smaller pack is having issues defending their territory. Besides, we love it here babe. You know I need to do this if I want to gain territory so we can stay and make this our home."
"Well, then, can I come with? I can use magic to help keep things under control," Quinn asked.
"We can't have a witch practicing on wolf territory. It could upset other packs," Santana said.
Quinn nodded with a slight sigh and Santana headed up the staircase to change.
The bar was an underground establishment located in the party district of Lower East Side called The Den. Santana still gave Jake shit for the name, saying it was much too obvious, but she hasn't been able to change Jake's mind on the issue. He had inherited it with the passing of his mother seven years ago and functions as neutral territory for all the local packs. Santana strode down the steps and ducked her head through the archway at the bottom of the stairs. A horrendous odor of sewage and rotten meat assaulted her nose. The scent so strong it made Santana's head spin and a wave of nausea settled into the pit of her stomach. She cringed, fighting the urge to gag.
"Liam Neeson would do it."
Santana chuckled, hearing the opening of Sam's rant, of his usual movie fanatic related conversations. Located across the bar, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes, presuming to be Sam, standing at the counter, and speaking with Jake's long term girlfriend, Marley. She turned to Santana and waved.
"Santana," Sam said. "Back me up on this."
She sighed and said, "You came to the wrong chick, Troutymouth. I can't stand any of the movies you watch."
Sam's face dropped into a look of discontent. Marley laughed.
"Nice to see you again, Marley." Santana greeted. "Is Jake around?"
"He's in the back." Marley said.
She tried to hold her smile at the nickname and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder in comfort. Sam glowered at Santana with a pout, but she had little regard to his expression. The door behind the counter, labeled stockroom, opened and Jake stepped out.
"Good you're here." He said, flipping the counter of the bar up and stepped out.
As the door closed a strong swish of stench swooped out from the background. Santana's face contorted in an attempt to disregard the odor. Sam blinked, holding his breath as his cheeks were tinted red to try and hold off the smell. Marley cringed, scrunching her nose up.
"It fucking stinks in here Jake," Santana said with a grimace.
"Mutts," he said.
"This," she said, twirling her finger around indicating the odor filling the room, "isn't what they smell like."
"They've been living in a sewer for the past five months," he replied.
Santana frowned. The stockroom door opened again and she watched a man with sandy blonde hair enter. He had the same sickening face on him and let out a grunt as he exhaled and ran a hand down his five o'clock shadow.
"Santana, this is Emilio," Jake said introducing him.
Emilio stretched out a hand as he stared at Santana, awestruck. She looked him over, taking note of the faded jeans and his slightly tilted down head, he not only led a weaker pack, but a poorer one as well. The way he carried himself showed a lack of strength a more established pack leader would never display. But, he still had his pride, he refused to break eye contact with her. His lack of strength was likely the reason he needed to ask for help, but his role as Alpha was why he was standing here.
"I've heard so much about your pack. It's an honor to meet you and get to work with you," Emilio said releasing her hand. "Your father is an amazing pack leader."
Santana gave him a pleasant smile, "How can I help you?"
"There's been a pack of mutts hunting in my territory killing and eating humans," Emilio shared. "I can't allow others to think my people are responsible."
"A pack?" Santana questioned. "Mutts don't usually travel in groups. What makes you so sure?"
"It checks out," Jake said. "I had Marley and Sam stop by yesterday and they found two mutts trying to break into Emilio's apartment. They managed to catch one and brought him back. It took a while, but we got him to speak."
Santana took note that they were empty handed. She would have at least expected a body bag if they were done dealing with the mutt.
"Where's the body?"
"I'm keeping it in the back until we're done with the rest of them," Jake said leaning against the bar.
"Then, why, exactly, do I have to be here?" Santana inquired with an arched brow.
She would rather be spending her night quietly with Quinn as she had a busy morning at the office tomorrow. Santana crossed an arm across her chest, her jaw clenched.
"We found out there are six more of them living just below Emilio's territory," Jake started.
"In the sewers," Santana interjected with a groan, watching Jake nod.
"It should be an easy sweep. These are weaker and unorganized mutts," Jake said. "We need your help because there are so many."
"Should we have Quinn over to help?" Sam said.
Santana shook her head and said, "I've been over that with Quinn. I told her no before, and this just solidifies that decision. She will stay out of this one, we can handle it ourselves."
"Mutts aren't very smart," Marley added.
"Mutts aren't stupid, just desperate. That can make them harder to hunt," Santana said, exhaling.
Mutts had nothing, no pack, and no rules. When they were ejected from their packs they were stripped of their possessions. They had no reason to play fair. What little they still owned they clung to and could be vicious in trying to regain what they once had, even if it meant stealing from another pack.
"I had Marley and Sam scope out the sewer during the day. Our best option is to attack them from the south and corner them," said Jake.
"Let's get this taken care of then," Santana headed up the stairs.
They drove a mile into East Village and parked across the street from a shoe repair store. Emilio lived in the apartment above it. The building had chipped paint on the walls and a door of splintered wood. Santana examined the property, noticing the area consisted of cheaper and smaller stores that catered to daily necessities. It lacked apartment complexes and the next home was stationed down the block on the corner.
"This is it," Emilio motioned, pausing at the doorway.
Santana felt Jake's eyes on her as she continued to scan the neighborhood.
"What is it?" he questioned.
"There aren't a lot of houses here," Santana said, her eyes trained on the grocery store across the street. "Something about this feels off."
"It is very unusual mutt behavior," Marley said while glancing around.
"Why do you think they're acting so strangely?" Sam asked.
Santana shrugged, "Guess we're about to find out."
Emilio pushed through the group, moving toward the street.
"The entrance is here," he said, bending down over the sewer lid.
He slipped his fingers through the holes on the side and lifted it with a grunt. Carefully, he dropped the cast iron lid on the sidewalk. Sam peered over the rim into the opening in the asphalt and gagged as the fumes wafted into his face. He turned his head and smirked at Santana.
"Ladies first," he said with a hand cupped over his nose, while the other offered up the hole in the ground.
Santana glared at him. She went down feet first, feeling for the rungs of the ladder and began to climb down when she caught her footing. She descended with ease, but the same awful smell that had invaded her senses in the bar was twice as strong when she reached the bottom. She stood a moment in the dark. It took a second for her pupils to dilate and the darkness washed away. She spotted an archway leading to a narrower passageway ten feet ahead of her.
"Santana," Jake called, his head peeking over the lip of the manhole, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I don't see any mutts, but I smell them," she called softly. "At least, I think that's what some of this stench is."
"We're coming down, make room," Jake said, already stepping down the first notch of the ladder.
She waited for everyone to arrive and watched their eyes flicker an orange glow as they adjusted. Emilio turned to his left and then his right. A sharp cough from Sam caught Santana's attention as he found it difficult to withstand the stench.
"How long do we have to stay in here?" Santana asked.
"They shouldn't be very far," Marley said, taking a right down the tunnel.
Santana tilted her head up toward the ceiling and to her left asking, "How far do the sewers go?"
"For miles, but Marley and I know the way," Sam replied following a step behind her.
The walk was quiet, aside from the hissing pipes fixed to the walls. A coat of slime covered the rusted pipes. Santana spotted a rat scuttling by, squeaking in fright when it came across the group. There was silence between them for some time as they trekked before they stopped in front of a rusted metal door labeled employees only. Santana took a deep breath and picked up the scent of the mutts through the stench of sewage again. She looked between Sam and Marley.
"You're sure?" she checked, staring at the door.
"It's where I tracked them to this morning," Marley said. "It has to lead somewhere."
Santana sighed and brought her hands out at her sides. She suppressed a groan as the burn in her hands started at her finger tips and spread into her tendons. She took two deep breaths through her teeth, releasing a harsh pant just as her nails pushed out into deadly claws. She looked around to see everyone with a set of claws. Sam kicked through the door, causing it to clang against the wall. They dashed inside. Santana picked up the fumes of copper and iron that led her to six mutts, crouched in the corner, munching on three dead humans. Their hands and mouths sodden with the carnage.
"Ugh," Santana cringed.
The first mutt leaped forward with a snarl. She grabbed him by the neck. He growled, his sticky fingers wrapping around her wrist as his grip tightened. With ease and utter disgust, she tossed him into a control panel and heard a sharp crack as his skull smashed into the ground. Santana felt her eardrums rattle and the pressure settle between her temples as the room was overcome with a deafening roar. The mutt nearest to her right reacted the quickest, moving fast enough to wrap his arms around her hips and tackle her to the ground. She grunted, wiggling herself from the mutt's arms as she used her left hand to grab his shoulder and push him up. Santana managed to get enough space to free her other hand and deliver a punch on to his jaw. She lashed out with two more blows before getting free and scrabbling to her feet. A loud whack sounded as her boot connected to the mutt's gut and he gasped. She watched him flinch and reach down, firmly grasping on his chin and base of the skull followed by a clean snap from his neck. The mutt dropped.
"Santana!"
She spun around to see a mutt grab Sam around his neck and jump onto his back. A second female mutt charged at her with a knife in hand. Santana watched as she got socked in the jaw by Marley and the girl plunged the mutt's own knife into her neck. A line of blood dripped from the bottom of her lip. The blade made a squelch as it was removed from the tender flesh. A rapid spurt of blood slid down the mutt's neck, gurgling as she slowly sank to the ground. Santana huffed.
"Thanks," she watched Marley smile.
Her eyes returned to the fight, a total of four mutts remained. Sam was dealing with one, while Jake had managed to corner two toward the left of the room. Emilio had the last one. He snarled, exposing a row of pointed teeth and elongated canines before he lunged forward. His fist ripped through the mutt's chest. Sam let out a grunt, flipping his mutt over and thrust a knife into her heart. One of the mutts Jake had cornered rushed past him. Santana rushed forward, delivering a punch to the escaping mutt's face and a thin streak of blood surfaced along his cheek. She glanced at her ring, now glazed with his blood and dropped down to her knees, pinning the mutt and felt the bones in his neck snap underneath her palms. Santana stood, scanning the room a second time. A pile of dead mutts littered the ground and her friends covered in gore.
"Hey, Jake, does your friend give discounts for bulk cremations?" Santana quipped.
Santana crossed her arms on top of the table, her thumb running over the diamond of her engagement ring habitually. She managed to wash off the blood, but Quinn would be upset if she found out she forgot to take it off before fighting a pack of mutts. From over the table, Santana glanced up to see Sam, staring at the ring.
"How's Quinn?" he asked.
"She'd rather I be home to help plan for the wedding, but you know how it is," she sighed.
Marley perked up in her seat, "How's the planning going? Have you figured out a place to have it yet?"
Santana rubbed the side of her temple with a scowl and said, "She wants it in New York, she say it's our home, but it's pack tradition and wolf law to have it in on sacred family land, which happens to be Ohio."
"Why not have the ceremony in Ohio, but the legal wedding in New York?" Marley asked.
Quinn had no traditional obligations, she was human and for the marriage to be recognized for human society New York was be the place to be. But, Santana had family traditions to keep that have been common practice through generations of wolf society that had to be followed. If they failed to do so Quinn would never be fully accepted as hers. It was an issue they hadn't settled on. The bells above the front door of The Den chimed as Jake sent Emilio home. He stationed himself at the head of the table, arms crossed over his chest. He took in a deep breath, causing his chest to visibly rise and fall as he released a heavy sigh.
"I spoke to my friend at the crematorium. It won't be easy, but he'll take care of the bodies," he said. "That's one less problem for us. I'll drop the bodies off with my truck."
Sam slapped a hand on the table as he stood from his seat.
"Drinks!" he shouted, reaching over the bar. He looked over his shoulder to see his friends' quizzical expressions. "Come on, we're celebrating. We just took care of a bunch of mutts and helped another pack."
Santana rose from her chair with a shake of her head.
"I really have to get home. I'm sure Quinn is waiting up for me, praying that I didn't die. Besides, I told her I'd only be an hour," Santana said checking her phone to look at the time, it'd been hours. She turned to Jake as she headed to the door, "Call me if anything else comes up."
He nodded, "Thanks for the help."
The door chimed and Santana exited.
Santana found Quinn hunched over the side of the couch, her knees bunched up and against her chest. Her left hand was curled under her chin with her elbow propped on the armrest and the lamp on the side table still on, the light catching on her engagement ring. Santana quietly walked through the living room, silently slipping into the shower, washing away the grime and stench of the sewers. She returned to the living room, finding Quinn still fast asleep. Santana took a seat next to her and brushed the hair curtaining the right side of Quinn's face back. She watched her face scrunch and her lids move before she let out a soft groan and leaned over to the right.
"Santana," she murmured, her eyes starting to squint and open.
"Hey," Santana hushed with a smile as Quinn's eyes focused on her.
The gleam of the light caused the green and brown flecks of her hazel eyes to shimmer. Santana looked her over, taking in her delicate features. She bit her bottom lip, stroking Quinn's cheek.
"What time is it?" Quinn mumbled.
"Let's go to bed," Santana said, looping her arm around Quinn's waist, her right arm under her knees.
She shifted Quinn into her arms with ease and steadily exited the living room, heading to the spiral staircase. Quinn was snuggling against her as she ascended the stairs. She gently placed Quinn on the bed. Santana set her ring on the dresser and joined Quinn under their quilt. She rolled on to her side, watching Quinn drift in and out of consciousness. Santana reached over, pressing her lips against soft pink ones. She watched Quinn slowly smile, finally falling fast asleep.