By Your Side. (Sequel to Art Girl and Wolf Boy)

By Your Side. (31)

Archer's POV:

"So let me just get this straight." Max said, tapping his pen against the paper. He looked very comical yet very serious in a pair of glasses. "We're all gone doing stuff and Archer sits around moping. Archer calls Phoebe, then daydreams, then smells something weird. Archer stands up and totally sniffs up a bunch of knockout gas."

He frowned at me, a smirk threatening to take over his face. "Dude. We're supposed to be better than that. What kind of werewolf pansy gets knocked out cold from some gas? In fact, what kind of werewolf pansy lets a bunch of huge guys invade his house?"

"Shut the hell up, Max."

"Fine. Just speaking the truth though." He raised his arms, smirking.

I scowled at him as he looked down at the paper again. "Where was I? Oh, yes. Guys then proceed to hold up the pack house while alpha-to-be is still out cold, then uses three loaves of bread, an entire jar of mayo, half a head of lettuce, four tomatoes, and the rest of the meat in the house?" He looked at my mom.

She shrugged against my dad, who was sitting next to me while she sat on his lap. We were all touching. Max's mate was behind him, staring at him amusement. Phoebe was of course, in my lap, pressed as closely as possible. The twins were hugging my dad's legs on the ground. Tony was in a single seat over to the side, his eyes drifting from me and Phoebe back to Max.

Every so often my mother would reach over and brush my hair out of my eyes. I let her.

Watching your daughter come back from the dead can do that to a guy.   

Nearly the entire pack was in our living room. Some had gone to make sure that we hadn't missed any potential threat during the fight.

I didn't feel like talking. I much preffered to breathe in Phoebe's scent, to reassure myself that she was safe. She breathed against my neck, her breath coming out in soft, sweet puffs.

She was drifting in and out of conciousness. I couldn't blame her. I was tired as hell too, but it had already been three days. I needed to get this over with so that the pack could move on. My dad would've done it, but Max volunteered so eagerly that we let him do it. He'd embraced the whole investigator role well. He was even wearing khakis.

Pressed khakis.

Yeah. I know.

"More or less," my mom replied.   

"A waste of good meat," Simon frowned. We all grumbled in agreeement.

"Tony and Jude come home to some guy eating an apple on their front porch with a piece of paper and a pair of scissors in his lap," Max continued. "They ask who is is and he says Davy."

Davy. The man who nearly took everything from me. My arms tightened around Phoebe's sleeping form.

"They try and come closer than fifty feet and as a result, are nearly scorched."

We all flinched.

"Jude calls for backup and starts asking about Archer, which Davy just laughs about. Jude then calls his mate, our Luna, Dylan, and tells her that something's wrong. So Dylan and a bunch of other females, quote, 'haul ass to the pack house' and find a bunch of pack members ready to attack and some dude cutting up paper."

And that's is where things realy start to go wrong.

"Davy was avenging his brother who got his ass royally kicked by Archer." Max nodded to me and Phoebe, then looked back at everyone. "There are two seperate accounts of what happened. One, we all know. And the second is from the view of a time traveler."