I whisked the filling again, getting it ready to pour into the pie shells. “We didn’t see each other last night. There was a football game at the high school, and sometimes Bran goes with a few of his friends to support the kids. I had no idea he likes sports, but apparently he does. And since I don’t like football, it’s fine that he goes with his buddies.”
I poured the filling into the pie shells and we carefully set them on cookie sheets. We were making six pies: two pumpkin, two apple, and two pecan. Since they froze well, they were the first things we were working on. As I finished filling the shells, the doorbell rang. Grams took over, carrying them to the oven while I answered the door.
I opened it to find Bree standing there. Behind her, the yard was filled with mist, rolling across the grass like some ghostly wave. The sky reflected the silvery tint of the mist, and in some places it looked like heaven was meeting earth.
“I hope you turned on your headlights on the way over.” I stood back so she could enter the house. Gem’s head popped up, but she yawned and went back to sleep on the cat condo.
“Of course. Traffic’s bad enough as it is around here, the last thing I need to do is have an accident. The fog is so thick on the road that I drove twenty miles an hour on the way over.” She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the coat tree, then stopped by the pellet stove, holding her hands over it to catch the radiating heat. “It smells like snow, but we’re not due for at least a month.”
“We could have snow early. It’s always wetter and colder around here during winter when it’s a La Niña year.” I nodded toward the kitchen. “Come in and help us. We’re cooking for next week. We’re making the pies early, and we’ll make the rolls early, freeze them, and bake them when we’re there. We’re also making cookies and some other assorted goodies.”
“That sounds good. Can I get a caramel latte?” Bree followed me into the kitchen and I pointed her over to the espresso machine. She’d been here often enough that she knew how to use it.
“The caramel syrup is in the cupboard right above it. You know where the mugs are.”
Grams was making another batch of dough. I sat down at the counter on a high stool and started to peel apples.
“Good morning,” Grams said, flashing a smile at Bree. “How are you doing?”
“I closed up the shop for next week. I decided I could use a vacation. Or rather, staycation. I’m not going anywhere for anybody, except for Thanksgiving. I figured I can use the time to catch up on decorating the house, clearing out some old stuff I wanted to get rid of, and bingeing on some of the shows I’ve missed over the past few months.” She carried her mug over to the counter and sat on the stool next to me. “If you have another peeler, I’ll help you with those.”
I found a second vegetable peeler and handed it to her. We were using a mixture of Granny Smith apples and Honeycrisp apples. The pairing produced tart and tasty pies.
Bree glanced over at Grams. “Did you tell her about Kyle?”
“I was waiting till you got here, so that I wouldn’t have to repeat myself. I gave you the highlights yesterday, but I didn’t tell you what he told me after I called him back.” What I hadn’t told Bree was that the council didn’t want Faron to have anything to do with me.
Grams looked up from the bowl of pie crust ingredients that she was mixing together. “I knew there was something wrong.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t in a mood to talk about it last night. I’m still processing it and before you ask, I haven’t told Bran yet about this. That’s a discussion for a different time.” I tossed the apple I had finished peeling into the bowl of lemon water. Since we were also making an apple cobbler, I decided that it would be most expedient to peel all the apples first, and then slice them up and divide them between the pies and the cobbler dish.
Grams poured cold water over the crumbly mixture of flour and butter. “All right, go ahead,” she said, beginning to work the dough. She wore disposable gloves, which made the job easier because the dough didn’t stick to them like it did to skin.
As we worked away, I told them about everything that had happened. And then I told them about Kyle’s phone call. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go over there and barge in and confront Faron. He’s dealing with enough pain—and I do mean physical pain—as it is. Those migraines are nothing to joke about. And stress makes them worse.”
“First, do you know for sure that the council told Kyle this?” Grams asked. “Do you think that maybe he’s fallen for you himself and doesn’t want you and Faron back together? You have kept him company all these months while Faron was in a coma. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t developed some feelings for you himself.”
That was something I hadn’t thought about. In fact, the thought of Kyle falling for me seemed ridiculous.
“We’re good friends, or we were until yesterday, but I don’t think I’m Kyle’s type at all. I could be wrong, but I can see the Pack elders pulling something like this. And remember, wolf shifters and witches traditionally do not get along. I’m not sure where the division began, but I remember my mother teaching me that when I was young.”
“I know where the animosity began,” Grams said. “At one time, witches and shifters—including wolf shifters—worked together. But during the Inquisition, the witch hunters made bargains with the wolf shifters. They would leave them untouched if the wolf shifters handed witches over to them. Back then there were more consolidated groups, and the King of the Black Forest Wolf Pack, who ruled over a good deal of the northern European wolf shifters, agreed. The Queen of Witches at that time—Queen Rose Willow—called for a blood feud. Ever since then, wolf shifters and witches have been at odds.”
Both Bree and I stared at her.
“I had no idea,” I finally said. “What the hell? Otherkin usually stand united, especially against humans. I mean, the relationship between the two has evolved a lot over the past couple hundred years, but that’s horrible.” The thought that the wolf shifter king had basically turned us over to a bunch of torturing bigots turned my stomach.
Bree shook her head. “I can’t imagine the cat shifters agreeing to something like that.”
Grams shook her head. “They didn’t. Not one of the cat shifter nations agreed. Nor did the bear shifters. It was the wolves that turned on the witches.”
“If it really is the council’s will that you and Faron stay away from each other, what are you going to do?” Bree asked. “Can he overrule them?”
“No,” Grams said. “The King has powers, but he has to defer to the elders and to tradition.”
I glanced at her, eyebrows arched. “How do you know so much about the wolf shifters?”
She blushed. “Since my great-granddaughter decided she wanted to get romantically involved with one.”