Page 34 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

I blew out a shaky breath.No. Not now.This wasn’t the time to relive the terror. I needed to deal with the problem at hand: Grandpa Sexton.

Gods, it felt weird eventhinkingthat.

“Lucien was my grandson, but he was far from a cousin to you. He was an angry, misguided human. I regret not stopping him sooner.”

Angry, misguidedhuman. The condescension rankled. “Sexton, I’m grateful for what you did to save my life, but?—”

“You need not thank me for healing an injury I was responsible for inflicting.”

“Once again, you weren’t responsible for Lucien stabbing me. He had free will. I only wish you’d warned me. I wish you’d all told me the truth before it got to that.”

“It was wrong of us.”

“Yeah, it was.” I let my forehead drop into my hands. “I can’t do this with you. Not now. Not yet.”

“We must speak soon. Your father?—”

“Don’t start with that, Sexton.”

“You still don’t have the whole story. I would like to give it to you, but I will respect your choice not to hear it. For now.”

Why did that sound like a threat?

“I appreciate it,” I said, then decided to give him a little more. “Look, I’m going to want to know about … him. Eventually. But it’s such a big thing—it’s too big. At least, right now. Please. All I’m asking for is space.”

“Understandable.”

That was something, at least.

This time, the breath I blew out was steadier. “If you promise to stop calling so much, I promise to do my best to answer when you do call.”

“I’m amenable to that arrangement.” His voice warmed, melting away some of the frost. “I do not wish you harm, Betty. You are safe with me.”

Safe? Sexton was from an entirely alien realm of existence. He had an alternative set of personal morals and social mores, and I’d be a fool to trust him. Safe meant something different to his kind.

However, I didn’t think antagonizing him was a smart move, either. The demon had expressed a low tolerance for my sarcasm and passive-aggressive snark. He’d threatened me over it, and he’d done itknowing at the time that I was his granddaughter.

I was sure I’d find a way to infuriate him later, but for now, I’d be smart to accept his offer of peace.

“Thank you,” I said.

He shook his cape over his shoulders, the slick black fabric swishing over his bony arms and across his gaunt torso. “Considering all the damage my family secrets have done to you, I am in your debt. You may call upon me at any time.”

“I thank you for your thoughtfulness,” I replied stiffly.

“Thoughtfulness is as foreign a concept to my kind as my actions and reasonings must seem to you. You know what I am, Betty. I am demon.” Frost coated his words.

“Yes, I know.”

“I neither apologize nor excuse myexistence.” The word sat on his tongue for an extra moment. “It wasn’t my choice to become your grandfather—I warned my son and your mother from the very beginning—and yet, I carry no resentment. You are a fine witch, and I am honored to have even a drop of my blood running through your veins.”

Yeesh. Was that his creepy way of telling me he loves me?

“If you allow it, I will show you exactly who you are from my point of view. But again, it is your choice. I will not force the knowledge on you.” He gave me a curt nod. “Goodbye.”

He disappeared from my screen, and the host and pumpkin-patch owner reappeared. Sexton hadn’t shut down my tablet or closed the app; he’d paused the stream so I wouldn’t miss any of my show. It was as if he’d tried to make his interruption as unobtrusive as possible.

Why did his simple, throwaway act of consideration make me feel warm inside?

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