Page 21 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
“No.” I said.
The word came out with an edge of a snarl that had Martin putting his pencil to the pad. What was wrong with me? Yeah, I was a bit possessive when it came to my boyfriends, but Lucien was a client. A tourist. A newb who was going to be out of town come Monday—Tuesday at the latest. Yes, I was beginning to wonder how unethical it wouldreallybe if I banged my client, but that didn’t mean I had to get all up in Alberta’s face about it.
I didn’t run this town. We had an elected mayor, an elected sheriff. Grandma had been the last Perkins witch to govern our fair city. When she’d died, our legacy had died with her. If Mom didn’t give enough of a shit to stick around and run things, let alone parent her daughters, then it wasn’t my responsibility either. Helping raise the seven of us was enough work. This town wasn’t my responsibility—well beyond keeping the wards functional, that is. And that was just as much for my benefit as for any supernatural creature here in Accident.
“Sorry,” I told Alberta. I meant it.
She smiled, and my heart ached a bit at the sadness there. “No problem. Backing off. All yours, witchy-girl.”
My face heated with embarrassment both that she knew exactly what my emphatic “no” had meant, and that now the guys in the room did as well. Well, maybe not John or Martin who were giving the pair of us blank looks. Lucien did from the sexy grin on his face.
“Really? I’m hoping that means I won’t be spending the night on that lumpy hotel mattress. Or maybe you’ll be joining me on the lumpy mattress?”
Electricity arced through me at the thought. Client. Client. I needed to keep reciting that like a mantra before I ended up in bed with this guy.
“Nope. Not gonna happen. Keep going with your story, hellboy.”
He sighed dramatically. “I resolved to ignore the werewolf, knowing that his time would come, but his behavior was so…annoying that I finally had to take action.”
“You hit him? Threw a drink in his face? Set his pants on fire?” Alberta had been obsessed with my pants-on-fire curse ever since the news of it had left the courthouse and spread through the town like…well, like fire.
“No, I told him to leave. He threw a drink in my face, then threw a punch. The rest is a blur, although I do remember us somehow taking the fight outside. And I remember three of the guy’s friends joining in when it was clear he was getting his ass handed to him.” Lucien cracked his knuckles, a grim, determined glint in his eyes that seemed not quite human. Not quite human, or maybe just crazy. It was hard for me to tell the difference anymore.
“Once control slips from your fingers, it’s often difficult to rein it back in,” Martin commented, beginning a speech that I’d heard before—one that ended with suggestions to use breathing techniques, time-outs, or even calling a sponsor to avoid becoming embroiled in a fight. Lucien nodded, but he seemed to be giving the man’s lecture the same lack of attention that the rest of us were doing.
After that I listened to Alberta tell us all how many men, and women, she’d propositioned in the last week, and how she’d not reacted to each rejection by dragging her victim off under her bridge for non-consensual sex. Alberta needed to get laid. Her last…boyfriend, for lack of a better word, had been a minotaur. I thought they’d been well suited, but after a few months, the bull decided to leave town for a sabbatical roaming the country impregnating some hot Angus bovines. He’d never returned and Alberta had fallen into a depression that was turning into an increasingly frantic search for true love, or at least a good roll in the hay. Or moss. Or gravel. Or whatever substrate was under her bridge.
My, that sounded naughty.
“So, Cassie, it’s your turn.” Martin smiled at me. “Tell us what challenges you had this week?”
“It’s six!” I announced, jumping to my feet. “Great session, Martin. Thank you. I feel much calmer already. I’ll share on Tuesday, since we’re clearly out of time.” Tuesday. After this pesky Lucien was gone. I’d probably have a lot to share since part of getting him out of town would involve dealing with my ex-fiancé. Hopefully I wouldn’t set his pants on fire this time. Or stab him. Or sleep with him.
Sleep with him. Must not sleep with Marcus. I’ll admit, it had been difficult keeping that from happening since our break-up. He was a panther shifter and like Alberta, I was a woman with needs. And thinking about those needs had me giving Lucien a side-eye that was hopefully not full of smoldering desire.
Client. Client. Don’t sleep with Marcus, and don’t sleep with the client.
Everyone stood and we recited our non-religious version of the anger-management serenity prayer, then headed outside.
“You up for happy hour, devil-spawn?” Alberta shot me a quick glance. “You too, Cassie?”
“Lucien should go back to his hotel room and keep out of trouble,” I told her. “I need…I need to go see the prosecutor.”
“Marcus.” Alberta drawled. “That panther you used to shag.”
Her eyebrows wiggled, but it was the sudden heat I felt from Lucien that had me pivoting toward him in surprise. Was that a spark of crimson in his dark eyes, or a reflection from the sun?
“You gonna burn him or screw him?” Alberta asked.
The air was suddenly ten degrees hotter. I eyed Lucien suspiciously. “Neither. I need to convince the prosecutor to drop the charges against my client here. Then I’m going to call Lucien an Uber and get him out of town.”
“My ride isn’t responding,” Lucien reminded me. “I’ve tried, remember?”
“It might not be your usual driver, but I’m pretty sure I can get you a ride,” I told him.
“To hell? I doubt that,” he scoffed.
“To wherever the hell you want to go,” I informed him. “I’ll even pay. I just want you out of my town before noon tomorrow.”
