Page 35 of Death and Divination
Chapter 12
Ophelia
Ipulled up to the compound and parked. A few werewolves were milling about outside the main house. I knew my presence wasn’t a surprise. With Clinton vying for control of the pack, Dallas probably had sentries posted all over his side of the mountain. These werewolves hanging out right now were curious onlookers because I would hardly be viewed as a threat.
Either way, I nodded as I passed them, recognizing a few. I’d grown up in Accident and knew just about every one of the residents, but there were always a few here and there that lived more of a hermit life, or ones that I didn’t run across on a regular basis. I’d say I knew about eighty percent of Accident’s residents.
I only knew about twenty percent of the werewolf residents inside our wards. It was a bit embarrassing to admit that, but they were a secretive bunch and quite a few of them never ventured off the mountain, let alone came into town. In school, I’d only had one or two werewolf classmates. Most of them were educated in schools within the pack compound. The only ones attending the public schools of Accident were children of the most accepting of werewolf parents. Pack. Family. Territory. Those were the priorities, and outsiders weren’t to be trusted much more than those humans living beyond the wards.
I agreed with Cassie that this had to stop. It was a travesty that none of our witch ancestors had either the power or the inclination to bring the werewolves into the fold. Other shifters kept their culture and traditions but were active members of our community. There was no reason the werewolves could do the same.
I knocked on the front door and waited, knowing that the delay in answering was a power play. I was two seconds from pulling out my nail file and doing an impromptu manicure when the door swung open and I found myself face-to-face with a female werewolf.
Parlay. I knew her. She’d actually been one of the werewolves who’d attended school down in the town, and she was a few years older than me. Bronwyn was probably in her class. She looked exactly the same as she had in high school, but then again, werewolves were a long-lived group and tended to age exceptionally well. Her dark hair was shoulder length—shorter than most of the other wolves and probably requiring weekly trims—and she didn’t have the facial hair that both genders of werewolves tended to sport. Males had all sorts of varieties of beards depending on their notions of style, but they were rarely clean shaven. Females had softer, peach-fuzzy facial hair that could be thick along the jawline or a faint shadow on their lower face. Young female werewolves tended to shave their faces, although not their body hair. I think the face-shaving was more from having to blend in with humans than as a way to keep from appearing un-feminine to non-werewolves. Older females—those who were long mated and had several pups—embraced their furry faces with an enthusiastic defiance that I admired. I had no problems with anyone’s grooming choices, but I hated to think a female wolf would feel pressured into shaving to fit in with what they thought the outside world considered feminine and beautiful.
Lots of supernatural races had scales, and leathery hides, and fur. I agreed with all definitions of beauty including a furry female chin.
“Hey, Par,” I greeted the werewolf. “Is Dallas in?”
“Ophelia.” She stood aside and motioned for me to enter. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Come into the living room. Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?”
Werewolves weren’t rude, but this was far more hospitality than they usually extended to unplanned visitors to the compound.
“I’m good, thanks. How have you been?”
She smiled over her shoulder as she led the way. “Great. I mated two years ago and am expecting a pup this fall.”
I offered congratulations, my eyes drifting to her flat stomach. Werewolves. They never showed until the last month.
The living room was full of cushiony leather sofas, the walls lined with deer heads. Parlay turned and lifted her head as she let out a plaintive howl, the sound trailing off on a low note at the end. Then she went over to a cabinet and pulled out a decanter of what looked to be whisky, pouring a splash into two glasses.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but your visit gives me an excuse to dip into Dallas’ good stuff.” She handed me a glass. “It’s rude to let guests drink alone. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Another thing about werewolves—they were perfectly fine drinking during pregnancy. There were plenty of other substances a pregnant or lactating wolf needed to avoid, but alcohol wasn’t one of them.
I tossed down the whisky, feeling the warm burn and the peaty aftertaste. Dallas did have some good stuff.
“So, did you guys have a good hunt last moon?” I cradled the glass, figuring I might as well make conversation while I waited for Dallas to make his dramatic appearance.
“I had first blood on a deer, so I’d call it a good hunt.”
I toasted her with the glass, even though it was empty. She took that as an invitation to refill both mine and hers. I’d need to be careful. Driving drunk down the steep and narrow roads of Heartbreak mountain wasn’t advisable.
“So, who’d you mate with?” I asked, sipping the whisky.
“Beaker.” She shot me an impish look over the top of her glass. “Submissive as hell, just like I like ‘em. He worships the ground my little paws tread on. It’s all ‘Yes, Par. Anything you say, Par. Can I please have sex tonight, Par?’ That wolf does foreplay like his life depended on it. Which it does.”
I hid a smirk, because I could tell she was absolutely besotted with her mate. I was pretty sure the worshiping went both ways, although Parlay would never admit it.
“You got yourself a mate yet, Ophelia?”
There was a note of pity in her voice. I knew lots of the residents of Accident didn’t understand why we Perkins witches had remained unattached for so long. Most of us dated, but rarely indulged in an actual relationship. The closest any of us had ever come to that was when Cassie had been in her tumultuous fling with Marcus and that human Adrienne dated that she’d never introduced to anyone. Of course that all changed when Cassie had met Lucien, and Bronwyn had met Hadur.
Hopefully it had changed for me as well.
“I think I might have a mate,” I told Parlay. “I’m not positive yet.”
“Well, I’m praying for you.” The werewolf looked over to the doorway, then quickly refilled her glass. I realized why a few seconds later when Dallas strode into the room.
