Page 32 of Death and Divination
I scowled, a little miffed that Shelby wasn’t the slightest bit alarmed that a reaper might possibly be here for me. Nice to know the werewolf didn’t really care whether I died or not. Mortality aside, she was clearly here to see me about something, and shewasconcerned that Nash might be reaping a soul beyond my own. Hers perhaps? Or someone else’s?
Someone who would bleed on the oleander leaves?
“He’s here for me,” I reassured her. “As far as we know, he won’t be doing any reaping in the near future, but I’m not positive about that. He has killed what seemed to be two perfectly healthy plants in the last twenty-four hours. Plus, there are other reapers who might show up any time and do their thing.”
She dragged her gaze back over my way. “I need to talk to you. Can I…can I speak with you in private?”
I pushed the plate of bacon and eggs to Nash. “Here. Eat up. And when the waitress comes back, ask her to put in an order for the French toast with the cornflakes on it. You’ve got to try them.”
Nash dug in. I got up and followed Shelby outside. And through the parking lot. And down a hill through a small copse of trees to a concrete embankment. For a human, this amount of cloak and dagger would have been excessive, but half the town residents had the sort of hearing that would pick up a whisper at fifty yards, so the distance made sense. It also told me that whatever Shelby was about to confide in me about was something really important. I got the impression it was life-or-death important.
“I got a visit from Tink a couple of weeks ago,” she told me.
I waited, and when it became clear she wasn’t going to continue, I lifted my hands. “Tink, as in short for Tinkerbell? Is that a new pixie in town or something?”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not short for anything. Her name’s Tink. She’s a werewolf.”
I caught my breath. Shelby was a lone wolf. Any members of the pack were forbidden from any contact with her. The only werewolf who would acknowledge her presence was Stanley, because he too was a lone wolf and exiled from the pack.
“I’m assuming Tink is a sister? A cousin?” I imagined it would be hard on family members to be forbidden to talk to each other. Werewolves were a close-knit bunch, and family was very important to them.
“No, she’s Ruby’s daughter.” Shelby hesitated, then must have realized that I didn’t know Ruby, either. “She’s been mating age for a while now, but she’s stayed single. Playing the field, you know. Dallas doesn’t push anyone to mate young. He’s got his faults, but this ain’t one of them. Old Dog Butch used to insist on a mating within the first four heats.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know any of this. “You’re talking about Tink, right? Not Ruby?”
“Ruby’s mated to Len. They’ve been together sixty some years. Tink’s unmated. And like I said, Dallas don’t push us. That’s why I was single at my age. If Old Dog Butch would have won the challenge, I’d have been mated with half a dozen pups by now.”
I understood, but just because Dallas Dickskin had one redeeming feature, it didn’t negate all the asshole things he’d done in his lifetime.
“So, what’s up with Tink? She doesn’t want to abide by Dallas’ mandate to shun you?”
I assumed so, or she wouldn’t have come to visit Shelby. I wondered if they’d been close before Shelby left the pack. And I wasn’t sure how her being unmated played into this.
Suddenly I was imagining all sorts of scenarios where Alberta and Shelby were in some sort of polyandry relationship and Tink was joining them. It wasn’t unheard of here in Accident. Some of our residents embraced what humans would have considered to be unconventional romantic situations. Although, how would Alberta’s tiny house hold the three of them? Plus, I’d always got the impression that Alberta was a one-person sort of troll.
“Tink’s got a suitor, and Ruby is pushing her to accept, and she doesn’t feel like she has any other options,” Shelby said. “She knows Cassie will protect her if she leaves the pack and becomes a lone wolf, but she’s not sure if she wants to do that, so she came to see me.”
“Wait. Dallas doesn’t force wolves to mate by a certain age, but he’d let someone force their daughter to mate? Arranged marriages are okay?”
Shelby twisted her hands together. “It’s complicated. Our culture says mates are fated, and that the wolf side of us knows who he—or she—is supposed to spend their life with. But in reality, it’s different. Males screw around. There’s the occasional divorce, although it’s very difficult to get that approved, and there’s a social stigma against it. Widows and widowers often find a second ‘fated mate.’ Or a third. Or a fourth if they’re very long-lived.”
“But arranged marriages? Arranged matings?” I pressed.
“There’s a lot of pressure when your parents feel the mating is advantageous to the family,” Shelby explained. “Most of us give in rather than have to live with a family that holds a grudge because we didn’t mate with who they wanted. Family is important. It’s as important as pack. No one wants to disappoint their parents or the head of their family.”
I’ll admit my blood was starting to boil at the thought that some werewolf was pressuring her daughter into mating against her wishes. “You did tell her she was welcome to live in Accident as a lone wolf, didn’t you?”
Shelby nodded. “But I couldn’t sugar coat it. Living away from the pack, not having anyone you grew up with, your friends or family, even acknowledge your existence any longer…. It’s hard, Ophelia. I love Alberta, and it’s still hard. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I couldn’t have been given another option, where there would have been the possibility for me to have a troll for my mate and still be a welcome member of my pack.”
“What did Tink say?” I asked. “Is she going to leave or stay?”
“She said she’d think about it. I don’t know who this suitor is but given the choice of humiliating her family and living her life in exile, Tink might decide to accept the mate. I got love here in town. I got my mate. But if Tink becomes a lone wolf, she’ll possibly be giving up having a mate at all or having pups. Her only choice if she wants to mate to a werewolf and have pups in exile is Stanley. And no offense to Stanley, but I doubt he’s Tink’s type.”
I briefly wondered what Tink’s type was.
“Could she possibly appeal to Clinton’s faction and live there?” I asked. “That way she’d still be part of a pack, and she’d have some options to mate with a werewolf if she decided she wanted to do that.”
“That’s not easy to do. Werewolves just can’t jump back and forth between packs. Once the division was made, changing packs isn’t a simple thing. Plus, she’d be unable to see friends or family ever again. And if there’s war, which it looks like that might happen, there’s a good chance Clinton’s pack will be killed. She wouldn’t be spared.”
