Page 19 of Hell and Hexes
Clinton stood. “Understood. I don’t need to be an oracle like Ophelia to see how this is going to end, though.”
I stood as well and walked him to the door. “How do youwantit to end, Clinton? What’s your best-case scenario at the end of this issue?”
He shrugged. “We get part of the mountain and recognition as a separate pack. There’s no exile, no friction between the two packs. I want my wolves to be able to visit and spend time with family on the other side of the mountain without getting killed, and the same the other way.”
“And Shelby? And Stanley?” I asked, hopeful that Clinton had a reconciliation in mind for them as well.
The werewolf’s face twisted in anger. “Shelby nearly killed me and she’s screwing a troll. And Stanley is a traitor. It’s his fault I had to pay for Bronwyn’s truck and trailer and that Cassie burned my beard clean off my face.”
I kept my mouth shut about the fact that he’d obviously found being beardless an improvement as he was standing before me as clean-shaven as a werewolf could be. And as for him blaming Stanley for all that…well, I was disappointed at this regression. We’d been working on accepting personal responsibility for actions, but clearly the werewolf wasn’t ready to claim this one as his own darned fault.
“Take a deep breath and think logically about what would have happened if Stanley had kept his mouth shut,” I told him in a calm, even voice.
Clinton did as I said, then scowled. “Ophelia probably would have divined who was behind it, or one of you would have made a truth charm, and I would have had more than my beard burned off. But he’s still a traitor and Shelby is still a troll-lover.”
I stifled a sigh, knowing when to call it quits for now. It all came down to pride and ego and centuries of tradition and culture with these werewolves. Rome—or Accident—wasn’t built in a day, though.
“You do realize that times are changing? Both packs are going to have to reconsider a good number of their rules and practices, and align with the rest of Accident. This break-out pack you’ve put together won’t be exempt from that, even if we manage to get Dallas to agree to let you guys stay on the mountain.”
He took a breath, his fingers on the door handle. “It ain’t gonna be easy, Sylvie. Not for any of us. We’re used to taking the law into our own hands, and there are some crimes we consider a whole lot more serious than the rest of you do. It’s gonna be a problem if those crimes are suddenly not enforced or given a slap on the wrist.”
I reached out to pat his shoulder. “I know, Clinton. I really think we can work it out, though. All we need is time, patience, and to communicate honestly with each other.”
His smile held a tinge of sadness. “I hope you’re right, Sylvie. I hope you’re right.”
* * *
I poureda swirl of ketchup on top of my hash browns as Cassie sipped her coffee.
“I can’t believe you went to Pistol Pete’s last night,” she scolded. “You just got back to work, just went back to your house, and instead of taking it easy, you’re out partying it up in a bar.”
“I felt good and I wanted to hear the band. I wasn’t ‘partying it up.’ I was sitting on a barstool, drinking ginger ale, and listening to the music.”
“And finding yourself smack in the middle of a fight,” she shot back. “Pete’s is trashed. He’s making noises about pressing charges against that minotaur and the werewolves. The whole lot of them are squashed into a jail cell right now. You’re lucky you got out of there without being trampled or gored or clawed.”
I sincerely hoped our sheriff hadn’t put the minotaur in the same jail cell as the werewolves. I tried to remember the layout of the jail from the one time I’d been there on a fourth-grade field trip and was pretty sure there had been more than one cell.
“I was fine, Cassie. I’m not a fragile doll; I’m a witch. I grew up here. I know to get out of the way when werewolves and minotaurs start exchanging blows.”
She sucked in a breath, stabbing at her pancakes with her fork. “Two weeks ago I almost lost you, Sylvie. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you. I can’t.”
Her voice wobbled. Cassie had never been a client of mine. She hadn’t needed to be one. We’d grown up together. Sisters. I knew the demons she lived with, and I wasn’t talking about the hot one in her bed, either. Our father had taken off and that had been hard enough, but she was thirteen when we’d lost our grandmother, and our mother had left without a word soon after. Loss. Abandonment. The fear that one day she’d wake up and someone else she loved would be gone. We all struggled with these feelings, but Cassie the most. Probably because at thirteen she’d become the legal guardian of six younger sisters and spent most of her life trying to raise us, trying to keep us all safe and sound, and the whole time dealing with her grief and loss alone.
I reached out and took her hand. “Cassie, you did good. We all grew up with food in our bellies and love in our hearts. I had the best childhood, all because of you. But we’re grown now. Every one of us is an adult living our own life. The town is your only child to care for and fuss over, at least until Lucien puts a bun in your oven. Let the six of us be adults. Let us walk by your side and stand with you as grown witches who all want to do our part to take care of this town and make it the best it can be for every single resident here.”
She nodded, gripping my hand tight. “But if I were to lose one of you…”
“People die. That’s a valid fear and one you need to acknowledge. But you can’t allow it to consume you and direct your actions.”
She took a deep breath. “Dad. Grandma. Mom. I’m sometimes waiting for the other shoe to drop and tragedy to strike, and the panic overwhelms me. But you’re right. I trust that a twenty-nine-year-old woman knows if she’s recovered enough to go listen to some music at a bar. And that she has enough sense to get the heck out of the way when a fight breaks out.”
I smiled. “And here’s the part where I tell you I had to crawl along the floor, using Pete’s enchanted towel to clear a path to the door.”
Cassie groaned. “Not helping, Sylvie. Not helping at all.”
I laughed. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her about Eshu being there, how he’d kinda sorta started the whole thing, how he drove me home when I was too exhausted to unlock my own car door, how he’d tucked me into a blanket on my sofa.
How he’d shown up the night before and pretty much done the same thing.
