Page 30 of Hell and Hexes
Chapter 11
Sylvie
Iran, barely making it to my office before nine o’clock and thinking the whole way that Eshu was a very bad influence on me.
The other two nights when he’d tucked me to sleep on the couch, he’d been gone by the time I’d awakened in the morning. That had been my fear—that I’d wake to an empty bed, and that after having sex with him throughout the night, he’d vanish, and I’d never see him again. Instead, I slowly came to a drowsy consciousness to find him spooning me, his one leg wrapped around mine, his arm around my waist. I stirred. He stirred. Then we had that lovely half-asleep morning sex that is truly the best way to start the day.
We made cheese omelets in the nude, ate in the nude, then went back to bed for some post-breakfast seduction. I barely had time for a quick shower and had to leave with my hair wet and no makeup on. I was almost late for the nine o’clock appointment I’d set up, and that would have been horribly unprofessional of me.
Breakfast. Drat. I’d promised Bart pastries or something like that. I didn’t have time to race over to the bakery before they arrived, so I decided that would be my excuse to leave them alone to talk together.
Unlocking the door, I got to work putting on a pot of coffee and firing up the kettle. Stanley arrived first, right at nine o’clock. I made him his favorite tea and tried to look busy while he sat and fidgeted, looking over to the door every ten seconds. Finally, I sat down and tried to take his mind off things by discussing a knocking sound my car was making and asking him to troubleshoot the problem.
Fifteen minutes after the hour, I started to worry. Was he not coming? Had Bart knuckled under to the fear that the pack might find out if he disobeyed the exile mandate, deciding his friendship with Stanley wasn’t worth the risk? Had I made things with Stanley worse, getting his hopes up like this only to have him experience the equivalent of being ditched on prom night with his dress on and hair done?
It was twenty after, and I had pretty much sweated through my anti-perspirant and was completely out of small talk when Stanley sat up in his chair, his shoulders straightening and an excited expression flitting across his face. Two minutes later, Bart edged through my door, his eyes darting everywhere as if he expected either a surprise party or Dallas to jump out and bite him.
“Come in. Grab some coffee or some tea and sit down,” I told him. “I was running a bit late today, but once you guys get settled in, I can dash out and grab some pastries.”
“I’m good. Ate a big breakfast,” Bart said as he walked over and poured some coffee into a mug. He didn’t look at Stanley. Stanley didn’t look at him.
Great. We were off to such a wonderful start here.
“So…” I waited until the pair were seated. Bart had taken the chair at an angle from Stanley on the couch. Not too close, but not across the room, either. “Let’s start with Bart. What’s been going on in your life the past few weeks?”
The werewolf slid Stanley a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “I can’t discuss pack matters in front of…you know.”
I got a horrible feeling this wasn’t going to go well. Stanley would be even more despondent, and I would have totally screwed up any small progress he’d made toward his being happy as a lone wolf. Was it just my powers that were gone? Maybe my abilities as a therapist had taken a hit with my death as well.
Taking a calming breath, I decided to keep going with this. They were both here in the same room. That had to be indicative of some interest on Bart’s part to keep in contact with Stanley against Dallas’s mandate.
“Then let’s not talk about pack politics or any of that. We’ll discuss personal stuff instead.”
Bart looked down at his coffee cup. “Went fishing Tuesday. Caught a bass and threw it on the smoker.”
Stanley grunted. “How big?”
Bart shrugged. “Twelve? Thirteen inches?”
“You got him at the bend? With the downed tree?” There was a pained note in Stanley’s voice that made me think they had caught a lot of fish together at this spot.
“Yeah.” Bart shifted in his seat, facing Stanley but still not looking at him. “Been out there a few times but only caught the one.”
Stanley nodded knowingly. “You use golden shiners?”
Bart snorted. “You keep your shiners. Crawfish are better bait for bass.”
I had no idea what these guys were talking about but having gotten the conversation started, I quietly excused myself and ran down to the bakery. By the time I got back with a box of cream-filled donuts, the two were sprawled on the couch watching Ice Road Truckers on the television. They dug into the donuts, and I made myself busy with some paperwork, noting that aside from the occasional commentary about the foolhardiness of the truckers on TV, they were completely silent.
It was a good silence, a companionable silence. When the show was over, Bart stood, saying that he needed to get going. Stanley stood as well, saying he hoped to see him next week, and that he’d bring that three-eighths inch socket wrench Bart wanted to borrow.
Bart grunted in appreciation, his eyes meeting the other werewolf’s for the first time. “Thanks. I’ll smoke some ribs.”
Ribs? At nine on Sunday? I withheld judgement because Stanley seemed excited about the prospect. Bart left, holding his amulet tightly and looking carefully around before venturing through the doorway and outside. Stanley waited another ten minutes, then took out his own amulet, turning to me before he left.
“Thanks, Sylvie.”
He walked out and I felt downright giddy with happiness. It had been a success. Maybe they couldn’t hunt—or fish—together yet, but at least Stanley had been able to have contact with another werewolf—one who he counted as his friend. I could tell by the man’s posture and the ease in his face that he felt better. He was less depressed, calmer, and content.
It wasn’t a long-term solution but for twelve weeks of “tap dance lessons,” Bart and Stanley would be able to get together and talk…or watch television, or do whatever guys did to bond. Maybe I could figure out a way for them to meet outside my office, if I could manage to get my magic to the point where I could make some additional amulets keyed to a different location.
Either way, I felt good about today. I’d made a difference in a werewolf’s life. Hopefully the meeting Monday would go just as well, and we’d be even closer to peace among the werewolves and a happy life for all of them.
