Page 18 of Hell and Hexes
Chapter 8
Sylvie
Igot up the next morning and contemplated burning my couch. The booze and whatever the heck had been on the floor of Pistol Pete’s had permeated the upholstery and the whole thing smelled like cat piss if a cat had gone on a bender the night before.
Hoping for the best, I shoved the blankets and pillows into the wash, hosed the whole thing down with Febreze, and went to take a shower, putting my clothes in a plastic bag to deal with later.
The shower felt amazing, and I glided the scrubby all over my skin, inhaling the aroma of vanilla and lavender. When the hot water was beginning to fade to lukewarm, I got out, toweled myself off, and piled my wet hair on top of my head in a clip. Not even bothering with a bathrobe, I headed down to the kitchen naked, opened the cabinet, and pulled out a jug of Glenda’s smoothie.
Should I have asked Eshu to stay last night? It was the question that had been running through my brain ever since I’d woken up. Actually, I was pretty sure a few of my dreams had involved him as well. I’d been too tired last night to do much besides crash on the couch, but if he’d stayed, we could have showered together, had a naked breakfast together, gone back in my bedroom after breakfast for round two. Despite all the bawdy jokes and songs and his constant descriptions of his supposedly enormous cock, I got the feeling he’d be really good in bed. He’d be enthusiastic, and fun, and we’d probably laugh as much as we’d orgasm. Maybe that’s what I needed in my life right now. It would be a fling, at the most a friends-with-benefits sort of deal. I couldn’t see Eshu takinganythingseriously, let alone a relationship, and I wasn’t sure he was really relationship material anyway.
But fun breathless sex with someone who made me laugh, who made me feel more alive than I’d felt even before my death? That might be worth throwing caution to the winds for.
Trying to delay drinking Glenda’s smoothie, I picked up my phone and texted Cassie, letting her know that I needed to talk to her. I’d learned not to call since Cassie always picked up when it was one of us, fearing we were in trouble and needed her. Many times, it had been absolutely obvious she’d been in the middle of sex and my call had brought that to a screeching halt. I had no doubt that she’d paused whatever activity she and Lucien were doing on a Saturday morning to check my text, but at least she could see it wasn’t an emergency.
I eyed the jug, knowing I needed to just get this over with. Unscrewing the cap, I drank it all down, gagging and choking at the horrible taste. It was bad. It was worse than the other smoothies she’d been bringing me since I’d died. I knew Glenda was concerned, that she was worried I wasn’t healing fast enough, but why oh why did her potions have to taste so foul?
I was rinsing the bottle out when I got Cassie’s return text telling me she’d meet me at the diner in an hour. Or maybe two hours. She’d text me when she was on her way. I rolled my eyes and smiled, thrilled that she was in love and happy and getting some hot action anytime she wiggled a finger at Lucien.
Would it be the same with Eshu? Probably not. I was pretty sure he’d be up for sex any time I wiggled my finger, but I couldn’t see him being as devoted to me as Lucien was to Cassie. I couldn’t see him being as devoted to anyone or anything. It’s just how he was. Lighthearted. Fun. Casual. Could I do casual, or would my heart end up wanting more?
I shook off the thoughts and headed upstairs to get dressed, invigorated by Glenda’s potion. Cassie might be heading to the diner in an hour or two, but I was heading over now. Why cook breakfast and eat alone when two blocks away I could get an omelet with swiss and bacon and enjoy the reassuring feeling of being surrounded by the good folk of Accident?
Dressed and heading out, I nearly stepped on a note tucked partially under my door mat.
Your office at 8am Saturday. Please.
Sometimes my clients had emergencies. As much as I wanted that omelet, it was going to have to wait. We didn’t have a hotline in town or a backup therapist, and many residents either didn’t have cell phones or weren’t in a position where a phone call would be unheard. Too many of the beings in our town had supernatural hearing, and many of my clients had matters of a sensitive and confidential nature to discuss. So, I tried to make myself available whenever someone needed me.
Stuffing the note into my pocket, I walked past the diner with its tantalizing smells and to my office where I found a werewolf waiting for me—a werewolf who, thanks to my charm, only I could see. We’d had several sessions over the last few months, and I knew he’d been eager to resume and get on my appointment book once I’d come back after my death experience, but I was pretty sure I knew what his emergency was today.
“Sylvie.” He shifted nervously, looking down the street. “Thanks for meeting me. It’s late notice, I know.”
I opened the door and let him in, motioning him toward a chair as I took a seat opposite him. “How are things going, Clinton?”
He looked down and ran a hand over the carved wood of the chair arm. “I did what you said and picked out the rugs, upholstery, and throw pillows for my pack’s lodge. Even got a nice shabby-chic accent light for the side table.”
“How did that make you feel?” I asked.
He let out a whoosh of breath. “Good. Like it’s home. Like it’s mine. Just being there calms and centers me. That’s not why I wanted to see you, though. There’s a meeting coming up on Monday between Dallas and me with your sister there. I need to talk about that.”
I nodded. “That meeting will be a huge test of your newfound calm, Clinton. Have you been practicing the techniques we went over? Planning strategies for when you feel like your temper might get out of hand?”
“No. I mean, yes, but that’s not it.” He fidgeted in the chair. “The meeting is a waste of time. Dallas ain’t gonna ever let me have a separate pack inside the wards, let alone on what he feels is his mountain. He ain’t gonna budge. Cassie’s gonna get mad and lay down the law and try to force what she wants. Nothing constructive is gonna happen. Dallas’s wolves already took a quarter mile of what we carved out for our pack, and I know he plans on standing his ground and attacking us the night after the meeting.”
I thought of the conversation in the bar last night. “Do you think he’ll offer you a chance to return to his pack and re-integrate?”
Clinton shook his head. “I doubt it. He’d lose face. At this point, it’s gone on too long to brush off as just a spat between father and son. I’ve indirectly challenged him and to let me back in would show weakness on his part. Plus, I’d always be considered a threat. His only offer will probably be for me and my pack to leave the town wards and become exiles in the outside world.”
I thought for a moment. “He’s got to be feeling just as trapped by all this as you are. I know he cares about you, Clinton. He’s just angry and embarrassed and not thinking of creative options for compromise.”
The werewolf leaned forward. “This is why we need you there, Sylvie. Not your sister Cassie, but you. That’s why I left the note and asked you to meet me. You’re discreet. You understand our culture. You’ve got patience and mediation skills, and with you we could work toward some sort of consensus. With Cassie heading that meeting, it’s going to be a disaster.”
“Cassie is a lawyer,” I reminded him. “I appreciate your faith in my abilities, but she’s perfectly capable of mediating between your two packs. Additionally, she’s got the power to keep the peace if things get heatedandto put her foot down if either one of you isn’t negotiating in good faith. She’s head witch. This is her job.”
“Magic aside, you’re better at this sort of thing,” Clinton told me. “Actually, the fact you can do all those things without using any magic means Dallas is less likely to let his ego get him in trouble.”
“I’ll talk to Cassie about this,” I told him. “But it’s her circus and her monkeys. Ultimately it’s her decision.”
