Page 9 of Hell and Hexes
“But the real question,” I continued, “is did you enjoy painting them? Let’s talk about your mental and emotional state as you were creating each of these.”
“Meditative,” she immediately offered. “I didn’t worry about whether I was doing it right or if the end result was going to be a piece of crap or not. I just let myself fall into the mixing of paints and making a scene come to life on the canvas.”
I nodded. The Irish dancing had made her feel alive and powerful. It had been exhilarating, and she’d taken pride in mastering the sometimes-complicated steps. Knife throwing had been cathartic, but while I’m all for catharsis, the potential for town casualties was considerable. Painting seemed like it might be a beneficial thing for Henriette to continue pursuing.
“Is this the sort of activity you might enjoy doing weekly or monthly?” I asked. “When life gets stressful, it’s nice to be able to turn to something that calms you, that centers you.”
“I think weekly,” she replied after some thought.
“Like the Irish dancing, the important thing is the way the activity makes you feel. If you find something else that has the same result, feel free to switch or even add the other activity into your schedule.”
“Like pottery, or fiber arts.” She pursed her lips and nodded. “I was thinking the same thing about skydiving. It’s probably going to give me the same feelings as the Irish dancing, although maybe more of a rush because it’s dangerous. If I like that, then I could do Irish dancing every other week, and maybe skydiving every few months or a couple times in the summer.”
“Exactly. And the same with white water rafting. You may end up spacing out those three activities or alternating between them depending on exactly what you feel like doing.”
“The knife throwing was fun,” she added with a sideways grin. “Maybe I’ll try that again.”
“I suggest you stick to dancing, and possibly skydiving or white water rafting. The knife throwing was going to get someone killed. As in, me or possibly one of the humans in town. At the very best, you were going to impale a werewolf and find yourself eviscerated in response.”
She laughed. “You’re right, especially about the werewolves. They don’t take stabbing lightly. Ask me how I know.”
I couldn’t resist that. “Okay. How do you know?”
Banshees were gossips, and Henriette and her two sisters were the most gossipy gossips I’d ever known.
“Chantal said that Kirk said that Ellen said that yesterday night at Petunia’s Bait, Auto Repair, and Beer, Bart Dickskin got stabbed and next thing you know, there’s car parts and buckets of worms flying and people smashing bottles of Budweiser over each other’s heads. Sheriff Oakes got called out, but by the time he got there, everyone had scattered.”
I stared at her. “Wait…what? Who stabbed Bart? And why? What happened?”
Petunia’s was normally a pretty chill place, with residents hanging out to wait while their cars were repaired or discussing fishing before picking up bait and beer. The owner normally didn’t tolerate any sort of fighting or arguments. Petunia was a boar-shifter. And a guy. I’ve got no idea why he was called Petunia, but no one made fun of the name, just like no one made fun of the Dickskin werewolves’ name. Well, at least not to their face.
She sighed, clearly thinking I was an idiot for my inability to follow the convoluted story. “Melvin was there, chewing the fat and getting some work done on a carburetor, and Bart came in to pick up bait and beer. They know they’re supposed to be civil when they’re in town, but you know werewolves aren’t real good at being civil.”
The light of understanding went on in my head. “So, Melvin is one of Dallas’s…cousins? Nephews? And Bart is part of Clinton’s pack?”
She sent me a scathing glance. “They’re both Dickskins—third cousins twice removed of Dallas. Melvin is with Clinton’s group, and Bart is part of Dallas’s group. Goodness sakes, Sylvie. You’re a Perkins; you’re supposed to know these things.”
She was right, but the werewolves had never been so involved in town activities and affairs that I’d learned all of their names. Nor was I positive who was with what faction.
“So, I get that there was some tension between Bart and Melvin, but why the stabbing?”
She shrugged. “Werewolves get stabby. It happens.”
“But was there an argument?” I pressed. She was a banshee. They knew everything that happened in this town. “Why didn’t Petunia throw them all out?”
“Of course there was an argument. And Petunia wasn’t there. He was out getting an engine part from the Chevy dealer outside the wards. First there was some name calling. Then there were some not-so-subtle digs at bathroom habits and hunting abilities. Then Bart ‘accidently’ threw an elbow when walking by Melvin to supposedly get a six pack of beer from the walk-in. Melvin spun around with a screwdriver in his hand and jabbed it into Bart’s thigh. All completely an accident, of course.”
Of course. I could only imagine the sort of force Melvin would have needed to use to actually stab a screwdriver into someone’s leg. None of this was an accident, and it was absolutely typical of what happened when werewolves were either drinking or pissed off about something.
Stuff like this made me wish they’d all pack up and move somewhere other than Accident.
“Bart yelped when he got stabbed with the screwdriver, and things started flying. Took about five seconds before everyone else had joined in and there were broken beer bottles and worms all over the place. Petunia had an absolute shit-fit when he got back and saw the place.”
I’ll bet. “And they were both gone by the time the sheriff got there.” I repeated her earlier statement.
“Yep.” She rolled her eyes. “I kinda wish those werewolves would just go to war and get it over with. Least that way they’d keep it up on the mountain and stop fighting with each other in town. Every time one of Dallas’s wolves and one of Clinton’s wolves end up in the same place, fur flies.”
I thought about the issues with the werewolves while Henriette and I discussed her skydiving trip next week and how joining a book club could expand both her social activities and give her an opportunity to expand her reading interests.
