Page 10 of Hell and Hexes
She left and I prepared for my next and final client of the day, wondering if Henriette was right. If things up on Heartbreak Mountain came to a head, and the werewolves went to war, would it be for the best? Would a brief war allow us to settle into the sort of peace we’d had before?
The loss of lives wouldn’t be worth less fighting in town, though. Something needed to happen to bring about peace. I just didn’t see violence as the solution.
But what was the solution?
My next client was a werewolf, but not one I could ask about the situation on the mountain, at least not about current happenings. Stanley had been a spy for Clinton, remaining in Dallas’s compound. He’d been aware of the sabotage of Bronwyn’s truck and Clinton’s efforts to pin that whole mess on Dallas. He’d gone to Bronwyn and Hadur and let them know what was happening, thus betraying both the werewolf packs on the mountain. Dallas and Clinton would have killed him for that, but he’d become a lone wolf, living in town under our protection and completely ostracized by both packs, just like Shelby.
Unlike Shelby, he didn’t have someone he loved to help ease the loss of everything he’d ever known in his life. Stanley was lonely, depressed, and I worried he might do something drastic. I was glad when he’d taken me up on my offer of therapy, and I breathed a sigh of relief every time he showed up to one of our appointments.
The door chimed, and Stanley walked in, clutching the amulet that allowed him to come and go from my office undetected. He was seventyish, which made him middle-aged for a werewolf. Helookedlike a forty-year-old construction worker with his dusty jeans, worn t-shirt, and leathery tanned skin. There were lines in the corners of his eyes from squinting, and a thick scar ran from his left cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Werewolves had amazing healing. I didn’t want to contemplate how terrible that injury must have been to have left a scar.
Stanley held out a hand to shake mine. His fingers were clean and calloused, with black-stained cuticles. Petunia had hired him to help with his auto-repair business and seeing the stained fingers gave me hope that Stanley would find some comfort and happiness in his new job.
“Hoping you weren’t at work when things went down the other day at Petunia’s between Melvin and Bart,” I commented.
A sad expression flickered across his face before he twisted his lips in an ironic smile. “Yeah, I was there. Just kept out of the way. It’s not like Melvin or Bart were going to talk to me or even acknowledge my existence. When a werewolf comes in to pick up bait and beer or to get his truck fixed, someone else always needs to help them. They won’t even look me in the face.”
A mixture of sorrow and fury stirred in my chest. This bullshit totally had to stop. It wasn’t just the two packs ready to kill each other off. It wasn’t just the werewolves coming into town and starting fights. It wasn’t just their taking justice into their own hands. Stanley had done the right thing and in doing so, he’d lost everything. That was so unfair. But what could I do about it? I couldn’t force werewolves to be nice to Stanley.
“Sit.” I gestured to the comfy, pillow-strewn client chairs. “Tea? Or coffee?”
Stanley sat and gave me a sheepish grin. “Tea, please. Do you have that berry blend herbal?”
I smiled and handed him a wooden box with all my teas, then poured him a steaming mug of water from the kettle. Setting it down on the table beside him, I took a seat.
“How are things?” I grimaced. “I’m so sorry I had to cancel the last two weeks.”
He plopped his tea bag into the mug and smiled. “I heard. Glad you’re okay, Sylvie. Getting electrocuted is no fun. Good thing you’re a luck witch or you might not be here now.”
I shivered, then tried to push the fears and memories into the back corner of my mind. “Yes, I was very lucky. So…last time we met, our goals were around work, making your house a home, and finding some potential non-werewolf friends. Let’s talk about work first.”
“I like working for Petunia. He’s a shifter, so he gets me in a way lots of other people in town don’t. He’s got some of the same issues since he’s the only boar shifter in town. I like working with my hands. I’ve always enjoyed fixing things. Money’s good and Petunia’s a fair boss.”
I smiled. “That’s great, Stanley! I believe that having fulfilling work is so important to personal happiness. Do you think you’re feeling better now that you’ve got a job and you’re liking the work and the environment?”
He nodded. “Days off and evenings are tough, though. When I’m at work, I’m busy and happy, but as soon as I go home, it all feels like a load of rocks crashing down on my head.”
“Then let’s talk about making your house a home.”
The hour went fast, and in the end, I had a horrible feeling that Stanley might not make it. He had a job he loved, but couldn’t seem to connect with anyone in town, and his depression hit hard every night when he got home. He hadn’t shifted into his wolf form in three weeks, hadn’t hunted in four weeks. He brushed off my suggestions of connecting with Shelby, saying they hadn’t been friendly before and he couldn’t see how getting together with her would help at all.
Just before he left, Stanley turned to me and once more voiced his wish that he wasn’t shunned.
“They don’t have to accept me back into either pack,” he said. “I just wish they’d nod to me on the street. I wish they’d talk to me, maybe join me for a beer or something now and then. I miss my kind. I think if I could just connect with one werewolf now and then, I’d be okay. It’s the total isolation that’s killing me, Sylvie.”
I struggled to keep tears in check at his confession and reached out to touch his shoulder. “Was there someone in the pack you were particularly close to? A best friend? A potential mate you were wooing?”
He laughed. “No potential mate. But Bart and I were good friends.”
I blinked. “Bart Dickskin? The same Bart Dickskin that got stabbed with a screwdriver at Petunia’s the other day?”
He nodded. “Nothing hurt more than having him come in and act like I was a stranger. Not even a stranger. He acted like I wasn’t even there. And when he got stabbed with that screwdriver and there was that huge fight, I went over to see if he was okay, and he didn’t even look at me.”
I swallowed hard, knowing how gutted I’d be if I’d been in this werewolf’s situation. “Please hang in there, Stanley. You call me if you need to talk, okay? Enjoy work. Do the things we discussed. And we’ll talk more next week.”
He smiled and patted my hand, then turned to leave. I milled about my office, cleaning up the tea mugs, turning off the kettle, locking my papers away. It was just after noon. I was hungry and feeling the exhaustion I’d not been able to fully conquer since my accident. I needed to go home, eat a sandwich, drink Glenda’s smoothie, and take a nap.
Instead, I walked home, got in my car, and drove up to Heartbreak Mountain.
