by Cecy Robson
This is the ray of sunshine she offers.
Although it shouldn’t be possible, my body relaxes against hers, relishing the feel of knowing someone cares.
“What if it doesn’t work?” I ask.
“Koda says they can totally remove the tusks or antlers. The hooves are a little tougher, but he insists you’ll only have to be chained to that rack for like three days, tops.”
“I meant the schooling,” I say, thinking about the nearest cliff to hurtle myself from. “What if I go through all this schooling and I still can’t control my power?”
In the moments that follow, I realize that I’m not the only one who’s given this possibility some thought. “You’ll still have me,” Emme tells me gently.
I lift my head from Shayna’s shoulder, peering in the direction of our youngest sister.
“I can heal you,” she reminds me.
“But what kind of life is that?” I ask, frowning. “Me counting on you to keep me alive? I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” she says, smiling softly. “It’s no different than you being sick, and me providing the care you need.”
“You would do the same for me,” she adds when none of us respond.
That’s not the point, of course we would be there for each other. It’s an unspoken promise we made long ago. But what Emme is suggesting isn’t solely based on my condition. She doesn’t think she’ll have anyone else to take care of, ever.
I watch her as she meekly strolls into the kitchen. Celia and Shayna pick up on what goes unsaid, tossing me worried glances. We’re all concerned about Emme and whatever she’s going through.
I’m ready to ask her about it, but my little life and death dilemma takes center stage and the focus reverts too quickly back to me.
“Come on, T,” Shayna says, swinging her arm around me and leading me into the kitchen. “We can’t send you off to Anti-Possession class without a hearty breakfast.”
“That class isn’t for another few weeks,” I mutter, even though I have a virtual arsenal of garlic and holy water ready to go in my car. “The first session revolves around herbs and plants, along with spell reading and translation.”
I slump into my chair as Celia lowers herself carefully beside me. “Is spell reading and translation dangerous?” she asks.
“According to the syllabus, no. Unless I accidently open some portal to hell, but that’s not something I have to worry about until next semester.”
“What about the plants?” she asks. “Or herbs? Tell us about that.”
“For starters, it’s commonly referred to as Plant Day, even though it takes place over several weeks.” I brush a stray hair away that escapes my cap. “That’s all about cultivating and harvesting plants with magical properties, belladonna, wolfs bane, things like that.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she says, sounding hopeful that my head won’t be spinning and she won’t have to clean up any pea soup I spew. Well, at least not this week.
“According to everything I read, it’s a lot of chanting to empower the plants.” I shake out my skirt. “And working in the hot sun in this little number. But yeah, it doesn’t sound too bad.”
“That’s the spirit, T,” Shayna says. She places a big stack of pancakes in front of me and plops down next to Emme.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t eat this during Plant Day.”
Celia lowers her fork. “Why?”
“Because they’re made from wheat that has been unfairly and unjustly taken from the earth,” I repeat verbatim from the no-no list I was given.
“Eggs?” Emme offers, lifting the bowl filled with fluffy scramble goodness.
I shake my head. “Not unless you can guarantee it didn’t fall on the sacred earth without it being thanked.”
“You have to thank the egg?” Shayna asks, confused.
“No,” I say, scanning the table.
“The chicken?” she presses.
“No, Shayna. You have to thank the soil for allowing the chicken to drop the egg on it.” And yes, my tone matches my frustration and my “can you believe this crap” mood. “I also have to apologize on behalf of the chicken, for feeding on the grass, without asking for permission from the earth, to feed on it in the first place.”
“Every time?” Celia asks.
“Nope, just during Plant Day, Plant Week, whatever you want to call it.”
“Why?” Shayna asks.
I straighten. “Because apparently I’ll be ‘intimately’ engaging with the earth and any negative actions or thoughts will be absorbed by the plant while I chant, thereby affecting the potency of the herbs and the magic I’m supposed to be harvesting within them.”
“That makes sense,” Emme offers, even though the expression riddling her angelic features reflects how messed up this whole thing is.
“So what can you eat?” Celia asks.
“Orange juice,” I reason. “Since the oranges are picked and it’s likely they haven’t yet hit the sacred earth.”
“And?” Celia presses.
“And more orange juice,” I say, lifting the glass and take a swallow. “And probably all the water I can handle. Once the sun sets I can have a fish, but that’s about it.”
“Wow,” Celia says. “So it’s almost like a cleanse. Well, until evening.”
“Pretty much,” I say. I turn to where Alice is leaning against the counter watching us. She probably recognizes the food as something she used to eat. But it’s clear it’s not something she’s craving. She turns her head like it disgusts her, causing her neck to make an odd cracking noise. The sound makes me cringe, but it’s not until I realize that she’s stuck that I know she’s in trouble.
“Oh, no. I think she broke her neck,” I say, rushing to stand.
“No, that can’t be,” Shayna says, although her shrill voice tells a different tale. “She probably just pinched a nerve.
We all startle, gasping when her head flops forward. Alice offers us a reassuring smile, which ordinarily would be sweet, but since the base of her skull is now resting between her breasts, and she’s staring at us upside down, only adds to the creep factor and makes Celia gag.
In Celia’s defense, she’s been queasy since Aric knocked her up.
Alice, being a trooper, hangs onto to her grin.
Even when a tooth drops to the floor with a click.
“Did, uh, anyone feed her this morning?” I ask, edging toward her. I stop directly in front of her, not really knowing what to do. My stomach flip-flops because yeah, her head is buried between her boobs.
“Koda used the charm to take her out back and along the trail sometime around dawn when he heard her wandering downstairs. But she kept trying to return to the house so he thought she was okay.” Shayna places her hands on either side of Alice’s head and tries to lift it. It seems to stay, but as soon as she steps back, it falls like a bowling ball, smacking hard against her chest and cracking her sternum.
We collectively jump at the sight of her concaved chest. Alice jumps with us, thinking it’s some kind of game, resulting in her head bouncing and burying deeper into her chest cavity.
“Oh, gawd,” I moan, pointing. “I think the muscles in her neck are starting to tear.”
Shayna inches away when she hears the front door open. She keeps her smile despite the green color overtaking her skin.
“Koda, honey,” she calls. “Could you take Alice out for breakfast? She could really use a bite of carcass.”
A few days ago, this would seem like an odd thing to say. Today, not so much. That doesn’t make the acid burning a hole through my gut any easier to bear.
I turn as I hear him and Aric step back inside the house. But they’re not alone. Gemini stands there, his watchful stare taking in the scene. It pauses briefly over Alice, but it doesn’t stay there, fixing on me in a way that grounds me in place.
I tuck my arm against me when it jerks, stepping far away from h
im.
“Ergh?” Alice question.
Aric rushes past me. I’m not sure why until I see Emme easing Celia to the floor. Between Alice’s walking corpse aroma and delicate condition, Celia and her delicate condition don’t stand a chance.
“I’ve got this,” Koda says. He takes the charm Shayna offers and pulls it over his head. But when he takes Alice’s arm to lead her out, she breaks away.
From one sickening crunch to the next, Koda is left holding Alice’s arm and not much else.
He lifts the severed limb, examining it closely. “Yeah, she could use a bite.”
“Ergh?” Alice says, trying to crane her head as they pass me.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Just go with him, sweetie. I’ll see you when I get home.”
“Ergh!” she says, thick black sludge seeping from her eyes.
“Oh,” Emme says. “She’s crying.”
“Ergh,” Alice says.
It’s like I’m going to work and leaving my new puppy behind. Okay, maybe not, but it’s still hard to watch. I approach her, swiping the stuff from her eyes with a napkin. “Shayna and Emme will stay with you until I get back later tonight.”
“Gurgla,” she says.
“Yes, I promise,” I assure her, even though I’m not positive that’s what she said.
My assurance seems to satisfy her and she leaves without incident. Unless you count the toe on the floor that rolls after her. I want to go with them, to make sure she’s okay. But with Gemini here, and the air thickening between us, I know I’m in for a lot more than a sad goodbye.
Everyone leaves us except for Aric, and Celia who doesn’t look well.
Aric lifts her from the floor. “Let’s get you upstairs so you can lie down.”
She shakes her head, keeping him in place. Her stare travels in Gemini’s direction. “Hi,” she tells him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“My apologies,” he says, as if that explains everything.
He’s in a pair of dark jeans that no-doubt hug his ass perfectly and draw attention to his long legs. But it’s the navy T-shirt that brings out his olive skin tone that holds my attention.
I bought it for him as a gift. I’m not sure if he remembers, or if he’s playing some kind of game. Considering this wolf remembers everything, I lean toward the latter. I return to the table, drinking my orange juice as slowly I can, trying not to appear like I’m forcing it down.
“I’d better go,” I say, reaching for my keys. “Later, Ceel.”
“Gemini is here to accompany you,” Aric says, lowering Celia to the floor, but keeping her tucked against him.
“No thanks. I’m good,” I sing, taking off toward the foyer.
“You don’t have a choice,” Gemini snaps.
I turn on my heel, pegging him with a glare that causes my arm to smoke. I shake it off, ignoring the way the bind tightens against my skin, reminding me that it’s there to keep me, and it, in place.
“If you’re trying to convince me with your charm it’s not working,” I point out, smiling with all the friendliness of a Great White.
He crosses his arms. “As the liaison between the Coven and the Pack I play many roles.”
“You made your role quite clear the other day when I found you with Vieve,” I answer. Maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh, but I always knew if I was out of the picture, Vieve would pounce on him like a cobra.
I just never counted on him falling for her. At least not this fast or this hard.
“I would tell you there’s nothing between us, but it wouldn’t make a difference would it?” he asks.
“Nope,” I respond.
He tightens his jaw. “As I was saying, I hold many roles, and one of them necessitates ensuring your safe passage into the coven today.”
“I can drive myself and deal with whatever comes,” I insist.
“No, Taran,” Aric interrupts. “The wards surrounding the compound will tear you apart. At the end of the day, you’ll be granted full access so you can to travel alone. In the meantime, you must accompany Gemini in order to be allowed safely in. He and I are the only ones outside the coven empowered to enter Genevieve’s domain.”
“How convenient,” I say.
“Come on, Taran,” Aric says, dragging his hand irritably through his dark hair.
“She couldn’t give me access the other day?” I ask. “No, I guess that would have been too easy.”
“Emotions were heightened that day,” Aric responds. “It wasn’t the right time.”
“I don’t want to go with him,” I say. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him.” That’s not really true. I don’t want all the bad between us. I want the good we used to share. But as my arm gives me another wicked shake, I’m reminded any sense of us is in the past and exactly where I should leave it.
Gemini swallows hard as if pained. But when he responds, my former lover leaves me and the Second in Command takes charge. “You have two choices: walk to my vehicle on your own accord, or have me throw you over my shoulder and carry you. Two choices,” he repeats. “Pick.”
I glance at Celia. If I was a total ass, I’d ask her if Aric can take me. But she’s still nauseous, and it’ll kill Aric to leave her, especially feeling the way that she is.
“Okay. Let’s go,” I tell him. “Bye, Ceel.”
“Bye, Taran,” she says, slowly, probably stunned stupid with how easily I give in.
I walk pass Gemini, working the Pilgrim shoes like they’re stilettos and I’m on the catwalk. My hand brushes against him briefly, the contact giving him the magical equivalent of sticking a safety pin into a light socket.
He shakes away the effect, growling as his dark hair stands on end. This here kids is what’s often referred to as cause and effect. You piss me off, and this is the effect.
“Oops,” I say, covering my mouth. “I hope this doesn’t happen the entire way up. It could make for a very long and uncomfortable ride up.”
Okay. Maybe I am kind of an ass.
Chapter Twelve
“Heh.”
“Heh, heh, heh.”
“Heh, heh, ha!”
I step onto the porch, only to have Mrs. Mancuso, aka the devil’s grandmother, laugh and point when she sees me in my get-up.
Not that she has any room to judge. Today she’s wearing one of her more obnoxious house dresses, the one with large flowers and bees buzzing around it. Is it too much to hope one of those bees comes to life and stings her sagging ass? And yet despite how I was working my strut seconds before, the strut stops short. Mrs. Mancuso, for all I think she’s some kind of demon spawn sent to make our lives miserable, is human. She has no ties or knowledge of the mystical community. But she possesses this rare ability to ruin your day in a single glance or a wave of a middle finger.
“Where did you get that ridiculous ensemble?” she sneers.
“Your mother,” I respond, smiling.
And look, she’s no longer laughing.
“Taran,” Gemini warns. “Just ignore her.”
I shake my head as she narrows her little beady eyes at me. “Too late,” I say, recognizing she’s getting into her warrior stance: which includes prepping her fingers to waggle a stiff one or fling one of her orthopedic shoes at my head. A thousand years old or not, the woman has crazy aim.
She rises from where she’s tending to the flowers over Ginger’s grave. Ginger was an old rescue dog Mrs. Mancuso had for roughly two months. In those two months the dog lived with her, she dug up our yard six times, used our front lawn for her daily bathroom privileges, bit Emme twice, Shayna three times, and picked a fight with Celia and the wolves every time she saw them.
Ginger was a bitch.
Yet oddly cuter and kinder than Mrs. Mancuso.
Ginger died, supposedly of old age. We’re convinced she killed herself because death beat living with Mrs. Mancuso who’d force her into matching outfits.
In fact, I think the bee and flower print numb
er is the same one Ginger died in.
Mrs. Mancuso lifts her gardening trowel, pointing it menacingly. “Women like you belong in dirty alleys, lifting your skirts for men of equal caliber.”
Let me be the first to say, it’s hard to look badass in these shoes. That doesn’t stop me from stomping toward her or speaking like I’m dressed in riot gear. “And women like you belong knitting, silent, and far away from me. Jesus Christ woman, don’t you have a set of dentures to scrub or a litter of kittens to drown?”
“May God and syphilis have mercy on your soul,” she fires back.
“May your support hose choke you in your sleep,” is my response.
“Taran, get in the car,” Gemini says. He doesn’t like Mrs. Mancuso, and hates how she treats me. But he has certain ingrained Japanese traditions which include respecting your elders. No matter how much of a pain in the ass said elders are.
“You whore,” she spits out.
Point made.
“Better a whore than something the Angel of Death wouldn’t fu—”
“Taran!”
I glance up to see Emme dashing down the steps, her face as red as Mrs. Mancuso’s roses. “I’m so terribly sorry, Mrs. Mancuso,” she says. “You’ll have to forgive Taran. She’s starting a new course of study today and is under a great deal of pressure—”
“What’s she studying? How to be less of a slut?” She narrows her eyes. “Are you and the rest of your floozy sisters enrolled as well?”
Gemini barely grabs me in time when I launch myself at her. “Have a nice day in anti-tramp school,” she calls.
“Die,” I tell her. “For the love of all just die and put us out of our misery!”
I mean to sound forceful, but my anger at Mrs. Mancuso fades when my body reacts to having Gemini so close. Instead of breaking free, my body conforms to his, relaxing against him despite how my protective instincts warn me to keep my distance.
The muscles of his torso stiffen against my back. I think he means to say something, I know him well enough to know as much. But his mouth stays silent, releasing only a warm breath against my cheek. It’s reminiscent of our times in bed, moments before we’d drift to sleep.