No Crones About It

by Amanda M. Lee

  “We don’t know,” Rooster replied. “What we do know is that a quick scan of George Culpepper’s finances showed that he once received a personal check from someone we know.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

  “Cyrus.”

  And, finally, things were starting to come together. “That means Cyrus is here for more than just a pack war. He’s here for me, too.”

  “That would be my guess,” Rooster agreed. “We need answers. He’s scheduled to be here in an hour, so I figured you guys might want to be present for the conversation. I think it’s time to put all cards on the table.”

  I couldn’t agree more. Answers were finally within our reach.

  Twenty-Five

  I was anxious as I paced the aisle between booths at The Cauldron. Learning that Cyrus had financial ties to Fred — er, George — was almost more than I could absorb.

  “Tell me again,” I instructed Doc.

  He was blasé. “It’s not as if the information is going to change.”

  “Tell me again,” I gritted out.

  “Tell her,” Gunner prodded gently. “She needs to hear it.”

  Doc nodded. “He lived alone in North Dakota. I don’t know whether he had friends, but someone named Marsha Thompson filed a missing person report. The police looked, but there were no signs of foul play. He just ... disappeared. They assumed he went out hunting and had a heart attack or something.”

  “And instead he ended up here, acting as if he was homeless for fifteen years,” Bonnie mused. “I wonder how that happened.”

  “Too bad we can’t ask Fred,” Marissa suggested. “He died with Scout’s name burned into his back, so that’s out of the question.”

  Gunner shot her a quelling look. “Is there a reason you have to be difficult right now?”

  Marissa balked at his expression. “I was just stating a fact.”

  “An unnecessary fact. Scout is dealing with enough right now. She doesn’t need you making things worse.”

  Marissa’s eyes went from wide to a squint in a split-second. “Why are you more worried about her than everybody else? We’re all in danger here thanks to Scout. She’s made us a target for rogue shifters and ... well, Goddess knows what else.

  “According to the research you guys came up with, there’s a trail of bodies in her wake,” she continued. “Have you ever considered that she dropped those bodies and now she’s simply putting on an act? I know she was a child, but she was powerful even then. It’s possible.”

  Gunner bristled. “You don’t want to go there.”

  “Why not?” Marissa wasn’t backing down. Her eyes flashed as she got to her feet. Her crush on Gunner might’ve been legendary, but she was obviously more interested in making sure a message wasn’t burned into her body rather than kissing up to him. “She’s not what she pretends to be. She can do so much more.”

  “She doesn’t pretend to be anything,” he shot back. “She is who she is.”

  “We were told she’s a witch.”

  “And she is.”

  “She’s more than a witch!” Marissa practically screeched, causing my shoulders to jerk. I felt out of place and on display, vulnerable. “She could kill us all and you don’t even care.”

  “You’re right,” Gunner agreed. “I don’t care because that’s not who she is. Have you taken a moment to look at her since all this started? She’s traumatized by what happened to Fred. She blames herself. She doesn’t need to take on that grief, though, because you’re more than willing to heap it on her.”

  “Oh, don’t you blame this on me.” Marissa’s voice went deep and dangerous. “I didn’t cause this. Rooster brought her here. Then, even after she displayed magic she has no right to be able to wield, you fell for her. Now she’ll never leave.”

  “I certainly hope not,” Gunner agreed. “She belongs here. Why do you think Fred was here? It’s obvious that whoever has been watching Scout for most of her life had some knowledge of her ending up here. She’s where she belongs.”

  “You don’t know that she’s here to do good,” Marissa snapped. “If this ... faction or whatever you call them ... managed to track her movements through time, something significant is set to happen here. You’re assuming she’s fighting on the right side. I maintain she’s on the wrong side and we’ll be fighting against her.”

  I hadn’t even considered that. The possibility that I would be an enemy that needed to be put down at some point was almost too overwhelming. “Oh, geez.” My hand shot out and landed on a nearby table so I could steady myself. I was shaking when I found the strength to lift my gaze and found Gunner watching me.

  “Don’t listen to her.” He was firm. “You’re not the enemy. I’ve seen you work. I’ve seen your heart. I mean ... not literally or anything, because that would be gross. I’ve seen the way you think and feel. You’re not the enemy. Marissa just wants to make you doubt yourself.”

  That was very possibly true ... and working. “Maybe ... .” I could get only the one word out before I lost my nerve and averted my gaze to the window.

  “You’re not leaving,” Gunner argued, as if reading my mind. “You’re meant to be here. No matter what Marissa says, you’re meant to fight on the right side. Don’t let her win by being afraid … and running.”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t because I had no idea what I was supposed to say. Marissa decided to fill the void.

  “Well, great,” she intoned. “Does that mean we’re all living our lives according to the whims of Gunner’s hormones?”

  Bonnie stirred. “If his hormones were directed at you, somehow I think you’d be fine with their judgment. As it is, I’ve seen Scout in action. She might be a little unorthodox in the way she approaches things, but she’s clearly on the right side. You need to lay off.”

  “I agree.” Rooster shifted on his squeaky barstool. I didn’t turn in his direction. I couldn’t. I was afraid of what I would find staring back at me. “Scout has proven her worth to us several times over. I refuse to be afraid of something that you think might happen, Marissa. If that was the way we operated, you would’ve been booted from this group the first time you lost it over a television show.”

  Marissa’s mouth dropped open. “That happened, like, once.”

  “And yet nothing has happened with Scout, but you want her ousted,” Gunner groused.

  “She killed a siren with elemental magic,” Marissa reminded him, haughty. “And that was after she threatened to let it slink away quietly into the night.”

  I’d almost forgotten about that. How could I? Was she right?

  “Oh, shut up,” Gunner snapped. “I’m sick of your voice. Leave her alone. She’s been through enough.”

  “Right, poor little Scout. She needs the big strong wolf shifter to protect her. I want to know how the most powerful being we have working for us has managed to turn you into her guard dog.”

  Gunner snarled in response as movement through the window drew my attention. I recognized the figure parking his bike and removing his helmet.

  “Cyrus is here,” I volunteered weakly. “We should probably position people outside the front and back doors to make sure we don’t have any unwanted guests in case he didn’t come alone.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Rooster got off the stool and straightened his shoulders. “Marissa, you take the back door. Bonnie, wait in the kitchen until you’re sure he’s inside and then circle around to the front door. We don’t want him to know we’re watching the entrances.”

  Bonnie nodded perfunctorily. “You’ve got it.” She was already on her feet and moving, but paused in front of me before completely disappearing. “I have faith in you,” she offered. “Marissa is only acting like this because she’s jealous.”

  “I am not jealous!” Marissa stomped on the floor. “Why would I possibly be jealous?”

  Bonnie’s lips curved at her reaction. “See. She’s a petulant child. Don’t let her get to you.” She sque
ezed my wrist as a show of solidarity before hurrying toward the kitchen and disappearing through the swinging doors.

  “Gunner and Scout, you should be at the bar when he comes in,” Rooster ordered. “Act more interested in each other than him. Doc, stay where you are. I’ll take him to the table by the window. Everybody should be able to hear, but don’t interrupt the conversation. I’ve got this. Does everybody understand?”

  I had no trouble following his logic. On the flip side, I wasn’t naive enough to believe that I would manage to keep my mouth shut for the entire conversation. There was no reason to tell him that and start trouble before it was necessary.

  “We’ve got it,” Gunner said, moving to my side. “Make sure you question him as much as you can about Fred. We need answers about Scout’s past.”

  Rooster nodded without hesitation.

  CYRUS SWAGGERED THROUGH THE DOOR with enough attitude to suck all the oxygen out of the room. He was clearly feeling full of himself, and he only puffed up further when he noticed us sitting at the bar.

  “I didn’t realize I was getting the full Spells Angels treatment,” he said.

  “They’re not here for you,” Rooster called from the table in the corner. He’d taken his ledger with him to give Cyrus the impression that he’d been tied up with something else — not waiting for him — in the run-up to his arrival. “Ignore them. They’re supposed to be working, but they claim they need a break. They’re kind of lazy, if you want to know the truth.”

  I narrowed my eyes, the words causing my temper to flare. Under the bar, Gunner gripped my knee and gave it a squeeze. I knew Rooster was saying it because he didn’t want Cyrus to be suspicious. I still hated having my work ethic called into question.

  “I don’t doubt they’re lazy.” Cyrus strolled away from us, as if we were no more than pesky children underfoot. The look he spared for Doc was even more cursory and his gregarious personality was on full display as he approached Rooster. “It’s been a long time,” he boomed, shaking Rooster’s hand with more enthusiasm than necessary. “I wasn’t sure if I actually missed Hawthorne Hollow or only thought I did until I crossed the township line. It turns out, I really miss it.”

  “I can see that.” Rooster looked relaxed as he took a seat across from Cyrus. From the outside, they looked like two old friends catching up after a long time apart. It was only if you knew him that you could sense the nervous energy buzzing around Rooster. “I heard you were considering moving back. I’m surprised. I didn’t think that was allowed under the negotiations of your pack split.”

  Thanks to the mirror behind the bar, I didn’t miss the way Cyrus’s eyes flicked to Gunner’s back.

  “Rules are made to be broken ... or changed,” Cyrus countered. “When I agreed, I thought I was fine leaving Hawthorne Hollow. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the razing of Covenant College?”

  “Why would you ask that?” Cyrus’s eyes felt as if they were boring holes into the back of my head. “We didn’t have anything to do with Covenant College, something I’ve told other members of your group already.”

  “Really?” Rooster’s reaction was blasé. “I was under the impression you were recruiting at one of the fraternity houses. Bitten wolves, not born. At least that’s the word I heard circulating.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “I guess so.” Rooster sipped from his beer. “Do you know what happened with the college? Even if you didn’t have anything to do with the wolves there, that was a big story. People say that mage who took down Kennedy Reagan years ago came back and wiped out the entire college.”

  “The mage was present,” Cyrus replied. “I don’t know that she did it on her own. They say one of the lesser gods was there, too, although that’s just talk.”

  I arched an eyebrow, surprised. A god? In Michigan? That didn’t make any sense. I wanted to ask what god, but Gunner, perhaps reading my mind, slowly shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to go off on a tangent.

  “Well, it’s still an interesting story.” After another sip, Rooster kicked back in his seat and stretched his legs. “I heard you invited Gunner and Scout to your gathering last night and things didn’t go well.”

  Cyrus growled. “That’s an understatement. Have you seen my son? He’s bald as a cue ball. It’s happening all over his body, too.”

  “Not his back,” I called out. “All the hair that’s gone missing from his head and ... other places ... is on his back.”

  Cyrus tilted his head in my direction, sneering. It was clear he was angry. He was too smart to immediately jump in with both feet and threaten me, though. “I understand there was an incident,” he hedged. “I think you might’ve misconstrued something my son inadvertently did.”

  This time it was Gunner who inserted himself in the conversation. “She didn’t misconstrue anything,” he snapped. “The curse was designed to take motivation into consideration. He put his hands on her rear end because he’s a jerk and now he’s reaping the consequences.”

  Cyrus’ eyebrows drew together. “I didn’t know he’d touched her.”

  “That’s the only reason the spell kicked in,” I offered, twisting on the stool to face him. Rooster wanted us to stay out of the conversation, but I didn’t see how that was possible now. “Of course, if you’d taught him at a younger age that he should keep his hands to himself he might’ve learned some respect for women.”

  Cyrus shot ice daggers out of his eyes as he glared. “Well, from where I’m sitting, your mother should’ve taught you to dress appropriately so he wouldn’t have been tempted.”

  Outrage, hot and fast, coursed through me. Before I could decide how to respond, Gunner was on his feet and striding across the room.

  “You take that back,” he snapped, fury on full display. “It’s not Scout’s fault that your son is a piece of trash.”

  Cyrus knew better than to remain in his seat. That would allow Gunner to claim the dominant position. He jumped to his feet, his chest bumping against Gunner’s as the two came face to face. “She was dressed like a whore and teasing him. You’re upset because you know it’s true.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that!”

  Rooster, who was stronger than he looked, muscled his way between the two spitting men and gave Gunner an extra shove that caused him to take two steps back. “That will be enough of that,” he warned, his tone no-nonsense. “If you two can’t play nice, we probably shouldn’t play at all.”

  Cyrus held Gunner’s gaze for an extended beat and then shook his head. “I didn’t come here to get in a pissing contest with Gunner. I don’t care about him.”

  “That’s not how it seemed last night.” Gunner’s smile was smug. “The full-on recruitment push was evident last night.”

  “And you said you weren’t interested. I’m not going to beg you to join my pack. I don’t beg anyone. I thought you would be a good fit. You said you weren’t interested. That was that. I’m not here because of you. I’m here because my kid looks like a freak and I want that one to drop the curse.” He gestured toward me. “I want to know what it’s going to take to get her to release Flint.”

  I couldn’t hide my smile. I felt drunk with power. “What about the others who ended up cursed last night?” I asked.

  Cyrus scowled. “As much as I’m not a fan of them smelling like cooked cauliflower — that was a particularly nasty treat, by the way, but also brilliant — I can live with that. You were protecting yourself. What happened with Flint is different.”

  “Not so different,” I countered. “I was protecting myself from him.”

  “He says differently.”

  “Well, if he says something, it must be true, huh?”

  “He’s my son.” Cyrus was unruffled. “I’m taking his side on this. There’s nothing you can do to change things.”

  “You’re right about that.” I allowed a grin to slip through. “There’s nothing I can do to change things. It’
s a karma spell. He has to change his behavior to end it.”

  Cyrus narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “I don’t believe you. You’re only saying that because you’re enjoying torturing him.”

  “I certainly am enjoying it,” I agreed. “He has it coming ... whether you believe it or not. But there’s nothing I can do to lift the spell. He has to become a better person to escape the ramifications of his own actions.”

  “But ... he’s not going to do that.”

  “Then he’ll remain bald and continue suffering from herpes of the face. I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Cyrus slammed his fist on the table, the noise loud enough that even Doc jerked from his location across the room. “You will fix this!”

  “Your son has to fix this.”

  “Wait up now,” Rooster interjected, his expression unreadable. “Maybe you’re acting too hastily, Scout. I mean ... Cyrus might have something worth trading to get you to drop the spell. Have you considered that?”

  Slowly, an idea dawned. I recognized what he was getting at ... and it was genius. “You’re suggesting a trade,” I mused. “That’s interesting.”

  Cyrus was instantly alert. “What sort of trade?”

  “The sort where you give me information about your ties to the Children of the Stars and I see what I can do for your low-life cretin of a son,” I replied.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said the words, but the furtive darting of his eyes told me he was lying.

  “Then I guess we’re done. Your son can look that way for the rest of his life for all I care. I hope you weren’t expecting grandchildren.” I turned on my heel with every intention of walking out the door, but he stopped me with a panicked yelp.

  “Wait! I need your help.”

  “Then you have to help us,” Rooster shot back. “That’s your only option if you want to put this behind you.”

  “But ... that was a long time ago.” Cyrus was obviously frustrated as he gripped his hands together. “I don’t understand why you’re even asking about that.”