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 heated and to 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.”
Clinton stood. “Understood. I don’t need to be an oracle like Ophelia to see how this is going to end, though.”
I stood as well and walked him to the door. “How do you want it to end, Clinton? What’s your best-case scenario at the end of this issue?”
He shrugged. “We get part of the mountain and recognition as a separate pack. There’s no exile, no friction between the two packs. I want my wolves to be able to visit and spend time with family on the other side of the mountain without getting killed, and the same the other way.”
“And Shelby? And Stanley?” I asked, hopeful that Clinton had a reconciliation in mind for them as well.
The werewolf’s face twisted in anger. “Shelby nearly killed me and she’s screwing a troll. And Stanley is a traitor. It’s his fault I had to pay for Bronwyn’s truck and trailer and that Cassie burned my beard clean off my face.”
I kept my mouth shut about the fact that he’d obviously found being beardless an improvement as he was standing before me as clean-shaven as a werewolf could be. And as for him blaming Stanley for all that…well, I was disappointed at this regression. We’d been working on accepting personal responsibility for actions, but clearly the werewolf wasn’t ready to claim this one as his own darned fault.
“Take a deep breath and think logically about what would have happened if Stanley had kept his mouth shut,” I told him in a calm, even voice.
Clinton did as I said, then scowled. “Ophelia probably would have divined who was behind it, or one of you would have made a truth charm, and I would have had more than my beard burned off. But he’s still a traitor and Shelby is still a troll-lover.”
I stifled a sigh, knowing when to call it quits for now. It all came down to pride and ego and centuries of tradition and culture with these werewolves. Rome—or Accident—wasn’t built in a day, though.
“You do realize that times are changing? Both packs are going to have to reconsider a good number of their rules and practices, and align with the rest of Accident. This break-out pack you’ve put together won’t be exempt from that, even if we manage to get Dallas to agree to let you guys stay on the mountain.”
He took a breath, his fingers on the door handle. “It ain’t gonna be easy, Sylvie. Not for any of us. We’re used to taking the law into our own hands, and there are some crimes we consider a whole lot more serious than the rest of you do. It’s gonna be a problem if those crimes are suddenly not enforced or given a slap on the wrist.”
I reached out to pat his shoulder. “I know, Clinton. I really think we can work it out, though. All we need is time, patience, and to communicate honestly with each other.”
His smile held a tinge of sadness. “I hope you’re right, Sylvie. I hope you’re right.”
* * *
I poured a swirl of ketchup on top of my hash browns as Cassie sipped her coffee.
“I can’t believe you went to Pistol Pete’s last night,” she scolded. “You just got back to work, just went back to your house, and instead of taking it easy, you’re out partying it up in a bar.”
“I felt good and I wanted to hear the band. I wasn’t ‘partying it up.’ I was sitting on a barstool, drinking ginger ale, and listening to the music.”
“And finding yourself smack in the middle of a fight,” she shot back. “Pete’s is trashed. He’s making noises about pressing charges against that minotaur and the werewolves. The whole lot of them are squashed into a jail cell right now. You’re lucky you got out of there without being trampled or gored or clawed.”
I sincerely hoped our sheriff hadn’t put the minotaur in the same jail cell as the werewolves. I tried to remember the layout of the jail from the one time I’d been there on a fourth-grade field trip and was pretty sure there had been more than one cell.
“I was fine, Cassie. I’m not a fragile doll; I’m a witch. I grew up here. I know to get out of the way when werewolves and minotaurs start exchanging blows.”
She sucked in a breath, stabbing at her pancakes with her fork. “Two weeks ago I almost lost you, Sylvie. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you. I can’t.”
Her voice wobbled. Cassie had never been a client of mine. She hadn’t needed to be one. We’d grown up together. Sisters. I knew the demons she lived with, and I wasn’t talking about the hot one in her bed, either. Our father had taken off and that had been hard enough, but she was thirteen when we’d lost our grandmother, and our mother had left without a word soon after. Loss. Abandonment. The fear that one day she’d wake up and someone else she loved would be gone. We all struggled with these feelings, but Cassie the most. Probably because at thirteen she’d become the legal guardian of six younger sisters and spent most of her life trying to raise us, trying to keep us all safe and sound, and the whole time dealing with her grief and loss alone.
I reached out and took her hand. “Cassie, you did good. We all grew up with food in our bellies and love in our hearts. I had the best childhood, all because of you. But we’re grown now. Every one of us is an adult living our own life. The town is your only child to care for and fuss over, at least until Lucien puts a bun in your oven. Let the six of us be adults. Let us walk by your side and stand with you as grown witches who all want to do our part to take care of this town and make it the best it can be for every single resident here.”
She nodded, gripping my hand tight. “But if I were to lose one of you…”
“People die. That’s a valid fear and one you need to acknowledge. But you can’t allow it to consume you and direct your actions.”
She took a deep breath. “Dad. Grandma. Mom. I’m sometimes waiting for the other shoe to drop and tragedy to strike, and the panic overwhelms me. But you’re right. I trust that a twenty-nine-year-old woman knows if she’s recovered enough to go listen to some music at a bar. And that she has enough sense to get the heck out of the way when a fight breaks out.”
I smiled. “And here’s the part where I tell you I had to crawl along the floor, using Pete’s enchanted towel to clear a path to the door.”
Cassie groaned. “Not helping, Sylvie. Not helping at all.”
I laughed. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her about Eshu being there, how he’d kinda sorta started the whole thing, how he drove me home when I was too exhausted to unlock my own car door, how he’d tucked me into a blanket on my sofa.
How he’d shown up the night befo
re and pretty much done the same thing.
I didn’t tell her. Maybe because I knew deep down she didn’t approve of the demon—or whatever the heck he was. Maybe because I knew she wouldn’t approve of me having a brief no-strings-attached fling with the guy.
My heartbeat sped up at the thought. It so wasn’t me to do something like that, but the thought of a fun, wild, crazy night with Eshu was increasingly appealing.
I let go of Cassie’s hand and dug into my omelet and hash browns. “Anyway, right before the fight broke out, I heard the werewolves talking. It may have been a bunch of drunk bravado, but I’m concerned.”
My sister swallowed a bite of pancake and shot me a wry smile. “Let me guess—they’re going to raid Clinton’s territory and kill them all, then they’ll grab their torches and pitchforks and head into town to take out Stanley and Shelby.”
When Cassie put it that way, it did sound like a bunch of drunken werewolves just spouting off. But it had worried me then and it worried me now.
“I have it from another source that Dallas plans to attack Clinton Monday night after your meeting, regardless of how it goes,” I told her, purposely leaving out Clinton’s name as my source.
Cassie bit her lip. “That might be the case. I’m really not sure what to do, Sylvie. I can try to get them to come to a peaceful solution. I can threaten them both. But ultimately, if they attack and kill each other, all I can do is support Sheriff Oakes as he investigates and enforces the laws of Accident.”
It would result in a lot of werewolves, including Dallas, being expelled from the protection of the wards and might serve as a deterrent against any action in the future, but that wouldn’t help those who died, and it would set the remaining werewolves against the town in a huge feud that would last centuries. No, letting the two packs duke it out wasn’t the solution. I just wasn’t sure what was.
“What about the threat on Stanley?” I asked, shifting to the other thing I’d heard last night.
“That one I have more faith on. Bronwyn and I can work on some additional protections for Stanley’s place, and I’ll even ask Sheriff Oakes to assign a deputy to watch his house Monday night. Plus, Dallas knows that any action his pack members make on a lone wolf will come back on him. I’ll hold him personally responsible, and I made it very clear that if he pissed me off enough, if he disrespected the rule of law here, he was going to end up outside the town wards at best, dead at worst. He might risk that to take out a rival pack as he considers the mountain to be his territory, but he won’t have the same excuse for attacking a werewolf under my protection in the town proper.”
I felt the undercurrent of anger in Cassie’s voice, saw the spark in her eyes. She’s always had issues controlling her temper, and she absolutely had the power to make those threats a reality. It wasn’t just that my eldest sister was a lawyer, she’d always dealt with conflict with a firm authoritative hand. I’m not saying that didn’t have its place in our world, but in my opinion, Cassie often jumped in with her mandates and threats of force when there was still opportunity for compromise and a peaceful solution—a peaceful solution that didn’t involve setting an ex-boyfriend’s pants on fire in the middle of the courthouse, or burning off Clinton Dickskin’s beard or possibly forcing Dallas Dickskin outside the town wards in exile.
“What’s your plan for Monday’s meeting?” I asked, worried what her answer would be.
“I let both packs lay their demands on the table. We discuss what’s acceptable and what’s not acceptable from the point of view of Accident as a whole, then they hash out the rest between them.”
I tried hard to keep my expression neutral. Luckily, I had years of professional experience doing this. I also knew that Cassie liked to hear things straight and not dance around an issue. For all her temper, she was readily swayed by a solid argument and was truly willing to see another’s point of view.
“I’m about to suggest something, and you’re not going to like it,” I warned her.
Her eyes searched my face, then she leaned back with a sigh. “No. You’re not mediating this in my stead.”
I bit back a smile, because she knew me so well. Only Ophelia knew me better, and she was my twin. “I’m very concerned that this situation is a powder keg. While your style of conflict resolution has merit and has a key place in the governing of Accident, I feel it’s too early in the mediation process to force a solution. I love you, Cassie. Accident is a safe place because if the crap hits the fan, you are absolutely capable of taking out the trash. But we’re not at that point yet with the werewolves, and I worry that sending in the heavy artillery is going to make a tricky situation a whole lot worse.”
She glared at me. “I hate it when you talk sense, you know. I hate it when you sit there all calm and gently tell me I’m not the right witch for this job and do it in a way that has me agreeing with you.”
I laughed. “That’s what I do, Cassie. Every day of my job. That’s what I do. And that’s why I need to be at this meeting Monday.”
“With me?”
The very fact that she’d framed that as a question meant she already knew the answer.
“Do you think that’s a good idea? Will your presence will help or hurt the negotiations?”
She sighed. “Hurt. It will be hard for you to keep things calm and de-escalate any tension with me sitting there ready to burn beards and pants off werewolves. I’m just scared, Sylvie. I know you’re good, and you’re a grown woman who is fully capable of sitting in a room with angry werewolves and getting them to talk about their feelings and crap like that. But I’m worried. You almost got squashed last night in a bar. You couldn’t calm that situation. I’m concerned the same thing is going to happen in this meeting.”
“There won’t be a minotaur at this meeting,” I reminded her. “Or booze. Dallas and Clinton won’t be there to drink and get rowdy; they’re there to have their positions heard and validated, and discuss options.” I rolled my eyes at her skeptical expression. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take Pete’s towel.”
She chuckled. “I’d rather you take Lucien but having him there would probably get everyone’s fur up just as much as having me there. Besides, he’s had to run off to hell and he might not be back for a day or two.”
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I assured her. “I’m a luck witch, remember? And my job is to guide people to a better understanding of themselves and each other.”
“And to expand their sexual horizons into a really kinky direction.” Cassie grinned. “Just remember to bring some luck charms, okay? And promise me you’ll be okay. If things start to go south, get the heck out of there and I’ll drive up that mountain the next day and take care of it myself.”
Luck charms. My heart sank at the thought of the spell items sitting on my counter, waiting for me to work on them. Was I strong enough yet? I did feel better today than I had since the accident, but was it enough? Could I put something together in time for Monday’s meeting? Was I even a luck witch anymore?
I kept my expression neutral. “I promise. I’m good at this, Cassie. It’s my thing. Have some faith in my ability to guide the werewolves toward a peaceful solution.”
Cassie poked at the few bites of pancake left on her plate and shook her head. “I have absolute faith in you, Sylvie. It’s the werewolves I don’t trust.”
I thought of Clinton in my office this morning, of Shelby yesterday with Alberta, of all the werewolves I’d seen over the years. This was the difference between Cassie and me. She saw them as a defense attorney would. She saw them through the lens of a member of the legal system, as the witch responsible for everyone in Accident. I saw them as complex individuals with hopes and dreams and struggles, just like everyone else in this town. I respected them. I respected their culture. And I knew that deep down inside, every one of them wanted the same thing we all did—peace, joy, love, and friendship.
Hopefully I was the right witch to help them achieve those things.
Sylvie
After brunch I swung by the firehouse to see Ophelia. She generally worked Thursday through Saturday and the occasional Sunday, so outside of family dinners we tended to get together early in the week for lunch or dinner. Now that Nash was in her life, I’d expected our weekly get togethers to turn into more like monthly get togethers, but so far, she’d made sure to continue our routine. I appreciated it. I would have completely understood if a new boyfriend took priority. Love was a bit all-consuming and burned hot and heavy early in a relationship, and I knew how important it was for them to spend time getting to know each other, turning what might have just been attraction and infatuation into something long-term.
But she was my twin. There was a bond between us that was different than what we shared with our other sisters. Plus, she was the reason I was alive. Nash had fallen in love with her and offered to resurrect me, sacrificing his life as a reaper in the process. It tied me to her even more. And I would be forever grateful to Nash for what he’d done, even though I knew he did it for Ophelia and not me. Still, he’d brought me back to life and that meant I was most definitely Team Naphelia—or should that be Team Ophash—when it came to the couple.
Ricky was sitting in front of the firehouse. The bear shifter had his feet spread out in front of him, hands resting on top of his round belly. On the ground next to him was a big glass of lemonade, which I was pretty sure had more sugar than lemon juice in it. Ricky had a sweet tooth. That plus his belly had earned him the nickname of Pooh-bear. Personality-wise, it fit as well. He had a sweet smile, warm, lazy brown eyes and a relaxed way of dealing with life. He approached an emergency with the same cheerful, competent calm as he did everything else. I liked him, but then I liked all of Ophelia’s coworkers. Actually, I liked everyone in Accident. No matter who they were, I always saw something in even the grumpiest shifter, self-centered vampire, or vain fairy to respect.
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