Chapter Seven
Margaux had called Bronwyn and the only other witch in her former coven, Billy Lopez. Along with Fennel, the three of them had been able to pool their magic and remove the remaining silver from Gladys’s wound.
If I hadn’t demoned-out and stormed off, I could’ve added to their magic sooner and healed her more quickly. Saved her some suffering.
The guilt had been eating at me all day.
Together, we’d gotten her stabilized and set her up in her trailer. Ida and Margaux would remain at her bedside until she was well enough to be alone. Despite Gladys’s fast-healing ability and the removal of the silver, she was still very hurt.
I sat on her front porch steps and stared at the clear sky. The moon glowed like the headlight of a cosmic motorcycle, hellbent on mowing me down.
“You okay?”
Ronan approached me in a half circle, announcing his arrival as if I were some out-of-control beast who’d react with violence if startled. Or maybe I was projecting.
“I was just imagining the moon running over me,” I said.
“None of this is your fault.”
“Pretty sure the running away part is.”
He plopped down beside me. His jaw was red and raw, like a slowly healing third degree sunburn. Upon my return to the senior center, I’d discovered that Ronan hadn’t been gnawing at Gladys’s wounds for no reason; he’d been removing the silver so she could heal.
“Did the charm help with the pain?”
He nodded. “I’m good. The witches worked on me after they finished on Gladys. I’ll heal. It’s just going to take a few more hours.”
“It’s already eight o’clock. We picked Gladys up hours ago.”
“Tomorrow morning I’ll be as good as new,” he said. “Good call on your part, summoning the witches.”
“Was it?”
He elbowed me gently. “You okay?”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I messed up today. Ida’s disappointed, Fennel’s disappointed, and you’re disappointed. The only one who isn’t upset is Cecil and that’s only because he got to firebomb Pallás Place.”
“It’s completely charred, you know.” Ronan’s smile made me feel a little better, even if it didn’t last long—the smile or the feeling.
“Too bad Floyd didn’t have the La Paloma coven on retainer to put a protection spell on the building,” I said. “Guess that’s what happens when you overthrow the coven and try to murder them all.”
“Unlike me, who has the most badass witch in town on retainer.”
“On retainer? Is that what we’re calling it?” I teased.
“We can call it anything you like, Betty Bonita.” He blew out a long, tired sigh. “I’m sorry. This was because of me. The attack, I mean.”
“A pack reckoning has been a long time coming. Floyd’s hurt too many people—his own wolves included.” I reached for Ronan’s hand, threaded our fingers. “It’s time for me to use my ace in the hole.”
“You mean the blackmail? The incriminating photos you have on him?”
“Photos, files, video,” I said, “I think you’re going to be surprised at how much information I’ve amassed.”
“Not much could surprise me at this point.”
“Ronan, there’s something in those files you need to see before they’re released.” I lifted my head from his shoulder but kept his hand in mine. “It affects your family.”
“Well, yeah. Floyd’s my birth father.”
“No, your real family.”
“Rory?” The way he said her name made me regret what I had to show him even more. “Is it about her mom?”
“Yes,” I said. “And it’s bad.”
Ronan opened his mouth to ask more, but Margaux chose that moment to step out onto the porch.
Normally perfectly coiffed and rigid as a frozen corpse, the dream of any casting director looking for a classic Snow White Evil Queen, Margaux appeared disheveled and exhausted.
Her black hair flowed around her thin shoulders making her look younger than her mid-forties, even with the streak of silver.
“The wound is nearly closed. Another few minutes or so, and Gladys will be stable enough to shift. She’ll need your help.”
“Thank you, Margaux. I’ll head in then. Her wolf will be looking for mine.” Ronan squeezed my hand before releasing it and rising to his feet. “We’ll talk later.”
“How did you do it?” Margaux asked. “I’ve never met a wolf who could remove silver from a wound with his teeth—or paws or anything else, for that matter. Not without grave injury to himself.”
Ronan stiffened. He was at the door, his hand on the knob. “There are prehistorics who can do it.”
“You’re not a prehistoric shifter,” she said. “You should be in agony.”
He let his hand drop and turned around. “You’ll keep this between us? Let the witches take credit for getting rid of the silver?”
“You have my word,” she answered.
Utterly confused, I swung my gaze from Margaux to Ronan. Alpha shifters had different talents. Some could heal their pack, some could even heal those outside their pack, depending on the injury. Why was Margaux so surprised that Ronan could touch silver?
I asked her about it, and she replied, “It’s unprecedented. At least, to my knowledge. It’s the one truism in the shapeshifter world. Silver kills.” She deferred to Ronan. “Am I mistaken?”
“No, you aren’t.” He shifted his feet, rolled his shoulders. “I purposely built up a resistance to silver.”
“How’s that possible given what Margaux just said?”
“It’s sort of a family thing. Wolves on the maternal side of my family are born with a higher immunity to the worst effects of silver, but we have to train the talent to get really good at it.
Starting from a young age, I was given low doses every month.
Similar to how a human might take a series of allergy shots to help prevent a severe reaction. ”
“You had silver immunotherapy as a child?” The thought horrified me. Silver was devastating to shifters—like pouring acid over a fresh wound. It stopped them from healing and could even kill them outright. I knew that much, at least.
“Yeah. I’d appreciate you both keeping this quiet. It’s an advantage our enemies don’t yet know about.”
Margaux nodded. “Your secret is safe with the witches.”
Ronan looked at me.
“Duh,” I said.
He grinned, winked, and let himself into Gladys’s trailer, leaving me alone with Margaux.
“That wolf is going to be a powerfully good alpha leader. The Pallás pack has no idea how fortunate they are.”
Margaux and I didn’t agree on many things, but we were on the same page when it came to Ronan’s alpha leader capability.
Ronan wasn’t only going to be a good leader for the wolves, either.
He was going to be the best shifter leader in the county, in my opinion.
Shoulder to shoulder with Alpha Blacke in Sundance, another shifter leader I admired.
Powerful and kind and honorable.
“Who the hell was spoon-feeding a little boy silver?” I muttered. “The pain must’ve been unreal.”
Margaux sat on the porch step beside me, opposite where Ronan had been. “Probably someone who recognized how strong he is and knew he’d need a secret advantage someday.”
His mother, obviously. It had been a rhetorical question, though Margaux was right.
I kind of wanted to hate Niamh for doing that to child Ronan, but there was no denying she’d saved Gladys’s life today. If Ronan hadn’t been able to remove most of the silver, she would’ve died. Even breaking all speed limits in town, the witches would never have made it in time.
“Well, he’s not doing that to our kids,” I said.
“Your kids?” Margaux chuckled. “It’s that serious, is it?”
“Yes.” At least, I wanted it to be. First, I’d have to ascertain whether Ronan was cool with procreating with an earth witch demon woman.
“A friendly warning: My contacts tell me Alpha Pallás is furious about the damage to the exterior of his building.”
“He should be grateful I didn’t murder him outright,” I muttered.
“Interesting that not a single person was injured inside the building or out. What spell did you use?”
“You’d have to ask Cecil. He’s into maximum damage with controlled casualties—if you don’t count singed eyebrows.” I pulled my feet up a step and wrapped my arms around my knees. “I’m the one who lost control.”
“You said you allowed your dark side to take over?” she asked, her tone encouraging me to elaborate.
“Yeah.” That was one way to put it.
She stared at me, seemingly, annoyingly, waiting for me to speak.
I felt like a can of soda that had been shaken too hard. One wrong word piercing my thin exterior, and I’d explode.
Margaux was the exact wrong person to talk to right now.
She and I had a history of misunderstanding each other, and I still hadn’t entirely forgiven her for not being there for my mom when she’d needed it most. Hadn’t forgiven myself, either, so the witch was in good company, all things considered.
When I said nothing, she smiled and nodded knowingly. Gods, the woman was infuriating. “We all lose control now and then. You got it back in time. Calling in the coven was the right move.”
“Are you still one? Last I heard, you’d disbanded, so to speak.”
Half the old coven had been murdered a month ago—some would say deservedly after what they’d done to Ronan, Margaux, and Bronwyn. I was one of the “some.”
“We’re trying. Bronwyn is still recovering, and Billy doesn’t have much power, which is why I sent him away when everything went down last month.”
“Surprised he let you.”
“I lied. Told him we needed a witch on the outside in case things got bad.” She smiled tiredly at me. “I knew you’d protect him if I couldn’t.”
“You have a lot of confidence in me.”
“Deserved confidence. You’re a powerful witch.”
I rested my chin on my knees. “Is this you asking me to join the new and improved La Paloma coven?”
“No,” she said, with an air of wistfulness. “This is me asking to join the Lennox coven.”
“What the hell?” I bolted upright, faced her. “What are you talking about?”
“When you’re ready to lead, I’d like to follow you.”
If she’d punched me in the face, I’d have been less shocked. “I can’t lead a coven.”