Chapter Eight
When Ronan walked through the door, shirtless, barefoot, and in gray sweatpants, I’d already been wearing my healing charm for an hour. My hearing was back, though my inner ears were sore.
“Betty, you’ve got to stop threatening Trey. I need him focused.”
“It was only a teensy threat,” I said without looking up.
“Teensy, my ass. You scared the hell out of him.” He dropped a kiss on my head and peered over my shoulder as I peeled the backing off a thin-glass screen protector. “What happened to your phone?”
“Meredith happened.” I lowered the glass shield onto my clean screen and pressed the air bubbles out with a soft cloth. “I started buying these in bulk after she came to live with us.”
“Uh-oh.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “Ears still smarting?”
“A little.”
He sat in the chair beside mine, smelling like the outdoors and bacon grease. Weirdly inoffensive. “What set her off?”
“Ida thinks it’s because Meredith was worried about her after yesterday,” I replied as offhandedly as I could manage before changing the subject. “How’s Gladys?”
“Sore but mostly healed. Any silver still in her chest should expel on its own now.”
“I thought you and the witches got it all out.” I set my phone aside and folded the soft cloth.
“The wolves used a fine-powdered version of the stuff, so odds are there’s still some in there.” He drummed his fingers on the table and stared out the kitchen window. “We had breakfast after our run.”
“You ran? I know that’s a thing you do to promote pack solidarity, but Gladys nearly died.”
“We went at her pace, but yes, we did run. Gladys’s wolf needed to feel strong, and a run is one way to do it. A food kill is another, though neither of us were interested in that.” He drummed his fingers faster. “The solidarity thing is complicated, since technically, I’m not pack.”
“Your wolf believes you are.”
He nodded absently. “Some wolves, rats, and other shifters joined us on the run to pay their respects.”
“But Gladys didn’t die.”
“It wasn’t that kind of respect.” He tore his gaze away from the window and set his hands in his lap. “They were pledging allegiance—to me.”
“You haven’t challenged Floyd for the pack yet,” I said.
“Only because I can’t find him to issue one.”
“So, why are they pledging allegiance now?”
I went across the room to the junk drawer, dropped the soft cloth inside, and shut it with my hip. I felt jangly and oddly disconnected from reality. My nerves were working overtime this morning.
“Alpha Vincent informed me that her rats could see the writing on the wall.”
“Her rats see everything. The woman’s got spies all over the place.”
“Yeah, I know. She reminded me of that.”
Of course she had. Lydia Vincent was no fool. “Ah, she’s trying to make a deal for an alliance now, before everyone wants your attention.”
“Probably. She didn’t ask for anything, but I’m sure it’s coming.” He went back to drumming the table with his fingertips.
“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, I talked to Rory last night—she’s fine, I’ll lead with that.”
His relief was palpable. “Good. I listened to her messages this morning but haven’t had a chance to get back to her. She said she felt something when Gladys was hurt.”
“Yes,” I said. “She also said something else.”
“What?”
“That she’d make a great cunada.” I smiled.
“What’s that?”
“Sister-in-law,” I said.
He stilled. A shock of auburn hair fell across his forehead. He pushed it back. It ignored his effort and fell again. “Is that, uh, something you’d be interested in having? A sister-in-law, I mean?”
Gods, he was cute when he was nervous. “Sure, but I don’t want just any cunada. I’ll only accept Rory. Nothing but the best for me, Williams.”
Those green hazel eyes of his glimmered with interest. “I’ve always wanted an octogenarian necromancer sister-in-law, so this might just work out.”
“It might just,” I said, dragging my teeth over my lower lip to keep myself from grinning like a lovesick fool.
He stood. “I need to shower and get some sleep. Join me?”
“I already took a shower.” I pointed to my face. I was wearing makeup and had brushed my hair.
“How ironic. You’ll be going into the shower clean and coming out dirty.” He gave me an exaggerated-wink-and-lascivious-grin combo.
“Tempting.” I meant it, too. I wanted nothing more than to lather up and be this man’s personal loofah. But I needed to get the blood samples. “She said something else. Rory, I mean.”
“What?”
“That the day had finally come when Floyd declared war on you. And also, for me to keep you safe.” I muttered the last part even though I knew he’d hear me.
His smile faded. “You don’t need to keep me safe, Betty.”
“I probably will, though,” I said.
“So, was our agreement about approaching our relationship as a team just something we said?” His eyes, lit with desire a moment before, pinched until they looked like slashes. Anger set into the lines in his face.
He didn’t need this right now. I knew it, and still I pushed because he needed to understand. “It wasn’t just something we said. But Ronan, if I—”
“If you what? If you think I’m in danger, you can just trample on our agreement? That’s not how agreements work.”
“I’m only talking about you being in grave danger, and of course I’d tell you everything. Haven’t I already been doing that?” Now I was getting angry. “But I love you, and when I love someone, I can’t just half-ass the way I feel.”
“I’m not asking you to half-ass your feelings.
I’m asking you to respect mine.” He ran his hand through his hair again, and this time it stayed in place.
“I’m tired, I’m worried about the people who trust me, and now I have to take time out of developing a war plan to take down Floyd so I can freak out about what you’re going to do next. You have to control your—”
“Control my what, Ronan?” Angry? I was irate. “Is this about me protecting you or about what’s happening to me? Is this about my demon side?”
“Did I say it was?”
We stared at each other in stony silence.
“I have to go and get blood samples from our allies to make heal charms. I can’t stand here and argue with you.”
“Go then,” he said, sounding as angry as I felt.
“Fine.” I scooped up my phone and my bag and headed for the front door. How had such a sweet, poignant moment turned sour so quickly?
I had one foot on the porch when he called out, “Betty?”
“Yes?” I halted but didn’t turn around.
“Be careful. None of the shifters, including the rats, have seen any sign of Floyd or Mason Hartman. That’s not a good thing.”
“Got it,” I said, and walked out.
Getting blood samples from everyone in the park was easy, though I was leaving Senora Cervantes to Ida, Trini, and Fennel.
The Melliza cousins were more accommodating than I’d anticipated, knowing what I did about the fae.
They were creatures of nature and magic, and didn’t give parts of themselves easily.
Cecil was likely a key factor in their compliance.
They’d connected with the pint-sized anarchist and seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.
He clipped himself into the cat car seat and chomped on half of one of the dozen lavender scones I’d purchased from the café. I was eating the other half.
“I’m going to drop you off at home so you can get started on the charms. You can have one more scone but save the rest. I promised one to Ida, and she’s going to hand out the others to the other tenants.”
Cecil flicked the tip of his purple hat toward the car mirror and chittered. He dusted crumbs off his beard and stared up at me as if expecting a response.
I knew what he was asking.
“No, she hasn’t returned. Not in the mirror or anywhere else. Unless you count that weird thing with Meredith this morning.”
His nose twitched.
“Obviously, you do count it. Me, too. If you have any solutions, I’m all ears—all sore ears.”
He shook his head; the purple hat flopped around but didn’t fall.
I drove to Ida’s place and parked behind the LTD, the back half of the Mini sticking out into the street. She appeared at the top of her porch steps and waved. I grabbed the scones and held out my arm to Cecil, who scampered up onto my shoulder.
“Tell Fennel to keep close watch over her, okay? She’s important to me.” I turned to my shoulder and gently tapped his nose. “Like you.”
I left them with one less scone and an admonition to be careful, blasted KLXX—the song was “Rock Your Baby” by George McCrae—and boogied myself into La Paloma.
Beau’s Oddities was a head shop/paranormal bookstore on the more interesting side of La Paloma. It was owned by one of Mom’s—and, more recently, my—good friends, Beau Glazier.
“Sure, I’ll give you some blood. How much do you need?”
“Just a few drops.” I handed him a vial and lancet.
“No worries, man. I know why you’re doing it.” He wiped his thumb with the alcohol pad and used the lancet, squeezing a few drops into the vial.
I’d expected him to be chill about the request. Beau was what you got if you blended Nicolas Cage’s look in Mandy with Matthew McConaughey’s vibe in Dazed and Confused. He was one of the good guys.
“I’m not sure Floyd considers you fair game, but just in case.”
“Honestly, I think it’s cool. Never had a heal charm keyed especially to me. I’ve always made do with the cheap ones the traveling witches hawk when they come through—no offense.”
“None taken. And all you had to do was ask. I’d have crafted you one at cost.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, showing a hint of a dimple. “Anyway, you aren’t a travel witch anymore, are you? You’re a staying-put witch now, like Lila was.”
The Lennox witches had been traveling witches for generations. My ancestors had traveled across cities, countries, and continents, bringing magic to people who needed it. I’d always believed it was the life I was destined to live.
“Looks that way,” I said. “Beau, can I ask you a question?”
“Is it about Lila and me?”
“Yes.”
“Then, no.”