Werewolf Sings the Blues (23 page)

“I don't like being manipulated or lied to, Vivian,” he says, mask
cracking a little.

“I wasn't …” Damn it, I was. It's jarring having someone see right through me. Normally my tricks dazzle them. Not him. Never him. “You never let me get away with anything, do you?” He doesn't respond. “Okay, all cards on the table then. What I said was true, but I did have ulterior motives.” I step toward him, stopping close enough to bask in his inner inferno. “It's come to my attention that you have a reputation around the pack as intimidating, if not downright frightening. They respect you and everything you do for them, but they are afraid to get close to you. You're huge, you kill people, it's understandable. Doesn't help that you're shy. They probably interpret that for snobbery, or that you don't care what they think. But you and I both know that's bullshit.

“These people are your family, every one of them—of course you want them to love you as much as you do them. To be accepted.
Belong
. So if I can help do that for you, I will. I know people, how they think. I just wanted to use that power for good for once. By showing them you're good with children, by eating meals with us, by getting you to smile, we can get them to change that opinion. Is that so wrong of me?”

“And that's the only reason?”

“What other could there possibly be? I'm trying to be a good pack
member. That's all.”

“I …” Those eyes of his fill with quiet desperation as they always seem to do when searching to my depths for answers to the question I can't figure out he's asking. It must not be what he was hoping for because the steel trap shuts on his emotions. No.
No
. “You just don't get it, do you? I don't think you ever will. I have to go now. Please leave me alone.
Please
.” With a grimace, he walks past the children, whom he doesn't even acknowledge. Their little brows furrow.

“Jason …” I call, even taking a step toward him but not another. My throat closes from the tumult of emotions coursing through
me. Anger. Betrayal. Misery. My bottom lip begins quivering, and I can feel the tears rising again.
No
. I bite my lip, hard, to stop them falling. I will not cry, not over him. Not again.

“Aunt Vivian, where's Uncle Jason going?” Dustin asks with a pout.

I hug myself. “Away.” From me.

“Why?” Dustin asks.

Because he sees right through me and doesn't like the view. He is our father's son.

fourteen

I watch my current
prey from the parlor doorway as she says her good-byes to Frank. God, I hope this works. Have to time this just right. Nothing else matters, not the kids behind me playing a board game or the others in the hall, including Tate, who walks up beside me just to stare where I am. I ignore him. I only have eyes for Mona McGregor. She picks up her wood
en case and purse, nods to Frank, and steps toward the door. About
damn time.

“What are you up to, prin—” Tate starts smugly.

“Fuck off.”

He doesn't warrant a glance as I start moving toward the witch. I keep my eyes down as I pass Frank in the hall. Fairly sure he returns the gesture. No awkwardness there. I stop at the end table with a mirror above, pretending to fix my high ponytail but really keeping my eyes on my father out of the corner of my eye. The moment he vanishes into the dining room, I scoop up the purse that I stashed behind the vase and hustle out the front door before anyone grows suspicious.

The sun is about a half hour from setting, that time when the sky resembles a tranquil Monet, and the temperature's gone down enough to be tolerable. Perfect night for an escape. I've been planning this for an hour, worked every angle I could imagine. Staging a prison break is damn hard, nervous work.

My unwitting accomplice is loading her Acura down on the driveway. “Oh, Mona! Let me help you!”

She's already shutting the trunk by the time I reach her. Damn. “It's okay. I got it.”

“Oh. Well … off to the Inn then? I heard Frank was putting you up in town for the night,” I say merrily. “That's awfully nice of him.”

“Yeah, well it's a long drive back to Goodnight, my sister's at my aunt's, and I never pass up free room service.”

“Me neither.” I pause. “Actually, I was just on my way to town too. Errand for Frank. He said for me to catch you, that you'd give me a ride. Jason was supposed to take me but …” I shrug. “I've been waiting, and he hasn't been answering his phones. You don't have to bring me back. Sam's already in town, he'll do it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Frank didn't mention this to me.”

“It just happened. I caught him just after he spoke to you. But I mean, come on, I'm asking for a lift, not for you to help me rob a bank. I'll even make it worth your while. First two rounds on me.” Or Frank since I'm using the cash I found still stashed in the suitcase from the trip.

“I-I guess I—”

“Oh, thank you!” I say, taking off like a shot toward the passenger door. I climb in before she can utter another word. I've used this ploy before. I've discovered once you're inside the car, unless you puke or insult the driver right away, they won't kick you out. Too much work.

I'm fastening on my seat belt when Mona gets in. The uncom
fortable glances she fires at me don't stop until we do, right
outside the gate so she can punch in the code to open it. Just as it begins to slide, and I'm literally home free, Sam zooms up on his ATV. My first instinct is to duck down, but since Mona's already suspicious, I just keep my serene smile on and stare straight ahead. Maybe he won't notice me with the window up. He must not because he doesn't chase after us as we roll out the gate to freedom.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the compound has faded from the rearview mirror. Thank you, God. Of course the tranquility shatters when Mona's phone begins ringing. Oh shit, he did see me. It's Frank calling to order her back. Fuck. “Can you get that for me?” Mona asks. I can't exactly say no. I reach inside her purse and hand her the phone. I'll beg. Tell her the truth then beg, and—

“Hey, Debs,” Mona says with a grin. Oh thank God. They haven't
sounded the alarm. Yet.

As Mona chats with Debs, who I think is her daughter from the
amount of concerned chiding Mona expresses, I pretend not to listen while watching the scenery go by. Wooded patches end at the river. We pass over the bridge Jason was attacked on, which is still missing part of the metal guardrail where he went over. Jesus, he plummeted at least twenty feet into the slow-moving water. It's a miracle he survived the gunfight, let alone the drop. A trickle of fear snakes down my spine. It's a calculated risk—me leaving the compound, I know this. Hell, that's why I swiped the gun in my purse, but I had to get away from there. Away from Frank, from the kids, from the smiles everyone had for me, from Jason. I just had to get
away
before I had a nervous breakdown. The risk is worth the reward.

“… love you too. You and Collins be good for Auntie Sara. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

She ends the call and tosses her cell back into the purse of the floor.

“Was that your daughter?” I ask.

“What? No, well not really. It was my sister. I'm her legal guardian so yes and no I guess. It's complicated.”

“Well, if anyone knows about complicated family arrangements, it's me.”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “I heard.”

“Oh God, what are they saying about me?”

“In all my expert eavesdropping today, I didn't hear a word said against you. Quite the opposite.”

“That's just because I spent all day watching their children. They don't know me. Not a one. Not even Frank.”

We drive in silence for a few seconds before she asks, “Is that why you snuck out? Because you don't think they want you there?”

“I didn't …” My mouth snaps shut. Damn it. “What gave me away?”

“The words just out of your mouth,” Mona says. “Same ploy works on my sister all the time. I can spot stubborn rebellion a mile off.”

“Well, a little rebellion never killed anyone,” I say.

“Um … the French Revolution?” she counters.

“You know what I mean,” I say playfully. “I just needed some alone time. With tequila.
Lots
of tequila.” I give her a sideways glance, and smirk. “Care to join me, High Priestess McGregor?”

“I
should
turn this car around and drive you right back,” she says.

“Where's the fun in that? Besides, I owe you two drinks, and I do my utmost to be a woman of my word, though my track record's been a bit spotty of late, don't want more red on my ledger.”

The witch mulls this over. I can practically see the angel and demon on her shoulders duking it out. When a smirk forms on her round face, I know I've corrupted another pure soul. Hope this one thanks me for it later, unlike the last. “One drink. But if Frank asks me …”

“I held you at gunpoint and told you to make a break for Canada, I swear.”

“Alright, but don't make me regret this.”

“Miss McGregor, after a night out with me, may the only regrets you have be that you made out with the hot busboy, and they haven't invented a cure for a hangover.”

_____

“… two, three, go!”

Lick, pour, suck. The tequila rolls down my throat like battery acid. The lime cuts the taste, but I still shudder from the after burn. Mona spasms too and sticks out her tongue in disgust. She sucks on the lime but shudders again. “Hell's bells, that is awful!”

“Then why'd you do it again?” I ask with a laugh.

“Because …” She grabs another lime and sucks. “Peer pressure?”

“I accept full responsibility.”

“Good. Thank you. Should we do another?” she asks with a glint in her eye. “Bartender! Another shot!”

The fifty-something bartender shakes his bald head with disapproval but does as asked. Kind of judgmental here at the Adolphous Inn. Maybe we should have gone to Ocean's Bar at the edge of town, but Mona insisted we come here with its beige wallpaper, paintings of sailboats on the walls, and wooden stools and booths. At least there's some prime talent here tonight with two handsome devils in a diagonal booth checking us out periodically. Vivian from a week ago would have already grabbed Mona by the collar, dragged her over there to be my wingman, and had my tongue down faux hawk's throat. She could have the Italian stallion. Tonight I do my best to ignore them. Once you've had prime rib, a hamburger just won't suffice.

The bartender finishes pouring and Mona holds up her shot glass. “To my first girls' night out in … um … hell if I remember.”

I hold up my glass too. “To booze, boys, and howling at the moon because of both.” We clink glasses, salt, lick, pour, suck, and shimmy. “Oh, fuck, that is rank. No more.”

Mona tosses down her lime rind with a grin. “I am having so much fun. I never get to do this.” I notice she glances over at the men and turns red, not from the hooch this time. Her eyes then avert down to the bar, the grin fading. “Do those guys keep looking at us or am I nuts?”

“Mona, we're the only two drunk women in this place, who also just happen to be smoking hot. Damn straight they're checking us out.”

“Maybe you,” she says with a scoff. “A man hasn't checked me out since Clinton was in office.”

If she only knew. Be it the booze, her sadness under the strong façade, or just my lack of ability to keep my mouth shut, I want
so bad
to tell her about Adam. But my new Popeye-after-spinach- strong self-control instead makes me grab the water and drink to keep my mouth occupied until the urge passes. “Sorry. Tequila makes me thirsty.”

“What about you? Got someone special back home?” Mona asks.

“It's complicated.
Very
complicated. He … the man has two settings, lava hot and deep space cold. He's always searching for something in me, and I can't for the life of me figure out what the hell it is. He wants me, he cares about me, but he's holding back. And it's not like I'm asking him to propose or anything.” I shake my head. “I don't know. I don't want to talk about it. I came here to get away from that bullshit.” I sip my water again. “Let's talk about you. You really haven't been out on a date this millennia?”

She rolls her eyes. “I've been kind of busy. Raising my teenage sister, caring for my dying grandparents, running my shop and house, not to mention being responsible for over a hundred witches and their education and problems. I barely have time to sleep let alone date.”

“Does that bother you? Not having any time for yourself? Being
at everyone's beck and call?”

“Sometimes, I guess,” she says, drinking her water. “But … they're family. I love and respect them. I give myself, my time because I know they'd do the same for me if they could. That's what family does. That's what love is—putting someone ahead of yourself. That's the true test. And I was always an excellent test taker,” she says with a smirk.

“Well, I've failed more than I passed,” I admit.

“But I bet the ones you aced the hell out of were the ones you actually cared about,” she counters. She leans in toward me. “When it matters, when it
really
matters, you'll be shocked at the strength you have inside you. I guaran-damn-tee it.” She leans back with a smile. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a horse about a man. Excuse me.”

Mona leaps off the stool, only to wobble a little. She uses the bar to steady herself before tottering off in search of a bathroom. I sip my water and sigh. She
is
right. I got straight As in music and P.E. I loved those two classes. Maybe that's my problem, I just don't give a shit about anything. Anyone. It's just so damn hard to rev that motor when it's rusted over from lack of use. I—

“Alone at last, Miss Dahl.”

I glance to my right, the way Mona went, and notice a large man strolling toward me with a grin. He's tall, almost as tall as Jason, with the same musclebound physique shown off in a white shirt and tight jeans, but softer face complete with shaved bald head and goatee. Not my type even pre-Jason. Something about him, be it the grin or hard brown eyes staring me down, instantly puts me on edge. The moment he's at my side, so are the other two men from the booth, circling me so I have no way to escape. Despite the familiar heat radiating from them, my blood goes ice cold.

“We haven't been introduced. I'm Seth. Welcome to the family.”

Fuck.

My hand shoots toward the purse on the bar, but Seth grabs my hand halfway, squeezing it so hard I clench my teeth. “Wouldn't do that if I was you,” Seth whispers into my ear. “Not unless you want me to go upstairs and rip open the witch's throat, that is after Mal here shoots you dead with the gun under his jacket.” I
glance from faux hawk's jacket to the bartender, eyes pleading. I'm
met only with terror in his before he looks down and turns his back on me. Bastard.

“How'd you know I was here?” His buddies came in about ten minutes after we did. “Your rat?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Get up.” Seth literally pulls the chair out from under me before latching onto my arm to guide me out. “See you later, Simon,” Seth calls to the bartender as he maneuvers me out.

Fuck. Fuck.

Whether it's the tequila or near-maddening fear, it's difficult to walk through the hotel's small lobby and outside. “I lost some of my best men because of you,” the monster says on the death march.

“Good.”

He squeezes my arm harder. My teeth may break, I'm clenching them so tight. “Tough. We'll see just how tough by the end of the night. Why should Jason just get his leg over, huh?”

He thrusts me out the hotel's double doors into the warm night. The Inn is situated in downtown Adolphus, with shops and restaurants lining the brick street, and people filtering in and out. People. Hallelujah. Screw this noise. This isn't happening. Not again. I've already seen what's at the end of this road. I haven't healed from the last ride. “Let me go.”

“Now why would I—”