“I can’t believe you just did that,” I said after we’d driven a block or so.
“He seems like a ... nice boy.”
“I didn’t want him to be a nice boy,” I pointed out, forgetting for one moment that I was talking to my own mother. “I was purposely trying to get him to not be a nice boy.”
“As I’m well aware. You do realize how unbecoming that is for a young lady, don’t you?”
“This coming from the woman who got it on with the werewolf that was trying to kill her.”
“It was a different time.”
“You’ve been scrying me, haven’t you? Scrying and cockblocking me?”
“Such a vulgar term,” she replied, giving me side-eye. “But in essence, yes.”
“Why? It’s not bad enough I have to marry Jerry Wartdick next week? You can’t even let me have one last good memory before I start spitting out blemish-covered puppies?”
“Sandwich,” she said.
“What?”
“That’s his name, dear. Jerry Sandwich, not Wartdick.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” She shook her head. “Can you maybe run us off the road then, because I’d sooner die in a head-on collision than become Tammy Sandwich.”
“It is a bit of an unfortunate name.”
“Just a wee bit, but it still doesn’t explain why you...”
“Do you honestly think the lycanthropes haven’t been watching you, too?”
I turned toward her. “I thought they stayed out of High Moon. That it was neutral ground.”
“Yes, well, extenuating circumstances allow them to cross the border. And in the space of a month, you have become quite the extenuating circumstance. Don’t think for one second Craig doesn’t have eyes on you. He won’t dare come near our house, he knows better, but the second you step out, it’s wise to assume you’re being watched – especially after dark. Hard for me to tell for certain without a hair sample to track, but believe me, I can feel them here.”
“Feel them? Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?”
“If your uncle hadn’t called last week to specifically remind me to make sure you were on your best behavior, I would probably agree.”
“He did what?”
“Called me up, something he’s never done before, and told me that I needed to step in before your little romance went too far, lest he and the pack be ... displeased.”
“And you didn’t tell him to sit on your wand and spin?”
She looked over at me from the driver’s seat and actually laughed. “I might have to remember that one. Sadly, no. Don’t think for one second I’m afraid of your uncle. He’s lucky I didn’t roast him in his fur the moment he put his hands on you in our living room.”
“So what then?”
“He now knows your father and I are married for real. Before, when he thought it was political, a marriage of convenience only, the advantage was mine. Now, that dynamic has shifted.”
“Did he threaten Dad?”
“Craig knows better. The relationship between an alpha and his beta is a tenuous one. If he wanted to punish Curtis, he’d need to do it personally, otherwise it would make him look weak to the rest.”
“And he wouldn’t because they’re brothers?”
“Partly. Call me biased, but I doubt he wants to tangle with your father for real. No. The problem is on my end. He threatened to tell my family.”
“But they already know you and Dad are married.”
“Married, yes. In love? That’s a different matter entirely. I sincerely doubt this will shock you to hear, but the Draíodóir can be a somewhat conceited people.”
“You don’t say,” I replied with a grin.
“When your birthright involves control over the very elements of nature, tell me that wouldn’t go to your head eventually.”
“Touché.”
“There is an assumption among my kind that I’m a martyr, living my life in squalor for the sake of my people.”
“Squalor?”
“Metaphorically speaking, of course. That I’m forced to share a domicile with a lycanthrope is cause for both respect and pity amongst my family and followers. But there is also the assumption that I do not lower myself to engage in...”
“In?” I prompted.
“Relations with your father.”
I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep in the snort of laughter, but just couldn’t do it.
“I expect that sort of behavior from your brother, but you?”
“Sorry, but, well, you guys are about as subtle as...”
“You and that young man were back in the parking lot of that garage?”
“I don’t suppose there’s anyway for me to block you from spying on me.”
She smiled. “I’m the Queen of Monarchs. My powers are vast and nearly all seeing, but if you were to surround yourself with salt at all times, that might help dampen my ability to scry you.”
“That would probably do the same to dampen my love life.”
Mom turned toward me and shrugged in a way that said such a thing wouldn’t bother her in the least.
“I guess I could always start dating goths.”
“Or someone possessing a college degree and not working as a grease monkey.”
I turned toward her, my mouth agape. “Seriously? The full moon is less than a week away, which means I either have to marry a wart-covered werewolf or risk kick-starting a supernatural war, and you’re going to give me shit because my boyfriend changes oil filters for a living?”
“Sorry, can’t be helped. I am your mother, after all.”
Yeah. She was a mother, all right.
CHAPTER 21
“Hey.”
I ignored my brother as I tried to concentrate on the episode of Game of Thrones playing on the TV. I didn’t have cable back at college, so I figured I’d catch up on my shows while I had the chance. Mind you, that was proving to be difficult with my dipshit brother trying to crawl up my ass.
“Yo, wham, bam, thank you, Tam, I’m talking to you.”
I hit pause on the remote and turned toward Chris. “Did you come up with that all by yourself, or was it a group effort between you and your forever virgin friends?”
It was rare for him to not take the bait, but he ignored my snark. “I know you haven’t been around much the last few weeks, but have you noticed that Mom and Dad have been ... kind of tense?”
He was right on both fronts. I’d been doing my damnedest to stay out of the house, either hanging out with Riva, Gary, or wandering the town on my own. “They’re not the only ones.”
“What, are you and Mom both on the rag or something?”
I narrowed my eyes, the show forgotten for the moment. “You’re lucky we’re out of hand sanitizer, otherwise I’d punch your stupid lights out.”
“I’m serious. You haven’t noticed it?”
My little brother wasn’t a part of all the shit going on, but he probably deserved to be. It was funny in a way. My parents had been upfront with him about being adopted, but not with the fact that he was the only normal human in the house. Tell me that wasn’t going to put the poor kid into therapy at some point. I was tempted to spill my guts, but I knew our parents wanted to keep him in the dark, let him live a relatively normal childhood with his boring dipshit friends.
I let out an involuntary laugh. There I was, being sold down the river, a mail-order bride at best, and yet I was still worried about respecting their wishes.
Fuck that noise.
I clicked off the TV and gave Chris my full attention. “Okay, here’s the deal. Dad’s a werewolf and Mom’s a witch. In two days, I’m being forced to marry another werewolf from Dad’s pack, one named Jerry Sandwich. If I don’t, there’ll be a huge supernatural war that’ll kill us all.”
Chris blinked at me several times. “Remind me not to do drugs when I go off to college.”
“You asked, turd muncher.”
“I wanted to know if they we
re getting a divorce, not if you’ve been eating mushrooms from the backyard again.”
That’s what he thought the problem was? If only I could get that lucky. Not that I wanted to see my parents split, but it would be a shitload easier than the reality of the situation. Splitting the holidays I could handle. Becoming Mrs. Jerry Sandwich not so much.
I was tempted to tell my brother to take a flying leap onto a greased flagpole, but when I looked back at him again, I saw real worry in his eyes, so I put a hand on his shoulder instead. “Relax, kid. Mom and Dad aren’t getting a divorce.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. They are ridiculously in love with each other, even beyond the realm of what is natural.”
“You aren’t shitting me?”
“If I was, I’d go see a doctor immediately.” I could see that he still wasn’t quite buying it, so I added, “It’s not them. They’re worried about me. I have some ... issues going on that I’m working through.”
He pulled back, looking somewhat relieved. “It’s drugs, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not drugs.”
“Your illness isn’t getting worse, is it? I mean, you’re not dying, right?”
“Hopefully not anytime soon.” Albeit I couldn’t quite promise him that, knowing what I did. “It’s relationship issues, nothing you need to worry about.”
“Oh? I see.”
“Good.”
“I’ll tell my friends to keep their dogs inside, just to be safe.”
I balled a fist at the little dickhead, causing him to flinch.
The front door opened and Dad walked in. Chris was right – he did look off, although that wasn’t a surprise. The fact that I was able to wake up every morning, knowing what was ahead of me, without puking my guts up was a near miracle. I had to assume some of that stress was wearing off on my folks, too.
“Hey, champ!” Dad greeted, ruffling my brother’s hair despite knowing how much he hated it. He turned to me. “You’re home.”
“Yep.” Riva was a great friend and all, but we didn’t like the same shows. Call me crazy for being besties with someone who didn’t want to lick the screen whenever Jon Snow came on, but sometimes opposites attract.
He turned to Chris. “Why don’t you go play video games for a while, then get packed. I want to talk with your sister.”
My brother gave Dad a knowing grin and nodded. Before leaving the room, though, he mimed cracking an egg into a frying pan. “This is your brain on drugs.”
“Get out of here before I scramble yours, feeb.”
He left the room, which prompted Dad to turn to me. “What was that about?”
“Oh, he thinks the reason I’ve been on edge is that I’m shooting heroin or something. If only I could get so lucky. Why are you making him pack, by the way? I thought he was past the return date.”
“Your mom thought it best to let him stay with relatives for a few days.”
“Whose relatives?”
He smiled sadly. “Not mine. Speaking of which, I just had a word with your uncle.”
“And the wedding is off?” I asked hopefully.
“No.” Before I could comment further, he continued. “It’s the Draíodóir, your mother’s family. They’re not blind. They’ve noticed his people have been skulking around High Moon. It’s making them nervous.”
“So?”
“So, nervous sorcerers in close proximity to nervous lycanthropes do not make for a particularly stable situation. We’re basically at DEFCON 2 right now. Go to the west end of town and you can practically feel the gald in the air, and not in a good way. It’s rapidly turning into a powder keg. I gotta be honest, It hasn’t been this bad since ... well, right before your mother and I met.”
It wasn’t particularly pertinent to my fate three days from now, but I found myself curious nevertheless. The real version of how they’d met was definitely creepier than the one I’d been spoon-fed growing up, but it was a hell of a lot more interesting, too. “Really?”
“Your mother and I were both young, stupid, and held growing influence within our ranks. At the time, the concept of eradicating our age-old enemies was ... cool. Even with High Moon between us, both sides were taking potshots at the other, hoping to start something. People got hurt, threats were made, that sort of thing. It didn’t get better until ... well, until your mother learned you were on the way and we both realized there were more important things than being at each other’s throats.”
That part of the story was kinda nice, and at a different time I might even find it heartwarming, but it was the past. This was the present, and I didn’t see myself magically falling in love with a werewolf with bad skin and an even worse name. And even if I did, that still only accounted for one side of this mess.
“Can Mom fix it? I mean, she’s the daffodil queen or something. Don’t they have to listen to her?”
Dad chuckled and sat down. “Your mom’s family loves their titles and ceremony, but it’s not as cut and dry as that. For starters, there are lots of kings, queens, lords of summer, grand poohbahs, whatever. It’s just a regional thing. Each family of covens has their own leader, their own title, and their own ability to tell the other groups to take a flying leap.”
I leaned forward. Much as I wanted my Westeros fix, what I was hearing now was of potential use. What use? I had no idea, but there was that old saying about knowledge equating to power. Also, after almost twenty years of lies, it was like the dam had burst and my parents were finally coming clean with everything. Didn’t make me less angry at them, but they were still family.
“Your mom is technically considered the high priestess, if you will, of her group of covens.” He paused and shrugged. “Or whatever they call them in Gaelic. Don’t know, don’t care. But anyway, when there’s a big gathering, she’s the one who leads them in their rituals, that sort of stuff. But it’s not much different than, say, the monarchy over in England. She has a nice title, but her word isn’t exactly absolute. She’s strong, your mom, like really strong, and the Draíodóir have a lot of rules along the lines of might makes right, but there’s only so much she can do. And the truth of the matter is, I’m not sure she wants to.”
“You think she’s looking to fuck over your pack?” He raised his eyebrow, to which I replied, “Really? That’s what we’re going to get hung up on? I’m an adult. Adults say fuck. Can we get past that already?”
He leaned back and smiled. “You’ll always be my little girl. But fine, your mom’s not home, so we can talk like real people. To answer your question, no. Lissa doesn’t like my pack any more than I like her family. It’s just how it is. But we’re not actively working to get the other side killed ... at least I’m not. And I don’t think your mother is either. But, at the same time, she can only push so much before it looks suspicious. There are factions on her side that are seriously old school. They were against the truce our marriage is supposed to represent. If she’s too vocal about wanting them to back off against my people, they’re going to get emboldened. They already tried once to prove that your mom was going soft, back when we first got together. Believe me, we had to throw some pretty convincing fake fights to make it seem like we hated each other.”
“So what you’re saying is she’s between a rock and a hard place?”
“Pretty much, Tam Tam. The safest course of action for her is to ignore it all, act like it’s no big deal. “
“Even if it ultimately causes a war that you’ll have to be on opposite sides of?”
He reached over and patted me on the knee. “Better to work toward a solution from the inside than to be quite literally thrown to the wolves. And trust me, we are.”
I thought about it and kinda understood what he was saying, but it still didn’t make me feel any better. “All of this talk about keeping the peace, maintaining the status quo, and yet I still get to play the sacrificial lamb.”
“You’re not a sacrifice, Tamara. Forget for one second all the other lives
that could be saved. The hell with them. You get to live. That’s what matters to us.”
I stood up. “It doesn’t feel like living if I don’t get to choose my own life.”
“We’re not a normal family. We don’t have that luxury. We have to make compromises if we’re going to keep surviving.”
“Everyone keeps talking about compromises.” I turned away from him. “But I can’t help but notice I’m the one who’s expected to live with it all. Maybe it’s time I changed that.”
Before my dad could say another word, I walked out of the room.
I had some thinking to do. There was no way I was about to willingly sacrifice the lives of so many people but, at the same time, blindly accepting my fate just didn’t sit right with me.
CHAPTER 22
“This is crazy, Bent. They’re going to kill you.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” I replied into the Bluetooth microphone positioned over the driver’s seat.
“You’re not supposed to go into Morganberg,” Riva replied over the speaker. “They made that pretty clear the last time we were there.”
I could hear the annoyed edge to her voice. Danger or not, she was more ticked off that I was doing this without her. But it had to be this way. It’s why I decided to call her after I’d already crossed the town line. Otherwise, I had little doubt she’d have talked me into letting her tag along. No thanks. Things were bound to be hairy enough without worrying about her, too.
I let out a tiny chuckle at my silent pun.
“Something funny? Because I’m not laughing.”
“Inside joke,” I replied, stopping at a light. “But anyway, the wolves decided to drop their decree for the blood moon. I’m allowed in, otherwise they can’t have their happy nuptials, can they?”
“So that’s your plan? You’re heading over to what, get your hair done, maybe see if they’ll give you a bouquet of dead rodents to throw?”
“Nope. See, I’m pretty sure that Uncle Craig meant I was allowed in tonight, when the moon was up. But he was kind of sloppy with his words. He didn’t expressly forbid me from popping by during the day, so that’s what I’m doing.”
Get Bent! Page 15
