A couple years ago my sister looked me up. She was the collateral damage of my teenage years. It hurt to leave her behind. Francesca was the one person growing up that was always nice to me but I couldn't stay one minute longer in that house, not even for her. I think Frankie understood that. Just like I understood her not getting in touch with me until after she went off to college. I'd actually gone down to RISD to visit her a couple of times. When she told me she was engaged I secretly hoped it was to a starving artist and that she'd run off to Vegas to elope- causing a scandal in my mother's eyes and saving me an invitation to a big wedding. It wasn't of course. In Francesca's case pedigree won out. She was engaged to a charming young man finishing his law degree at Harvard and was having the wedding our mother had basically been planning since the doctor smacked Frankie's ass in the delivery room.
I completely forgot about the bridal luncheon and the rehearsal dinner later in the evening. In fact I forgot the wedding altogether.
"Shit." I said to Conry. "What do people wear to bridal luncheons anyway?"
He just stared at me as I headed back to my closet, grumbling the entire way. I hopped in the shower but skipped washing my hair. There was no way I'd get it washed and dried and still make it to the stupid lunch. I stood in front of my bed staring at the three outfits I laid out unable to decide what was most appropriate for lunch at my estranged parents. A simple skirt and blouse combo won out. I would have preferred the fitted plum colored cashmere sweater but the high collar of my blouse would hide the brand on my neck. No need to give my mother another reminder of what I was or more importantly to her what I wasn't. I pulled my hair back in a low bun and slipped on my heels.
If I traveled through the between I could skip traffic and still arrive at the luncheon fashionably late.
***
Using my new abilities in place of my car probably wasn't what Arawn had in mind when he showed me how to do this I thought as I mentally deconstructed my apartment and visualized my childhood home in Beacon Hill. The federal style row home came into view bustling with people. I managed to move through the cluster of people lingering by the front door only to be accosted by the caterer.
"Don't just stand there empty handed. Go get a tray and offer hors d' vours to the guests." The woman, who I could only assume was the chef by the white coat she stuffed herself into barked at me. Before I could object and inform her that I was a guest I was pushed into the kitchen. I opened my mouth to protest but was quickly informed I was not being paid to talk to her or to the guests. She shoved a large silver tray loaded with stuffed mushroom caps into my hands, spun me around and pushed me out into the room full of Boston's elite. I realized too late that I was on a collision course with my mother.
"Mushroom?" I asked one of the women talking with my mother. "You just have to try one."
I was probably the only one who noticed the flash of anger in my mother's eyes. Before anyone could so much as reach for one of the mushrooms she was snapping her fingers at one of the other waiters and pointing at my tray. A mortified young man hurried over to relieve me of the appetizers.
"Maurin this is Joanne Barton. We volunteer together at the hospital." My mother said forcing a smile.
"I didn't even know Kate had another daughter until I heard about your exploits on the news. It's amazing how you were able to overcome your condition and assist the police." Joanne extended her hand.
My condition? Were they saying I had some kind of disease on the news? Oh wait, she just meant being an Other. I hadn't been home in so long I forgot my mother's friends were almost as bad her. I reached out to shake Joanne's hand but my mother was moving before I made contact.
"Maurin, Francesca's been waiting for you to arrive. Why don't we go find your sister. If you'll excuse us a moment Joanne." My mother was practically dragging me away.
Old habits die hard. I didn't bother to pull away, nor did I bother to tell her I could shield. She wouldn't have tolerated either and we would just end up having another one of our famous arguments ruining Frankie's day. I hadn't been home half an hour but it was like I never left. I could feel my mother's embarrassment and irritation. Her disdain radiated off her skin like rays from the sun. If I stood next to her for too long I was bound to get burned.
"Honestly Maurin, you show up late, dressed like a waitress, could you at least pretend you belong here? For your sister's sake. And for the love of God don't touch anybody. It's bad enough your face was plastered all over the news, no one here needs to experience what you do first hand." She hissed through a porcelain smile.
I work for some of the most dangerous people in Massachusetts, I've faced Gods and demons but none of them compared to this woman. She could suck the life out of me faster than any vampire I knew. I looked down at my outfit. Crisp white blouse, black skirt. Ugh, no wonder the caterer shoved a tray in my hands. In my defense though, no waitress worth her salt would work a day in these heels. When I left my apartment I vowed today would be different. I would not be a victim of her cruel words and disapproval. I would not fall into the same patterns of insults and arguments. I would not revert back to the school girl desperate for the love and approval of a mother who would never give her either. I bit my cheek until I tasted blood to keep the rebellion burning in my chest from escaping.
By the time she had gotten to 'It's like you refused to control it. You wouldn't even try to be normal. I don't know why you couldn't have been more like your sister.' I was ready to go. I was trying to remember why I had subjected myself to an afternoon at home after almost a decade away when I caught sight of Francesca. Her auburn hair perfectly coiffed, her pleated skirt and sweater perfectly matched. In that Stepford Wives kind of way. She hardly looked like the inspired artist I saw in Providence last spring. Of course a lot had changed since then for both of us. Francesca turned up the dial on her million dollar smile, concentrating its full power on me. I felt a smile creep across my face despite the company at my side.
"Hey Frankie!" I said as my sister pulled me into a hug. I could feel my mother roll her eyes at the nickname. She always hated it when I called her that.
"You came." She whispered, surprise audible despite her hushed voice.
"I told you I would." I replied, not bothering to tell her how I had completely forgotten and if it wasn't for the viper masquerading as my mother I wouldn't have made it.
"I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't." She said, starting to pull back from our embrace.
"Hmm, somehow I didn't get that impression when you were laying on the guilt trip, I mean inviting me to this." I teased.
She laughed and it was like someone ran their fingers through a wind chime. "Let me introduce you to some of my friends." She was born with a gravitational pull that seemed no one could escape. Not even me.
2
After a couple of hours of pretending to be one of the Kincaides and not Maurin Kincaide I decided I had fulfilled my sisterly obligation. I was back in Salem, standing outside of The Daily Grind trying to muster the courage to go inside.
I hadn't spoken to Amalie since the Council stripped Mahalia and the coven of their council seat. Mahalia deserved everything the Council dished out and more for trying to kill me. I just wished it hadn't cost me my friendship with Amalie. And my favorite place to go for coffee. I wasn't officially banned but it was owned and operated by coven members. Somehow I doubted my money was good here. With a heavy heart I walked away from my favorite chair and the best croissants in Salem. A new coffee house had opened a couple of blocks away and I decided to give it a try.
Brewed Awakening. I stared at the sign hoping the coffee lived up to the name. The smell of freshly ground coffee hit my nose as soon as I walked through the door, so did the realization that coffee wasn't what I wanted. Brewed Awakening was nice enough. The coffee smelled heavenly and there were glass cases filled with fresh scones, muffins and even croissants. There were comfortable chairs and a couch nestled in between shelves loaded with used bo
oks. A book exchange sign hung above them. It was my kind of place. Except for one thing. This place was run by norms, which normally wouldn't have bothered me but after spending an afternoon at my mother's I'd had my fill for the day. I decided on something stronger. It's five o'clock some where I told myself and headed for Toil and Trouble where there was sure to be company more like me.
There was no need for a bouncer that early in the day so I just walked right in. It was still dark in the bar despite the early hour. Mike, the bartender, was behind the counter drying glasses. He looked up from the martini glass in his hands and nodded.
"You want the usual?" Mike asked, his eyes already back on the glass.
"Vodka. I'll take the bottle, sugar and lemons. "
"One of those days, huh?" He said as he set the bottle of Van Gogh and a shot glass on the counter.
"In the grand scheme of things I have definitely had worse but I just spent the afternoon with my mother, surrounded by women she wished I turned out to be. Trust me I earned a drink or two." I said, managing to grab a bowl of lemon wedges, bowl of sugar, the bottle and shot glass.
I had my choice of seats since the place was practically empty but found myself headed towards a booth in the back. I slid across the vinyl seat, pressed my back against the wall and stretched my legs out on the rectangular cushion. I undid the bun holding my hair, kicked off my heels, coated a lemon wedge in sugar and poured myself a shot. It took a lot more vodka to get drunk than it used to thanks to my metabolism. I was down to one third of the ingredients for lemon drop shooters before I started feeling the effects. This was going to be an expensive bender I thought as I tossed back another shot. I wasn't one for wallowing in self pity or trying to find solutions at the bottom of a bottle but halfway through- sitting across from the table where all my problems with the coven began- both seemed like good ideas. The spins finally threatened to take hold so I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes.
I must have dozed off for a few minutes. Someone's fingers were tapping on the old wooden table. I opened one eye expecting Mike with the check but through the fog in my head I made out Cash's face. Maybe my nap was longer than a few minutes. I hoped I hadn't snored.
"I thought maybe you turned your phone off or something but I can see now you just decided to completely check out for awhile." Cash said, lifting the bottle to see how much was actually left. "What's up?"
"Fighting demons." I forced myself to sit up straight. Cash raised a brow at the mention of demons. "Not that kind." I grumbled, wishing it was a monster with gnashing teeth and glowing eyes that had me feeling this way. Actually that description fit my mother on more than one occasion.
"I was at my mother's, a luncheon for my sister. Her wedding is tomorrow." I explained.
Mike brought a coffee and set it down in front of Cash who pushed it over to me.
"Don't feel bad just because your younger sister is getting married before you." He laughed. "I'm sure the fanged freak is just waiting for the right moment."
I kicked him under the table connecting with his shin. I forgot I took my shoes off. I didn't hurt him, all I managed to do was jam my toe.
"Do I look like the kind of girl who obsesses about being engaged and planning a wedding? Don't answer that." I laughed when he started to smirk. I could only imagine what kind of girl he thought I actually looked like. "I have managed to avoid my family for almost ten years, going back home has me a little unnerved."
"Not a happy home coming I take it." He said nudging the coffee closer in the hopes that I would actually drink it.
"I didn't expect it to be. I'm just having a pity party, which you are crashing. So what's so important that you had to track me down instead of just harassing me when I got home per usual?" I slurred.
"I told you the challenge for Alpha is tonight." He said, as if that explained why he was sitting across from me.
"It's about time. But I don't see what pack business has to do with me. This is between you and Roul." I finally took a sip of the coffee, also known as battery acid. It was cold, strong and burnt.
"And you have to be there." He explained.
"Sorry, no can do. I've got another fun filled family evening ahead of me, the rehearsal dinner. Followed by the wedding tomorrow. So as you can see my dance card is full for the weekend." I told him, while wishing I could cancel my plans.
"So you'd rather hang out with the family that hates you? You a glutton for punishment or something?" Cash asked genuinely confused.
"I never said I'd rather be there but I already told my sister I would be." I tried to explain but I could tell he didn't get it. Packs didn't work like that. You were either a part of the pack or you weren't.
"Well you're just going to have to tell her you can't go." He caught me eyeing the bottle again and moved the vodka out of my reach. "You're in no condition to go anywhere in my opinion but you can't shirk your responsibilities to the Council."
I stuck my tongue out at him. We both knew I would be fine after an hour or so. "What responsibility?"
He sighed. "Doesn't anyone tell you anything?"
"That's what I keep saying!" I pounded my fist on the table, sloshing coffee over the rim of the cup. Mike's head popped up from under the bar where he had been switching out a keg at the sound of my fist connecting with the old wood table. He was watching us now, looking for signs of trouble. 'No trouble here', I thought and quickly grabbed a napkin out of the metal holder to clean up my mess.
Cash continued as I finished the rest of the cold coffee. "You're the liaison. That means you witness the challenge."
"I don't think that's what it means. In fact I'm pretty sure it doesn't. I'm the first liaison, they made up this damn position for me. Challenges have been going on for as longs as there have been werewolves, long before I came into the picture. Who witnessed them before?" I had a sneaking suspicion I wouldn't like his answer.
"She's tied up at the moment. Literally." He said.
I grimaced. "Mahalia."
"Since you're the reason she's spending time spindling spells for the fae, the task falls to you." He explained.
"She's the reason she's there, not me. She's in their prison for trying to kill me, remember? " I said indignantly.
"Like I said, you're the reason. Seriously Maurin, you know where you'd rather be. Why are we even having this conversation?" Cash knew I didn't want to go to any more of my family functions.
"You haven't met my mother." I said flatly.
"Neither have you." He said and I winced. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."
"No, you're right. I don't owe her anything. I wasn't going for her. Why do I let that woman do this to me? I don't belong there anyway." I mumbled that last part.
"Not your world, kid. You fit in just fine with us. Look if your sister is half as concerned with your feelings as you are with hers she'll understand." Cash was trying to be sympathetic but I could tell his patience was growing thin.
"How come you're here? Why didn't they send somebody else?" I asked suddenly realizing he didn't have time for this crap. He was supposed to be getting ready for the challenge.
"That's what I said." It was his turn to slam a fist on the table. "Olwyn insisted I was the only one you'd listen to with the bloodsucker gone."
Mike was watching us again. We were going to get tossed out if we kept smashing his table. I waived him off and looked at Cash. He'd saved my ass getting me off Winter Island. And Matthison's. I owed him.
"She was right." I muttered, digging in my purse for my phone. Cash signaled for Mike to bring us the check as I scrolled through my contacts for Frankie's number.
She picked up on the third ring. "Maurin, where'd you run off to? Never mind it doesn't matter. If you hurry up and get back home you can ride with us to the rehearsal."
Sometimes I wonder if we grew up in the same house. "Uh Frankie, about the rehearsal," I hesitated.
"You're not coming are you?" She asked over my mother's confirmatio
ns in the background. I could hear her I told you so's through the phone.
"I got called into work. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you. Promise." I sighed, remembering all the times I told her that growing up whenever I bailed on some family obligation she was stuck going to because she really was their family.
"You can try, at the wedding tomorrow." She said, the windchimes were back in her voice as she said goodbye and hung up.
"Why didn't you just tell her the truth?"
"Are you serious? Sorry Frankie, I can't make it tonight because I have to go watch two werewolves try to kill each other over leadership of the Salem pack- because that would have gone over well. Besides, I didn't lie. Technically I am working."
"Whatever. Can we go now?" Cash left a stack of money on the table, more than enough to cover my tab, and slid out of the booth.
I slipped my shoes on and took his hand, letting him pull me across the seat and help me up. "Do I have time to go home and change?"
"I had hoped to talk you out of your clothes someday not help pick them out." He laughed.
I just rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand again and popped us back to my apartment.
Witch Hunt, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series) Page 26
