Southern Witch - Would-Be Witch Part 31

Chapter 29.

I woke early and found out my body didn't ache nearly as bad as it should have. The scratches on my legs had been healed in that spring, and my wrist only throbbed if I c.o.c.ked it all the way back.

Bryn and Zach had both tried to convince me to sleep in a bedroom with them, but I slept on the living room couch with Mercutio instead.

It turned out we'd skipped fall and headed from our freak heat wave right into winter. A cold snap, the weatherman called it. Darn chilly, I called it, and was glad I was inside making a black raspberry torte using Bryn's state-of-the art kitchen instead of outside with him talking to a team of divers who were going to put the merman back in the ocean. A big rig had just been loaded with a temporary tank.

Georgia Sue called, sounding way more cheerful than someone after a near-death experience ought to have. She told me all about the hospital in Dallas, including its lunch menu that tasted nearly as bad as the squirrel stew her momma made once with curry. Then Georgia went on for two full minutes about how Parkland should invest in some Downey fabric softener for its stiff cotton hospital gowns. The thing she barely mentioned was what happened to get her there. She couldn't remember a thing about the park that night. And she seemed totally unconcerned about it, too. Well, that's Georgia Sue, I guess.

I glanced over at Mr. Jenson. He had a very neat, white bandage on his head and, looking as undisturbed as Georgia Sue sounded, he went about his business. He poured a small bowl of cream for Mercutio, who tap danced in antic.i.p.ation like he didn't have a million scratches and st.i.tches on his body.

Mr. Jenson arranged fancy china on a silver tray and then set a pot of tea on it. He poured a bit of expensive Scotch whiskey into each of the two cups and then a tiny drizzle of honey. It looked so nice I wanted to take its picture instead of taking it down the hall to our recovering wolf-bite victims.

"You want some a.r.s.enic to put in that cup?" I asked.

"a.r.s.enic?" he asked, setting down linen napkins while I cut slices of dessert, including one for Mr. Jenson.

"Yeah, for Lennox's cup. Don't guess we'll use enough to kill him since I went to some trouble to save his life, but enough to teach him a lesson for knocking you in the head."

"The circ.u.mstances were most extraordinary yesterday. It doesn't seem worth dwelling on them."

"That's right kind of you." I know it's unchristian to hold grudges, but in my genes I'm part pagan, and I couldn't help but be annoyed on Jenson's behalf. He could've broken a hip or his head when he fell.

Jenson laid an iron pill on each of two small dishes, and I decided I want Jenson to stay with me next time I get the flu.

"I shall take the tray," he said.

"Oh no you don't." I slid the tray to me. "You'll serve Lennox Lyons tea and torte today over my dead body. Kick your feet up and rest."

He might have wanted to protest, but I was quicker and was halfway down the hall before he could answer.

Lennox lay in bed, reading a magazine called WitchWeek. It sure looked interesting, but I pretended not to care. I was gonna try to go back to being a pastry chef again, so I didn't need to know what happened at the last Conclave meeting.

I set the tray down and poured tea into one of the cups. "Why'd you kill Diego, the werewolf?"

"That is none of your business."

"You want cake and tea or not?"

He rolled his eyes and lifted his magazine again. "If you're not going to serve it to me, please remove it."

I clenched my teeth. He was still the king of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

"Fine, you don't want Jenson's whiskey-honey tea, that's your business, not mine." I lifted the tray and was halfway to the door.

"Tamara?"

"What?" I asked without turning around.

"The wolf was holding a weather witch hostage, a friend of mine as it happened. When I tried to liberate her, he attacked us. She died, leaving a rather significant heat wave in her wake. Obviously, I was bitten, but survived. That's all I'll say on the matter."

I turned and set the tray back down. "Iron to build your blood," I said, handing him a pill.

"My own personal Florence Nightingirl. I feel very fortunate," he said dryly, but he put it in his mouth and swallowed it with a mouthful of tea.

I set the dish of cake down with a napkin and started to pick the tray back up to head down the hall to check on Zach.

"I apologize," he said.

"Which thing are you sorry for? 'Cause the list of stuff you could be apologizing for is kind of long."

He smiled. "When I went to your home and when I counter-spelled your family locket, I tangled our magicks together-so far as the werewolves' tracking was concerned. It wasn't intentionally done, but I suppose I owe you an apology."

Darn right.

"Well, I suppose I accept your apology for that." I waited, but he didn't say any more. "Do you think the wolves could've tracked my magical energy to someone else who cast a spell using my blood to power it?"

Lennox took a bite of cake. I held my breath waiting for his reaction. "This dessert is the most important reason that I'm pleased you didn't end up dead during our little adventure."

I decided that the only compliments the man knows how to give are the backhanded kind. Whoever Bryn had learned to be charming from, it sure wasn't his father.

Unfortunately, I was just dumb enough to care that he liked it. He took another bite and closed his eyes to savor it.

"And yes to your question," he added.

Hmm. So the werewolves probably had torn up Doc Barnaby's house looking for me after he'd used power stolen from me to cast his ill-fated wife-raising spell.

I took my tray and knocked gently on Zach's guest room door.

"C'mon in," he called.

I opened the door. Mr. Jenson had laundered Zach's pants as best he could, but there were still a few bloodstains on them. His shirt couldn't be saved, so he wore a borrowed white T-shirt that was too tight. It looked good on him, like most things do.

He stood near the bed, talking on the phone. "Yeah, I'll be there. Gimme 'bout half an hour." He hung up and smiled at me.

"You're up. Feel okay?" I asked, setting the tray down.

"Feel fine. Even better now that I'm looking at you," he said, walking around the bed.

"I brought you some tea with honey."

"You brought me the honey I want, all right," he said, pulling me to him. He felt as solid and strong as ever, and the kiss was so potent I had to sit on the edge of the bed when he let me go.

"Take this. It's an iron pill."

He popped it in his mouth and gulped down the tea with it. He looked in the empty cup. "Not bad." When he looked up, he said, "I've got to go make a report at the station."

"What will you say?"

"Gang violence," he said.

I nodded. Zach didn't mention that they'd been werewolves, so neither did I.

"Don't you want to have some cake?"

"Not right now." He yanked his boots on and walked over to the door. "Hey, that ghost of yours. What's she supposed to look like any way?"

"Black hair. Very pretty. Delicate as this cup."

"Hmm."

"Did you-"

"Now that I'm leaving here, I'll expect you to pack your stuff and head home, too. I'll call you there in an hour."

Just like that, he was back to calling the shots. "I've got some errands to do. I might not be there when you call," I said.

"Errands around town?"

I nodded.

"That's all right, so long as you clear out of here. And I told TJ and Nadine we'd have dinner with them and the kids tonight. To make up for the car business. Maybe you could make a pie or something," he said on his way out the door.

I looked down at the cake I had already spent several hours making and gritted my teeth. Sure, I would make Nadine a pie, but if Zach thought everything was just going to go back to the way it was, we were sure headed for some trouble. Turns out taking on a werewolf pack changes a person.

I took a few bites of torte, letting the b.u.t.tercream melt on my tongue. Delicious. It was good to be alive. I reloaded the tray and returned to the kitchen with it. All the pots and pans were rinsed and already soaking in soapy water. Yep, I love that Jenson.

I sat down at the table and watched Mercutio lick cream off his whiskers.

"Any dessert left?" Bryn asked.

I glanced over my shoulder to see him stroll into the room. He sat next to me at the table. I lifted one of the pretty white china dishes and put a slice of the torte on it for him with a silver spoon.

Bryn took a bite, then licked his lips. "This is incredible."

"Thank you."

We sat quietly considering each other for a few moments. I didn't know how I felt about him siphoning power from me every time he got the chance, but I guessed he had mostly helped me over the past few days, giving me Mercutio, getting me out of jail, saving my life. I supposed that kind of made us friends, even if I couldn't totally trust him.

"I put your gold coins back in your room. On the bench at the foot of the bed."

"I saw. Thank you."

"Sorry about the door. I'll pay for the damage as soon as I get on my feet money-wise."

He waved away the offer. "The door was flimsy. I needed a reminder to replace it."

Bryn's pretty darn generous. I wondered if that might have been because he had a guilty conscience. I kept asking myself, how much had he known and when?

"So, that night that Georgia got bit, Lennox said that he owed Kenny a favor. Do you know why?" I asked.

"Kenny makes his own bullets. My father commissioned him to make several boxes of silver bullets. On his way to meet my father, the sheriff pulled Kenny over for speeding and spotted the ammunition that had been sitting in the pa.s.senger seat. The sheriff wanted to know what was going on, but Kenny wouldn't tell him who he'd made them for or why, so Hobbs confiscated the boxes of bullets."

"Is that why the burglars broke into the sheriff's safe? To get the silver bullets?"

Bryn nodded. "And to keep the sheriff distracted by the break-in at his own house, so Hobbs wouldn't focus on the other things that were happening in town."

"How involved were you in the break-ins?"

"I wasn't. I suspected my father might have orchestrated things when I cast a spell to find my watch, and it was repelled, but he didn't admit to everything until this morning."

"Then why'd you come to Georgia Sue's party?"

"To see you." He smiled. "I had a premonition, of sorts, involving a beautiful girl and some incredible sensory details of a night of-"

"I get the idea," I blurted, holding out a hand to stop him.

"My seer cards have shown me more than usual lately. A red witch kept coming up, often with a lion. At first, I thought the lion meant courage. But then Mercutio came down the Amanos River on a raft, like a feline Huck Finn. The current brought him right to the landing. I knew immediately I was supposed to introduce him to you."

"Yeah, that worked out. He and I get along." I tapped my thumb on the table. "On a raft, huh? I wonder where he came from."

Bryn shrugged.

"Well, I guess I'll go get my things together. The torte will keep fine in a cake dish or Tupper ware in the fridge." I stood and started away from the table. Bryn caught my hand and held it in his.

"I want to see you. Have dinner with me this week."

"I don't-"

"We have things to discuss about our case."

"Case?"

"There will be an inquiry into this matter."

"Zach's giving a statement to the sheriff. They'll chalk it up to gang violence, I guess."

"Not that inquiry. One from the Otherworld community."

"Oh." I tilted my head. "Well, tell them whatever you want, whatever you think is best."

He went right on holding my hand, which tingled in his grasp.

"Still planning to avoid me?"

"It's just one of those things." I wasn't sure if the impending theft of the locket had been the reason we were supposed to stay away from the Lyons family. Now that it had been returned safe, maybe they could come off Lenore's list, but I'd have to wait to talk to Momma and Aunt Mel about it when they got back. I tugged, and he let my hand go reluctantly.

"Sutton doesn't have the market cornered on tenacity."