Page 55 of Bewicched

“Mom! Stop being a dick and wait for me inside, okay?” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but this was out of line.

“I won’t be spoken to like that.” Spells were about to explode out of her.

I held up my hand, trying to stave off a meltdown. “Declan is out here doing his job and you’re insulting him.”

“Is it his job to insert himself in our conversations or to throw you off the deck?” Mom was so brittle, I thought she might crack.

“We’re becoming friends.” I paused, trying to figure out what was really going on. This was so out of character for her. Imperious? Sure. Ready to throw down? No way.

Behind me, I heard Declan blow out another breath. “I don’t have a permanent address. Not because I’m untrustworthy or evading the law, but because I’m not a pack member. I move on before the local Alpha comes knocking.”

When she just stared, her gaze hostile with a side of homicidal rage, he continued.

“I didn’t grow up in a pack. My father was Alexander Quinn. He and my mother were murdered when I was a toddler. My aunt took me in and raised me in the mundane world. I didn’t know what I was until I shifted the first time.

“My aunt moved us around so no one asked too many questions. After she passed away, I stayed on the road. I don’t have a home or people to speak for me. I get that that makes me seem sketchy to you. I have my own money. I don’t need yours or your daughter’s. I like working with my hands, enjoy building furniture and the occasional deck.”

“I didn’t know you made furniture,” I interjected. “Do you have pictures of your pieces?”

He nodded and pulled out his phone, swiping through it to find his photos. “Here you go.” He handed me his phone before returning his attention to my mom. “As for today, I heard her say that a swim in the ocean usually brightens her mood. Since she seemed to need it, I tossed her in.”

“These are really beautiful,” I said, scrolling through. “You have a gift.”

He looked over my shoulder. “Thanks.”

“This headboard and footboard? I must have them.” He’d carved an incredible forest scene into them. They were works of art.

“Can’t have those. They were a commission and I’ve delivered. Besides, that set isn’t right for you. If you want a bed set, let me think about it. I’ll come up with a sketch and show it to you.”

“Perfect,” I said, excited about my future bed.

“No,” Mom said. “It’s not perfect. None of this is perfect!”

I turned back to Mom, handing Declan his phone. “What’s really going on here? Why are you acting so crazy?”

She looked like she was about to scream and then her eyes got shiny. “Sylvia is trapped in a coma and now another Quinn wolf is sniffing around this family. Bridget disappeared, Arwyn. My sister. She married that wolf, and then he was killed and she’s been on the run ever since, trying to hide herself and my niece from whatever is hunting them. Is it a wolf? This sorcerer? I can’t lose you, not my daughterandanother sister. I won’t!”

Oh. I was an idiot. “Declan, would you excuse us, please.”

He walked back to the end of the deck and resumed nailing in planks.

“Come on, Mom. Let’s go inside.” I closed the door after us and walked her to the couch. After she sat, I went to the kitchen to brew a new pot. I wanted to give her time to settle while I futzed around. I knew my mother. The loss of composure was killing her right now, especially in front of a strange wolf.

Once the pot was ready, I added two cups and carried the tray to the table. I poured hers, placed it between her cold hands, and then poured one for myself. Instead of my chair, I sat beside her on the couch.

I took a sip, put the cup down, and then turned to her. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.” I gestured to the whole of the studio. “Look at this place. It’s what I’ve always wanted. And this cannery; you know I’ve always felt a connection to this place. The gallery is my dream.

“Plus, I just took my place on the Council. You think I’m going to finally agree to that and then take off? I know Bridget is a strong wicche, a gifted one. She was supposed to be the third on the Council, but remember something, Mom. Are you listening?” When she met my gaze, I said, “She’s not me.”

Mom turned to look at me and then let out a breath. “No, she isn’t. She’s strong, you’re right, but she isn’t you.” She shook her head, the ice starting to melt. “No one is.”

“Right? And we’re not going to let that demon have Aunt Sylvia. I got a hold of my demon and he said he’d come.”

Mom brightened at that news. “When?”

I shrugged. “No idea, but his girlfriend promised he would, and I got the impression she’d push him if he stalled.”

“Okay,” Mom said, finally raising the cup to her lips. “Okay. He’ll come and we’ll tear Sylvia from their grip.” She blinked rapidly.

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