Page 59 of Wicche Hunt

Otis Racoon’s Jug Band

It was late and I was exhausted, but I did my best to stay awake while Declan drove me home. “So, it turns out my mom and dad loved each other.”

He reached over and held my hand. “That’s always the hope. What happened?”

“The family. Mom was expected to step into her role as next in line to lead. She missed Council meetings, let some things drop. You know, had a life. If he’d been a nice wicche, I think there would have been more leniency and understanding. Fae blood sullying the Corey line was a problem, though.”

Declan’s hand squeezed mine. “So it’s okay for you to be half fae, as they need a Cassandra wicche to live a long life in order to help them. But any other little half-fae-ling running around is a threat to the supremacy of the Corey line?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell them to go fuck themselves.” He turned onto the coast road.

“She was young—eighteen or nineteen—and had been groomed since birth to take the mantle when it was time. Telling them to fuck themselves would mean walking away from her family, from her whole world.”

“They wouldn’t have let her leave with you. She had all the power,” he said.

“Maybe, but you don’t have it if you don’t know it. And she didn’t.” I blew out a breath and crossed my arms, staring at the moonlight dancing on the waves.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your scent changed.”

“My—” Right. Wolves could smell emotions. Cool yet creepy. “It’s just that I’ve always seen Gran as the one on my side. Great-Gran didn’t care for me. I remember catching looks from her when I was little. She scared me. I don’t think she trusted a half-fae seer. Gran, though, once she took over as the crone, always backed me up. Mom wanted me to stop playing in the abandoned, horribly dangerous cannery. Gran tells me to go have fun.”

Declan gave a chuff of annoyance.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Finish your thought.” He parked in front of the gallery and cut off the engine.

It felt so wrong to say anything against Gran, but… “Her daughter was happy and in love. She was pregnant and Gran didn’t step in to stop the rest of the family, to defend her daughter.” I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Now that I know the story, all the times Gran rolled her eyes at Mom, sided with me against her—damn, those were such dick moves.”

I started to tear up. Saying anything against Gran hurt my heart. “What? Her daughter was just a tool, the conduit to a healthy Cassandra wicche? If she meant so little, let her be with her love. If she’s powerful—and she is—and next in line, then show her the proper respect. Recognize her choices as her own, not subject to committee approval.”

“Yes, but like your mother, your Gran was also conditioned since infancy to follow the word of the elders. And given your memory of your great grandmother, she might have tried but was shot down.”

“Yeah. There’s that. I just wish she could have been more obviously supportive of her own daughter, the way she was of me. It makes me question…”

“If she was indulgent of you, her granddaughter, or of you, the Corey’s Cassandra?”

I unbuckled and leaned into him. “Yeah.”

Tapping my forehead gently, he said, “And what are you really thinking in there?”

Grinning, I looked up at him. “Getting my mom and dad back together.”

“And there she is.” He unbuckled his seat belt, grabbed my backpack, and stepped out of the truck. “Step one in your quest would seem be to be meeting him.”

I slammed the door, and he caught my hand in his as we walked around the side of the gallery. “Yes. That seems like a good step one.”

“It occurs to me,” he said, “that someone has a big grand opening of her new art gallery coming up. Maybe your dad might want to attend.”

Declan and I were talking quietly and the ocean was loud, so it was odd when he stopped walking and put a finger in front of his lips to shh me. Grinning, he motioned me forward.

As I was sure he wouldn’t blithely send me into danger, I ran around the corner, setting off the security lights, and found three little raccoons on their hind legs, front paws out, like they were warding off velociraptors, completely frozen in the sudden light. All three were crowded around the back door of my studio, no doubt trying to figure out how to break in and steal baked goods.

“I can see you, you know.” Two of them went down to all fours and backed away. The third was still frozen. I crouched down. “Aww, buddy. It’s okay.” I realized he was looking over my shoulder at Declan. “Squat down, scary wolf.”

He did, handing me my backpack. “I smell a muffin in there. That might help.”

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