Page 85 of Home to the Hollow

Humph.

I was doing a perfectly fine job of calming the pup down. Hamilton is such an ass when he decides he wants to mark his bloody territory. I’ll show him later, though, when Tilly gets back. I order some brand new?—

“Oi, mutt!”

I turn, feeling the fire dance in my veins as the usually silent brick wall yells at me from across the room. “Ah, so hecanspeak. I wondered.”

Zasha rushes forward, ever the diplomat. “Now, boys. No need to get in a scrap. We have to present a united front at the trial. Otherwise, we won’t be able to win any of the wildcards over.”

Blinking, I look at him and then the nodding behemoth. “Since when do wildcards show up for a small town trial over a fight in the newspaper?”

“Since the small town bitches posted their idiocy to theirblogsfor the paper before the fight and now it’s not about an internal struggle in town. It’s a breach of protocol. Wildcards from surrounding areas will be at the meeting to help keep the vote from being swayed by personal relationships,” Julia says. Her gold and green gaze holds mine for a moment, and I shake my head, breaking the contact.

Fucking snakes.It’s bad enough I have to deal with Tilly’s clingy ass new companion, but adding in O’Flanagan’s scaly consort is not my idea of a good time.

“Then we discuss strategy in the car as we head to the entrance. Haggerty is meeting us at the door. O’Flanagan, make sure we have enough earwigs from my drugar’s stash downstairs for everyone to be wired. We may have to split up during the cocktail hour to curry votes from all the old farts they brought in to sway the proceedings. Everyone clear?”

You’d think the general would get salutes or even choruses of agreement, but all I get are grumbles and middle fingers.

Have I mentioned how much I hate fucking brats that aren’t Jolene?

* * *

“I can’t believewe’re having a trial at all,” the jowly man in an ancient, tight dress uniform of some type grumbles around the brandy he’s sharing with several other founding family patriarchs. “The girl got distraught and made a terrible decision. Womenfolk do that. And this Whitley girl needs to remember her place. She’s the disgrace here, if you ask me. You all remember the Catastrophe…”

Rage surges through me and I feel every bit of me pushing to get out all at once at Reginald Whitman Behle’s snide commentary. I stalk over to him and let him get a taste of whichever side wins the battle as I cross the floor. That is until a hand grabs my shirt and yanks me aside.

“Look, you tosser. I’m no more fond of you than you are of me, and we haven’t had our words yet about my Tíogair. But if you attack an ex-diplomat and the accused’s father during cocktails, we won’t make any friends. Leave him to his crusty old misogyny.”

I snort, shaking my head as he eases his grip. “No wonder his wife is schtupping her cameraman.”

The red-haired git grins and shrugs. “Well, he didn’t produce a male heir, and Amy came out human. She had to come from somewhere and it wasn’t a mage and warlock.”

Nowthatwould be a wonderful secret to expose. Knowing it would make Tilly giggle—if I could tell her. Ah, well. I’ll save it for later. A woman as stupid as Amy Matilda Behle is bound to fuck up again if she survives this process. “How are the others doing with vote counting, Haggerty?”

“Well… it helps that your bottom is so feckin’ pretty. Every female in the room is dying just by looking at him. Knowing our girl owns his leash doesn’t help much, but the charming grin and the occasional flourish he’s giving with his power is helping. I’m certain he’s charmed a few of the tourists into hearing our side.”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Not. My. Bottom.” His eyes dance and I look up at the ceiling, wondering what grievous sin I committed to have to deal with the inordinate amount of fucking sass I now get daily. My life was fairly squared away before Tilly came crashing in, bringing all of this chaos with her. People did what I said, and I didn’t get all this lip.

“You can stand here and tell tragic lies to yourself or we can go find out who the voodoo queen in the corner is. She might be a guardian, but since those bastards are like rabbits breeding, I don’t know them all anymore,” Haggerty chuckles, downing the last of his Jameson.

I sigh, knowing there isn’t time to argue if we’re going to curry favor before they call us downstairs to proceed with the main event of the evening. We need to make sure this shit doesn’t swing in the other direction and possibly earn Tilly a forced emergence. That never goes well, and it usually breaks the supe so severely that they either go insane or they refuse to accept their supe side.

A gong rings before I can muse further, and everything in my body tenses. We’re too late.

“Ladies and gentleman, it is time to make your way to your seats for the trial. The Honorable Senator Edgar Olivier Boone II and The Honorable Mayor Cornelia Sykes will be presiding. You have five minutes to get situated.”

Thanks, Pop. You’re a real mensch.

I Can Buy My Own Drinks

Jax is thrashed.

He’s been flirting with every guy in the bar like they’re a ten, but even by small town standards, we haven’t been approached by better than a six.

I don’t know why he insisted we go for drinks after our gossip sesh; his heart isn’t in this. I suspect the frequently mentioned Eli is part of his reluctance, but his stories are also peppered with names of other guys I’ve never heard of, so maybe his plate is full at the moment.

Why the bar crawl?

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