Page 43 of Goblins Don't Count
“About those murders like you used our circle for the last time? How did you deny the summoning? How did you…” She pointed a waxy nail at me. “It’s the new magic inside of you, turning you into a true abomination!”
Well, that kind of hurt my feelings.
“Nonsense,” Winston snapped, his voice loud and strong. “You’re feeding into the cycle of superstitious fear. That is exactly what will be your own undoing. Rynne was doing her duty as a police officer of Singsong City. There’s nothing twisted about her or her magic. And goblins can be extremely useful allies, particularly if you’re worried about property damage, or more personal kinds. You need to control this situation, and I have a platform on which you can do it.”
“What do you mean?” my mother asked, looking from him to me with growing alarm. “She’s not a police officer.”
It was suddenly so quiet, you could hear the daggers in my mother’s eyes stab me right through the heart. I edged away from her, shaking my head. “I’m not,” I insisted, although my tongue wanted to tell her everything so loudly that everyone could hear.
She pointed at Winston. “You said that she’s a police officer.”
“Did I? I must have been thinking about someone else,” Winston said, backtracking, throwing me an apologetic look, like that could take back the horrific crime of blackmailing me and then exposing me anyway after I capitulated.
I edged away from the group, but they were herding me into the big oak tree, where they’d probably hang me.
“Rynne,” my mother snapped, pointing a purple painted nail at me. “Tell me the truth!”
“I…” I struggled to not say anything, to somehow escape, but the more I struggled, the harder and colder her eyes became, until I was looking at a stranger.
“You’re a police officer. After all the times I explained that a witch couldn’t be under someone else’s authority, because it would eat away your loyalty to the coven and your family, but you did it anyway,” my mother said, shaking her head, lips turning white she was pressing them together so hard. “And that’s what you’ve been lying about all this time? This is the cause that you devoted your life and soul to? Following someone else’s orders and all for what? The police do nothing for anyone who isn’t an angel or a fairy. You’re feeding the system that oppresses you!”
Portalia moved in, jabbing a sharp finger at me. So many pointy fingers. So much jabbing. “You are no member of our coven if you’re sworn in to protect the city over your own.”
I pushed her hands away. “It’s not like that. I want to change the system. I want to be part of the solution. You can’t do that from the outside. I’m still a witch, but we need to all work together.”
My mother said, voice rising, “Work together? You’ve been wasting your magic, your potential, covering it with lies and falsehoods that eat it away! You could have been stronger if only you’d been true to yourself. I had to spell you to truth, but that was weeks ago. Your lies have become part of you.”
A sharp dagger pierced into my heart and twisted. My mother had put a truth spell on me? That was more than intrusive. That was a betrayal. Mr. Raccoon scrambled through the crowd, hissing and scratching so that the witches backed off, looking startled and shocked.
Let’s bite them all!His voice rang in my head, like a battle cry. Of course it did. He was picking up on my emotions, but he hadn’t learned to cover them up with a polite façade.
I took a steadying breath and scooped him up, squeezing him tight for a second. “You put a truth spell on me? You’ll never let me live my own life. I’m not you. I’m not any of you,” I said, glaring around at the other witches. “You claim to want to be free, but heaven forbid anyone else chooses a different kind of freedom. I want to make a difference! That’s what I’m doing. If you can’t respect that, or understand that, or me, then I don’t belong in this coven. Or this family,” I added, giving my mother a look that was probably too hurt, too honest. Then again, she’s the one who wanted the truth.
I spun around and marched away, clinging to my raccoon and not looking back.
ChapterThirteen
After I went home and packed a suitcase, I went straight to the bank. Were they open on Saturdays? According to Mr. Raccoon, Sashimi had been working there, so it must be.
When I got to the front doors, they opened for me automatically, and while the lobby was deserted, the elevator worked when I went to it.
When the door opened to his office, I marched in to find Sashimi behind his desk surrounded by piles of paper, notes here and there while his fingers flew on some kind of calculator, only it made a loud clicking sound from his clawed fingers. There was a pile of the machines to the side of the desk that were in various states of smashed.
“Rynne,” he said, standing, and probably losing whatever complicated computation he was doing in his head.
I swallowed hard and clung to Mr. Raccoon, but he didn’t mind. He was tough, like a goblin. “I have two questions.”
He frowned, looking unsettled, wary. “Two questions? I’m not an oracle. I don’t answer questions.”
I shook my head. “Not that kind of question. First, what is the going rate for assassination?”
His dark brow rose. “That depends entirely on who you wanted assassinated. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Winston the Warlock. Do you know him?”
“Ah. He’s very famous. Very difficult not to know.”
“He told everyone, even after I gave in to his blackmail! I guess that’s a lesson for me. Never trust a blackmailer.” I rubbed my forehead and then peered at him, feeling like an idiot. “So, the second question…”
