flicking her hand in dismissal. “Cranberry moccasins.” She gestured at her little group, and they linked hands again.
I had no idea what she’d said about me, but it was bitchy as hell, I could tell that much.
“Oh, hell no!” Maurice said. He snagged Pansy’s arm at the elbow—a feat he had to bend to perform—and spun her toward the street. “All of you. Out. Now. Pansy, I took a lot of crap from you when we were married, but this isn’t just about me. I swear to the gods, you will not ruin what I have now and you will not hurt the people I love.”
He sounded like himself, mostly, with a little extra snarl thrown in. I wasn’t concerned for anyone’s safety, nor for the acid-burned spots on the grass next to the driveway. It was all illusion. As soon as he calmed down, Maurice would be back to his old skinny self, and the grass would as it had been too. The only person I might’ve been concerned for was Pansy, but I didn’t give a damn what he did to her. As far as I was concerned, the bitch had been asking for it ever since she’d cheated on my friend, then treated him like a housekeeper while she’d carried on with her affair.
He frog-marched her toward the street and, after a moment, her stunned companions followed. At the road, he gave her a little shove before letting go. “Don’t you ever set so much as a toe on Zoey’s property again, Pansy. I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but you leave us out of it.”
I heard Maurice because he was still shouting. I couldn’t hear anything that Pansy said—not that I’d have understood it. I could see her, though, standing out on the road in front of my house, surrounded by a mismatched group of monsters dressed as humans.
She lifted one arm in a slow, grinding arc and pointed at me.
Whatever she said, it pissed off Maurice further, and he threw his head back and howled.
I’d never heard him make that noise before—something like a grizzly bear’s growl in a wind tunnel crossed with the echoey call of a beached humpback whale. I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goosebumps that appeared.
Pansy ran, and the others followed.
After a minute, Maurice made his way toward the house, shrinking and looking less terrifying with every step.
I reached for him when he came near, and he gave me a halfhearted smile. “I need a drink.” He walked past me and into the house.
“Holy shit,” Kam said. “Should we go in with him?”
I shook my head. “Mom’s in there with him. Give them a bit.”
“And Sara,” Riley said, folding his arms.
“Hmmph.” I wasn’t sure what to make of Maurice’s relationship with Sara. They were friends. He was protective as hell of her. And I knew she had feelings she hadn’t shared with him. To compound matters, his childhood sweetheart—an under-the-bed monster named Stacy—had recently joined our little family.
For a few months, Stacy had been living with us, working for Maurice as a punishment I’d given her for going on a walkabout in the middle of tourist season in San Francisco. Had I realized the two had a past, I might have offered a different penance for her to perform. When they were young, Maurice had broken Stacy’s heart and dumped her for that ridiculous, mean-spirited gargoyle he married. But neither Maurice nor Stacy had been forthcoming about their past heartaches until Stacy had been with us a few days. By that time, I figured they probably needed to sort their baggage anyway.
Even without being an empath, I could tell Stacy still had feelings for Maurice. And Maurice had feelings for her—even if a large part of those feelings was guilt.
After a month or so, they’d seemed at peace with each other. Stacy went back home a few weeks later, but the damage was done. Stacy’s feelings had expanded, and any idiot could tell she had fallen completely in love with Maurice again—any idiot but Maurice. Stacy was a frequent visitor now, helping of her own free will, fluttering
I had no idea what she’d said about me, but it was bitchy as hell, I could tell that much.
“Oh, hell no!” Maurice said. He snagged Pansy’s arm at the elbow—a feat he had to bend to perform—and spun her toward the street. “All of you. Out. Now. Pansy, I took a lot of crap from you when we were married, but this isn’t just about me. I swear to the gods, you will not ruin what I have now and you will not hurt the people I love.”
He sounded like himself, mostly, with a little extra snarl thrown in. I wasn’t concerned for anyone’s safety, nor for the acid-burned spots on the grass next to the driveway. It was all illusion. As soon as he calmed down, Maurice would be back to his old skinny self, and the grass would as it had been too. The only person I might’ve been concerned for was Pansy, but I didn’t give a damn what he did to her. As far as I was concerned, the bitch had been asking for it ever since she’d cheated on my friend, then treated him like a housekeeper while she’d carried on with her affair.
He frog-marched her toward the street and, after a moment, her stunned companions followed. At the road, he gave her a little shove before letting go. “Don’t you ever set so much as a toe on Zoey’s property again, Pansy. I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but you leave us out of it.”
I heard Maurice because he was still shouting. I couldn’t hear anything that Pansy said—not that I’d have understood it. I could see her, though, standing out on the road in front of my house, surrounded by a mismatched group of monsters dressed as humans.
She lifted one arm in a slow, grinding arc and pointed at me.
Whatever she said, it pissed off Maurice further, and he threw his head back and howled.
I’d never heard him make that noise before—something like a grizzly bear’s growl in a wind tunnel crossed with the echoey call of a beached humpback whale. I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goosebumps that appeared.
Pansy ran, and the others followed.
After a minute, Maurice made his way toward the house, shrinking and looking less terrifying with every step.
I reached for him when he came near, and he gave me a halfhearted smile. “I need a drink.” He walked past me and into the house.
“Holy shit,” Kam said. “Should we go in with him?”
I shook my head. “Mom’s in there with him. Give them a bit.”
“And Sara,” Riley said, folding his arms.
“Hmmph.” I wasn’t sure what to make of Maurice’s relationship with Sara. They were friends. He was protective as hell of her. And I knew she had feelings she hadn’t shared with him. To compound matters, his childhood sweetheart—an under-the-bed monster named Stacy—had recently joined our little family.
For a few months, Stacy had been living with us, working for Maurice as a punishment I’d given her for going on a walkabout in the middle of tourist season in San Francisco. Had I realized the two had a past, I might have offered a different penance for her to perform. When they were young, Maurice had broken Stacy’s heart and dumped her for that ridiculous, mean-spirited gargoyle he married. But neither Maurice nor Stacy had been forthcoming about their past heartaches until Stacy had been with us a few days. By that time, I figured they probably needed to sort their baggage anyway.
Even without being an empath, I could tell Stacy still had feelings for Maurice. And Maurice had feelings for her—even if a large part of those feelings was guilt.
After a month or so, they’d seemed at peace with each other. Stacy went back home a few weeks later, but the damage was done. Stacy’s feelings had expanded, and any idiot could tell she had fallen completely in love with Maurice again—any idiot but Maurice. Stacy was a frequent visitor now, helping of her own free will, fluttering
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