“Well, we sometimes have colorful ways of puttin’ things. It’s just how we talk, but there was this once I was really mad and I called my ex-boyfriend a flea-bitten dog.”
“Oh, dear. Let me guess…you witnessed him scratching his skin raw?”
Gwyneth couldn’t hold it back any longer. She burst out laughing. “How did you know? He even took a flea bath!”
“I teach my students to avoid using magic in anger. Careless words can easily backfire on the witch.”
“Yeah, I think that happened—even with all my self-protection stuff. I couldn’t get the smell of wet dog out of my nose for a solid week.”
Josie covered her mouth as if trying to hide a smile. Eventually, she cleared her throat and refocused theconversation. “Could your friend Sly be mistaken for someone called ‘Maker’ by anyone who doesn’t know him?”
“He never made another vampire. I’m not sure if makin’ other stuff counts. I know he made a daughter before he was turned.”
“Better be specific and only refer to the wax figure as “Sly’s vampire maker” until you find out his real name. If your friend is also barred from the residence, you’ll know it wasn’t enough of a differentiation.”
“And what would we do in that case?”
Josie shrugged. “Simply invite him in again.”
“Oh.” Gwyneth hit her head with the heel of her hand. “Duh.”
Chapter seven
“This better work,” Morgaine muttered.
Gwyneth who had been kneeling by the front door rose and placed a hand on her hip. “Or what?”
“Or Sly will probably be afraid to leave his apartment.”
Gwyneth huffed and returned to her work. She had made the ointment according to Josie’s directions and was now filling the cracks around the door with it, like caulk. “Cain’t one vampire settle things with another vampire in a fair fight?”
“Something tells me Sly would be the only one fighting fair. Besides, he was made twenty-six years ago and is considered a child in the vampire world.”
In some ways, Gwyneth struck Morgaine as a child in a witch’s world. Since she was five years younger and hadn’t been practicing seriously until she moved to Boston, she’d felt it her responsibility to help her cousin catch up.
“How old is his maker?”
“I have no idea, but Sly seems to think he’s ancient. I think some vampires lose their humanity over time and this one seems to have none left.”
“I wish I was as psychic as y’all, Morgaine. I shoulda known he was evil while I was speakin’ to him—even over the intercom.”
“It’s the same principle for witches. The longer we practice, the more psychic we become. I think everyone is psychic to an extent, but some try to develop it, and some don’t. You just haven’t been at it as long as I have.”
“Yeah, I wasted a few too many years trying to get dear, drunk Dwayne off his inebriated ass. Thank the Goddess I didn’t marry him.”
“I don’t think anything is wasted, Gwyneth. You did your best to help him, but some people are determined to self-destruct. You can feel good about your role in that relationship. You did everything you could. It was time to walk away.”
Morgaine thought about how she might take her own advice. She had taught Gwyneth as much as she could for as long as the younger witch was willing to learn. But when the willingness stopped, so did the learning.
“Yeah, an’ I thought I was helpin’ Dwayne for a while.”
“When did you know it was hopeless?”
Gwyneth finished spreading the ointment around the door and wiped her right hand on a towel. “Long about the time he came home drunk with another drunk woman and told me to shove over so he’d have room to fuck her right next to me. Said he was tired of sneakin’ around.”
Morgaine shook her head. “You don’t deserve that, Gwyneth. You deserve someone who loves you so much he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”
“I know that—now. Do y’all think Sly feels that way about you?”
