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So much for stealth.
“Hey, Cheryl?” I called. “It’s me.”
After a moment she said, “Kitty? What are you doing here?”
I winced. “Long story. Can you put the mutt inside? Then I’ll tell you all about it.” Well, I’d tell her some of it.
“Mutt?” she said, indignant. “He has papers!”
Whatever. But the commotion was moving away as she presumably hauled Bucky into the house.
Cheryl was my older sister. I’d idolized her when we were kids, even though we’d fought like heathens. Now she had settled into suburban bliss, with the nice house in a new subdivision, the swell husband, the two kids, and the dog, all with names out of a 1950s sitcom. But she still wore jeans and band T-shirts and listened to punk when the kids were napping. I loved my sister. We still occasionally fought like heathens.
When the backyard was quiet, I opened the gate and continued spreading the blood potion. Cheryl met me halfway across the backyard. Bucky was at the sliding glass door, barking at us, spitting dog slobber on the glass.
She wrinkled her nose when she saw what I was doing. “What is that?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Is that going to kill my lawn?”
That was something I hadn’t considered. But blood was high in nutrients, right? A fertilizer? “No,” I said, and hoped I was right.
“Okay,” she drawled, hands on hips, glaring at me. “I may regret asking this, but why are you doing this?”
I tried to be as brief and clear as possible. “There’s this demon attacking me—it’s responsible for the fire at New Moon. This is a protection potion. It’s supposed to keep you all safe.”
She let me work in silence for a few more moments. Then, “Why is this demon attacking you?”
“I pissed some people off in Vegas. Long story.”
Another long pause before she said, “Kitty, you’re my sister and I love you, but have you ever considered another line of work?”
I had absolutely no response to that. I giggled. “I’m sorry. I try to be careful, honest. These things just happen.”
“Are we really in danger? Is this like last time?”
“No, this is nothing like last time, and you’re not in danger. This is just a precaution.” This was like dealing with the pack—I had to sound confident.
Cheryl looked skeptical.
“So,” I said. “How are Mark and the kids?”
“They’re fine. You’re changing the subject.”
I stopped and faced her. “This’ll work. And you have to promise not to tell Mom. I did their house already. They don’t need to know.”
I expected her to argue, but she didn’t. Because she understood. We both wanted to protect our mother from anything that might upset her. This would probably upset her.
She walked with me as I finished the circle of protection. Mission accomplished.
“I guess I’d better get going,” I said.
“How much trouble are you in, really?” she said, arms crossed.
“A lot, I think. But I’m working on it.”
“Be careful.” She sounded very serious.
