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She would call Arden, wherever she had gone, and warn her off. The girls looked out for one another.
Voices carried from across the street, and I regretted the spectacle I had made of myself.
“Leave this town,” I warned Delma. “I will kill you if I see you again.”
“We’ll see.” An ugly smile revealed teeth too sharp to be human as she stood. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“You sound just like her.”
“Who?”
Friends and neighbors flocked to me as Delma retreated, her otherness no longer keeping them at bay, and I was stuck. I couldn’t chase after her without appearing like the aggressor, and our conversation wasn’t for human ears. She had planned her exit well. Did that mean she had engineered the confrontation too? Or had she benefited from timing and what constituted the morning rush around here?
Delma didn’t answer, and if I attempted a citizen’s arrest to hold on to her, it would get ugly.
As much as it stuck in my craw to do it, I had to let her go. For now. And file her parting shot until I could spare time to make sense of it.
Aware Camber was alone in the shop, I thanked everyone for their support and rushed to her.
At the door, she greeted me with heaving sobs and shaking limbs as she clung to me.
“Are you okay?” I held her tight and rocked her. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”
“I’m not scared.” She turned her tear-stained face up to me. “I’m pissed off, and you know how it goes.”
True enough, Camber cried when she got mad. Puffy eyes, runny nose, the whole shebang. She hated it.
“Are you sure?” I cupped her cheeks and forced her to hold my stare. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m tired of being scared.” She gripped my wrists. “I’m not a victim.”
“No.” I let her read my sincerity. “You’re not.”
“What you did out there…” she squared her shoulders, “…I want to learn how to do that.”
“That’s a conversation.” I didn’t say no, not when it might empower her, but I had to ask, “Where’s Arden?”
“She ducked into the diner to wait it out.” Her lips quirked. “She’s not happy about it, but she did it.”
This bold streak in Arden worried me, but we all coped in different ways, and Camber had a good idea.
I never learned a fighting style. I was taught how to fight. Dirty. Takedown moves, submission holds, that kind of thing. Not that I could tell her, but Clay was responsible for most of those skills. The director confined my education to magic.
I was meant to be a well-rounded black witch, not a well-rounded person.
“What do you say we pick her up and play hooky for the day?”
“No.” Camber ditched me for the register. “That woman? She doesn’t get to win.”
Tears pricked the backs of my eyelids. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Maybe walk Arden over?” She attempted a smile. “You’re a total badass. You can be our bodyguard.”
“I’m happy to do it.” I pushed the words out through a tight throat. “You know I love you guys, right?”
“We both know.” Camber kept going with the opening routine. “We’re lucky to have you.”
