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He snorted. “You mean, are we good blood hounds?”
“Something of that nature. In the wild, wolves hunt and track their prey.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if you could smell the tree trunk that was holding the camera. Maybe you can catch a scent? Maybe track the person down that way?”
“So, you want to know if I can track the stalker down?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “It’s not that I don’t trust the cops but they have their hands full with the serial killer, as well as every other idiot around town who decides to get in a bar brawl.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I doubt if I can do anything. Icantake a look. There is a small chance that, when I’m in wolf form, I’ll smell something. I have Bree’s number. I’ll text her tomorrow and give it a try. Chances are, whoever planted those devices did it some time ago. Smells dissipate quickly.” He cleared his throat. “So, Friday night…Will I get to meet your great-grandmother then? Or am I being conveniently relegated to the closet, along with all your other skeletons?”
“I know it doesn’t seem fair, but Faron, you know how you and I butted heads at first? Multiply that by a thousand. I told Grams we were dating. She didn’t take it well.” It wasn’t like we were engaged. If we were, I would have one-hundred percent stood up for him. But it was easier to leave things quiet for now. “She didn’t forbid me to see you, but she’s not happy.”
“I can change her mind,” he said, then before I could respond, added, “I’ll talk to you later. I’ll text Bree tomorrow.” And the line went silent.
I stared at my phone for a moment, feeling vaguely guilty, but I didn’t have the energy to soothe his ego, so I pocketed my phone and returned to the table, where we went back to our tea while waiting for Daisy.
* * *
After Daisy finished talkingto Bree, she promised to have a patrol car make a couple passes by the house during the night.
Grams, Bran and I headed back to my house. Bran headed for home, while Grams kissed me goodnight and retired to the guest room. I decided to spend some time with the stars and, once on the patio, I leaned back in the rocking chair, staring at the skies. A moment later, Fancypants joined me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, flying over to land on my shoulder.
“I don’t know, to be honest. Grams…is both exactly what I expected and yet, nothing like I expected. I know that sounds contradictory, but…”
“Are you unhappy with her? You sound unhappy.”
I gazed up at the spreading field of stars overhead. “No, not withher. To be honest, I’m unhappy withme. With how I behaved on the phone with Faron tonight. I feel like I’m pretending like he doesn’t exist. I know I hurt his feelings. Yet, I don’t want Grams tearing him to shreds.” I searched my feelings. Was I being truthful with myself? Or was I lying to myself again? I searched my heart, but mostly I realized that I was tired. I was tired of grieving. I was tired of living in fear. I was tired of feeling guilty.
“You’re at a crossroads, you know,” Fancypants said. “You’re being forced to make choices.”
“I know, and that pisses me off. I want to be left alone in peace.” But the words felt hollow. I would never be in peace—not again. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
“Aren’t you a little bit angry?” Fancypants asked.
I glanced at him. He’d flown from my shoulder to the arm of the bench. “What do you mean?”
“You always sidestep the mention of anger. You talk about guilt and fear, but, I think you’re angry at Rian for leaving you. You’re angry he died and you feel guilty over that anger.”
I sat still, trying to ignore the rumblings that echoed in my heart. Fancypants was right, even though I didn’t want to admit it. For over a year, I’d ignored the feelings because they made me feel guilty, and that in turn, made me angrier. But the dam broke, and I glared at the dragonette, my words pouring out in an angry flood.
“Of courseI’m angry he died!” I burst into tears. “All right, I’m angry at Rian. Are you happy now? He died and left me alone. I know he couldn’t help it, and he was protecting me, but he died and I sat there, watching him die. I watched the blood drain out of him. I watched him have an orgasm as the Butcher killed him. I watched the rats come in to eat on his body while I was forced to sit there, alone, unable to do anything. I watched everything happen, and I wasn’t allowed to look away?—”
At that moment, the front door opened and Grams came out, wearing a long robe over her nightgown. “Whatever’s going on out here? What’s the matter?”
She swooped in and sat near me, pulling me into her arms. “Tell me what happened.”
“I…” I didn’t know how to begin to explain, but I finally choked out the words. “I’ve had these panic attacks ever since Rian died. I get so angry?—”
“Survivor’s guilt,” Fancypants said.
“I’ve worked with a therapist,” I said. “I’ve done all that, but I’mstillangry. He died and left me here to deal with all of these memories. It’s not rational, I know that. Even though he came to me and asked me to let go, it’s so hard.”
“Well, that’s why we call it emotion. It’s not logical. Few of our feelings and actions are, when you get down to it. But Elphyra, you’re a MacPherson. And MacPhersons carry on.”
