Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(17)

He whimpered again, shook his head, and bowed his shoulders, his words slurred, as though he struggled to speak over his mouthful of teeth. “I’s just playing.”

“No playing with humans; you’ll hurt them.” I softened my tone, and he lifted a dark eyebrow at me over a bright-gold eye, hope lighting his features.

“You play?”

“No, go home.”

He bobbed his head and tried to go around me. “Home, good. Outside.”

I pointed at the Wall. “No. The north side of the Wall is your home. Go on now.”

Another low whine slid from him as he turned, tucked his tail between his legs, and scuttled back the way he’d come. He glanced over his shoulder once and stuck his overlong bright-pink tongue out at me. It flipped a good four inches out of his mouth. “No fun,” he grumbled.

I stood there and made sure he went back behind the Wall. He sat down right at the edge and stared at me. I rolled my eyes. At least he was listening. Sort of.

“You stopped him,” the Irish-accented girl said, awe in her voice.

I turned to look at the lady protestor. “Well, I couldn’t let him attack you. Even if he thought he was just playing.”

Tentatively, she reached out and put her arms around me, giving me a hug. Stunned, I stood there for a second before carefully hugging her back.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stepped away and headed over to the gate where the werewolf sat panting. He was all black with big golden eyes. But unlike the other werewolves I’d seen, he was neither human nor wolf, but stuck somewhere in between. Like he’d forgotten how to complete his shift.

“Aren’t you going home?”

“Waiting for home,” he said, which made no sense. How could he be waiting for home to come to him?

“Do you have a name, while you wait for home?”

“Alex.” He winked a big golden eye at me, like his name should mean something.

“Well”—I patted him on the head—“don’t go beyond the Wall, Alex. It’s not safe for you. Understand?”

He bobbed his head once and gave me another wink. “Pretty lady need help?”

“No, I don’t.” I laughed at him, and he shrugged and lay down at the inside of the Wall, like he really was waiting for something. Maybe his master? Silently I wished him luck in that. As long as he didn’t go chasing the humans again—even if he was just playing—all would be well for him. Or as well as it could be in this world of ours.

Another half an hour walk, and I was back at house number thirteen. Inside I could hear laughter and the dual heartbeats of Sandy and Beth. They were Greek monsters too, though a different flavor than me. Stymphalian birds were their designation, and they could shift into the deadly man-eating beasts the same as I could shift into my Drakaina form.

“Hey, girls.” I padded through the house and into the kitchen. My eyes stretched wide as I took in the scene, blood everywhere. “Are you okay?”

They looked at each other and laughed, clutching at their bellies as they giggled. While that eased my mind a little, it wasn’t until I drew a breath in and tasted the air that I relaxed. The scent was sweet and fruity. Cherries was my guess, not blood.

And then I looked again and slowly shook my head as I picked up one of my pots, the interior covered in dried cherry juice. “Did you pull every pot, pan, and kitchen utensil out of the cupboards?”

Beth laughed up at me and brushed her short blond hair out of her face. “We couldn’t find what we were looking for. Don’t worry, we’ll clean up . . . Mom.” She winked, and I rolled my eyes.

“What are you making? Or maybe what are you trying to make?” I couldn’t help being pulled into the kitchen, even if it was a complete disaster.

Sandy grinned at me. “We found your ‘French Desserts’ section in your recipe book. This is clafoutis, cherry flavored.”

I smiled and peeked into the mix. I dipped a finger in and tasted it. “You need a bit more sugar; it’ll be too tart.”

“You got it. Mom.”

“Really, you gotta stop that.” I laughed at them. “I don’t think I’m even older than either of you.” In fact, I knew Beth had a year on me, and Sandy was born the same year as I was.

Sandy grinned as she spooned some more sugar into the mixture. “You kinda are, though. You saved us from Merlin, and you’ve been helping us adjust. You’re even teaching us to bake. You look out for us, like a mom would. And . . . we know it irritates you when we tease you.”

Beth took the bowl from Sandy and poured its contents into a pan that had cherries scattered about the bottom. “Speaking of teasing”—she raised an eyebrow at me—“what’s with the nun habit?”

I pulled a chair out and slid into it. Pushing a few pans out of the way, I rested both hands on the table. “Bad day at the courthouse. I think I lost everything to that . .”

“Asshat?” Beth offered.

“Twat waffle?” Sandy suggested.

“Oh, I like twat waffle.” I took a breath and started again. “That twat waffle . . . the judge says he’s getting everything.”

They gasped and hurried over to me, covered in cherry juice and flour.

They wrapped me in their arms, murmuring their condolences, telling me it was so wrong, and while I knew it . . . that I had them on my side meant the world to me. I leaned into them, tears trickling down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you two.”