Page 54 of Wrangled
“Yeah, you’re right, it is your fault,” I readily agree.
“Hey!” she huffs before we both chuckle. “I am sorry, though. This town is just so… ugh. You know. If it were a person, I’d have wrapped my hands around its throat and choked it out by now.”
“We really do need to talk about your violent tendencies at some point.”
She waves me off. “My point is, this place just drains the soul right out of me. No wonder everyone acts like a brainless zombie. I hate it here, and it doesn’t even have its claws into me the way it does you. How can you stand it?”
I frown and look over at her. I pick apart her words and separate them from my feelings because, for a moment there, it all blurred together.
We pulled up, walked up and down Main Street, and had someone park their car behind ours. Not really enough to make someone hate the place, other than me, that is. I have to wonder at Jen’s anger when she was the one adamant on coming?—
“Dammit, Jen. You really are diabolical, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs indignantly.
“Sure, you don’t. I wasn’t sure why you insisted on my coming here, not when you know how I feel about the place and the people that live here.”
She wanted me to realize that it isn’t nearly as scary as I remember it being and that the tables have turned since then. Now I’m the one with the upper hand.
She’s quiet for a minute, and I wonder if she’s going to play dumb again. She sighs. “What I said was true. I do think you need to stand your ground so that people know you’re not to be messed with. You have to remember you’re the only one prospering in a dying town, which makes you a really pretty target.”
“I’ve always been a target, Jen. The difference is that I used to take everything they threw at me. Now, I’m more than happy to throw it right back.”
She surprises me by reaching out and grabbing the hand that isn’t pressed to my nose. “You are the strongest person I know. I want you to thrive here, and I don’t doubt you will. It’s going to be up to you whether you take this town with you or leave it in the dust. I have a feeling it won’t take them long to realize they need you far more than you ever needed them.”
I look at her and wonder, not for the first time, if she knows there is something different about me. Perhaps she’s encountered witches before. We might not be commonplace—because we saw how well that went—but we’re not exactly hidden from the world either. People tend to use the word witch with contempt these days, as opposed to awe, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t many women out there capable of great things.
I look out the window. Most people have wandered off again now that nothing exciting is happening. There is no mob with pitchforks. But it wouldn’t take much to stir up the masses, especially when you throw in envy, and that’s bound to happen when people see Corvis Wing begin to flourish while the rest of the town flounders. I don’t want to have to be the bigger person here. I’ve earned the right to be petty as fuck. These people havenever done anything but make my life ten times harder than it needed to be. But starving the land of my affection will only doom it further, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.
I hear the rumble of an engine and turn in time to see Shepard’s cruiser pull in. “He couldn’t just send one of his minions, could he?”
“Something tells me Sheriff Shepard very much likes the hands-on approach. Come on, let’s go say hi.”
She’s out of the car before I can protest. With a groan, I follow suit and climb out, pulling the napkins away to see if my nose has stopped bleeding yet. I curse when I see it hasn’t, though thankfully, it has slowed. Still, I’d rather not have had to see him again while I look like a wreck.
I can hear him and Jen talking. As soon as I turn and he gets a look at me, he stops, his eyes catching fire before he’s on me, pulling the bloody tissue from my nose.
“I’ll kill him.”
“He didn’t touch me. It’s just a nosebleed, so calm down. You can’t go around threatening people.” I shake my head, not knowing who’s worse, him or Jen.
He grits his teeth, pissed that he doesn’t have an enemy to fight, before he looks toward the bar. “He in there?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” I mutter as he storms off.
“Next time you decide we need to have some fun, take me for a root canal or a bikini wax instead,” I tell Jen.
She snorts. “Deal.”
I turn when the sound of another car approaches, wondering if I should get back in the car and take a nap. A red Toyota pulls into the lot, moving in a wide arc to avoid where Shepard parked his cruiser. I watch as they park as far from it as possible. A woman gets out, one who is easily five, perhaps even ten yearsyounger than me, but who holds herself like someone decades older.
Or like someone who’s been hurt.
I’m walking toward them before my brain has caught up to my actions.
