~

 

“No, think about…”

“I don’t want to,” Dorothy snapped on a hiss of disbelief.

“It’s good for what ails you, and let’s face it, these women have problems,” Angela said, and her friend groaned.

“They’ve got problems? Can you hear yourself?”

“Yes. I’m being very rational and…”

“Look at that, I’ve gone deaf,” Dorothy said as she raised her hands and slapped them over her ears.

Angela gave her a little zap of her magic and her friend dropped her hands to her hips, craned her head forward on her neck, and scowled long and hard at her.

“What did you do that for?” Dorothy’s top lip trembled with annoyance.

“Because I could.”

“Well, tell yourself you can’t, because the next time…”

“Oh, would you look at that? I seem to have solved your hearing problem,” Angela looked positively triumphant as she folded her arms and smiled at her friend.

“Bite me,” Dorothy grumbled.

“Not if my life depended on it.”

“Don’t tease me,” Dorothy grumbled. “I’ve had your funeral planned for years.”

“Sorry it’s taking so long,” Angela shot back, and Dorothy snorted in contempt.

“Well, now I’ve gotta give way to your mate, unless I get lucky and he goes boots up first.”

Angela opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

“You been spelled?” Dorothy demanded, and her friend gave a slow shake of her head. “Stroke?”

“No!”

“Well, it’s been a while since you were lost for words!”

“Gee, how do I find the words after what you just said?” Angela berated her.

“I didn’t say anything that you haven’t been thinking about for years. I know you had my funeral all planned out and ready to go when we were living at the care home.”

“Senior damn living facility, and yes, I did, because every time we sat down to watch a murder mystery you kept pointing out the caskets you liked!” Angela scowled.

“Makes sense to tell people what you like,” Dorothy bit back. “I don’t want to go out in one of those sickly pink looking things. Pink’s not my color.” She huffed.

“Well, when you’re dead you’re sort of grey, so pink would liven things up with that skin tone, don’t you think?” Angela offered her a victory smirk.

“You’ve been spending too much time with those vampires,” Dorothy huffed.

“There’s an idea. Maybe they’ve got a spare coffin lying around – saves on cost,” Angela offered back, and Dorothy’s eyebrows reached for her hairline.

“There’s no talking to you when you’re like this,” she huffed.

“Off you go then. Don’t walk into a wall or break a hip,” Angela smiled sweetly.

“If you turn into a vampire, I’ll stake you myself,” Dorothy bit out as she turned and grumbled some more.

 

 

~

~

~

 

“Well, would you look at all this eye candy,” Quinn said as he allowed himself a low, deep growl of approval from the prime position at the entrance to the foyer of the Inn. “Did I die? Is this what heaven looks like?” He would have turned to look at his friend Hank, but his eyes were having too much fun taking it all in.

“Heaven? If a building full of old witches is your idea of heaven, then I give up.” Hank had already found his mate, and the idea of a room full of senior witches held absolutely no appeal whatsoever for him.

“Damn, and there’s only one of me to go around,” Quinn growled again.

“I’m sure they can form an orderly line to take it in turns to zap you,” Hank grinned at the thought. Better that Quinn got zapped than him.

“Zap me? Why would they want to zap me?” Quinn frowned at his friend’s suggestion.

“Well if I had to hazard a guess — I’d go with personality,” Lark put in from behind them. He might have been late to the conversation, but he’d heard most of it.

“I second that emotion,” Hank said.

“Who are you, Smokey Robinson?” Quinn grumbled.

“Well, I’ve been known to pull off a few miracles in my time,” Hank offered back.

“Like getting Dorothy to mate with him.” Lark chuckled.

“Well, I’m not looking for a mate – but who am I to deny these lovely ladies – me?” Quinn grinned.

For a moment there Hank could have sworn that he saw Quinn’s wolf just under the surface of the man’s skin. It was certainly in his smile.

“Oh, this is going to go down like a cold bucket of sick,” Lark chuckled harder.

“I say we pull up chairs and ask Sarah to make some popcorn,” Hank agreed with his friend.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Quinn said as he slapped his large hands together with glee and rubbed them as if he was staving off the cold.

“I’ll bet he gets zapped within the first five minutes,” Lark said.

“That long?” Hank offered back.

Quinn rose to the challenge.

“Watch and learn you pair of longtooth’s.” Quinn started into the room. Heads turned, eyes took him in from head to toe like they were deciding if they wanted to make a purchase, and Quinn grumbled a satisfied growl.

“Okay,” Lark said. “Make that a minute.”

 

~

~

~

 

“It seems very busy,” Valerie said as she leaned in toward her daughter and eyed the crowd around her.

“I guess that means that it’s popular,” Elizabeth looked anywhere but at her mother.

She grimaced at the thought that at any moment her mother would discover the real reason that she’d taken her to the inn. That was going to be an awkward conversation.

“Please tell me this is not some sort of convention,” Valerie whispered. “You could throw a dart blindfolded in here and hit a witch.”

“And that’s a good thing,” Elizabeth tried sounding as upbeat about it as she could, while dread weighed heavy inside of her.

“Not in my book. Too many damn witches gathered in one place only means one thing,” Valerie said with a frown that brought her salt and pepper eyebrows down towards the bridge of her nose.

“Fun times were had by all?” Elizabeth offered with an air of hope.

“Trouble.”

“It’s nice to see you have a ray of optimism today, mother,” Elizabeth said as she turned to look away from her mother and rolled her eyes within her head.

“What good does optimism do at my age?” Valerie snorted a chuckle of disdain for her daughter’s words.

“Gee, I don’t know — gets you through the day?”

“The thought of dancing on my sister’s grave gets me through the day,” Valerie offered back. She was determined to live long enough to see that happen.

“There’s a cheery thought,” Elizabeth said as she turned her attention toward the front desk and the overworked witch behind it. “I’m going to check us in.”

Elizabeth didn’t wait for her mother’s reply. She took off as fast as she could manage to get through the small crowd of elders that were gathered.

With each step she took she regretted her decision to undertake the skulduggery and duplicity that brought her to the inn. Hindsight was a wonderful thing – about as wonderful as guilt.

Sarah had felt the witch coming in her direction and raised her eyes to the harassed looking woman that was making a beeline for her desk.

“Let me guess — you’ve made a terrible mistake, and you want to leave,” Sarah offered the woman a sympathetic smile.

“How did you do that?” Elizabeth asked. She knew that some witches had the gift of insight and yet she’d never met one before.

“It’s written all over your face,” Sarah gave a small shrug.

“I’m a terrible person,” Elizabeth grimaced.

“I’m guessing that your mother doesn’t know why she’s here,” Sarah said.

“Oh, you’re good.”

“Meh, think of me like a bartender, and you’d better believe that I see a lot behind this desk.”

“Well, can I crawl behind that desk and hide until this weekend is over?” Elizabeth grimaced again at the thought of her mother’s reaction to finding out it was all about mates and companionship.

It wasn’t like she was throwing her mother under a bus or anything. At least, she hoped not.

“Sure, but what happens on Monday morning?” Sarah offered her a knowing smile.

“I drive my mother to a senior care facility — and run in the opposite direction.” Elizabeth winced at the thought of ever putting her mother in a place like that. She hoped that she would always be able to care for her mother’s needs.

“Good plan. Shame you couldn’t carry it out.”

“Damn, you are good.”

“I’m even better over a glass of wine,” Sarah grinned.

“It’s not even lunchtime.”

“And you’re on holiday.”

“Sort of.” Elizabeth gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

“How about coffee?” Sarah offered back.

“Irish coffee?” Elizabeth gave a small chuckle.

“Now you’re talking my language.”