Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,14

wrecked Malibu in dire need of an oil change and some minor body repair.

Holding a drink loosely in his hand, he took a seat at one end of the table, leaning back in his chair with an elbow on one elaborately carved arm.

My insides melted. Then I remembered the accosting I’d given him. And my cheeks melted too. “It looks delicious.” I decided to feign amnesia.

He decided to give me a simmering once-over with a side of hot flash.

I sat at the opposite end of the table, facing the wolf head on.

Annette and the chief joined my dads, sinking into chairs they’d obviously claimed a while ago. The only one missing was Ruthie. The world had changed so much while I was out. It was like they’d become a family, and I was the awkward cousin who’d come to visit.

Platters of food were passed around, and I took a little of everything. Not to be nice, but because it all looked so good, and there was something voracious about breaking a six-month fast.

Halfway through the meal, my grandmother was still a no show. “What about Ruthie?”

The chief dropped his gaze. “She won’t come up.”

“Because she doesn’t eat?” Maybe she didn’t. Although, she had been drinking tea.

“We really aren’t sure,” Annette answered.

“All we know for certain,” Papi chimed in, “is that she can’t leave the house.”

“What do you mean?” That was a tad alarming. “She’s stuck here too? Like Percy?”

He nodded. “As far as we know.”

“Well, that sucks.” I pointed my fork at Annette. “I thought you were supposed to be at work.”

“I got fired.”

“Again?” Papi wiped his face with a napkin and poured himself some water from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“It’s the tourists. They’re rude. They get in my face, I’m gettin’ in theirs.” She added some flavor to that last part with a mediocre Godfather impersonation.

Papi laughed. “You realize we’re only one step up from being tourists ourselves.”

“We’re worse,” Dad said. “We’ve seized the land and taken up arms. We’re interlopers. Trespassers. Invaders.”

“Have you been studying that thesaurus again?” I grinned at him. “Quick, what’s the opposite of a carpetbagger?”

“Scalawag,” he shot back.

It was a good word. I’d have to remember to use it later. I took turns eating small bites of all the different food I’d crammed onto my plate while everyone else talked and laughed. Watching them interact warmed me to my toes.

Roane, quiet as always, kept his gaze focused my direction. It was both unsettling and exhilarating.

Several things needed to be said, but I didn’t dare apologize in front of everyone. I’d embarrassed him—and me—enough for one day. Maybe for tomorrow’s daily dose of humiliation I could talk about the female reproductive system or hunt down some pics of wolf pups and pass them around as Roane’s baby pics. Do the job right.

Under the table, something brushed my ankle, curling around it as soft as a cat’s tail.

It wasn’t Ink. He’d jumped into Roane’s lap. And Roane was making him a small plate, holding it while the ragged beast joined us in the festivities.

Smiling at the cat’s loud purr—that I heard all the way across the table—I looked down at my ankle to see Percy’s vines.

Percy had scaled back the vines dramatically. For the most part, they were no longer on the floors or the walls. They’d latticed up the corners and along the black-lacquered crown molding to create a gorgeous frame. The roses seemed a deeper red now, but they were still framed in a dusky black, every petal a work of art.

A stunning Murano chandelier, made from black handblown glass—that probably took a huge chunk out of what would’ve become my inheritance—hung low over the table. It twirled and corkscrewed, forming the general shape of a spikey teardrop. The décor, all heavy wood, thick and black, finished the room with a morbid kind of elegance. Ruthie was nothing if not avant-garde.

After swallowing yet another spoonful of a lobster bisque I wanted to get drunk on, I looked at the vine gliding across the table. Rather than dropping the bomb that I was leaving, I picked a safer subject. “Why can’t Percy go into the secret passageways?” Since the only person in the room who might have an answer sat directly across from me, I glanced at him.

“You’d have to ask him.” Evasive as ever, Roane stroked Ink’s patchwork fur but kept his gaze locked on me. The fact that he didn’t mind an animal at the table made me worship