Fiends and Familiars - Debra Dunbar Page 0,13
trying to get their harvests in and butcher. Running a crew out to Savior Mountain only to find the lumber didn’t arrive is making people less willing to help.”
“I know I’m feeling less willing to help,” Hadur grumbled. “We’ve all done enough for these werewolves. If they can’t get their crap together, then they’ll be living in tents this winter. Or they can take Dallas up on his offer and rejoin his pack.”
I wondered if that wasn’t secretly what Dallas was hoping. It still was an embarrassment to him that his son had absconded with a bunch of his pack to form their own. Clinton’s wolves might need to rough it a bit this winter, but it was in nobody’s best interests to have them freezing in tents—or abandoning Clinton and adding to the issues still simmering between the two packs.
“I can take care of the hornets and the badger,” I volunteered.
“Thanks.” Cassie smiled over at me. “Let me know what happens, will you? I don’t particularly like displacing wildlife, but I’m eager to get Clinton’s pack settled and put all this behind me. Any little roadblock is one roadblock too many.”
“I’m up for helping a few days if we decide to do a community barn-raising effort or something,” I told her. “I might not have much experience, but I can swing a hammer and operate a saw.”
“Me too.” Sylvie sighed. “Let’s schedule a day and see what we all can get done. If we can at least get rudimentary structures in place before the first frost, I’m counting it a win.”
“Okay.” Cassie held up her hands. “I’ll pick a few days this month and see how those work for everyone. I appreciate you all continuing to chip in here. I know this is getting tiresome.”
It was, but we’d put up with werewolf issues since I could remember. For once in my life, I felt like I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. A future where Clinton’s and Dallas’s packs lived in harmony with the town of Accident, following their rules and becoming part of the community, was worth taking a few days off work and getting blisters from running a screw gun for hours at a time.
“Okay.” Sylvie stood up. “Let me grab the apple pies out of the oven and then we can hear all about Adrienne’s sexy dream while we eat dessert and drink coffee.”
Ugh. I’d thought they’d forgotten about that. I got up and followed Sylvie into the kitchen, grabbing mugs and ferrying them out to the table along with the two pots of coffee while my sisters handled clearing off the dirty dishes. This was one of the other downsides of our growing family—more dishes. And the need for a second coffee maker. When there were a dozen people for dinner, one coffee maker just didn’t cut it.
It made me all warm and fuzzy inside to think that Cassie went through all this just so we could get together as a family every Sunday night. She’d bought extra plates and silverware, gotten a second coffee maker, doubled her main-dish recipes. And although we all helped with the prep and clean-up, and contributed side dishes and desserts, I’m sure there was still plenty left for Cassie to do once we left for the day.
That’s who she was, though. She was the matriarch of our family. She’d been our rock ever since our grandmother had died, and our mother had taken off. She’d been the one who’d raised the younger of us who barely remembered our father and felt Cassie had been more of a mother than the woman who’d given birth to us.
“So.” Sylvie motioned for me to sit down and slid a slice of apple pie my way. “Let’s hear it.”
“It started out as a bit of a nightmare,” I confessed. Then I told them all about the horned monster chasing me, how I’d panicked and ran and tried to protect myself from him—until I didn’t.
“You know, if you’ve got a thing about demons, I’d be happy to introduce you to a few,” Lucien teased.
Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “Hello. We’ve all got a thing about demons. Don’t hold back on us, Lucien. We’ve got two single sisters here. Bring out the eligible bachelors.”
“No thanks. I’m good.” Babylon laughed.
“I think that dream is less about demons and more about Addy embracing what she fears the most,” Sylvie chimed in.
“Which is drowning.” I shuddered. “I don’t care how much you psychoanalyze my dreams,