A Wolf at the Door

I know, swords don’t really have personalities and all. But…when it’s the one thing between you and dying most of the time, you couldn’t help but assign it traits, characteristics. My old sword had been female. Don’t know why I always felt that way, but I did. This one wasn’t. It was male, rock steady in my grip but with a brightness to it that reminded me of a shooting star. Fire in the night.

Since I hadn’t really had a chance to put it through its paces before I left town, I grabbed the first thing I could find—a piece of paper off the desk—and slid it along the sharp edge of the blade. The paper curled off like butter melting. Verrrrry nice. I found out the sword would also slice through the apple that came with my breakfast, my plain black T-shirt from the previous night, and the entire newspaper. The confetti-like shreds of paper fluttering all over my floor made me feel a little better.

Gear unpacked and safely stowed out of sight, I salvaged the breakfast coffee and finally went in search of Her Highness.

I could hear the voices down at the end of the hall long before I got to the door. Gretchen I recognized. The other woman was new.

Tai answered the door when I knocked, murmuring under his breath, “Watch it, we’re in the blast zone.”

His meaning became clear once I got a look at the two females squared off against each other in the middle of the room.

Gretchen may have just rolled out of bed—at least, I assumed that’s why she was still wearing a tiny little satin nightgown—but her hair and makeup looked like she’d just stepped out of a salon. Demon magic, or just natural beauty? Hard to say.

The other woman was older. Her blond hair was sprinkled liberally with gray streaks and gathered up into a utilitarian ponytail. Her blue jeans showed no signs of wear, and her blouse was fashionable, but I recognized them as cheap brands. You know, stuff normal people wore. When she turned her head a bit, I could see the high cheekbones and flashing blue eyes, just like Gretchen’s. A relative, maybe? A mother.

The instant I thought that, I knew I was right. Moms stand a certain way, take a certain tone with their children. Mine could still reduce me to a tiny little ball of shame with one glance, when warranted. That’s a mother-son thing. I hear with daughters, it’s different. Lotta emotions tied up in those relationships, both good and bad. So this was definitely some kind of mother-daughter…thing.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, and I saw that Bobby and Dante had already taken refuge over near the bar, pretending not to see the uncomfortable face-off.

“If you want to tell her you’re not coming, you make that phone call yourself. You explain to her why you can’t be bothered to come to your sister’s wedding.” Mom planted her hands on her hips, and I know if I’d been the recipient of that glare, I’d have caved instantly. I’m a big weenie when it comes to my mom.

“I already told her I’d probably be busy that week.” Gretchen waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not like they’ve missed me at any other event.”

“Busy, my rear end. You had eight months to make time to be with your family. Eight months, Gina.”

“Gretchen! Is it so hard to say?” Uh-oh. The starlet’s hands were likewise planted on her hips, the two women nearly identical. I knew that stance. That stance said there would be no resolution today. Maybe not ever. “The only reason she even wants me there is so I can buy her some expensive damn wedding present. I’ll mail her a fucking gift card and she’ll be thrilled.”

The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room before I even realized Mom had moved. “You will not use that foul language in my presence, young lady. I raised you better than that.”

Gretchen’s hand pressed over her reddening cheek, the rest of her face pale white. “Get out. Don’t you ever come back here again.”

“Fine.” Mom bit off the word and snatched her purse up off the couch, slinging it up on her shoulder. “Call your sister.” The woman stalked past Tai and me without even looking at us, but her dramatic exit was ruined by some kind of stumble at the door. “Oh, excuse me…”

Before any of us could say anything, she was gone, and a hotel employee was inside, bearing a giant bouquet of assorted flowers. How the poor man could even see to walk was beyond me. I could barely see a pair of staring eyes through the leaves of something that looked like a fern. “Um…where should I set this?”

“Goddamn it, all deliveries are supposed to be halted at the desk!” Bobby nearly knocked the hapless delivery man over, getting out the door, no doubt headed to kick some ass.

Gretchen was apparently not interested in the flowers, and stalked to her room, slamming the door with more force than strictly necessary.