“She’s messing with the bottles at the bar,” Wrench told her quietly. “Bottles that you and me and Laura and Jenny mighta been drinking out of later tonight.”
Lydia’s eyes widened, and she stared at the glass she had been about to drink from in horror.
“What do we do?” she asked quietly.
Wrench’s panther had several ideas that centered around the theme of tearing out the woman’s throat before she could shift, but the idea of Lydia watching that held him back.
He did a quick assessment of the room. Saina and Bastian had already left—while Wrench couldn’t see the dragon being of much use against a snake, Saina’s singing gift might have proven useful. Especially if someone got bit. Given the way they had danced the last dance together, he suspected he knew where they’d disappeared to. Or at least what they were doing.
Scarlet was turning off the sound system, bending behind the console to unplug the cords.
Tex was carrying a tray of empty glasses to the bar, where Laura was wiping down the counter and Travis was repairing a chair. They were both chatting cheerfully with the white-haired woman, who was continuing her convincing charade of tipsy harmlessness.
And Jenny was pouring a round of drinks from a bottle that the old woman had been sitting right next to.
Wrench would have given anything for a firearm at that moment and he cast around for something— anything—that he could throw.
As he was considering the aerodynamics of one of the decorative vases, Lydia suddenly sashayed away from him to the bar, her laugh unnaturally bright in the emptying room. “Wait, Jenny, we’ll do a toast!”
“Shit,” Wrench said under his breath, and he scrambled to follow.
The little woman turned at their approach, and Wrench saw the brief, entirely sober flicker of rage in her face that confirmed every suspicion he had.
Travis was repairing the chair upside down and Wrench bowled it over as he made a straight path to the woman.
“What the hell?” Travis demanded.
Laura and Jenny echoed him in shock as Lydia made it to the bar and swept all of the drinks off in a pool of shattered glass and foaming champagne. The white-haired woman sprang out of her seat spryly, but was trapped by Wrench against the bar with one hand to her throat.
“It’s poisoned!” Lydia declared.
Tex sniffed at the bottle. “Sugar, honey, iced tea!” he said in alarm. “This does stink. It’s different than rattler poison, but it sure isn’t right. Did you drink any?” He looked anxiously to his mate first.
Laura shook her head, eyes big. “This is getting to be a habit,” she said weakly. “Jenny?”
Her twin shook her head as well.
Panther panted to be released, to exact painful revenge with teeth and claws, but Wrench only closed his fist around the woman’s leathery throat and held on, just tight enough that she was gasping and clawing at him.
“Can’t… do… this…!” she choked. “Wasn’t… me…!” Wrench tightened his fingers just a little.
“Shift and prove it,” Lydia said firmly. “If you are who you say you are, you shouldn’t be afraid to shift.”
The woman’s beady eyes glared back at her, lips turning slightly blue as she snarled wordlessly. Her fingernails dug into Wrench’s arms and she kicked at him desperately.
“Wrench.” Scarlet’s voice was as calm and cool as ever. “If you would kindly give her a little air.” She didn’t ask him to release her.
Wrench obligingly released the pressure, still holding her out at arm’s length.
The woman gasped and spat towards Lydia, who managed to do some sort of dance flutter with her hands and catch the spittle on a napkin she snatched from the bar. She handed the napkin to Tex, who raised an eyebrow and nodded.
“That’s the stuff,” he confirmed, not even needing to hold it close to his nose.
“Did Blacksmith send you?” Laura demanded.
“You think you can run from him?” The woman didn’t even try to deny it.