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“That-a-girl,” Sach says.

Chapter Seven

I’m dressed for comfort not fashion as I walk up to Mémé’s front porch in a pair of black leggings and my black and white raglan baseball shirt with a black cat. I picked the Its Pumpkin Spice Bitches travel mug to send a message. The gloves are off, and I’m not here to play nice. There was a time when I’d sooner bite my own tongue off than curse in front of my elders. Today, I have zero chill left.

Things have changed since I’ve been gone, and not for the better. If Mémé expects me to take over, it’ll be on my terms. I knock on the door and take a sip of the coffee. The door opens, and I’m relieved to see my mother. I smile.

“Well life is more exciting with you around that’s for sure,” Mom says.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I step into her embrace. “Let me guess, Tante Odette is having the adult equivalent of a temper tantrum?”

“And then some. She’s got Vit and Aimee in on it, too.”

“I’m ready for her. I think this moment is a long time coming.”

My mom glances away. “We’ve let her live in her own world and run her mouth for far too long.”

I place my hand on her shoulder. “Mom, I know you’ve been short staffed. That’s my fault, not yours. We’re weaker when divided. Some of us have wandered off the path that made us who we are. I helped get us here, and I’m going to fix it.”

She nods her head, and I kiss her cheek. I’m over the guilt. I’m just determined. I follow her to the living room where everyone is gathered. Tante Odette, Vit, and Aime are gathered on one end with Fel and Aunt Jacinth beside them. My mother sits beside Mémé, and I remain standing.

“Why am I here on my day off?” I ask.

“Enough with this act. You know exactly why,” Tante Odette cries.

I lift an eyebrow. “No, but I can see you’re chomping at the bit to tell me. So the floor is yours.”

“Your rash behavior put us all in danger. You acted without thinking it through,” Odette snarls at me like a feral animal. Her features are twisted with disdain, and her eyes are black with anger. I’m shocked by the intensity. She’s always thought of herself as better than us. I’m used to having her look down her nose at me. Nit-picking and brow-beating where her M.O. The anger and ferocity are a new development.

Shoving my tongue into my cheek, I take a moment before I answer. “I know I’ve been gone a few years, but isn’t it our job to help people?”

“The right people with the right problems, yes,” Tante Odette replies.

I hold up a hand. “Wait. Who decides that?”

“We all do, together.”

I ignore her emphasis and narrow my gaze. “So, we’ve become a business? A committee who decides who lives and dies. Who’s worthy or not?”

“No, we need to protect ourselves. Weighing out the risks is the smart way to go about things,” Tante Odette says in a matter-of-fact manner that makes me want to scream.

“Right?” I nod and take a sip of my coffee. She smiles. “So, what are the parameters?”

“Excuse me?” Tante’s Odette’s smile drops away, and I mentally cheer.

“Well, what makes one person acceptable and another not? Power? Money? Things that shouldn’t matter when someone is in need? I don’t agree with what you’re saying, but we’ll go with it for now. If you lived by this last night, you were out of line.” I cross my arm and rest my elbow in my hand as I wait.

“What?” she sputters.

“We didn’t have to do anything. I took this on to myself. I knew I could do it, and she didn’t have time to wait around while we debate if we could risk helping her or not. I get that we had to change things

up when I left. It left us short and weakened our power. I own that. I apologize for the disruption my rash decision made. I can’t turn back time, but I’m here now, and we need to remember who we are and what we do.” I silently dare her to find fault in my logic.

“That’s not your place to decide.” Tante Odette points her long, bony finger at me.

“Oh, but it’s yours? That girl would’ve died if I hadn’t acted, and you couldn’t have cared less. I don’t know what that says about you as a person, let alone you as a witch. We’re servants of nature. Servant means we serve others, not our own interests. Maybe it’s time you remember that? Hmmm.” I take another draw on my coffee. Her nostrils flare. Oh, am I getting under your skin? Good.

Leaning forward, she places her palms on her thighs. “You always were a little brat. You never appreciated anything because magic has always came to you easily. Things are different now.”


Tags: Shyla Colt Witch For Hire Paranormal