Page 43 of Black Willow Witch
‘He was pretty low key compared to the deities she regularly chatted to.’ Emberlyn’s spoon scraped the mortar as she stirred the contents fast, blending it all together.
Ripper exchanged a look with his brother. ‘Low key. Right.’ The more he heard about her upbringing, the more positive he felt that Millicent should not have been permitted to raise her. Gill and Dezknewwhat their mother was like, but they hadn’t offered their niece a home after their sister died. The assholes had left her with Millicent, not caring what it would mean for her.
‘Almost finished,’ said Emberlyn, tossing some glittering magick dust into her mortar. She gave the paste one last stir and then set down the pestle. ‘There. Done.’
Ripper lifted a small wooden spatula from the table. ‘I’ll put it on for you.’
Her brow pinched. ‘No need, I can do it.’
‘So can I.’ And he wanted to do it. ‘Let me.’
‘That wasn’t even really a request,’ she noted, her eyes narrowing. ‘It was an order. I don’t respond to those, in case you haven’t noticed.’
He cocked his head. ‘You know, people usually don’t argue with me.’
‘Yes, I’m sure they mostly roll over, show you their bellies, and give you your way. I’ll bet there’s even boob-jiggling when it comes to the ladies.’
Logan snorted.
‘But I’m no one’s idea of a people pleaser,’ she added.
‘Your shoulder has been clawed at an angle which is going to make it tricky for you to apply the poultice,’ Ripper pointed out. ‘Let me do that, and you can smear it on your leg wound. All right?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fucking Alpha werewolves,’ she muttered to herself, placing her hands on the surface of the table. ‘Always up in someone’s business.’
‘We’re helpful that way.’ He planted one hand on her upper back, hooking three fingers around the crook of her neck while resting his thumb and forefinger on her nape. Her skin was warm and soft and it pebbled at his touch. Her reaction made his gut clench.
It seemed only fair that they were both slaves to this damn chemistry that wouldn’t shift.
He scooped up some paste with the spatula and sniffed it. ‘I half-expected it to smell like feet or something. It smells like old books.’
‘I find the scent comforting, so I added it to the paste.’
He carefully applied it to one slice. ‘Did you notice any distinguishing marks on the Rabid?’ Old scars would show up as white slashes in the fur. It helped identify any Rabid.
‘It was missing a finger.’
Ripper blinked. ‘I don’t know of any wolves-turned-Rabid that only had nine fingers. The injury must have occurred during the time it was in Bloodhill.’ He smeared paste over the second claw mark. ‘Anything else?’
‘It had a long slice down its left arm from shoulder to wrist.’
Logan pointed his finger. ‘It’s gotta be Duncan,’ he said, referring to a wolf from their clan. ‘Nice to know he’s not dead, though I’m not sure you can call his current existence a life.’
Yeah, it both saddened and relieved a person to discover that a wolf gone Rabid still lived. ‘It would be better not to tell Mae,’ said Ripper, referring to Duncan’s mate. The guy had been gone eleven years – she’d moved on and had two kids to another werewolf since then. To hear that Duncan was still out there and that he’d been so close to Ashwood . . . it would just mess with her head.
Logan nodded. ‘Learning about it wouldn’t do her or her family any good.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Emberlyn assured them, her gaze going inward.
Coating the third claw mark in poultice, Ripper wondered if she was thinking on how she’d feel in Mae’s shoes; if she’d want to know if Michael had been seen.
Logan rubbed at his nape. ‘I don’t think Duncan incidentally made his way here.’
Ripper went still. ‘Why not?’
‘I was only so close to the manor because I’d followed the scent of blood while on patrol. A dead goat was left not far from here.’ Logan pointed in the direction of the rear of the house. ‘It wasn’t killed by an animal, and it didn’t die of natural causes. Its throat was slit.’
Emberlyn tensed. ‘So someone had hoped to lure a Rabid or two out here,’ she mused, a dark note in her voice.
