The woman standing in the doorway appeared to be no more than in her late sixties. She came up to Slade’s chest, a tiny little thing, like his grandmother, dressed in jeans and a button-down flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She smiled, showing a mouthful of teeth. “Walter? Oh, I’m sorry. You go by Slade now. It’s been ages. Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
What? “Expecting me?” He’d not called since he’d lost her number a long time ago.
Still smiling, the tiny force of nature backed into the living room, waving a hand at the antique loveseat—currently covered by cats. She lifted one to the floor, studied Slade a moment, then moved two more. Slade brushed cat hair off the cushions and sat, placing his helmet on the seat beside him.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Any chance you have beer?he started to ask. “Nah, I’m good.”
“I have beer,” Aunt Judith offered. “You are allowed beer, aren’t you?”
Beer? The last time Slade stayed here, she’d cleared the house of anything even remotely usable as a drug—including caffeine.
“Yeah, beer’s fine.”
Great-Aunt Judith shuffled out of the room. She hadn’t aged a day. And beer? From a sweet Southern Baptist old lady?
She returned with two glasses of dark brew. Slade took a sip. Warm beer, like nothing he’d drunk before.
“My own concoction,” Judith said, easing down into a rocking chair. One of the displaced cats hopped into her lap. Several more occupied the couch across from the loveseat.
“You said you knew I was coming. How?”
Judith took a sip of her beer, all cheer leaving her face. “I have tea every morning. I check the leaves. This morning they said a lot about you.”
Reading tea leaves? Really? Best to humor her. “Like what?”
“You’ve made a powerful enemy and need my help. Otherwise, you’d never have come. Am I right?” No judgment in her tones, merely fact.
“A powerful enemy?” Who? The weirdo who’d cursed him?
His last hope for regaining sanity bobbed her head. “A very powerful sorcerer.”
Sorcerer? “What the hell? Grandma used to talk about superstitions, and Daddy called her a witch. When I was a kid, I thought it was a figure of speech.”
“There are many witches in our family line.” Judith shook her head. “Sadly, you and your brothers don’t share the gift.”
Gift?
“Anyway, your grandmother didn’t speak of such to nonbelievers.” Judith tapped a finger to her temple. “Nothing gets you called crazy faster than talking about witches.” She winked. “Which I suppose they called you if you tried to tell anyone of your problem.”
“I only told Chuck. He didn’t believe me.” Slade paused a moment. “Do you? Talk about it, I mean.”
Judith nodded again. “Now, you believe. I’m not telling you anything you haven’t suspected. On a need-to-know basis, you definitely need to know what you’re up against. Now, what did you do to anger a sorcerer?”
“Why do you think this is my fault?” The guy with tats and long hair must be the guilty one, right?
Judith slowly shook her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “There are many rules for those in power, to keep them in check. Can you imagine what would happen if they were free to do whatever they wanted? No, he can only harm you in self-defense or as repayment of a wrong.”
In this case, the guy with long hair and tatswasthe guilty one. “He said I harmed his mate.” Slade shook his head. “Just a kid.” He glanced up. “Not a kid, kid. You know what I mean.”
“You’re a kid, as far as I’m concerned, a mere babe in the woods.”
Slade didn’t answer. Auntie Dearest made a good point.
“Although sorcerers are born with abilities far outweighing my humble skills, they study for years to reach their full potential. Many years. Once they receive their status, a mate is chosen, one who’ll balance the sorcerer’s strength to keep their magic from eating them alive. Very precious, their mates. Very hard to find.” She paused to knock back a mouthful of beer like a boss. “The mate acts as a buffer. An unhappy mate affects the sorcerer’s magic. I can understand his anger if you harmed his mate. Him sparing your life means the harm wasn’t life-threatening. Now, tell me everything.”
Slade told the sad story, glossing over the parts involving condoms, lube, and the living room floor.
