Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Thirty-Six: Popular Girls

"I wipe my ass with your feelings." - Tony Soprano

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ethel's POV

It wasn't even twenty minutes later when I heard the roar of an engine, gravel cracking yards away and smoke billowing up from the driveway. Tycho stood to attention, dropping his slobbery stick on top of the witch's corpse. Draven stayed sitting, fingers making figure eights in the mud, legs stretched out in front of him.

  "Ding, dong, the witch is dead," I muttered, watching a sleek black limo glide up the driveway, parking a little ways away. A second later a man in a tuxedo climbed out of the drivers side, going to the back of the car and opening the door.

  One witch.

  Two witch.

  Red witch.

  Blue witch.

  Two women slid out of the car, only one of them being someone I knew. Celia and another black-haired woman walked closer to us, wearing cloaks like the dead witch on the ground. They stopped in front of us, expressions masked and looked down at their fallen comrade.

  Celia looked different than the last time I saw her, tired, more worn. Instead of pink pantsuits and chignons she was garbed in a black cloak and matching slip, riding boots instead of heels. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, her face clear of makeup and wrinkles prominent. This was nothing like the debonair witch who proudly informed us she was the High Priestess of the street witches.

  "Dumb girl," the new witch snarled out.

  Her raven hair was drawn up in a tight ponytail, displaying a thin neck with a silver pentagram medallion. She wasn't tall very tall, maybe five-four, but her presence made her seem humongous, like there wasn't enough air to breathe despite the open wilderness around us. Her features were especially narrow, nose hooked and sharp, face long.

  "Draven Cain, I haven't seen you in a while. I would like to apologize for Marlene's transgressions. I had no idea she was coming on Brotherhood of Cain's territory or I would've put an end to it." There was still hostility in the new witch's voice, but I think that's just what she always sounded like.

  Draven stopped his finger painting on the ground, nodding at her. "All of Citadel is my territory, but you're forgiven."

  The smile she sent his way was downright psychotic, twitching and all. "Yes, of course Citadel is all your territory." And I had a feeling she would want to put an end to that very soon.

  Before I could introduce myself, she stared at me with wild blue eyes. "Who are you?" She couldn't have made me feel more like a peasant in those three words.

  I cocked my head. Rude witchy. "Ethel Pennington at your service."

  A smile slithered across her face, lips thin and pink. "You're the one Celia was telling me about. I heard you've been quite sick. Memories blocked, yes?"

  "Aye, aye, captain," I confirmed. Celia shuddered at her side.

  She extended a pale hand out to me. "I'm Constance."

  The handshake was a clear opportunity for her to size me up. So I took it, not knowing if she'd try to squeeze my hand until my bones snapped or do some weird witchy thing.

  Our skin touched and I realized it was the latter. Power glided up my arm, cold and wandering, an unwanted touch that just wouldn't leave. It ran through my body, prodding until my skin pebbled and my fingers turned white. I wanted to pull away, to rub my hand down my jeans like it would wipe away that horrible feeling.