#SaturdayScenes
This piece is from Red, the novel I am publishing in November. It is coming from the perspective of Jac, a rather evil blast from Little Red's past. This is before the second editing phase but I hope you all enjoy!
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I waited patiently in the expensive leather chair I had imported from Italy. I liked them enough not to want to live without them and it was evenings like this I knew I had made the right decision. I had gone against her to make sure these were included in this room, making the partnership seem more even. This was our place of business, not just hers.
I twisted the whiskey glass that was pooling water in my hand and took a sip. If there was anything I had learned it was that the old witch did not like to be rushed, but I was becoming restless. The only thing worse than an angry witch was a restless wolf. Well, except possibly in this case. She was an extremely uptight witch already and evil to the core. I wouldn’t want to see the poor sucker who challenged her power. Thankfully we wouldn’t need to test each other since the thick door opened, quietly exposing a shadow slipping in.
We’d made sure to have this place completely soundproof, a necessity with so many good ears around. It was good sized and made of precious mahogany. A bar sat in the opposite corner of the meeting area. Massive bookshelves filled with ancient texts lined the entirety of the walls. I’d often thought this room looked as if it belonged to an aging professor rather than two criminal masterminds plotting war. She walked in, poised as ever, pulling my gaze from the books.
She poured herself a drink at the bar before she took the seat across from me. She crossed her mile long legs and smirked. She was lithe, deadly and beautiful. If I were a lesser man I would have been very tempted to pursue this one, but I had bigger things to deal with and a betrothed to wed. Besides, I heard the stories of the men that she bed. Most were no longer able to tell the tales themselves since they’d been muted, deafened and blinded. Poor bastards. By the time she took her second sip I had enough of waiting for her.
“I’m glad you called this meeting. She must have agreed to your proposal then.” She measured me with sharp eyes before taking a long pull from her glass.
“No, she refused. But, not to worry. She will come around soon.”
I squeezed my fists, shattering glass, whiskey and water running down into the pristine leather.
“What do you mean, do not worry? I will have her either way, witch. Make no mistake about my intentions. You should be the one to worry. If she does not come willingly to me the deal is off. You will no longer have the Trackers on your side to fight the Guard. Instead we will turn against you, giving into our very instinct. Your dogs, as you so lovingly call them, will not come to your aid and that will be the end of your life long revenge.” I sneered at her. “You forget your place in this plan. I have half a mind to just take her now and be done with this nonsense.”
She set her half empty glass onto the table, a too smug smile creeping onto her face.
“Try, Mr. Dubois. I won’t even threaten to stop you. But, I feel I must tell you that another player has entered our game. One who makes us both look like mice and since I’m not the one after our dear Red, I fear it will not be me that he will be hunting.”
She threw back her head and laughed, a dark sound that made every hair on my body stand to attention. I lunged at her, grabbing her throat in my already shifted claws, the white fur of my wolf brushing her face.
“What do you know witch?”
She stopped abruptly finally looking directly into my eyes, challenging me to try something.
“Follow the girl and see for yourself, Wolf! And when you come back with your tail between your legs maybe you’ll be able to remember not to bite the hand that feeds.”
With her words ringing in my ear, pushing me forward, I stormed out of the house, ripping through my remaining clothing as soon as my feet hit the forest floor.
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