Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Forty-Three: A Little Too Violent

"In a closed society where everyone's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity." - Hunter S. Thompson.

Chapter Forty-Three

Ethel's POV

  Warm air blasted me in the face, pushing flyaway strands of my hair off my cheeks as I rested against the cool window. I teetered on the brink of sleep, eyes closed but my mind running too fast for sleep to catch up.

  "Tired?" Draven spoke, his words unusually gruff in the silence of the SUV.

  Mentally, I was more than ready to go crawl in a dark hole and sleep for the next few years. Psychically, however, my body was hyped up enough to run a decathlon and then go to the gym for an hour after. I already knew what would happen if I tried to sleep. I'd lay down in the bed, feeling suffocated by the blankets, while my mind turned over endless possibilities of what would happen in the next few months.

  Niklaus. These new witches. Macon and the other alphas. The detectives. Trying to get in Draven's pants.

  "Not particularly," I muttered, my voice slurred from my cheek lying on my palm.

  After we had left the hospital Draven had started the car quietly as I crushed the stupid stuffed dog to my chest. It's glassy brown eyes taunted me.

  Not a word was said, and frankly, talking was the last thing I felt like doing. Feelings had never been my thing, and they weren't about to be now. Besides, I'd already cried out most of them, quite embarrassingly, too. I was not a cute crier.

  "Good." The car moved smoothly, turning on the nearest exit. It was a mystery to me where we were going as Draven's castle was a good half hour the opposite way. Still, I remained a good little victim and kept my mouth shut. "'cause we've got lots to do. Ticke told me about the charm."

  "Did he?" And here we go, straight back down Emotional Ave.

  "Figured those rogue witches must'a planted it. Ticke picked it up after you left, slit it open and checked inside."

  I perked up. Now, this, killing witches, this I could talk about. "What sort of stuff was inside? Can we narrow down where it came from?"

  "Found Pit Viper skin."  Draven wasn't smiling, but his eyes had that excited cast that reminded me of a wolf first scenting its prey.  "Specific one native to South America."

  "Pit Viper skin, now that's odd." I frowned, then Del's voice ran through my mind. "Del said the witches were hissing at one another. Could that have anything to do with it?"

  It was a long shot, like trying to throw a snapped dart at a board in hopes it'll stick, but seeing as a werewolf with supposed voices from demons in his head was sitting next to me, just about anything was possible.

  "Could be a Lamia?" Draven shrugged.

  That sounded familiar. "Why does that sound familiar?"

  "Snake creature. Body of a snake, face of a woman. Drinks blood and consumes kids whole. Original one was Zeus, god of the skies, mistress. His wife, Hera, got jealous and cursed Lamia. Supposedly Hera had 'er eatin' 'er own children."

  I closed my mouth with a click. "Wow, that's really fucking sick." Incredulity seeped into my voice. "I thought it was just a myth. I mean, wouldn't there be more stuff on it if they were real?"

  "Met one before." My eyebrows were sky-high as I glanced at Draven. "Nasty bitch. Belonged to an old friend. Didn't look much into 'er but there's only a few in the world, usually over in the East." Belonged? Jeez, what sort of archaic bullshit was that? Then again, I wouldn't really want a serpentine woman who ate children roaming around all willy nilly.