11. Raul

11

RAUL

W e were all back to doing what we knew best. Working on motorcycles. Toiling away, trying to satisfy our customers, so they would come back to us. Yet, no matter how normal the actions and routines were, the atmosphere was different in the workshop. It didn't resemble the cheerful vibe we normally had when the three of us were deep into our creative endeavors at all.

"Who the hell didn't put the 5/8 back?" Ray growled tossing tools aside as he dug through the drawer.

Sammy glanced at me and rolled his eyes. I answered him with a distracted shrug.

"Have you checked up your ass?" Sammy smarted off, but Ray was in no mood for the normal banter.

Ray rushed across the garage, both hands balled into fists, his face darkening.

"What did you say?" Ray growled.

Sammy threw his arms up protectively and backed away.

"Enough," I growled.

Ray growled at Sam before he turned away and stomped back over to the toolbox. And so, the morning went. Any little slip, one thing wrong, and one or the other of us was threatening one of the others. Until a few minutes before noon, when things got really bad.

"Hey, numb nuts, hand me the impact drill," Sam said.

He had his head inside the frame of the bike he was working on while barking the order. I ignored both of them, focusing on the pipe I was bending for the third time. It never took me more than one try to get it right, but not today. I kept overbending it and having to start over.

I saw it happening in the corner of my eye but didn't have the free attention to process it in time to stop it. Ray handed Sam a regular drill, not the impact. Looking back, it was as if it happened in slow motion. Sam brought the drill into his line of sight, ready to tighten the bolt he needed to, then realized Ray's mistake.

He jerked up, smacked his head on the frame, howled with anger and pain then threw the drill. It hit the wall with enough force to shatter. He whirled on Ray with raised fists and an angry snarl. Ray had turned his back and didn't see the punch coming. I had to move fast to prevent the situation from escalating even further. They'd already cost us a power tool which would be around two hundred bucks to replace. If they threw down in here, God only knew how much more it would cost in damages.

I leaped from the bending machine in front of Sam's fist, catching it in one of mine. The loud smack of flesh striking flesh jerked Ray's attention around, and I caught his flying fist in my other hand.

"Enough!" I yelled, staring between the two of them. "Enough."

"Let me go," Sammy huffed.

"I'm going to beat some sense into him," Ray growled.

"No, both of you," I ordered. "Stand down."

As the oldest they instinctively obeyed, whether they wanted to or not, and it was more than obvious that they did not. I let their fists go and shook my head.

"It was his fault," Sammy muttered.

"It was a mista?—"

"Enough," I cut Ray off. "I mean it. We can't do this. Got it?"

They both mumbled unintelligible words, neither of them making eye contact with the other. I closed my eyes and counted to five. Damn it, they could be the most frustrating when they had their hackles raised.

"This isn't about us," I said, "and you both know it." That got their attention. They both looked at me, not with surprise, but understanding. "It's her."

"Fucking witch," Ray muttered and Sam nodded his agreement.

"Exactly," I said.

"I mean, what was that?" Sammy asked. "‘Oh, you're in danger, I'm here to help, whoops', fucking kidding?"

"Kid's right," Ray growled. "That fast reversal makes no sense."

We had discussed this to death. Broken down her tactics, what she had shown us, the ties to our family's past, and everything, but all we were left with was confusion. She wanted to help, but when it came time to give some actual assistance or information, she got angry and dumped us. What was that?

I was as frustrated by her actions as they were, but it wasn't her that had my attention stuck on it. At least not the most of my attention. I was worried about the unknown threat, of course, but my recurring thoughts overrode that concern as often as not.

Can I go see her?

I'd spent the last four days caught in a dilemma I hadn't been in in my whole life. The question hit me anew every hour or two. Each time the desire was so strong that I almost dropped everything to go. But I had to stop myself because the true answer, the right one was as clear as the noon day sun. If I go, she and I will both be killed.

And as soon as I thought of that I would dive back into the turmoil and repeat the reasons why I couldn't see her. During the workday, it was easier to hold the thoughts at bay, but when night closed in, it became much, much harder.

"You're right, it doesn't make any sense," I agreed, covering where my thoughts were. "But what are we going to do about it?"

The three of us looked at each other, at the same impasse we'd come to a dozen times since our encounter with the witch. None of us saw a path forward. We'd discussed her riddle to death, we'd talked tactics, we'd done everything any of us could think of up to that point, but it was a waiting game.

"Yeah," Ray said, running his greasy hands through his hair.

"Uhm," Sammy said and shrugged.

"Right," I said. "So, let's get back to work and, how about we stop tearing up our tools?"

"My bad," Sammy said.

"I should have been paying attention, sorry," Ray said.

"Good," I said. "Now get to work. The customers are waiting."

I returned to the pipe I was trying to get into the right shape, but my thoughts were on her . As they almost always were. The witch was a problem, but this burning need, to be with Monica was a bigger one. For me at least. Because as much as I tried to ignore it, I knew myself and my wolf well enough to feel it wasn't going away. And I didn't know how long I could hold out against it.