A Witch's Fury by Kim Schubert

moment I allow the humans’ government to
dictate what I do is the moment we are all lost. These interactions
are far more important than one human’s hurt ego. My power keeps us
all safe. Do not forget get that.”
    Jerry lowered his head slightly before
following me to the SUV.
    I should stop trying to keep friends. I
wasn’t built for it.
    …
    “Turn right in five hundred feet,” the GPS’s
curt voice informed me.
    “What’s it called again?” I asked.
    Jerry checked his phone. “The Bitchy
Witchy.”
    “I’ll fit right in.”
    Jerry snorted, “That you will.”
    Dammit, me and my trying.
    The small parking lot was deserted and we
didn’t have a long walk to the blacked out glass door entrance.
    The overpowering reek of smoke blasted out of
the shop. My eyes were having a hard time adjusting from the bright
sunny day to the dark, cluttered interior.
    “I ain’t buying nothin’!” yelled a rattling
voice.
    Jerry pushed in front of me to greet the
hunched over witch hobbling toward us, leaning heavily on her
cane.
    “I’d like to purchase.”
    She squinted up at him with a huff before
turning to me. “You wait here.”
    I nodded, annoyed. Why did I always have to
stay out in the lobby when the witches were talking? Fucking Blake
had me do the same thing.
    My jaw tightened, my eyes misting of their
own damn accord. Fucking hell, I had to give up. I had to move on.
My fucking heart wasn’t letting me. I just missed the asshole so
much.
    After ten minutes I went back to the car to
wait for Jerry. Unlike in the other shop, I was fairly certain I
was not allowed to peruse the wares.
    …
    Grams called just as Jerry was climbing into
the SUV, probably missing driving his Beast around.
    “Olivia.” Her tone had warning signals
spiking through my veins.
    “What?” I clipped out.
    “Do not break anything.”
    “Maybe I should drive,” Jerry offered.
    Tapping the steering wheel, I nodded my head
in agreement and we made the switch.
    “Alright, go ahead.”
    “We’ve been invited to Blake and Angelina’s
wedding.”
    Rage colored my vision, a snarl leaving my
lips without my permission.
    “No.”
    Grams cleared her throat, “No!” I
reaffirmed.
    Softly, so as not to disturb my already
delicate sanity: “We are head of the Supernatural Council,
dear.”
    I sat back against the seat with an audible
thump, causing Jerry to flinch from the sudden movement.
    “No,” I tried again with less hope.
    “Just think about it,” Grams concluded with a
sigh.
    Think about it? Think about the only man I’d
ever allowed myself to love marrying someone else?
    “Nothing good can come of this,” I muttered,
rubbing my forehead. “When is it?” Maybe I could just conveniently
forget. Yeah, no one was going to buy that excuse.
    “Two weeks.”
    “WHAT?” Jerry and I asked in unison.
    “Two weeks,” Grams repeated.
    I groaned, “I hope I get taken by the
witches.”
    “Olivia,” Grams scolded, “do not even think
of allowing that to happen in order to get out of going.”
    I groaned again.
    Noise from the children colored the line.
“Think about it,” Grams repeated before ending the call.
    “He still loves you,” Jerry stated
confidently.
    “Ha,” I humorlessly replied. “Why then, wise
man, is he marrying another woman?”
    Jerry was silent, so I answered for him.
“Because she can solve his problems. I can’t, because I will always
and forever be a demon whore.” I hissed the last two words.
    Jerry shifted in the driver’s seat, clearly
having no idea how to answer that.
    “I don’t know about that, but I do know
Angelina feels threatened by you. That’s why she invited you.”
    “She invited me because I am the Head
Executioner for the Council.”
    “Really?” he asked, looking at me for a brief
moment as we made a right turn. “How many weddings do you get
invited to yearly?”
    He had a point. It wasn’t one I was willing
to concede, though. “There’s our hotel.”
    He