The Tome of Bill (Book 7): The Wicked Dead by Rick Gualtieri

Christy. Some days, I so wished I was a better liar.
    “What is it?” Christy asked at last.
    Fuck. “Gan,” I admitted.
    “What about her?”
    I tensed up, expecting to be blown through the floor or something. “She may have ... intervened.”
    “You mean she fucked up his shit?” Tom asked a bit too brightly. Maybe that hole in the floor was gonna be big enough for two people. “Way to go for the little hellion.”
    “Is that what happened?” Christy asked, her eyes narrowing.
    “Not quite in those words, but yes. Gan made sure the Mentor never left that building.”
    “And you asked her to do this?”
    “Me? No. The asshole might’ve fucked us all over, but I never asked her to kill him. Hell, if anything, I wouldn’t have minded having him around while the Jahabich were busy using me as a punching bag. Believe me, the little nutbag acted on her own accord.” I paused for a moment, as this next part was gonna be the tricky one. “She told me that the witch who’d escaped caused her people great shame and it needed to be rectified.”
    Her eyes opened wide at that. “My sister?”
    “Uh, yeah, the same one who ratted us out.”
    “But the Mentor didn’t...”
    “Gan said she didn’t like witnesses. Too much paperwork to deal with for her liking.” And there it was, yet another dirty secret out in the open courtesy of yours truly’s big fucking mouth.
    For a second there, silence reigned supreme in our living room. Hell, even Tom took a step back. I mean, Christy wasn’t shitting us with her use of sister – or at least in a sense of the word. She’d been more or less raised by Decker as a part of his coven. He’d been a second father to her, so it probably wasn’t a stretch to imagine she’d had a strong bond with the rest, at least before she’d been assigned to seduce Tom as way of keeping tabs on me, only to end up falling in love with the doofus.
    “Good.”
    “What?” my roommates and I spat nearly simultaneously.
    “I said good,” Christy repeated.
    “But...” I began.
    “I mourned for my sisters and mentor when I first heard they’d fallen.” For a moment, I could sense the pain behind Christy’s eyes, but then they hardened. “That’s over and done with, though. I won’t mourn anymore. As for the Grand Mentor, I hope the little bitch took her time and made it hurt.”
    * * *
    Tom, Ed, and I exchanged glances. They each conveyed the same thing: whoa , this chick was ice cold. I’d never known Christy to be so casual about anything like this. Compared to the rest of us, she was usually our group’s resident hippie chick.
    “Don’t be so surprised,” she said at last, her voice devoid of emotion. “My sisters chose their path, and I chose mine.” She glanced at Tom, and her gaze softened. “Theirs led to ruin. Mine ... well, that’s still to be determined. The Grand Mentor, though, can rot. He could have convened a conclave, tried me by the laws of our people, and let me say my piece in my defense, but he threw me to the wolves instead.” After a moment she added, “No offense, Bill.”
    “None taken. Werewolves don’t exist anyway.”
    “At least not in the classical sense,” she replied.
    Really? Sadly, we didn’t have time for that. “Fine, but that means the Dracs have lost their hold over you. You’re free.”
    “None of us are free, Bill. I know you and Sally gave me that little speech about fate, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to buy that.”
    “What speech?” Ed asked.
    She ignored him. “This is my path to walk. I need to see this through. But now that I know the Mentor’s dead and not out there spreading his bile against me, maybe I don’t need to walk it alone...”
    “You’re not alone. We’re with you,” I said.
    “Maybe I can repair some of the damage.” She was quite obviously talking to herself, going down some mental corridor where we weren’t invited. That wasn’t good. From the sound of her voice, I’d made exactly