Natalie smirked. “Don’t you think he might want to know that his sister is in mortal danger on a regular basis these days?”
“That would only worry him. Besides, it’s not like he can stop the trouble yet to come. This killing gene only shows up in the females of our lineage.”
“Yeah, but maybe he’ll have a daughter some day.”
I shook my head. “That would require Quint to settle down long enough to find a woman who will put up with his constant traveling, let alone be willing to have his kid. Currently, I don’t see that happening. He’s never had a girlfriend longer than a few months. I can’t imagine him giving up the career he’s worked so hard to build to stay put in one place anytime soon.”
“That’s true,” Natalie said. “He’s like Coop that way—career first, relationships second.”
I ignored the bite in her tone. “But if Quint ever does have a daughter, I’ll spill the beans.” I’d have to for her protection in case she was forced to step up and face her demons, same as me. “That’s if I’m still alive and kicking.”
Doc’s dark gaze met mine in the mirror. “You mean alive and killing, sweetheart.”
“That, too.”
“What about your other littermate?” Cornelius asked.
“Susan?” I grimaced. “I’m not sure Satan’s concubine can even spawn humans from that stick insect body. Lord help us all if she makes mini versions of herself.”
Natalie chuckled. “I can see the little devils running around your parents’ place with their adorable tiny horns, sparking fires to everything they touch. Poor Grandma Hope will be singed from head to toe.”
I grinned. “That’s not much different from what Mom looks like after a weekend with my kids.” I looked back at Cornelius. “Susan doesn’t count when it comes to haints and the dark place.”
“Violet’s Executioner line is through her father,” Doc explained. “Susan is not Blake’s child, so she has no connection.”
“She has no conscience, either,” I grumbled.
“Ah.” Cornelius stroked his goatee. “That explains why you two have different smells.”
I did a double take. “We smell different?”
“Invariably.”
“What do I smell like?” The last individual who’d sniffed me told me I smelled like death, informing me that the lovely fragrance was something I came by naturally due to my lineage. Since then, I’d sniffed myself more times than I could count, worrying others could pick up the odor of death on me. I doubted that particular smell was anything close to the aroma of wildflowers I was aiming for with my lotions and perfume.
Cornelius shrugged. “You smell like Violet Parker.”
I leaned forward. “Doc, you care to weigh in on this?”
Doc shrugged, too. “He’s right. You smell like Violet.”
“Is that bad?” Duh! How could the scent of death be good?
He glanced over his shoulder, flashing me a smolder-edged smile. “I find it incredibly intoxicating, Boots.”
“Good answer.” But I sat back, still frowning. I had a feeling Doc’s nose didn’t work when it came to me. Could Addy’s pets smell a difference on me? Is that why Elvis had started leaving her eggs in Doc’s shoes instead of mine lately? Why Bogart the cat kept bringing me other critters in bed?
Gah! I shook off my obsession with my smell and returned to what we’d been discussing before. “Susan is my mom’s ‘baby girl.’ She’s the end result of too much vodka during a lonely night when some good-looking tumbleweed blew into town.” At least that was what my mom had explained to me in my twenties when I asked for details, curious who had replaced my father for a heartbeat or two in her past. “She’s blind to my sister’s atrocities.” Whereas my mom examined my misdeeds painstakingly through a magnifying glass.
“Your mom isn’t blind,” Natalie said. “Hope sees the best in everyone. It’s one of her many delightful attributes.”
Delightful? More like another reason to pull my hair out while in her company.
I pinched my lips together and looked out the windshield. Now was not the time to curl into a ball on the psychiatrist couch and share my emotional hang-ups when it came to my family. Christmas was enough at risk without my whining about growing up in a house with a vindictive sister who liked to burn my teddy bears.
We passed the road that led to Harvey’s ranch and the town of Slagton several miles beyond. The wind was buffeting my SUV regularly now. The gusts whipped up swirls of snow in front of us, making it hard to see the road. Doc seemed to be taking our precarious sled ride in stride, the only evidence of his tension showing in his double grip on the steering wheel.
“What about your dad?” Doc asked, his gaze locked on the white mess out the windshield. “Is he aware of Susan’s crimes against you?”
“Yeah, Dad knows what’s going on. He always has. But when we were kids, he made sure we were punished accordingly, depending on who started the fight. Unfortunately, the instigator was usually Susan, and after a while she complained to one and all that he favored me over her. As the years passed, her anger at me for Dad’s so-called bias spurred her into more destructive acts behind my parents’ backs.”
“Sounds like yer sister was rotten before she was even ripe,” Harvey said.
“Exactly. The safest course for all of us this Christmas when it comes to Susan is—”
The sight of yellow and orange blinking lights ahead in the road made me pause. I leaned forward, squinting out the windshield. “What’s that?”
Doc slowed as we neared the blinking lights.
“Why is the snowplow parked on the side of the road?” Natalie posed the question on all of our minds. “Please tell me he’s taking a break to see a man about a mule
