The rain was coming down in sheets when I left the Council Chambers. I hadn’t brought an umbrella or a raincoat, for that matter. I haven’t seen a raincoat in years. Did they even still make them? When I was a little girl I had a bright yellow one with a matching hood and yellow boots that came up to my knees. My mother had been very protective and evidently thought that one drop of rain on my precious little skin would turn me into a sugary puddle.
I suppose somebody would say that I’ve been treated like a princess all my life and I probably have been. It didn't feel that way after I turned twelve and started to question everything, and I do mean everything. I was a Were who didn’t want to be a Were. I didn't want to turn wolf every month. I didn't want to live in a patriarchal society, one in which women were expected to fulfill a certain role. I wasn’t a trailblazer. Women like my grandmother, who’d inherited a fortune and decided to do something with it, were the true heroines. I was just lucky to have been born her granddaughter.
I made my way to the car, a little thing that reminded me of a box. I don't know why I bought it. I should've splurged for a midsize car. It was new, since I'd totaled mine a few months ago in a spectacular accident, one that involved Mark's powers and a Humvee driven by my ex-boyfriend. Not that Craig had ever admitted to forcing me off the road.
I opened the car door, got in, and started it. I turned on the wipers and stared through the windshield for a few minutes. I don't know why I was waiting. Maybe I was hoping that Mark would catch up with me. He didn't.
I wasn’t going to pine after the man. I was smarter than that. Besides, I’d already gone through three months of pining. I’d gotten it out of my system.
I hadn't missed that look my father gave me as I slipped out of the Council Chambers. He and Mark were still glad handing and doing the hail fellow well met thing. I thought he was impressed that someone had faced him down and hadn’t looked the least bit cowed.
I’d done the same more than once and to the best of my knowledge I hadn’t looked afraid, either. But I was a woman and for me to do something like that was almost shocking. Women were supposed to be meek, demure, and subservient, at least to some degree.
Back to square peg, round hole or vice versa.
There weren't very many households headed by women in the Were community. A girl normally lived with her parents until she married. I was an exception there, too. A widow might choose not to remarry and that was perfectly acceptable. A woman like Doreen — if the Council ruled against her — would be a slightly different story. It was almost like a sign would appear overnight above her house: something is wrong with this one. The rationale being that no Were husband would divorce a good wife.
The husband was never thought to be responsible for a divorce. Nope, it must have been the wife. Either she hadn’t been a good enough cook or she’d refused her husband in the bedroom or she had other faults that rendered her unsuitable for marriage.
Doreen would be gossiped about for months, if not years. Some Were establishments might even go so far as to actively discourage her from conducting business with them. Some people would definitely shun her.
I was on the cusp of being treated the same way. If anyone in the clan learned that I was now Pranic, my name would be more sensational than Doreen’s. I could expect to be furry non grata just about everywhere. The fact that Hamish Boyd was my father wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.
It was only a matter of time. At least I was prepared to endure it. I’d lived for years among civilians. I was ready. At least that’s what I told myself.
I still sat there like a doofus, watching a few of the Council members get into their cars. The parking lights overhead were nearly obscured by the rain, their watery light making the scene appear like the Degas’ painting of Waterloo Bridge.
I couldn't help but wonder what kind of clinical trial Mark was participating in. Did it have anything to do with the super-duper blood we’d both received in the transfusion? Or had he lied about that to my father?
I didn't want to see Mark. I didn't want to talk to Mark. I didn't want to have anything to do with him. Then why was I still sitting here? The best thing to do was to treat him exactly like he’d treated me. Well, not exactly. I wasn't going to take him to bed, make wild passionate love to him, and then ignore him for the rest of my life.
The least the man could have done was to send me a note to explain. Dear Torrance, you’re too much effort. You don't interest me. I have a girlfriend back home. I prefer guys. Something other than a vast wasteland of silence.
I decided that I wasn't as angry as I was hurt. My pride was also affected and that most definitely was not a good combination.
The knock on the window made me jump.
I rolled down the window to see Doreen standing there drenched, her hair plastered to her skull. She was shivering, holding her arms around her waist. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so wet.
If I’d been a better person, I would've invited her inside the car, but it was only two weeks old and I didn't want the passenger seat ruined. Oh, what the hell.
"Get in,” I said. “You're going to drown out there.”
Thunder obliterated what she said.
I rolled down the window all the way and shouted. “What?”
"You didn't stand up for me in there," she said. "The first woman on the Council and you just sat there without saying a word. How could you?"
I didn't quite know what to say to that because it hadn't occurred to me to speak when my father was questioning her. You didn’t interrupt Hamish.
"You just sat there,” she repeated. “You should have said something, Torrance. For the friendship I have with your mother, if for no other reason."
When someone spoke to me in that tone of voice, I immediately felt defensive. I wasn’t a five year old. Nor do I like being talked down to or treated like a child.
She hadn't made any move to get into the car and I didn't urge her to do so now.
"Well," I said. "The Council hasn't made up their mind."
She gave me a look that I saw in the watery parking lot light. She and I both knew that the verdict was probably not coming down in her favor.
In all honesty, I was leaning toward approving the divorce, but I didn’t tell her that.
I had my finger on the window button. The rain was coming into the car and I didn't want to get any wetter than I was.
"You've always been a difficult person to like, Torrance."
Don't get me wrong, I'm not always Little Mary Sunshine, but it seemed to me that if I wanted a favor from somebody I wouldn't insult her.
I wanted to ask Doreen why the hell she considered me difficult. I stopped myself. Maybe I should have business cards made up: Torrance Boyd, DVM, disliked by Doreen Rice. I’d probably bring a lot of business to the clinic.
"Go home, Doreen," I said, as politely as I was able. "Nothing's going to be decided tonight." I wasn’t going to treat her like an idiot and tell her to get out of the rain — however much she deserved it.
Another rumble of thunder drowned out her words, and maybe that was a good thing, because I don’t think I could repeat what she said to my mother.
I rolled up the window, put the car in gear and headed for home.