Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [139]
The memory of the wall with the claw marks rose before her. She just couldn’t shake it off. The claws. The monster in the woods. Her grandparents. Somehow it all had to fit.
Cerise searched the room for Erian. “Erian?”
“Yes?” He pushed to the front.
“Once this meeting is over, I want you to take two boys and dig up Grandfather’s grave.”
A collective gasp rushed through the room.
Cerise stared them down. Just try and stop me. “I want to know how he died.” She looked from face to face. “The secrets stop now. Tonight we go to fight the Hand, and I will have to kill my mother. I’d like to have everything out in the open beforehand.”
“I don’t think you should go,” Erian said, his face calm. “I don’t think any of us should go. The Hand is too strong. Attacking them is risky.”
She stared at him. “Erian, you’re the first to run into every fight!”
He nodded, his expression oddly rational. “All the more reason to listen to me now. The Sheeriles are dead. The feud is dead. Our enemy is gone and this war is over. You would put all of us in danger and for what? Your mother is gone, and we don’t even know if Gustave is alive.”
The betrayal stung. Of all people, she had expected it from Richard, not Erian. Richard was cautious, while Erian hadn’t met a fight he didn’t want to win. “What the hell is wrong with you? You have been my brother since you were ten. My parents raised you. Erian!”
He crossed his arms on his chest. “Ceri, we must do what is best for the family. Attacking the Hand is plain stupid. You’re hurting and it’s making you crazy. Think about it. If they weren’t your parents, you would agree with me.”
She was losing the argument; she could see it in their faces. Cerise clenched her teeth and forced her voice to sound steady. If it was a fight he wanted, she would give it to him. “So you think we should tuck our tail in and hide in the Rathole.”
“Yes.” Erian’s eyes were crystal clear. “They’re freaks, Cerise. We aren’t strong enough.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t the lot of us go down to Sicktree, take our pants off in front of the courthouse, and bend over? That will announce to the entire Mire exactly where we stand.” She leaned forward. “Act like you’re a Mar, Erian. Or did I miss something, and did the Sheeriles cut off your balls in that fight?”
A grimace clamped his face. “Watch yourself!”
“Think very carefully before you threaten me. I’m stronger and better than you.”
Erian leaned forward.
“Stop.”
Cerise turned. Clara was looking at her. She sat between her husband and her oldest son, the stump of her leg making a short bulge under her dress. She’d aged, and when their stares crossed, Cerise thought her brown eyes looked gray, as if dusted with ash.
“Clara?”
The entire room focused on Clara’s face. Urow bared his teeth, reacting to the pressure. Clara put a hand on his arm.
“Yesterday I sent Mart back to our house,” Clara said. “The Hand burned it. There is nothing left. As long as the freaks live, we’ll never be safe. Not us, not our children, not even in our own homes. They won’t rest until they wipe us out. We will give you our sons, so you can kill the Hand’s freaks. Kill them all. To the last one.”
WILLIAM leaned against the balcony rail. They’d asked him to wait outside. He didn’t see any need to push the issue—they were loud enough that he caught most of what was said.
They battered Cerise. They screamed and argued and carried on. He wanted to walk in there and snarl them silent.
She didn’t budge. They voted and gave in. The Mars would attack the Hand at dawn.
A part of him was happy—she won. She got the fight she wanted. The rest of him was pissed off—she got the fight she wanted, and now she would run right into that fight. She was his mate, and he could end up watching her die.