The Stray

2-41: Face to Face

So he sat. What else was he going to do? Running would only make him more suspicious. On the plus side, the shot of adrenaline that ripped through him shut off his stomach but good. Hard to have an appetite when you're staring down a predator that can rip y' to shreds. Just one look at this woman sent him into life-or-death, fight or flight mode.

She still smelled of anger, but dull, directionless. Her pelt was dull, with her natural stripes of brown, black, and white fading to grey. Her hair, too, hung in grey, blunt curtains. Her eyes were anything but dull, though, having a piercing quality that made him sure she was on to him.

Witches don't panic. Witches don't panic. Witches don't panic...

She looked tough. She had broad muscles, though Timothy thought she must have been truly strapping once. It was her clothes; her blouse and pants were just a bit loose in key places. She had some serious hardware, too. A heavy-duty PAT made from solid steel hung from her hip, and he'd caught a glimpse of a chunky J&T buster pistol in its holster. And, now that he was looking... he smelled spun Anima. He squinted with his spirit eye, and sure enough, she'd summoned a Liar's Bane. She meant business.

"Madam Mayor, I presume?" Timothy's voice came out higher than he'd hoped. "I don't believe we've been introduced." He fought hard to keep his hick-Strenel-Deepshadow accent out of his voice. "I—"

"I know what you are, witch." The badger's eyes narrowed. "Don't much care about your name." Her fist clenched, and a privacy spell wove into being around them like a cocoon. No help coming.

The witch fought hard to keep his voice steady. His throat was crackling dry. "Don't you mean 'who,' ma'am?"

"Don't play games with me." She growled, looming over the table. Timothy glanced sideways. They were well tucked away. Nobody would see anything, not even the bartender. "I've seen your mark."

Timothy opened his mouth to deny it, but with a Liar's Bane watching... Remember Pilfer. "Have you?"

"Oh, yes." Her glare intensified. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't bash your brains out right now, and rip that stupid bandana off your corpse." That's an awful direct threat. This was an ambush; she knows I don't have any way of recording this. She probably does, though.

"It'd be against the law, I think." The witch said quietly.

"I am the law, Streneli." She growled and leaned in.

Wait, what? I'd have fallen for that a week ago, but I know she's bluffing. She was up to something. Just straight intimidation, or a test of some kind...? Timothy didn't know her game, so all he could do was what Granny always said, and play to his outs. "Unless you're trying to invite me out to Strenel, ma'am, that ain't how it works."

She held her position for a moment, and he did his best not to break eye contact first. Then, to his surprise, her expression flattened to a stony stare, and she sat back down. "I see."

Come on, witch, think. She really smelled angry, but it was more like... a kind of ambient heat, more than an impending explosion. And with swings like that... She's fishing! She didn't have anything concrete, so she was trying to bully him into saying something stupid.

Time to play the bumpkin, then. "Yep yep yep. That all, ma'am?" The witch tilted his head. "I'm a busy guy, y'know." Let's see how her ego takes a li'l disrespect.

"Yes, you have been busy, haven't you?" She glanced out the door. "I imagine this is your doing."

How to word this...? "Neither my hands nor my magic spun those webs." He saw the flicker of the spirit on her shoulder, but did his best to act like he didn't see. Liar's Banes looked like some kind of bird-lizard, with beady li'l eyes but a very, very long tongue, billowing around it like a weird sash. That tongue let it taste his words for lies. He didn't know the specifics, other than it was apparently kinda like his wildtongues? Supposedly they could even kinda sense evasive, tricksy answers.

To Timothy, lying was second nature. He'd really have to watch his mouth. And unfortunately for him, even without the spirit, the mayor wasn't stupid. Locke rolled her eyes. "You're a witch. You have plenty of means besides those."

"If you reckon." He shrugged.

"I do." She took a sip of her drink. "I'd know."

Timothy cocked his head real slow. "Oh?"

"Don't play dumb. It ill becomes a witch." She glared again, and he again met it with a bland sort of look. "I know you're staying with those Ashbornes. Gossips and busybodies the lot."

That's bait. "I find them a very kind, very welcoming family." He fake-smiled. "Perhaps you'd enjoy their company. Who knows?"

He'd struck a nerve with that one, just as he'd wanted. Her knuckles went white around her mug. "I'd not be flippant with me, boy. You're on thin ice as it is."

Timothy tilted his head and said nothing. He was already tail-between-legs terrified, so the threat really didn't add much! Locke resumed glaring at him, from behind tented hands. Then, a mean sort of smile formed. "I don't just mean from me, you know. You and I both know that you're a ticking time bomb."

Timothy said nothing, so she continued. "After all, you can't keep wearing that thing forever. Sooner or later, someone will see through you. And then what will happen?" She shook her head. "I already did, and I'm betting more will follow. Have you even thought about what'll happen to those dragons when it comes out they've been hiding you?"

Timothy felt the blood drain from his face. He had thought about it, but he'd mostly been worried for his own pelt at the time.

"Dragons aren't well-liked in these parts to begin with. Many a family lost loved ones to the firethroats, after all." Her voice grew low. "How do you think these townsfolk will react to them hiding a dangerous lusundrite under their roof?"

Timothy began to shake.

"Let me be very clear with you, boy. I will not allow you to do as you please here. This is not your steading, this is not your town, and you are not my—our—witch." She glowered like she expected him to chase her slip, but Timothy was far too terrified.

"I-I have no intention—"

"You say that, and maybe you even believe it. But I know what you witches are like. Every witch besides one is an opportunist, a scoundrel, and worse. And you are far worse than a witch."

He was trapped. Captain Ashborne'd said that Locke wouldn't risk her position or her respect making accusations. V had said that the mayor couldn't stir up a mob without facing the law. Locke clearly didn't agree. What could he do?

He was shaking. Damn it, stop! "I don't know what you mean to say with that, b-but I don't think trying to start a mob is a great look, Madam Mayor."

"Oh, I think protecting my town will be more than enough excuse." Was she bluffing? Timothy couldn't tell. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. "You may think you're safe as safe comes because you've done a few piddly good deeds, and rubbed shoulders with the watch. I told you you're a time bomb, boy, and if you don't leave town tonight, I'll set you off myself, and the blast hit what it may." She stood up so fast the booth rocked. "Count on it."

"I-If you were going to tell people what you think of me, you would have already!" Desperation was creeping into his voice.

And her smile grew truly vicious. "Where better than at the town hall?"

Oh. His stomach dropped. He'd been outplayed.

The soundproof bubble popped. The mayor snatched her staff, shot him one last glare, and swept out of the bar, leaving a shaking wolf behind.

What was he gonna do?