AN: Atsutsa – pronounced: ah-Choo-ja. It is the Cherokee word for boy.

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CHAPTER 3

Let's Talk

"Okay, usually we start with an introduction; get to know you a little." Hardison was trying for his normal cheerful banter, but everyone could tell he was still a little rattled.

"What are you?" Parker asked in her usual blunt fashion.

"We are…"

"NO." Eliot's forceful tone cut across Alexandra's words. "You will not talk about that in my home."

"O-kay." Hardison's tone of forced cheerfulness fooled no one. "So just the basics then. You told Parker that Casper Ghould is trying to force you out of your building." He showed a street view picture of their building. "Gould has purchased every other building on the block."

"We cannot leave." Alexandra looked pale as she looked over the color-coded map Hardison had on the screen.

Quinn came back in with two chilled glasses of flat beer and two plates of meat scraps. He'd included cloth napkins and plastic silverware. "Since we don't keep actual silverware and I didn't know if the iron content in the regular cutlery would be a problem." Quinn shrugged as he brought the tray to Eliot.

"Very thoughtful, Wahya." Josette commented as she came forward.

Eliot took the tray from Quinn and held it out to Josette.

"What is Ghould doing to force you out?" Parker had moved to the rafters.

"He's chased away our customers. He's threatening, but it's nothing specific, nothing we can take to the police." Alexandra reached for Josette's hand.

Josette set the tray of meat and beer on a chair near the desk and took her sister's hand. "They have driven Atsutsa away. I've searched but I haven't found him. Even with Vivie's help I cannot find him."

Eliot could feel Hardison's urge to joke his way out of an uncomfortable situation and he knew he needed to get ahead of it. If Hardison offended the witches, it could have long standing effects on their pack, even the city. "Hardison." Eliot waited until Hardison looked at him and he shook his head at Hardison, pushing the urge to be silent through the bonds.

Eliot looked at the witches. "The boy has run away again?"

"Yes." They both answered at the same time.

"Do you know him?" Parker looked at Eliot from her perch in the rafters.

"Know of. It's not a story for here." Eliot looked at the witches again.

"If this boy has run away before, how did you find him last time?" Quinn had moved a little closer to Hardison when no one was paying attention to him.

"That is also in the stories." Alexandra's eyes went yellow for a moment. She turned a look on Eliot, daring him to tell his pack.

"That is also something for another time." Eliot glanced at Quinn. He looked at the witches again. "If you resort to the same methods you've used before, we will not be on the same side."

"Why do you think we're here?! We have done what we could to put away the old ways." Alexandra's eyes were brown again as she wiped a tear away. "We are trying to find a way to tell a new ending to the story. We don't want to be remembered as we were."

Parker dropped down from the rafters and landed just behind Hardison and Quinn. She stepped between them and stood with crossed arms. "You said you can't leave." She frowned. "You didn't say 'don't want to', you said can't."

Eliot could feel Quinn's amusement at Parker's protective stance in front of him.

Josette nodded. "We are bound there. If we were to leave there permanently, we would become as we were; the way that he remembers us." She nodded toward Eliot.

"Please, enjoy the food and drink." Eliot's smile was polite but not sincere.

The witches nodded and reached for their glasses of beer at the same time. They took a long drink and set the glasses back on the tray. They reached for the plates of meat and didn't bother with the plastic silverware. They each picked up a fatty scrap and ate it. Setting the plates back on the tray at the same time. They turned as one to face Eliot. "We will wait on your decision Wahya." They walked out of the room and down the hall ducking through the main door on the way out.

"So what was that all about?" Hardison waved his hands wildly. "And what was with the creepy do-everything-at-the-same-time thing there at the end?"

"And how come you gave them bad food?" Parker had moved to sit on top of the desk.

Eliot ran a hand through his hair. "Let's take a walk."

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Eliot tilted his head back and felt the breeze push chilly fingers into his hair as he and his pack walked next to the river.

"So now can you tell us?" Parker held Hardison's hand as they walked.

"Those two women are the last of the Tah-tah kle' –ah. My great uncle told me about them once." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I'm guessing that's a Cherokee name for something." Hardison raised an eyebrow.

"It means owl-woman-monster. They are witches." Eliot shoved his hands into his pockets. Telling his pack wasn't the same as telling outsiders but he still felt uncomfortable talking about the stories and histories he'd been taught as a child. "Witches for the native American tribes are not like Wicca witches. Witches are always evil there are no good witches in native stories."

"They called you something too. Wahya?" Quinn asked as he trailed just a little behind and to the left of Eliot.

"Means wolf." Eliot shrugged. "True enough, I guess. Anyway, the stories say that there were five witches. Taller, bigger, than average people, and they ate children. They also ate things that others won't like frogs, snakes, lizards, and other things. Things that normal people would never eat. They are language talkers. I think if I hadn't called them by name, they would have called me werewolf instead of using the Cherokee."

"So they speak Cherokee and English?" Hardison looked like he was tracking a data set for his computer code.

"They speak all languages. They speak every language like it was the one they were born speaking. They've used that to lure children and sometimes hunters away so that they can eat them."

"So they are cannibals?" Parker frowned.

"Not sure if it counts as cannibalism if they aren't human." Eliot shuddered. "No one knows what killed two of the sisters. The story said their cave became red hot and blew up."

"Volcanic activity maybe." Quinn suggested.

Eliot shrugged. "Maybe. Doesn't matter. Anyway, the last three sisters moved north out of California, and apparently they came here."

"They did say there was three of them when they made the appointment today. I was expecting three of them." Parker frowned. "Do you really think they aren't human. Werewolves are human at least to start."

"I don't think they are, or ever have been, but I don't know. And you won't see the third one. She was drowned."

"So there really is only two of them?" Hardison draped an arm around Parker's shoulders.

"No." Eliot hunched his shoulders. "I don't know how to explain it. She's dead but she's not dead. Her eye was used to make an owl and that's what Josette was talking about when she said she couldn't find the boy even with Vivie's help."

"She called him by name it was achoo something." Hardison snorted.

"Ah choo ja. I think." Quinn commented.

"It just means boy. It's not really a name." Eliot shrugged. "The stories say that they took a boy to raise as their own, but he ran away and when he got back to his tribe, he was different. He wasn't quite human anymore. The tribe tried to hide him from the witches. They wanted to take him to a medicine man in the next tribe but before they could, the witches came and destroyed every living thing until they found him. Some of the stories say that the boy died too but when the witches spoke to him, he got up and walked with them."

"Like a zombie? Zombies are gross." Parker made an exaggerated face to show her disgust.

"That was why you said we wouldn't be on the same side. You were afraid they'd start killing people to find this boy." Quinn moved closer so that he could see Eliot's face. "They said that you remember them but the way you described things, all of this took place a long time ago."

"I'm not much older than I look." Eliot smiled. "At least not yet. I don't know if it's the same with all tribes, but I know that a lot of them pass down their traditions and histories orally. The person that learns the stories has to be able to tell the stories without making any changes or leaving out any detail. It has to be exact. They believe that they are transferring the memory from one generation to the next. I wasn't taught the stories that way. My great uncle would tell a story sometimes but mostly it was for entertainment. My grandmamma and my mother were both Baptists. They made it clear that they didn't believe that those stories were real. They believed there were lessons to learn from those stories but that was it."

"Since you recognized them when you saw them they assumed that you knew the stories officially." Quinn nodded. "Makes me feel a little better that they are capable of mistakes and don't actually know everything."

"You made a big deal about the silverware. Did you know that they were witches?" Parker asked Quinn.

"I thought they might be some kind of Fae." He shrugged. "Eliot was so specific about the meat and beer. And food and drink is a Fae thing right?"

"Are Fae real?" Hardison frowned.

"No idea." Eliot shrugged.

"I've never seen one." Quinn smirked. "It was just a guess on my part. I wouldn't have guessed witches, so I was wrong either way."

"So why did we have to go for a walk in the cold wind to talk about all of this?" Parker huddled deeper in her coat.

"Talking about something like the tah-tah kle' –ah can attract their attention. Or so I've heard." Eliot frowned. "Common sense says that you don't invite evil into your home."

"But if you do, you give them gross food and flat beer." Parker skipped next to Eliot.

He gave her a half smile. "Right."

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'How did the job thing go?'

Eliot couldn't help his smile when he saw Gemma's text.

'You at work?'

'No'

Eliot tapped the screen and held his phone to his ear while he waited on Gemma to answer.

"Eliot."

He loved the way she said his name. "Hey Gemma. So, the job thing was kinda complicated." He thought about it all for a minute before he caught her up on what was happening.

"Witches? Like real witches?"

"Yes. I didn't think they really were real before today though." He remembered a piece of conversation between his grandmother and his mother. "I'd always chalked it up to a boogeyman story. You know, the kind of story you tell to scare kids into good behavior. Keeps them from wandering off or talking to strangers, that kinda thing."

"That's sort of funny coming from a werewolf." Gemma chuckled.

Eliot snorted. "I was a kid the last time I heard that story."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I kind of want to avoid the whole thing but I can't. Usually, I'd just let Parker decide, but this isn't some corrupt CEO or a bunch of mobsters, it's witches and supernatural stuff."

"Your pastor friend. What's his name? Maybe you could talk with him."

Eliot smiled. "His name is Julio. And I probably will talk with him, but right now I'm talking to you. What would you do if the boogeyman from your childhood came and asked you for help?"

"Stake him through the heart and wait for the sun to turn him to ashes." Gemma shuddered when she thought about McCune.

"Right. Sorry. I guess that wasn't a fair question."

"It's okay. I know what you meant. And really, I don't know. It sounds like they're trying to be better. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

"No." Eliot thought of a few people that certainly didn't deserve a second chance. He realized that he probably topped that list for a number of other people, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders. "But I see what you mean."

"Just trust yourself. You are a good man. I know you'll make the right choice."

"Thanks Gemma. I'm really sorry, but I gotta go."

"Alright. Call me tonight even if it's late."

" 'kay."

Eliot hung up and walked through the door from the loading dock into the pub's kitchen. He had heard the raised tone coming from the kitchen and knew that something was getting out of hand with the lunch rush.

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Eliot stirred the contents of the Dutch oven before he put the lid back on and resituated the pot on the oven rack. He checked the time on his watch and knew he would have dinner ready in time.

"Someone is in the stairwell." Quinn commented as he turned the TV off.

"Probably Julio and Chrissa. I invited them to dinner tonight." Eliot untied his apron and hung it on a hook.

Quinn hurried to the door to the stairwell to hold it open. He'd met Julio and Chrissa a couple of times since joining the pack, but he still didn't know them really well.

Julio came through the door and gave Quinn's arm a pat on the way past. "Good to see you again."

"Nice to see you both." Quinn responded as he trailed them toward the kitchen.

It didn't take long to have everyone seated at the table. Eliot served the braised beef from the Dutch oven and the rest of the side dishes were passed around. Julio and Chrissa bowed their heads quietly for a second and Eliot said his own quick prayer for Gemma and Ms. Teo.

Julio leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look around the table. "Thanks for inviting us tonight."

Eliot held his beer up and Julio tapped the top of his beer bottle to the top of Eliot's. They both tapped their bottles on the table and bobbed them in a small salute.

"Thanks for coming." Eliot smiled.

"Not that I don't believe in your hospitality, but what's on your mind?" Julio sipped his beer. "Or is that a subject for later?"

"Witches." Eliot frowned. "Turns out our latest customers are witches."

"Have you seen the little shop that just opened down the street from us?" Chrissa blew across her forkful of braised beef. "It's a Wicca shop. They sell herbs, crystals, tarot cards, all kinds of things."

"Not Wicca. These are witches from Native American stories." Eliot sipped his beer.

"Evil witches." Parker threw in.

"Are they asking you to do something you know is wrong?" Julio frowned. He noticed the amused looks on the faces around him. "You know what I meant." He snorted. "Something outside your usual shenanigans?"

"It's a land grab. Someone is trying to force them out of their home so that they can raze the block and put up condos." Hardison scooted a cherry tomato from his plate to Parker's.

"Is this a job you would take if they weren't witches?" Chrissa asked.

Eliot picked up the change in her scent as she asked her leading question. "Yes." He nodded. "But, usually our clients aren't inherently evil."

Julio seemed to think while he ate his next bite. "What are the ramifications of helping them or not?"

"I know you said they're evil but how do you know? Is it only the stories you've heard that make you think that?" Chrissa's questions came on the heels of Julio's question.

"I don't know what will happen if we help them but…" He nodded toward Chrissa. "They said if they leave where they are now that they would go back to the way they were in the old stories. So yes, I do think they are evil. They pretty much said it themselves."

Everyone ate in silence for a moment, thinking over what they knew about the whole scenario.

"What's the crime like in their neighborhood?" Quinn asked Hardison as he leaned across the table to get another serving of braised beef.

Hardison quirked an eyebrow.

"Is it a good neighborhood? Can you walk down the street and not get mugged?" Quinn settled back in his seat.

"Crime rates have been lower than average in that neighborhood." Hardison spread butter over a slice of bread. "I was hoping to find something to use against Ghould. The sisters said that he's been threatening them and that he drove the boy away. I was hoping that I'd find something that was cop worthy, but nada." Hardison held his hand up in an O shape.

"How far back did you check?" Julio sipped his beer.

"I only went back to a month or two before he bought the first building on that block."

"If these witches are old and have been there a long time then maybe you should check farther back if you can. If they've really turned over a new leaf then maybe that would help prove it, or it would maybe show if they are the ones that are up to no good."

Quinn checked his watch. "You guys mind if I take off?"

Eliot quirked a brow but didn't ask where Quinn was going. "Go ahead."

"Where are you going?" Parker looked up at Quinn.

"Treyson's." Quinn knew it was just curiosity on Parker's part and not a need to control him, but his wolf still felt the urge to comply.

"Babe, leave the man alone. If he wanted us all up in his business he'd've said so."

"It's fine." Quinn gave Parker a half smile. It was still a little strange having the people in his pack care about him. He liked it.

They all watched as Quinn slung his suit jacket on and gave it a little tug as he headed out the door.

"Funny, doesn't look like he's planning on working out." Julio observed.

"Maybe he plans on changing clothes at the gym. You don't know." Chrissa nudged Julio with her elbow.

"There was some trouble at the gym last night. I'm sure he's just wanting to keep an eye on things." Eliot sipped his beer and tried to use the bonds to get a clearer read on what Quinn's motivations were.

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Quinn slid behind the wheel of his Hellcat and paused. He'd decided last night that he'd keep an eye on Treyson's the next night and it had just been a given. He hadn't stopped to really think about why he was doing it. He'd told Eliot that he didn't want to get involved with another woman that didn't know about werewolves.

The last one had done it for him. He'd fallen hard for Kathy and was enchanted with her daughter. When Kathy had called things off the week before their wedding, he'd been devastated. He hadn't wanted there to be secrets between them, and he had been sure that he'd be able to explain things. Instead, she'd run away from him. Run away from the monster. Ironically, she'd gone to one of his pack mates to hide from him. No amount of talking through closed doors or texting had changed her mind.

The memory was enough to convince him anew that he didn't want to get involved with Charlie. He also didn't want her to face a crazy person in the parking lot on her own.

He started his car. The drive to Treyson's should take around thirty minutes, giving him more than enough time to think about what a bad idea this probably was.