Free Good Counsel by Eileen Wilks

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    NIGHT SEASON deleted scene
    Good C ounsel
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    by Eileen Wilks
    This snippet takes place after NIGHT SEASON and just before the free short story, “Cyncerely Yours.” It’s more of a scene than a complete story, but I thought readers who’ve enjoyed the series might enjoy listening in on Cul en’s counsel ing session with Father Michaels.
    Abraham Michaels was trying yet again to access parish fhiles that the new software seemed to have scrambled when a knock sounded on his door. He glanced at the clock. Three already?
    “Come in.” l
    Dora opened the door. “Mr. Seabourne to see you, Father.”
    “Excellent.” He pushed his chair back and rose.
    The man who entered was lean, scruffy, and extraordinary. He wore ryouagged jeans and Reeboks with the panache of a box office star relaxing between films—a notion supported by a face that could have earned him top billing in Hollywood or Madison Avenue. But it was his body women would watch. Cullen Seabourne possessed the physical poise of dancer, which wasn’t surprising. He was one—an exotic dancer. Or had been. Cynna said her fiancé hadn’t decided yet whether he would continue in that profession.
    He was also a werewolf . . . no, Abe reminded himself. He should think of Seabourne as a lupus.
    That’s what they preferred to be called. “Thank you for coming to see me, Mr. Seabourne.” He extended a hand and they shook. “Please have a seat. Would you care for coffee or tea?”
    “No, thanks.” He took the chair Abe indicated, one of the pair set at right angles near the window. Abe never conducted counselling from behind his desk. What would be the point of that?
    Abe took his own seat. The other man lounged in his chair with deliberate ease—a pose, Abe thought, but which of them was the pose directed at? Was lupus body language the same as human? “I’ll ask the standard questions first,” Abe began, “but there will be a few directed at your particular situation, which is not standard. I appreciate your willingness to participate. Are you willing to have your children raised in the Church?”
    “Sure. Cynna would want that. It matters to her.”
    “And you’ve no objections?”
    “Your church is a valid approach to the Source.”
    “What is your own faith background?”
    “My mother was Wiccan. I don’t identify myself that way, but I like their symbolism. I like the idea of recognizing both the male and female aspects of the One. In the clans, we usually see Deity as feminine.”
    Abe nodded. He had nothing against Wiccans, though he considered their faith overly simplistic.
    “The One being God?”
    “Sure, though that’s a word I don’t use.”
    “Why not?”
    He was still for a moment, motionless in a way that gave Abe the idea he wanted to fidget. That the subject made him uncomfortable. “Expectations, I suppose. Baggage.”
    An honest answer, however limited. Abe tried another angle. “I understand you urged Cynna to be married within her church. Can you tell me why?”
    “What do you know about Cynna’s childhood? No, unfair question. Even if you know plenty, you probably can’t discuss it.” He frowned, shifted slightly in his chair. “Put it this way. We won’t have the support of my clan for this marriage. Friends, yeah, we’ve both got friends who will back us, but she needs her community behind her. As I understand it, Catholics see the Church as the union of many faith communities.”
    “That’s one way of putting it.”
    “Cynna needs that, needs both the belonging and the acceptance.”
    “And you don’t?”
    “I won’t get it, not from my people. But your congregations are like clans, aren’t they?”
    Abe’s eyebrows climbed. “You see a Catholic congregation as similar to one of your clans?”
    “Sure. Not identical, obviously, but a church community satisfies some of the same needs. You’ve got one big thing binding you together—not the