by Neva Bell
I start to protest, but close my mouth. What else am I supposed to be thinking about?
Willa continues when I don’t say anything. “I encourage you to go to the library. There are excellent books down there about leadership. Inside and outside of witchcraft. There are also journals from the prior Verhenas. I think you will find them incredibly useful.”
Ah, yes. The journals I had with me at Leviston that I never bothered to crack open.
To appease Willa, I tell her I’ll hit the books.
“This is a confusing time for you Chloe. There’s a lot going on. It was hard for me when I first came here, and I didn’t have half the trouble you’re dealing with.”
I stand up and thank Willa for her suggestions.
“There’s one other thing.” She walks out from behind her desk.
“Alright,” I say sheepishly.
“I don’t know how to say this…” Willa plays with her beaded necklace.
“It’s okay Willa. You can say anything to me.”
She frowns. “I’m worried you aren’t dealing with the loss of your sister.”
I suck in a breath. What does she know about my grief?
I steady myself, not wanting to snap at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Willa’s brow furrows. “I know. That’s what worries me.”
I stare at my feet and fight back tears. “When this is over, when I’ve defeated the rogue wolves, I’ll face it.” I look up and meet her eyes. “I promise.”
Willa nods her head. “I understand. We all handle grief in our own way.”
When I don’t say anything, Willa clears her throat. “Well then, I’ve said all I need to say. Please come to me with any questions or concerns you may have. I would love to talk with you about my experience as the Verhena and the things I’ve learned along the way.”
“Thank you Willa.”
Willa gives me a big hug and then sends me on my way.
I leave Willa’s office in a daze. My conversation with her was like being doused with cold water. She isn’t happy with me, and it sucks. I thought I was doing so well. Really progressing.
I take the steps down to the library. I’ve only stopped in the library once before, but I have a feeling it will be my new home.
The library is the least touched floor in the building from an architectural standpoint. It speaks of antiquity and heritage. The walls are nine feet high with dark cherry shelves floor to ceiling. Each shelf is filled with rows of books.
A long table occupies the center of the room with benches on both sides and a chair at each end. A gas burning fireplace and two large chairs are tucked into the back corner. The fireplace is glowing and projecting a halo of light onto the shelves above it.
Built into one of the walls is a small desk with a laptop computer. Willa told me the Guard created a program that catalogs the library’s contents. I should start there, but what do I type in the search field? Werewolves? Witch leaders?
I sigh and walk toward the fireplace. Between the two chairs is a brass tray with a glass top. Sitting on the glass is a large decanter and two drinking glasses. The decanter is filled with a golden colored liquid resembling cream soda. I take the lid off the decanter and smell the contents.
Whoa! My face twists awkwardly as the stench fills my nose.
“It’s bourbon,” a male voice says.
I nearly drop the decanter. I didn’t even notice James sitting in one of the chairs. “Jesus James! You about gave me a heart attack.”
“Not a drinker, huh?”
I set the decanter down. “No, not really. You?”
He shakes his head. “No, although I have sampled the bourbon.”
After a moment’s pause, I ask, “Isn’t there some other dark corner you should be lurking in?”
James smirks. “I come here every night. This is the first time I’ve seen you here. In my book, that means you’re interrupting me. Not vice versa.”
I take a seat in the other chair. The heat from the fireplace has warmed the soft, maroon leather. It’s nice and cozy.
“You come here every night?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
James puts a bookmark in the book he’s reading and shuts it. “There is a wealth of knowledge in here. Willa has books about wolf history I’ve never even heard of before. I’m taking advantage of every second I have here.”
“Hmmm,” I say as I gaze at the fire.
“What brings you here?” he asks.
I frown. “Willa yelled at me.”
“Willa yelled at you?” James sounds skeptical.
I turn to him. “Alright, I’m exaggerating.” I look back at the fire and sigh. “She made it clear I disappoint her.”
“Is that what she said?”
“Not exactly, but in so many words.”
“What exactly did she say?” James presses.
“That my thirst for revenge is clouding my judgment. That I need to worry about more than werewolves.”
James considers this. “She may have a point.”
Really? I don’t need another lecture. Especially from James. I sit back in the seat and stare at the flames.
James lets me sit quietly for a minute before he asks, “Have you thought about what you’re going to do after we defeat the rogue wolves?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“Maybe Willa wants you to start thinking about what kind of leader you will be. Your legacy with your people.”
Tears well in my eyes. “I’m not…I’m not like you James.”
He snorts. “There’s an understatement.”
I lean forward so he can see my face clearly. “I’m serious. I wasn’t born into this. I didn’t grow up my entire life knowing this was my destiny.” I’m using my hands to make my point. Something I do when I’m upset.
“This was thrust upon me less than a year ago. My whole life is different now. My sister is dead. I’m living a life I never wanted. I’m self-centered and immature. The last person in the world who should have this position.” I wipe tears from my face and fall back into the chair.
James passes me a tissue. “You’re right.”
Is he rubbing salt in the wound? I look at him for a second, then down at my hands.
“You’re right,” he repeats. “You’re new to this.”
I smile a little, relieved James wasn’t taking a jab at me.
“The bad news is you didn’t see this coming. The good news is you have a lot of resources around you.”
I nod. “I know, I know. I need to hit the books.”
“Sure you’ve got all of this,” James gestures toward the books, “but you also have Willa, and my grandfather. Two people who have been successful leaders for a very long time. Use them. Get as much advice from them as you can.”
James is right. Again.
“Have you met with Willa?”
“Yes, I have. I’ve met with her a few times.”
“To get tips on leadership?”
“That’s one reason.”
“And the other?”
James purses his lips, but answers my question. “If something happens to my grandfather, Willa and I will deal with each other a lot. I need to know what kind of person she is. And she needs to know what kind of person I am.”
I hadn’t thought about that. James is the future leader of his pack. He’s preparing for it, unlike me. The thought of James and I being the leaders of our people doesn’t seem real. But it is real.
What will I do if Willa has a heart attack tomorrow and is unable to lead? I don’t have the slightest clue what she does in a day. She’s involved in our plan to take down the rogue wolves, but it by no means consumes the bulk of her time.
I admit my epiphany to James. “Willa is right. My quest for vengeance has clouded my judgment.”
“Understandable.”
I reveal another truth. “To be honest, it was the only thing keeping me going.”
After chewing on my confession for a minute, he says, “Your people need you Chloe. The rogue wolves are definitely a threat, but the witches will need more from you.”
I ask James a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. “Would you want this for yourself? If you had a choice?”
James is surprised by my question. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”
“Ha,” I say with zero humor. “I think about it all the time. Every night I wonder what my life would be like if I’d gotten a simple black hawk tattooed on my right shoulder.”
James pauses before speaking. “I’ve never envisioned what my life would be like outside of this.”
“You never wanted to be an astronaut or firefighter?” I ask with a smile.
“No. I never allowed myself to dream of things like that. I knew I could never be those people. Why be disappointed?”
Damn. I think back to my younger years when Chelsea and I used to pretend to be doctors, secretaries, princesses, cowgirls, and an endless string of different people. How sad James didn’t play those games.
“People always tell you power has privileges,” I say. “What they don’t tell you, is it can also be a prison.”
James meets my gaze, the glow from the fireplace dancing in his emerald eyes. For the first time, I feel like he and I have an understanding.
As quickly as the moment begins, it’s over. “Well, I need to get back to it,” he says, patting the top of his book.
“Sure.” I stand up. “If you and I are going to be great leaders, we’ll have to play nice, won’t we?”
He gives me a small smile. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
I walk around the library hoping something will grab my attention. After watching me wander around aimlessly, James recommends a book about leadership from his stack. When I turn my nose up at it, he laughs and promises to give me the Cliff Notes version.
He also shows me the stack of books he has on the table discussing werewolf history. I turn those down too.
“Willa already thinks I spend too much time thinking about wolves,” I explain.
“Here.” He hands me a thin, leather bound book. “Maybe you should start with this.”
“What is it?” I ask, not seeing a title on the cover.
“It’s Willa’s first journal from when she was the Verhena-to-be.”
“You read Willa’s journal?” I ask with disbelief. Doesn’t he know it’s wrong to read a woman’s diary?
“She told me where to find it. I think there’s a reason she wanted me to read it.”
I open the cover to find yellowed pages filled with black ink. I run my hands down the page and try to picture Willa at my age. Was she scared too? Or was she better prepared than I am?
I tuck the book against my chest. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” James sits at the table and opens a large book. A clear signal he’s ready to get lost in his research again.
I leave him to it.
---
I hate it here.
Rose won’t let my family come to see me. I’m not allowed to have any friends visit either.
I hardly had the chance to say good-bye to my family before the Guard snatched me and brought me to this place.
I’m supposed to be happy because I will be the Verhena. I’m supposed to be thrilled that I will lead our people. I feel none of those things.
When I told Rose I don’t want this, she told me I’m ungrateful and should relish the chance to be the leader of the Witches.
“It’s an honor,” she tells me.
It’s really a curse.
Willa’s words hit home. A part of me is relieved she was in the exact same mindset I am now.
I stay up late reading Willa’s diary and realize how lucky I am. Willa didn’t have the support group I have. Rose was a tyrant and awful to Willa. Rose would taunt her and call her “insufficient.” Members of the Guard were not friendly like they are to me. Willa felt like she was nothing more than a burden.
When I close the diary, I see it is 1:30 in the morning. I was so caught up in Willa’s words, I missed my nightly swim. I lay in bed, half watching a repeat of Frasier and counting my blessings.
Willa is a great mentor.
Frank is an awesome security guard.
Jessica and Whitney have the potential to be good friends.
I am able to speak with my parents as much as I want.
I am safe, relatively speaking. It sucks being stuck in this building, but it’s full of all the modern amenities a girl could want.
I told Frank the day of Chelsea’s funeral I was going to be strong. But I have to be more than that.
“It starts today,” I say out loud. “I can do this.”
As if responding to my statement, a television commercial pronounces, “Yes you can!”
The man shouting on TV is talking about getting a new car without a down payment, but it feels like his excitement is directed at me.
---
I put my new mindset into action immediately. Instead of hanging around doing nothing after my training sessions, I spend time in the library learning all I can about witch history and the former Verhenas. Not all of them kept journals like Willa, but they all had biographies written about them.
One thing they all had in common was an absolute sense of terror and panic when they received their white hawk tattoo. All but one never envisioned this for herself. The one who did, Emma, was comical. She knew from day one she had this whole Verhena thing locked down. I wonder several times as I read about her if she had a bit of a sixth sense. There were times when Emma took action to control a situation before the situation even began.
I was curious to learn about the Verhena who was in charge when we were at war with the wolves. Her name was Ellie, short for Elizabeth, and the poor woman was shocked and saddened by the war with the wolves.
So many lives lost to this silly war, on both sides. I cannot bear to hear the stories about witches who have lost loved ones. We are winning this war, and I have no doubt that we could completely eliminate the werewolf population one by one. But I do not want to lose anymore witches. I don’t see the point in killing the wolves just because we can. If I continue to let this go, their blood will be on my hands. I wrote to the new pack leader, Isaiah, and hope to meet with him soon.
It was Ellie who negotiated peace with the werewolves and spearheaded the massive project of creating the ward between the two territories.
There were many witches who wanted the war to continue, even some of Ellie’s closest advisors. She would hear none of it. Ellie believed every being, witch or not, deserved a happy and peaceful existence.
Willa is thrilled with my newfound excitement about becoming the Verhena. We discuss various policy issues and the types of problems she deals with on a daily basis. I was surprised at the amount of conflict between covens and fully appreciate for the first time how great my coven back home really was.
My combat training is going well too. I’m working on increasing the longevity and durability of my spells. I hold my protection spells for as long as possible and work on increasing the intensity of my magnetism and strength spells.
Even my glamour spells are showing improvement. While I’m not great at changing myself into someone else, I am able to shut off Willa’s glamour spells. So if she turns me into a seventy-year-old man, I can undo her spell.
I’m also seeing a lot more of James. He is usually in the library at the same time I am. We talk about the material we are reading and he helps me when I have questions. Tonight, we discuss werewolf and witch urban myths.
“True or False,” I ask, “werewolves howl at the moon?”
James is unimpressed by my question. “Have you heard any howling since we’ve been here?”
“No.”
“Well then, there you go,” he answers without further explanation.
“Does the moon have any control over your transformations?”
“No, not at all.”
I’m confused. “Why do all the movies and books about werewolves make such a big deal about the full moon? Where did that come from?”
James sets his pen down. He was taking notes from yet another massive book about wolf history. “Centuries ago there was a serial killer, often called the Moonlight Killer, who only killed on a night with a full moon. The townspeople swore the man was over seven feet tall, but had the face and body of a wolf. He would rip out the throats of his victims.”
I shiver.
“Most think that’s how the connection between werewolves and the moon started.”
James gets back to his notes, but I think of another question. “What about silver?”
“What about it?” James asks without glancing up from his book.
“Is it true being touched by silver can burn your skin?”
“No.”
“What about silver bullets? Are they the only bullet that can kill you?”
James chortles. “I wish.” He looks at me again. “In some ways, we are as vulnerable as an average human. We just have additional abilities to help us survive.”
“Hmmm…” I want to ask where the urban myth about silver came from, but I’ve interrupted him enough for the night. I start reviewing the book in front of me, a book about leadership written by a former Prime Minister.
“What about broomsticks?” James asks out of nowhere. “Where did that come from?”
I smile. “When I was little, my grandmother used to tell me a story about a witch named Polly. Polly really wanted to fly, but couldn’t come up with a spell for it.”
James interrupts. “I assume no witch can fly, or you’d be doing it in training.”
I nod. “I wish we could, but we can’t.”
James waves his hand. “Proceed.”
“Anyways, Polly was good at moving inanimate objects. She could hold them in the air for a long period of time and could move them great distances. So she decided the best way to fly would be to sit on an inanimate object and move it.”
James considers this. “Why the broom?”
“Sweeping was one of Polly’s daily chores. Plus, she could control it easily because it was lightweight.”
“Makes sense.”
I continue the story. “One night, Polly decided to take her broom further than the boundary line of her family’s farm. Unfortunately, it was still early enough in the evening for people in the local village to see Polly flying through the sky. While no one in the village knew who was on the broom, the story about the flying woman spread quickly. Polly’s coven punished her by shaving her hair off and throwing her broom into a fire.”