Gray's Dilemma: A Witches Circle Novella (The Witches Circle)

by C. Larsen

  Though I’m in human form, the display is enough to get Bernard to back down. Once he’s no longer growling, I tell him sternly, “I’m holding the wound closed. There’s nothing we can do until someone from the coven gets here.”

  Bernard drops his eyes and whines, but continues to hover close. Derek stays in wolf form to keep in contact with the pack members who went for help, guiding them to our location. Isabel, back in human form, kneels next to me, her hand stroking the fur on Miles’ head. She meets my eyes and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: he might not make it.

  Eventually Miles passes out, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. At least he won’t have to feel the pain anymore, but I can’t help worrying that he won’t wake up again.

  After an age, we hear Vasily’s howl. “Help is coming, Miles, just hang on,” I say, even though he can’t hear me.

  Vasily trots into the clearing, Margie appearing at his side, her long silver hair hanging loose down to her waist. My shoulders relax a fraction in relief. Most of the coven members have some healing ability, but Margie is by far the most skilled, even if she is a little off. In addition to being the most powerful healer, she’s also tremendously gifted in prophecy, but her visions come at a cost. Decades of seeing scenes from the past, the future, and even the present, have left her a little... unstable. But she’s our best bet at saving Miles’ life right now.

  “Move back, let me see him,” she commands, leaning over his still body. I breathe out a sigh. Thank God she seems mostly lucid right now.

  Backing up, I force Bernard to do the same. He growls low under his breath, but subsides once Margie begins her healing. Ignoring the rest of us, she reaches out to his damp fur and closes her eyes. I don’t know how long she kneels there, perfectly still, the rise and fall of her chest the only movement she makes.

  As I watch, the torn flesh on Miles’ chest begins to knit itself back together. Margie stays there long after the wound has closed, a fine sheen of sweat forming on her brow.

  I stand with my pack mates, most of whom have changed back into their human forms, and wait for Margie’s verdict. Isabel wraps one arm around my waist, seeking comfort. Bernard, too upset to change back right now, whimpers at my feet, eyes glued to his only son.

  Finally, Margie opens her eyes and sags forward with weariness, but the small smile she sends my way allows me to finally take a breath.

  She did it. She saved him. Relief courses through my body and I squeeze Isabel’s shoulder.

  “He’s resting now, but he should be fine,” Margie says, keeping her eyes on mine. “There’s still some internal damage, but he should be able to heal that himself throughout the night.” She holds out one blood spattered hand toward me. “Help me up, boy,” she says affectionately. “But watch your hands, or Richard will have your head. He’s jealous, he is,” she teases, her eyes twinkling.

  “I wouldn’t want to upset Richard,” I joke back, hiding my worry. Her husband, Richard, has been dead ten years now. Margie sees so much of the past and future, she sometimes loses track of the present.

  “Always a troublemaker,” she tsks at me as I help her to her feet. “Don’t worry.” She pats my hand, eyes far off. “She comes soon.”

  “Who?” I ask, still smiling as I lead her to Vasily so he can help her home.

  “She does. Your moon.”

  “My moon?” I laugh, but quickly stifle it when she gives me a sharp look.

  “Yes. The one who calls to you, who makes you sing. The moon to light up your darkness, protect you in the night. The one you’ve been waiting for. The one to set you free.”

  Margie’s crystalline eyes are as clear as I’ve ever seen them. My smile slips for a moment, a wave of longing washing over me.

  Then her eyes cloud over once again and she turns to Vasily. “What are you doing out at this time of night? Does your mother know where you are? She must be worried sick... Come now, child. It’s time to get you home...”

  Margie continues berating Vasily as he leads her away through the woods. I shake my head at her crazy chatter, smirking at myself. My moon? I roll my eyes. I should know better than to take her ramblings seriously. Margie is going to need a lot of rest after tonight. Healing Miles seems to have really taken a toll on her. Ignoring the hollow ache in my chest, I dismiss her words and focus on Miles instead.

  “Derek, Veronika, carry Miles back to my place. Go with them, Bernard. Isabel, go to Miles’ house and grab some clothes for him. The rest of you, head home. You can visit him tomorrow, but for now he needs to rest.”

  Chapter 3

  AFTER I settle Miles into one of the many guest rooms at Silver Ridge Manor, Nikolay calls me into his study to give my report of the evening’s events. Ivan looms behind him, his icy glare pinned on me. I recount the last few hours, the buck I pulled down, Zak’s attempt to steal it, and Miles’ injury.

  “You allowed a submissive wolf under your protection to get hurt, almost killed, because you couldn’t finish a kill?” Nikolay scowls darkly, words full of contempt.

  “I was interrupted before I could complete it.” I keep my gaze trained on a spot just over his shoulder. In the animal world, direct eye contact is considered a challenge.

  “Zak?” Ivan asks, his accent more pronounced than usual. “You let Zak sneak up on you? A lower ranking wolf? Let him steal your kill and defeat you in dominance fight?” He begins cursing at me in Russian.

  Having spent his entire life in Russia, Ivan disdains speaking English, calling it ‘a weak language for a weak people’, but since only a few of the older pack members speak Russian with any level of fluency, Ivan is forced to speak in English whenever he visits. However, he frequently slips into his native tongue when his temper boils over. I can always tell how pissed he is based on the strength of his accent and how many Russian curses he throws at me.

  “He didn’t defeat me,” I growl. “He issued a challenge, I fought him into submission.” As if Zak could actually beat me. He knows he’s not strong enough to win by openly challenging me, that’s why he took the coward’s route, jumping out in a surprise attack. My jaw clenches. I can’t believe I let my guard down and allowed him to get the jump on me.

  “And in the process, a wolf on your watch was injured,” Nikolay says, arms crossed over his chest.

  There’s no way for me to win this argument. I fucked up. I should have noticed Zak skulking in the bushes, but I was too focused on the buck, the thrill of the kill. “No excuse,” I say. “I take full responsibility.”

  “Out of all the pack, submissives need the most protection,” Nikolay says. “They don’t have our strength, our aggressiveness. It is the duty of every dominant in the pack to protect them, and you are more than just a dominant. You are my son. Next in line to lead. Who will follow you if you can’t even keep a submissive safe on a hunt?”

  Shame suffuses my body and my gaze drops to the floor.

  Ivan scoffs. “Submissives… What sort of pack you run, Nikolay?” His face twists in disgust. “No wonder a beta wolf issued challenge to the Alpha’s son! You allow submissives into pack? They weaken the whole clan. Useless wolves!”

  Nikolay’s face twitches, but he does nothing to stop Ivan’s tirade.

  “But if your soft heart insists on letting them in, at least keep them from the hunt! They have no reason to be there! Dominants have to hunt, to release aggression, free the animal inside so it doesn’t come out in human form. Dominants need release; submissives don’t. That weak boy should never have been on the hunt.”

  “The hunt isn’t just about releasing aggression,” I say.

  Twin sets of silver eyes pin me to the floor.

  “Really?” Ivan asks softly.

  The hair on my neck stands up in warning. Ivan is at his most dangerous when he speaks softly like that. I should have kept my mouth shut; this isn’t my fight. But it’s too late to back down now.

  “The hunt is about camaraderie,” I say, meeting Ivan�
�s steely gaze. “Companionship. It strengthens the pack bonds and hones the instincts. The hunt is important for every member of the pack, dominant and submissive.”

  “And yet you almost got a submissive killed,” Ivan croons, creeping forward toward me. I suppress a shiver.

  When the blow comes, I’m expecting it. My head wrenches to the side, half my face exploding with pain. I stagger back a step, but stay on my feet. Straightening up, I clench my jaw and wait for the next one. As Ivan draws his hand back again, Nikolay steps forward, restraining him.

  “Don’t forget whose pack this is,” Nikolay warns. “I am Alpha here, and I will punish him as I see fit.”

  I glance up to see Ivan’s eyes narrow. He twists his wrist free of Nikolay’s grasp and sneers. “You won’t stay Alpha much longer if you can’t control your wolves.”

  “Gray, go to bed. I have some things to discuss with your grandfather,” Nikolay says, jaw set, muscles tense. I turn to leave the study when he calls after me. “Get some sleep while you can, you’ll be on double guard for the next two weeks.”

  I sigh as I close the door behind me, rolling my shoulders to release the tension being in the same room as those two always causes. It’s the same every time Ivan comes to visit: he’s always telling Nikolay what he’s doing wrong, always trying to run Nikolay’s pack for him.

  I head to my room and collapse on my bed, exhausted. I wince as my face hits the pillow. Double guard duty, ugh. I would have preferred to take Ivan’s beating. At least with that, the pain would have been over shortly and I’d have been healed by morning. Double guard for two weeks? Nikolay certainly chose my punishment well.

  Our pack’s territory consists of Ashwood Creek and a large chunk of Green Mountain State Park. Only our pack and the Ashwood Creek Coven are allowed inside our borders. Pack members take turns guarding these borders from intruders in twelve-hour shifts, three days a week, patrolling the vast stretches of wilderness. Usually I love running through the forest in my wolf form, but guard duty is unbelievably boring. We are forced to run alone in order to cover more land, and while patrolling we’re forbidden from hunting any animal unless directly threatened by it.

  I know, intellectually, that these guard shifts are important for keeping other werewolves and witches out of our territory, but the closest pack to us is almost a hundred miles away, in New York, and most witches know to steer clear. Occasionally we’ll come across a lone wolf looking for refuge for a few nights, but it’s been years since anyone has crossed into our territory uninvited.

  Regular guard duty is tiring enough, but double guard is torture; I’ll be patrolling practically every night of the week. When you factor in eight hours a day for school, and time to eat and shower, I’ll be lucky if I can catch three hours of sleep a night for the next two weeks.

  Groaning at the thought, I roll over in my bed and try to get some sleep. I’m going to need it.

  Chapter 4

  AS soon as the sun peaks over the horizon, I roll out of bed and head down the hall to check on Miles. He’s still asleep, but his color is better. I pull down the blanket to check on his wound. It’s still closed, but that doesn’t tell me much. Mortal wounds are the most difficult to heal, and even Margie couldn’t have fixed all the internal damage done by the buck’s antlers. I can only hope that Miles’ body was able to finish the job on its own.

  “Hey, you keep ogling me like that and I might have to charge you.” Miles cracks his eyes open, his voice weak.

  “Easy there, Lothario. I think you’re hallucinating. I’m not Eva,” I joke back. Eva, one of the girls in our pack, is crazy about Miles, but for whatever reason, he won’t ask her out.

  “Please, Gray, you know I’m sexy.” Miles smirks up at me and chuckles.

  “You’ve got all the wrong parts, brother.” I cover him back up with the blankets, relieved to hear him laugh. He must be healing alright if he’s still cracking jokes. “Margie should be stopping by soon to check on your progress. Try not to overwhelm her with your ‘sexiness’.”

  Miles laughs again, sounding stronger this time. “I can’t make any promises. Hey, whatever happened with Zak? You thrash him?”

  “’Course,” I scoff. “If you weren’t so busy getting your ass gored, you’d have seen it.”

  “Yeah,” he sighs. “Sorry ‘bout that. I hope you didn’t take too much heat because of me.”

  “Nah, it’s cool,” I say, waving off his concern. “Just worry about healing up. I’ll check on you later, brother.” I squeeze his shoulder as I leave.

  I head downstairs for the main den, one of the few rooms large enough to house the entire pack. When Nikolay first purchased Silver Ridge Manor, he had several walls knocked out to open up the room. It’s generally used as a gathering place for everyone, a place to hang out and relax. There are large cushy couches strewn about the room, a few top-of-the-line flat screens, billiard and Ping-Pong tables, air hockey, all the latest gaming systems, even a few old-school arcade machines. In a pack as large as ours, it’s important for everyone to maintain tight bonds with one another. Weekly hunts help with that, but so does having a regular hangout spot where everyone can get together to talk and play games. The den is open to everyone at any time, day or night. It also tends to be the area the pack gathers when they’re waiting for important news, like when a pack member is injured. As expected, more than half the pack is already here, waiting for news on Miles.

  “How is he?” Derek asks as soon as I enter. Every head turns my way.

  “He’s awake. Looking better. Is Margie here yet? She’s supposed to be checking on him.”

  “Not yet,” Derek answers. “Bernard was with him all night, but he left a little while ago to get dressed. He’ll be relieved to know he’s awake. Hey, can I go see him now?”

  “Not yet,” Vasily answers from his seat on one of the sofas. “Nikolay wants him to rest until Margie gives him the okay.”

  Across the room, Ivan scoffs and glares out the window. Sergei, Ivan’s second in command and long-time body guard stands silently behind him, like a grim shadow. Several people glare Ivan’s way, hackles rising. After the tension I saw last night between Ivan and Nikolay, I’m surprised Ivan’s still here. It would be better for everyone if he and Sergei went back home, especially with one of our pack mates down. Having outsiders near an injured brother is guaranteed to fray tempers.

  “You’ll all get to see him soon. Just hang out here awhile longer,” I say to ease the tension. “Vasily, why don’t you go on up and see if Miles needs anything.” I give him a look and he nods discreetly, heading for the stairs. He’ll keep an eye on Miles for me. The way Ivan was talking about submissives last night, I wouldn’t put it past him to go after Miles while he’s laid up.

  Casting one last glance at Ivan’s rigid back, I head outside to see what’s keeping Margie. Just as I climb behind the wheel of my Hummer, I hear her car approaching in the distance and I get out to wait for her.

  “Hey Margie,” I call, loping down the driveway toward her. Her silver hair gleams in the sun, the wrinkles etched in her face barely noticeable in the early morning light. She’s leaning heavily on a slim cane, something she only does when she’s exhausted herself. She used too much energy healing Miles last night; I can’t ask her to expend anymore today.

  When I reach her, I entwine my arm with hers so I can take some of her weight as she limps toward the house.

  “You flirt,” she says in her slightly raspy voice. “Don’t you know I’m much too old for you?”

  “You, old? Never,” I say, smiling in genuine affection.

  Out of everyone in the coven, Margie is definitely my favorite. The others tolerate us werewolves, some are even friendly toward us, but they always seem to be on guard around us, as if afraid we’ll go feral at any moment and tear their throats out. Margie is the only one who seems to honestly like us. Or maybe it’s just that she’s not afraid of us.

  “Why don’t you let me drive you home,”
I suggest as we near the house. “I can get Allison out here to check on Miles. You can go enjoy this nice morning in your garden, relaxing.”

  She pierces me with diamond sharp eyes. “I’m not that fragile, boy. I’m more than capable of checking in on the young one.”

  “Miles isn’t that young.” I feel my lips curl in amusement. “He’s the same age I am.”

  “At my age, everyone’s young,” she says wryly. “But he’s younger than you. Weaker. Needs more looking after, he does.”

  I cock my head, studying her. How does she know Miles is weaker? Granted, he’s not as big as I am, but he’s no toothpick either. Can witches sense dominance the same way werewolves can? I doubt it. Must just be one of Margie’s strange talents.

  As we reach the porch, I hear a car in the distance. I turn my head and listen. I know the sound of every car in town, and this one isn’t familiar.

  “Human,” Margie says, her eyes faraway. “She needs help. You’ll help her. You’re a good boy.” She pats my arm affectionately before going inside to check on Miles.

  I hear the car slow as it travels down the old dirt road leading to the manor. I cross my arms and wait in the yard for whoever this may be.

  The wolf inside me stirs, awakening at the possible threat. Pack mate is hurt, it growls, flexing its claws. Stranger not welcome.

  I fight to control the animal inside me, beating him back into submission. If this person poses a threat, my wolf will be free to handle this his way, but for now, I need to stay in control.

  I don’t recognize the silver sedan that pulls up front. Repressing a growl, I stalk up to the driver’s side to see who our party crasher is.

  “Oh, hi! Boy, am I glad to see you,” a pretty blonde girl says, rolling down her window and peering at me through large sunglasses. “This is Ashwood Creek, right?”