by Cecy Robson
“Have your abilities ever allowed that kind of influence before?” Vieve asks.
Again, I can’t bring myself to answer, feeling more like a fight dog that’s been muzzled and chained than a person who should be relieved that she’s not setting things on fire. But when you’re a survivor of an abusive childhood, control is everything and very much something I no longer have.
“Taran was extending her abilities beyond her fire and lightning before the incident,” Celia answers for me. “Tahoe’s magic somehow helped amplify her own, but she’s never possessed power like this.”
That soft sympathetic smile returns, making Vieve appear more innocent virgin than a woman capable of making us sprout forked tails from our asses. “With all due respect, Celia, I need to hear from Taran.”
Aric leans in, keeping his voice low. “Taran, I know this is hard, but you have to cooperate. Whatever this is, it’s strong and very different from anything I’ve seen.”
“Just do as Genevieve asks,” Gemini growls behind me.
He’s growling in anger, something else that was a rarity when it came to me. I ram my eyes closed. That familiar hurt is eating its way through me again, and I can’t allow it. No. I can’t allow him.
“You need to leave,” I say, the fury and pain I’m feeling causing my right hand to tremble. But it’s the way Vieve’s mojo forces its surrender that has me fighting not to scream. “I’m serious. I want you out.”
“No,” he responds with as much anger as he did the first time.
My gut burns with rage. Once again my vision sharpens as my irises turn white. But I refuse to look at him and show him how much he affects me.
“Christ,” Aric mumbles, swiping his face.
“Aric,” I bite out. “I don’t want him here.”
It’s the truth, and it’s not simply because Vieve’s presence, or because I resemble a corpse dragged from a swampy grave, or even that I’m losing what little of me still remains. It’s because I’m weak and look the part. I can’t allow myself to be many things, and weak is one of them.
Aric isn’t happy, which is no real news. I’ve never been his favorite person. We’ve clashed too many times over Celia and the way he’s treated her in the past. So when he meets me with kindness, I’m not prepared, the gentle way in which he speaks to me, making me feel worse and accelerating my insecurities.
“Taran,” he whispers. “You’re Gemini’s mate. It’s beyond my ability to order him from your side.”
That angry burn working its way through me morphs into agony. Of all the things he could have called me.
“And even if it was within Aric’s right, I’m not going anywhere,” Gemini responds, his tone laced with resentment.
“Yeah, heard that one before,” I reply.
My voice is barely above a murmur, but it’s enough for the wolves and my sister to hear. Aric straightens, the tension thickening the space between my back and Gemini’s front enough to raise the short hairs along my neck.
“Taran,” Celia pleads. “The more you cooperate, the quicker we’ll reach a solution and the faster we’ll leave. Please, let’s work through this.”
“The world is kept in perfect balance,” Vieve begins, as if the werewolf behind me isn’t ready to maul everything in sight. “Your old limb was sacrificed and so was the power that resided inside of it. In its place you were given a new appendage, but also something more.”
“But I didn’t want it,” I say, emphasizing every word as I lean forward. “Any of it.”
It’s true. When I lost my arm, it wasn’t clean break, a smooth cut, a precise surgical removal. It was savage, brutal, severed viciously at the elbow by a row of long jagged fangs. I didn’t have a stump. I had shards of jagged bone with torn flesh dangling from the sides. If I hadn’t fastened my scarf around it like a tourniquet, I would have bled to death.
Yet despite the devastation of losing my arm, I was starting to come to terms with it. As a nurse, I knew it could have been worse, and that there were therapies and prosthetics that could eventually help me cope. I’d never be the same, but I was determined to do the best with what remained.
Gemini wasn’t having it. He couldn’t deal with what happened and begged the Pack Omega to help me. He wanted me whole. But he never counted on this.
Vieve raises her small brows, the motion so subtle, anyone not paying attention might miss it. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted,” she responds in that regal way of hers. “The fact remains that it’s a part of you.”
“Then get rid of it,” I snap.
“I can’t,” she answers simply.
So not what I want to hear. I want her to tell me she can chop it off and bury it deep where I never have to see it, and where it can never harm another soul. She can toss whatever she manages to rip off into an active volcano for all I care. That’s how desperate I am. I’d rather go through life with just one arm then have my affected arm slowly kill me or turn on someone I love.
Vieve suspects as much, I’m sure, not that she appears fazed. “Were magic is as old as the earth,” she explains. “An ancient power such as this cannot be tamed, altered, or disposed of like trash. You must learn to harmonize the remains of your original magic with what this arm has become.”
“And what has it become?” I ask, my voice trembling with increasing frustration.
“I don’t know,” she answers. “Whatever it is resents you as much as you seem to resent it, and that antipathy has intensified with time.” She motions to Celia. “Yet it also looks to protect you and those you most care for.”
“It wasn’t that way this morning,” Aric reminds her.
Vieve nods as if agreeing. “From what you described during our call, and from what I observed here, it inadvertently lashed out, not to harm, but in response to the bitter energy that’s been building between it and Taran. Celia was simply in its path when it reacted.”
“You’re sure?” Aric asks.
“I am. There’s nothing that leads me to believe the limb’s actions were intentional until it felt threatened. First by you, then Shayna, then the others here.” She pauses as if working through her thoughts. “What troubles me is that while it does appear to protect Taran, the resentment that exists between its power and hers is fueling out of control.”
“No shit,” I mumble.
Celia shifts in her seat, trying to draw Vieve’s attention. Vieve isn’t exactly “scowling’ she’s far too superior for that, but she is eyeing me closely, clearly unimpressed by my colorful vocabulary.
“So if Tarn accepts her limb, it will in turn accept her and her magic?” Celia asks.
Vieve shakes her head slowly. “It’s not so simple to harmonize something that’s been for so long distressed. This ancient magic was called forth to become her arm in exchange for the arm sacrificed.”
“Balance,” Aric says.
“Yes, balance,” Vieve agrees. “But it was also called forth to become a part of Taran and her magic.” She regards me with so much pity it takes all I have not to throw what’s left of my boots at her. “It may be attached to her body, but it’s clearly not a part of her, or the power residing inside of her.”
“So what can we do to change that?” Aric asks.
“You can’t do anything. This task falls solely on Taran.” She sighs, once more feeding the pity-o-meter, before responding to me directly. “To regain control, you must accept your new arm regardless of its flaws and imperfections, make another sacrifice to even the scales, and learn to manipulate the new magic generated from your residual magic and that of ancient earth.”
“How does she do that?” Celia asks, ignoring the way I stare at Vieve like she’s lost her broom-straddling mind.
“The sacrifice and acceptance is her burden to carry,” Vieve answers. “I can’t help her with that.”
“But you can help her master her magic?” Celia asks hesitantly, her attention skimming my way.
“I can,” she responds.
<
br /> The corners of her mouth tilt slightly, but she’s not exactly smiling. No . . . good ol’ Vieve is up to something
I don’t know what it is, but Aric seems to. And so does Gemini by the way he groans behind me. He’s not one to swear, but he does then, adding to my growing dislike of this conversation.
“Genevieve, this isn’t a good idea,” Aric says.
“Nor is it one I freely offer,” she states, all evidence of friendship and alliance between her and Aric quickly dissolving. “This is an exchange of services between us. I’ll request reimbursement when the time is right.”
“I have no doubt,” Aric says, his deep voice as terse as Vieve appears. His stare darts toward me. “There’s no other way, no incantations, no sacred relics, nothing that can help her?”
“If there was, I would certainly take it as opposed to what I’m offering,” she responds.
“And what are you offering?” I ask, this odd sense of dread pouring like tar down my throat.
Everyone quiets as Gemini steps in front of me. “She’s offering to train you, to make you a witch and part of her coven
Chapter Five
“No,” I say. I’m already to my feet, the chair sliding behind me from how forcefully I stand. But my weakness remains. I wobble, clinging to the armrest to stay vertical as anger overtakes me. “No way in fuck am I doing this!”
“What choice do you have, Taran?” Vieve asks.
She doesn’t exactly appear thrilled to death over the proposal, but she’s not entirely disappointed either. Because however masochistic her offer is, it’s also to her benefit. Aric will owe her a favor. And a favor owed from a Leader extends to his Pack and potentially every were he oversees and is connected to.
Gemini in a word, is enraged. He looms over me, so close I can feel that familiar body heat. It’s more than he’s dared to do in months, and all it took was getting my insides roasted.
Yet for all he’s practically on top of me, I can’t forget the small space separating him and Vieve when I arrived. The reminder has me stepping away from his reach and eyeing her closely. Okay. Maybe “eyeing” is too mild a word.
“You don’t like me,” she says, sounding indifferent despite the intensity behind my glare. “Or my sisters.”
“I can say the same about you,” I respond. I’m not yelling. I’m actually eerily quiet. But all that in your face hatred sticks to each of my words like venom.
Her angelic stare trails to Celia. “That’s not true.”
“You’re kissing up to her now?” I ask. “Why? Because of who she’s married to or what she’s carrying?” I straighten to my full height. “She could have used your compassion when it mattered, back when your sisters tortured her to the brink of insanity.”
Vieve leans back ever so slightly. She’s not freaking out. Vieve doesn’t do that. But she doesn’t appreciate me calling her out.
“What happened when you first moved here was out of my control,” she answers simply.
I purse my lips. “Hmm. I find that hard to believe, seeing you were second in command at the time.”
“Taran,” Gemini warns.
He steps in my line of fire. But I’m not here for him. Just like he’s definitely not here for me.
I step around him, forcing myself to ignore him. “I haven’t forgotten what your sisters did to her.” My rage turns on Aric. “Did Celia ever tell you what happened? All of it? What they put her through?”
“No,” Aric answers, his wolf appearing too close to unleashing. “Genevieve did when she became aware of who Celia is to me.”
Okay. I wasn’t expecting that one. Yet maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. In addition to the whole Miss Supernatural Universe vibe she gives off, Vieve is also absurdly smart. She would spin the incident to her advantage to avoid the wrath of the big, bad alpha wolf.
Aric turns to where Celia is sitting perfectly still. This is news to her. All of it.
“Those who willingly assisted Genevieve’s predecessor were dealt with long ago,” he tells Celia, keeping his voice quiet.
“When?” she asks, her focus fixed ahead.
“When I realized you were mine,” he replies. “And before I claimed you.”
In other words, within weeks of meeting. Celia doesn’t reply, and neither do I. When someone is “dealt with” in the mystical world, they don’t stick around to repeat the same mistake. I wonder briefly when exactly Aric took care of business. Knowing him, it didn’t take long for his wolf to demand vengeance.
“It’s a different coven now, Taran,” Vieve says, careful to avert her attention away from Aric and Celia. “The war between the Alliance and the Tribe helped us sort through those too weak to fight their darkness, and those we couldn’t trust to remain loyal. And while it’s ultimately to our benefit, it left a multitude of Lesser witches without means to hone in their power, and few Superiors to aid me.”
“Are you talking about the same bunch who glare at us every time they see us?” I ask. I smile with as much warmth as I’m feeling. “You’ll forgive me if I have my doubts. Won’t you, Vieve?”
There’s a saying about poking a sleeping snake. But this snake is wide awake and I never did mind being the stick.
“My apologies for how your magic is interpreted by those who don’t understand it,” she responds softly. “You and your sisters are different.”
“You mean weird, right?” I ask, cutting her off.
Again there’s that oh-so genial smile that makes me want to rip her lips clean off her face. “‘Different’ is often misinterpreted as dangerous, which is why my sisters and Lessers react as they do in your presence and that of your family,” she replies.
In other words, deal with it. You’re freaks, and that’s how we’ll treat you.
The corners of her mouth tilt, reinforcing my suspicions that perhaps she can read my thoughts. In that case, Head bitch or not, the day’s going to come when I’m going to knock you on your perfect ass, you egomaniacal man-stealing Disney Princess wannabe.
She tilts her chin, considering me, but also appearing slightly amused. I expect her to call me out on my threat, but that’s not what she says.
“Regardless of what you may think of us, you must come to terms with how wild your magic is, and what can go wrong if you fail to gain control,” she responds. “My coven and I can help you to grow, harness, and manipulate your power as we do with all witches born of magic, despite that you’re not one of us. Ultimately though, our efforts will be futile if you fail to accept your appendage and make the appropriate sacrifices to even the scales.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” I reply stiffly, resenting the corner I’ve been shoved into.
“Very well then,” she responds, barely blinking. “You’ll move in with us—”
“Ah, no I won’t,” I say, harsh enough to cause sparks of my lightning to charge the air.
“That’s not going to happen, Genevieve,” Aric tells her, motioning to my side. “You bound her arm from losing control. What if that’s enough and she can use it now as is?”
“At will, against another power? That’s highly unlikely,” Vieve says. She lowers her lids, when the blonde guard bends to whisper in her ear.
Vieve shakes her head at the same time Aric and Gemini growl a “no.”
“What?” I ask, my attention darting between them.
“Xana is suggesting a test of sorts,” Vieve responds. “Something we often do when a Superior witch from another coven seeks acceptance into ours at a higher positon. But you’re not qualified.”
“Don’t tell me what I am, and what I’m not,” I say, practically spitting the words through my teeth. Okay, mostly I’m talking to talk, given my pathetic performance seconds ago. But as out of control as I am, I’m not this little bird that needs to be shoved in a cage so it doesn’t hurt itself flying.
Her stare lifts to Aric’s. “If she refuses my help and acceptance into my coven, I can’t command her to do anything nor o
rder her to stand down.” She motions to her guard. “What my sister suggests is your call,” she tells him.
“It’s not his call,” I answer. “He’s my brother-in-law not my keeper.”
“Aric,” Gemini growls.
Aric meets him with a level stare. “Gemini, I can’t come between the two of you or your obligations to her as your mate—just like I can’t I influence her choices. She’s family, not Pack.”
“I don’t want her to do this,” Gemini growls, crossing that line between them as friends.
“Neither do I,” Aric snarls back, his anger reducing only slightly when Celia stands and takes his hand. “But I also can’t stop her.”
“Quit talking about her like she’s not here,” I remind them, sending my arm into an aggravated fit. It settles quickly, but it’s not like the motion goes unnoticed.
Celia slinks her way to my side, the distress in her features alerting me that she knows what’s happening long before she speaks. “A few months ago, a witch new to the area applied for acceptance into Genevieve’s coven. She was of Lesser power and asked for instruction only to go rogue weeks later. Although her power is limited, she must be accounted for.”
Because rogue witches go one of two ways without a coven: dark or crazy.
Awesome. That doesn’t mean I’ll shy away from this fight, especially if it will get me one step closer to the control I seek. “So if I find her and bring her here, I won’t have to do that chanting crap?” I ask.
Vieve surprises me by smiling despite how her peeps seem ready to cut the bind around my arm and let my fire toast me like s’mores. “Submit Savana using your residual power, and that of your arm, and you may convince me you’re capable of synchronizing your magic without my coven’s help” she responds.
“So no to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Broomsticks?” I clarify.
“Correct,” she says, not that I think she’s wild about the reference.
“What if she can’t?” Aric asks. “Or what if she fails to bring back the witch?”