Unpredictable (Waifwater Chronicles Book 2)

by Laken Cane

  Basilia put a hand to her chest, paling. “Are they alive?”

  Abby nodded, then took a sip of her tea. “I paralyzed them.”

  Basilia gaped. “Abby! No! You know you can’t restrain your familiars from doing their jobs. It will hurt them.” Basilia grabbed Abby’s hand and began smearing thick ointment onto her palm. “You must not do that again.”

  “All it will hurt is their feelings.”

  “You don’t know what happens when a familiar is kept from protecting her charge. And besides…better them than you, much as I hate to say it.”

  “I thought it was Acadia,” Abby replied, calmly. “She’d have killed them without even thinking about it. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “But—”

  “The subject is not open for discussion, Mother. I’ve lost too much to that monster. She’s not getting my Sadie, and she’s not getting my Elmer.”

  Basilia heaved a great sigh and then began bandaging Abby’s hand. “Continue.”

  “Anyway, I saw that she wasn’t outside—her demons were. They reeked of her. We fought. That’s really all there was to it.”

  But it wasn’t. And it wasn’t just the battle that got to her. It was the cold, creeping knowledge that Acadia was coming and Abby was alone. She shivered. What happened to Basilia and Jewel if Acadia took Abby out of the picture?

  “What did you do to them?” Basilia asked.

  “I hit them with all the power I had inside me. And all the fear,” she added, dryly. “I won. I think I got lucky. They were not expecting a fight.”

  “But you gave them one,” Basilia muttered, fiercely.

  “Yes. They began crumbling right in front of me. Then they disappeared.”

  “Off to carry tales.” Basilia reached for her other hand. “You did good, honey. I’m so proud of you. And so afraid.” She gave an unintentional sob, but carried on with her work.

  “I know, Mama. So am I.”

  “She’s coming.”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t defeat her, Abby. We need to create a prison for her. A trap. A place she can’t come back from.”

  Abby widened her eyes. “Mother,” she whispered. “I know of such a place.”

  Basilia looked up, then she understood. “Oh my. Oh myyy.”

  Abby’s stomach tightened, and hope grew in her chest. “I just have to get her inside,” she murmured.

  Somehow.

  “Waifwater Woods,” Basilia whispered. “It won’t be easy. Maybe not even possible.”

  “But if it happens, Acadia will truly be gone forever.”

  They stared at each other.

  Not even Acadia Desrochers could come back from Waifwater Woods.

  No one ever had, and no one ever would.

  Chapter Four

  Abby didn’t stay long in the pocket. The dogs waited for her return, and they needed her. Their day had been every bit as stressful as hers had been. Maybe even more so.

  “Eli,” she whispered, as she stepped through the doorway. “I miss you.”

  He’d come to her house the morning after he’d killed his beta. He’d stood in her yard and watched her as she stood on her porch, his eyes clear. There was no sign of his violent wolf or the barbarism he’d displayed the previous night.

  But she couldn’t stop seeing it.

  “I just need a little while to adjust to what I saw,” she murmured, not looking at him.

  “I’m a wolf, Abby.”

  She’d looked at him then, angry. “Yes you are. And Noah is dead.”

  He’d sighed. “You fight with magic. You’re accustomed to shooting bolts of pretty power into your enemy. It’s not bloody or gory or ugly. But they are no less dead.”

  “I fight demons,” she said. “If I ever get the chance, I will destroy Acadia Desrochers. But I don’t bite…” She’d had to take a breath to calm herself and let the sudden nausea pass. “I don’t bite out the throats of my friends. I don’t kill those I care about. I don’t murder people, Eli.”

  “If I hadn’t killed him,” he said, patiently, “he would have killed me.”

  She shook her head. “He gave you his belly. He’d surrendered.”

  “He was a powerful wolf who wanted to lead the pack. He would not surrender. You don’t know us, Abby.”

  “He was your friend.”

  He watched her. “As Becky Bates was yours.”

  “I just need some time,” she’d whispered.

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He’d nodded, his longish hair caressing his throat. “Come find me when you’re ready.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. Not then.

  Remy visited her the next day, but Abby was nearly certain Eli hadn’t sent her there. Likely, he hadn’t even known she was planning to have a talk with Abby.

  The beta told Abby the same thing that Eli had told her. In the pack, the one who challenges the alpha will sometimes surrender. But if Noah had given up, he’d have run. And Eli would have let him go.

  “Noah didn’t surrender, Abby,” Remy told her. “He wouldn’t. And I think you know that. You’re disgusted and overwhelmed and afraid. You hate the violence of the pack.”

  “I can’t understand the brutality,” Abby had admitted. “It’s shocking. And horrifying to witness. Eli had bits of his friend in his mouth.” Would she ever stop gagging when images of that particular memory flashed into her mind?

  “You needed to see it.” Remy had watched her quietly before continuing. “You have our alpha’s…regard. Don’t take too long to make up your mind, Witch. I don’t like to see Eli in pain.”

  Abby had lifted her chin. “Even though he would kill you if you challenged him.”

  Remy’s laugh was harsh and irritated. “Don’t be stupid, Abby. An alpha does not just defend himself if someone tries to kill him. He’s aggressive. He attacks. He fights. And if he has to, he fucking kills.” Then she’d shrugged. “Besides, if I challenged the alpha, I would plan to do everything in my power to kill him. Just as Noah tried to do.”

  “It’s inhuman,” Abby murmured.

  “Because we are not human,” Remy shouted. She’d pointed a finger. “Decide, Witch. Because of you, we’re in a mess. Because of you. So fuck you. You’re not the victim. Stop acting like one.”

  She’d turned and strode to her car, disgusted.

  Remy had visited one more time.

  The alpha had finally been taken by his council.

  The council who blamed him for losing the talisman. They blamed him for taking up with a witch. They blamed him for putting his pack at risk, and they blamed him for bringing the attention and wrath of the humans upon them.

  For the danger and damage to Waifwater, the fighting wolves, the horror.

  They blamed him for the chaos.

  His pack—the Black Feather Pack—had closed ranks and disappeared within the gates of Featherclaw Village.

  The pack would not speak to her, not even to tell her how Eli was. Probably, they did not know.

  The council might blame Eli for the trouble, but his pack blamed Abby the Witch.

  Even Remy blamed her.

  Finally, the beta had met Abby at the gates of Featherclaw. “Go home, Witch,” she’d said. “You don’t belong here. We may lose our alpha.”

  Abby put a hand to her chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Their punishments can be harsh,” Remy had told her. “And we’ve been forbidden from talking to you. So please, Abby. Go away. Just…go away.” Then she’d walked away.

  Every day she haunted the gates of Featherclaw, hoping to see a member of the pack she might question, but on the few occasions she spotted a wolf, he would quickly disappear.

  Remy had come once more to the gates. “If you value his life, you will leave pack business to the pack and council business to the council. We cannot interfere while they are deciding our fate.”

  “But where is he, Remy?
Is he all right?”

  Remy had looked away. “I haven’t seen him,” she’d muttered, finally.

  “Tell me where he is,” Abby had begged. “Tell me and I will visit him!”

  “I don’t know where he is, Abby,” Remy had said, and then she’d slipped back into the depths of Featherclaw.

  Abby had redoubled her efforts, but her attempts to discover the whereabouts of Eli were in vain. And finally, Wade Hansen, the sheriff of Waifwater, had pulled her aside.

  “I know you’re worried,” he’d said, “but the wolves have their ways. The pack wants you to leave off searching and prying. You’re getting them in trouble.”

  She’d frowned. “How do you mean?”

  “They’ve taken Remy in. She’s being charged for conspiring with you against the council.”

  “But that’s not true,” Abby had protested. “That’s just not true.”

  “Leave them alone. Let the council do as it will, and maybe Eli will return to you. You’re making it harder on the pack, Abby.”

  The blood had drained from her face and she’d stepped back, horrified. “Maybe he’ll return to me?” she’d whispered. “Wade, what are they doing to him?”

  His stare had softened. “I don’t know, Abby. I’m sorry.”

  “The werewolf council,” she said. “They’re horrible.”

  “Not really. They have rules and laws just as we do. Eli broke those laws, and his council will discipline him. He knew, Abby.” He’d reached out to pat her shoulder. “He knew what would happen with every decision he made. And he will deal with it. Go home. Wait for him. There’s nothing else you can do.”

  But there was something she could do. She could find the council and take back her wolf. He wasn’t theirs.

  The alpha was hers.

  Even if he didn’t believe she still cared.

  And if they hurt him…

  “Alpha,” she whispered. “My alpha.”

  Because suddenly, the thought of never seeing him again was much, much worse than the thought of his fight with Noah.

  She’d abandoned him, had been disgusted by him, so angry at what he’d done, because it wasn’t what she’d have done. She’d judged the wolves and found them lacking. As if that was her right to do.

  Now Eli was alone and being…punished. She’d seen firsthand how rough the wolves were, and her imagination ran rampant. She could barely stand the thought of what they might be doing to Eli. To Remy.

  Because of her.

  Rough times were coming, and she needed to be ready. There were items to make, spells to secure, broomsticks to choose. She’d need to be prepared if she had any hope of snatching Eli from the council.

  And there was still the idea of luring Acadia into Waifwater Woods. She also needed to create and lay some demon traps. They wouldn’t be enough to hold Acadia, but they would hold her minions.

  But first things first.

  She would grab a broomstick and visit Featherclaw Village again. If she could get a couple of Eli’s strongest wolves to go with her to the council, they could help her rescue both Eli and Remy. She couldn’t fly them out on her broomstick. She was going to need a wolf to go in with her and drive them out.

  It was a big ask, she knew, but Eli was their alpha. They would want to do everything they could to see him returned to them.

  If they refused, she’d hit them with so many spells the sons of bitches would beg her to let them help.

  She had no idea how many wolves were in the council’s Waifwater branch compound, and really wished she didn’t have to find out. But if they weren’t going to release her alpha on their own, she really had no choice but to go in after him.

  She’d have him out before nightfall.

  Elmer trotted toward her when she stepped out into the yard, but Sadie lifted her nose and huffed. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive her mistress.

  “I’m taking a ride,” Abby told them. “Want to go?”

  And not even Sadie could resist a trip out of One Hex Hollow. She got to her feet and walked to Abby and Elmer, but she still wouldn’t look at Abby.

  Abby sighed. “I’m sorry, Sadie.”

  Elmer, tongue lolling, trotted ahead of them to the broom shed, his legs flailing, rear end listing. His long ears flopped in the slight breeze, and when he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they followed, he was grinning.

  Abby couldn’t help but laugh at him as she walked toward the row of colorful sheds lined up in her backyard. One of them was a regular shed, holding tools.

  But the others were a little more special. The black one was full of dark magic that would likely have killed a human had he been stupid enough—despite the sign she’d posted on the door—to break into it.

  Black magic.

  Only death inside.

  Stay out!

  She headed for the pink and yellow shed—her broom closet.

  “Hello, my darlings,” she said, when she stepped inside.

  The broomsticks came to life in their little cubbies, vibrating, expanding, humming with excitement. They liked nothing more than flying through the sky with the breeze dancing through their straw.

  She’d kept her promise of taking them out more often, so the brooms weren’t quite so despondent when they weren’t chosen. She made sure they all got a chance to fly.

  She walked down the aisle between the rows of broomsticks, her mind on the battle ahead. She paused as her eye caught movement at the shadowed back of the room, and just that quickly, she knew which broomstick she would take with her.

  She lifted her hand. “Camilla,” she said, softly. “Will you fight with me?”

  She had to be very, very careful with Camilla. She’d been created when Abby’s heart was shredded and her mind was filled with dark chaos. Camilla had been born during a long, long night, when she’d sat alone and contemplated her changed life, the beating she’d taken from a few angry humans, and her father’s betrayal. Alone, the caretaker of those in the newly formed pocket, and missing her mother, she’d been at her lowest. That’s when she’d created Camilla.

  Then she’d stuck her in the dark corner of the shed and tried to forget her, because Camilla was dangerous. She was dark. She was fury.

  And for everything that surely lay ahead, she was exactly what Abby needed.

  Abby slipped closer to the broomstick and it felt as all the other brooms somehow held their breath, perhaps wondering if Camilla would kill her mistress. Her maker.

  Abby had neglected her. She’d ignored her, as though by doing so she might ignore her own instability, her own darkness.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, then reached out to run the back of her hand over the splintery, rough wood. “Camilla.”

  Camilla trembled.

  “Come to me,” Abby cajoled. “Come out of the shadows. Come fight with me.”

  Much like familiars, a witch’s broomstick wanted only to serve her mistress. It was why she existed. And despite her black spirit, Camilla wanted that, as well. She wanted that more than anything else in the world.

  She threw herself suddenly from her dark corner cubby, and Abby staggered back as Camilla slammed into her. The broom wasn’t large, but her pain and rage…

  They were massive.

  Abby wrapped her hands around Camilla, gently, but firmly. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Hold on to that rage. You’ll need it.”

  For that rage and pain…it was Abby’s. All the brooms were created from parts of her. Just as the familiars took the excess magic to ease the punishment to their mistress, the brooms took the overflow of emotion.

  As Abby drew her back down the aisle toward the exit the other brooms recoiled, and Abby wanted to cry. “I need to take back some of that anger,” she muttered.

  Outside the shed, Sadie and Elmer rose to greet her, but hung back when they caught sight of the broom she’d chosen. Abby cringed in shame when she saw Camilla in the daylight—and not because she was embarrassed of the broom.

 
Camilla’s disuse and neglect were obvious. Abby tended the other brooms, cleaning them, changing their straw, breathing renewal spells onto their wood…but Camilla hadn’t been touched since her birth, and it showed.

  She was going to require some special care, and Abby aimed to give it to her from that moment forward.

  “I’ve never chosen a favorite,” she told her, “but I’m choosing one now.”

  Camilla hung in the air, her peeling, scraped blackness dull and faded, missing some of her straw, but beautiful in her brokenness.

  Of all the broomsticks, she was the warrior.

  Abby jumped onto her and waited for the broom to attach, and once it did, she held her breath to see if Camilla would take her thoughts or would fight the one who rode her.

  They had to work together, or the fight would be lost.

  Abby didn’t try to master her, or command her, or force her obedience. She just waited to see if Camilla would accept her.

  And Camilla did.

  Abby patted the old wood. “Let’s take a practice fly, my friend.” After she let Camilla become accustomed to the oddness of flying, the force of her mind, and the weight of her body, she’d take a moment to gather a few things and prepare the house for her absence. She’d put out food for Elmer and Sadie and the cats, and have a meal before she left. She would need her strength.

  She and Camilla flew with a quick grimness, lacking the joy she usually felt when flying. It wasn’t time for joy.

  Not then.

  The joy would come when Eli and Remy were safe.

  It would come when her alpha was once again in her arms.

  Chapter Five

  She leaned Camilla against the wall, put out the food for the animals, and had just sat down at the table, her own meal waiting, when the hounds began to sound the alarm.

  Company was coming.

  She jumped up, grabbed her wand, and then yanked open the door. “Sadie,” she said, stepping out onto the porch. “Elmer. Hush now.”