by Kat Bostick
“I have to. Jasper needs his pack.”
“And so do you.”
That shocked her more than anything else her grandmother had to say. Hours of her staring at Jasper as if he was a coiled snake ready to strike and suddenly Gran was urging her to find more of his kind. Mari was already working diligently to find them—pinning up maps of Minnesota, circling routes Jasper could have taken across the state, taking note of every detail he remembered about his home—but after Gran’s graphic retelling of werewolf attacks on witches, her enthusiasm for the mission was shrinking.
Of course she knew werewolves could be dangerous—she watched Jasper kill two people—but she hadn’t realized there was some hundred year feud between them and her kind. As eager as she was to defend Jasper, she didn’t know if he would do the same when faced with his disapproving pack. If Mari put her life on hold to search the state—hell, maybe the country—for his pack, she wanted reassurance that their grand adventure wouldn’t end with her as werewolf chow.
Gran’s continued and unexpected insistence was setting alarms off in her head that were much louder than her concerns about werewolves.
“Is this about Henrick? Is there really a black coven in Klein?” Mari tried to douse the fear that tightened her throat but she couldn’t forget the helplessness she felt when Henrick cast on her. That experience was far worse than being compelled by spirits. It was a complete theft of her will—one that would have worked if not for that mysterious tug in her chest—and it filled her belly with blazing rage.
Gran refused to discuss it any further. “There is trouble afoot and you should avoid it.”
Eventually Mari gave up on arguing and offered to make some food as a peace offering. Gran declined, preparing to leave before hesitantly retrieving a worn leather bound book from her bag. She smiled pensively at Mari and handed it over. “I understand now why I was called to bring you this after all these years. I almost gave it to you that night over dinner but I was afraid of what I might be exposing you to. It looks like you’ve already exposed yourself to it.”
The leather was the color of burnt umber and the softness of it surprised Mari. A weathered brass clasp with a delicate blue moonstone embedded in the metal held the fragile book closed. She let out a quiet gasp when she saw the symbols carved into the leather; lunar phases, lined up so that the full moon was in the center. A perfect match to Mari’s tattoo.
“Gran, is this…?”
“The family legacy, yes. Some might call it a grimoire but it has more recounts of the past than it does spells.”
Mari traced a waning crescent moon with her finger. “Is this why you were so weird about my tattoo?”
She smiled again. “I couldn’t figure out how you knew.”
“I didn’t.” she frowned at thin words etched into the leather. “What does this say? It’s not in English.”
“The witch speaks and the wolf listens.” Gran translated. “They are family words, though they haven’t had meaning for generations.”
A strange current of energy ran up Mari’s spine at those words. Echoes of memory bounced around in her head but they were fluid and slippery and she couldn’t get a grasp on them.
“The witch speaks and the wolf listens.” Mari repeated in a whisper. “Why do I know those words?”
“Ancestral knowledge.” Gran offered. “It would seem that your father and I were the foolish ones. Nothing was going to keep you from this. None can stop the will of a goddess.”
Mari was too stunned to ask much more after that. Gran suggested she take time to process and left with the promise to return once she’d visited her sister to retrieve the remainder of the family history she’d compiled.
Jasper grunted when she stretched across him to retrieve the legacy from the nightstand. The pages were wrinkled and brown but not an inch of space was left bare on them. They contained sketches of plants, drawings of symbols Mari had never seen, and hundreds upon hundreds of words written in a language she couldn’t speak. There was a handful of spells in the back of the book, just as Gran said. Some of them were even in English.
As tempting as it was to try one of them right then and there, Mari decided against it. In truth, she was a little afraid to practice again after everything Gran revealed about her father’s visions. So far, none of her dreams were what she would consider prophetic but that didn’t mean she discounted what Dad claimed to see. If Mari was at risk of killing—why else would she have blood on her hands?—and committing evil acts, perhaps it was best if she avoided practicing magic, just in case.
She also had to wonder if seeking out Jasper’s pack really was a good idea. Were the beasts at her back in Dad’s vision werewolves? Would going to them willingly be taking a step in fulfilling that foreseen future? Unfortunately, Mari had the same fear about staying in Klein. If Henrick could use magic that weakened her willpower, what could his luminary do? For all she knew, they were capable of forcing her to use black magic and corrupt her own soul.
Mari would much rather take her chances with Jasper’s pack if they were anything like him. Supposedly her brand of magic was impactful to werewolves, which could either be useful or harmful depending on how they chose to see it. Beyond that, they had no reason to mislead or manipulate her. There was nothing that they would want to take from her, as far as she could judge.
“Jasper?” She sat up, startling the wolf from a doze. “Will your pack kill me if we find them?”
He whipped his head up with a savage growl. Mari instinctively shied away from the threatening sound. Jasper pinned her torso with his front paws before she could roll off the bed and find her footing. His eyes were alight, glowing in that otherworldly way that made her stomach flutter—whether with fear or excitement, she couldn’t say.
When their gazes met Mari heard one silvery word. “Safe.”
“I’ll be safe with them? At least until this black coven business blows over?”
“Yes.” He wagged his tail, his face relaxing to hide his terrifying teeth once more.
“Then I guess we ought to start packing.”
Chapter 19
Mari
The bedroom looked like the set of a detective TV show. The wall by the bed was plastered in maps of the state of Minnesota, scientific articles about wolf populations, and printouts of web pages with the most accurate information about werewolf packs. Mari had also taken pins and strands of red thread to connect Jasper’s potential routes between Klein and the rest of the state.
Honestly, she’d mostly done that because it made her feel like she was making progress.
So far they were having about as much success locating the pack as they were breaking the curse. That was to say, very little. She didn’t want to get discouraged but Mari’s arms were growing tired from constantly pinning paper above her head. And she was hungry.
“Cookie break!” Mari yelled into the hallway. Claws skittered across hardwood and two seconds later Jasper was sliding through the doorway, sending a collection of open books flying into Mari’s feet. “Wow, that was graceful.” She leaned her back against the wall and bit into a chocolate chip cookie. “What do you say we work on this curse of yours?”
Jasper bared his teeth. Apparently he still hadn’t forgiven her for the salt bath.
Hours and hours of online research yielded few results in the curse breaking department. If witches and werewolves were trying to keep their existence a secret, they weren’t exactly going to post on forums asking for advice. That left her to start searching for more general information. There were a million and one fairytales about curses and each had even more ways to break them.
A sea salt soak in the tub complete with a bundle of herbs was a bust. Jasper came out grumpy and smelling like pot roast. The lemon method required a full moon and a lot of time invested so Mari ended up making lemonade with the bag of citrus instead. Burning sage made them both sneezy but no more human than before. Praying was useless, unless the divine was simply igno
ring them. Writing out rhyming spells and reciting them mostly just gave Mari unwelcome flashbacks to studying Shakespeare in tenth grade.
Finally, out of desperation, Mari decided to try the silliest of her ideas. “You cannot make fun of me for this, okay?”
He flicked his tail in impatient agreement.
With eyes focused anywhere but on Jasper, Mari cupped his head and moved in. She’d kissed him before but that was not the curse breaking kind of kiss. A kiss on the head wouldn’t turn a frog back into a prince. That required more passion. So, Mari puckered up and pecked Jasper’s lips just below his nose. When the deed was done she quickly retreated and watched closely for any sign of change.
Jasper gazed up at her with glittering green eyes, wolfish as ever.
“I know you’re laughing at me.” She chewed the nail on her pointer finger and considered. “Maybe it didn’t work because I’m not your true love.”
Jasper tackled her to the ground and nipped her nose then. Mari had no idea why he was reprimanding her—that was what a nip on the nose meant, apparently—but she was in no mood so she nipped him right back. He looked startled for a second before nipping her again, this time on the neck. Before she could retaliate he locked his teeth around her shoulder and growled. The vibration near her armpit tickled and she lost use of her limbs due to uncontrollable laughter. That was how most of their curse breaking attempts ended.
“I still haven’t heard from Gran.” She said when she finished her cookie. “I’m going
to give her one more day.”
Mari couldn’t figure out what was holding her grandmother up. After their turbulent meeting last week Gran was supposed to visit her coven sister to retrieve the family history she’d been documenting. Once she’d delivered the information and had a chance to discuss it with them, Mari and Jasper were planning to hit the road in search of his pack. That meeting was five days ago and she still hadn’t heard a peep. She was trying not to worry but the longer she went without a call, the more the twisted feeling in her gut tightened.
Something was amiss in Klein. Mari could feel it in the air. She itched to get out of here, to just throw her backpack in the car and go. If she really had inherited her father’s psychic abilities then she shouldn’t discount that intuition. For most of her life she ignored it and look where that got her.
If they needed to, she and Jasper could probably be out of her house in thirty minutes. Her duffle bag was already packed with clothes and her backpack had the essentials. The bright side of waiting around for Gran to call was that they had a chance to prepare and do more research. Jasper couldn’t give her a precise location on the map but he knew he came from within the state, northeast of Klein.
Mari also gleaned some clues from her dreams. For some mysterious reason, every time she fell asleep she saw flashes of Jasper’s memories. Most of them were from his perspective as a wolf but occasionally she got glimpses of his life as a man.
The pack lived in a house, which she supposed was unsurprising if they spent most of their time as humans. It was a freaking huge house with old looking stone walls, a pointy roof, and half towers on either side. Gothic mansions weren’t that rare but Mari imagined they wouldn’t find hundreds of them in rural Minnesota.
That was the other thing about Jasper’s pack; they lived in the middle of nowhere.
It looked like the middle of nowhere, anyway. That was the problem with dream magic. She was only seeing what he remembered and Jasper wasn’t studying his environment in his memories. The house was surrounded by thick deciduous forest that seemed to stretch on for eternity. That left them with more than a hundred miles to explore but at least she narrowed it down to northern Minnesota.
Mari glanced at the clock on her cellphone. It was past midnight and she was wide awake. A diet of coffee and cookies would probably give anyone insomnia. She hadn’t intended to become nocturnal but since Jasper’s arrival, she had to utilize the night if they wanted privacy and the freedom to leave the house. Three times now Mari noticed an unfamiliar neighbor watching her unload bag after bag of meat from the grocery store and didn’t like his curiosity. It was easier to avoid prying eyes if she did everything in the dark.
And, in truth, she was currently avoiding sleep. Since completing her rites, Mari’s dreams were more vivid than ever. They used to come infrequently, maybe five or six times a month, but now they happened every night. Gran couldn’t offer any explanation as to how the dreams worked so Mari didn’t have a way to turn them off. They were helping her solve the mystery that was Jasper’s past but they were also leaving her more exhausted than when she went to bed.
Unlike before, these dreams were fully immersive. She could spend hours in Jasper’s head, feeling like him, thinking what he thought, and seeing the world through his eyes. It was fascinating but overwhelming. Mari needed a break.
At least she still had ways to unwind. In her online search she found a playlist of songs that someone put together for werewolves and spent the last three days dancing the night away while flipping through books. The playlist was mostly a collection of songs featuring the words “moon,” “wolf,” and “werewolf,” but she liked it. Jasper wasn’t a fan.
He was even less pleased with her when she played Neil Young’s Harvest Moon and made him dance with her.
Two more hours passed before yawns occurred more frequently than any productive behavior. Jasper had already dozed off on the floor at her feet. With a resigned sigh she nudged the wolf awake and trudged to bed. Her head barely hit the pillow before she slipped off into a dream. Hopefully it would be a useful one.
✽✽✽
“Jasper?” Mari called out to him but her voice was lost in a violent rush of wind.
If this was a dream, it definitely wasn’t one of Jasper’s. Mari twisted to observe her surroundings and saw nothing. The world was a dull grey. Horrible wind whipped at her hair and rushed in her ears. A particularly strong gust pushed her from behind and she stumbled forward. Suddenly a massive funnel came into view, a hurricane barreling towards her.
She tried to backpedal but her legs wouldn’t obey. The wind grew louder until she almost couldn’t hear it anymore over the buzz of her pained ears. Then the funnel swept over her and a terrible, empty silence engulfed her. Mari was standing in the center of a storm, watching indistinct colors and shapes fly by. As her eyes adjusted to the movement, a series of images began to form.
First she saw a set of hands, pale and bony. On the pointer finger was a silver ring with a crescent moon surrounding a black stone. The word “kill” rolled from a foreign tongue and blew quietly by.
Next came a blurry image of Mari’s house. It was small and it could use some work but seeing it filled her with fondness. She grew up in that house, learned to sing her plants to life in that garden, and spent her best Christmas mornings there. It must be Christmas now because there was smoke coming from the chimney. Dad only let them have fires on holidays.
Wait, there was smoke coming from other parts of the house too. Black pillars billowed out of the windows, followed by a spray of sparks and glass. Jasper was still inside! Mari shrieked his name but he couldn’t hear her from where she stood on the front lawn. All she could do was watch as hungry flames devoured her home.
There was a cage then, with bars as thick as Mari’s forearms. It was too small and Jasper was cramped. He was trapped. She could feel the impotent rage building inside of his immobile body. A heavy chain wrapped around his neck. Any attempt to escape was futile. He could hardly move in the tight confines of the steel bars and something was wrong with him. His legs wouldn’t work and his head was filled with fluff.
The bars fell away and more wolves came into view. Their teeth were long and their black and brown bodies massive. The word “kill” flew by on the wind again and the beasts obeyed. Jasper was one of them, tearing and rending as faceless people screamed in terror and pain. The air around them filled with a mist of blood. The largest of them, black as
night with dead blue eyes, let out a victorious howl.
Mari had to cover her mouth to hold back a scream. Unable to bear the violence anymore, she squeezed her eyes shut. Finally the noises subsided and once again the empty silence consumed her.
A single familiar voice broke through. “Your soul is overcome with darkness…”
“Gran?” Mari’s eyes snapped open.
The old witch was huddled on the floor of her kitchen. Gran’s lips parted and a pained wail escaped. There was utter agony on her weathered features. A strange green cloud, embellished around the edges with wispy gold, rose from the surface of her skin. She grew sallow as her cries turned to wilted whimpers. Mari pushed her hands against the wall of wind but she couldn’t reach her grandmother. All she could do was watch as the old witch writhed helplessly.
“Gran!” She shrieked herself awake.
Jasper hovered above her face. His eyes were round with alarm. Staring into them, into the face of a wolf, Mari felt a sudden surge of panic. She recalled death, mindless violence, all at the hands of werewolves. A gentle prod from him snapped her out of it.
“Oh no. Gran.” Mari leapt from the bed and pulled on the first pair of pants she found.
The events from her dream might already be in motion. It wasn’t a memory this time, it was potential futures. What else could those images have been? If she couldn’t get to her grandmother right now it could be too late. In a rush she slipped on flip flops and raced for the backdoor, snagging her backpack as she went.
The bag was heavy with cosmetics, clothing, and books. Mari only grabbed it now because it contained the family legacy and she was too afraid to lose the precious gift for even a moment to leave it behind. Jasper hurried after her, whining out his confusion and dismay. Before she could grab the handle on the door he pushed in front of her, blocking it.
“I have to go now, Jas!”
Conflict twisted her gut as she recalled the cage. Someone was coming for him too. Mari should bring him. He would be safe if he wasn’t home, right? But she couldn’t exactly run through the lobby of Gran’s housing complex with a werewolf. And she couldn’t leave him in the car. The parking lot was small and anyone walking by could easily see him.