by Megan Morgan
She slid the box open. “It’s a lie.”
“It’s not a lie!” He struggled again. “Lorena is clever, and you know Grammy is a damn good witch. She’ll find the potion.”
Mel sneered. “That woman is pure evil.” She plucked out a match. “She condemned me, she treated me horribly when she thought I was a meek and guileless witch. She does terrible things to her own family, to her own husband. She is the Devil.”
Deacon had no idea what she was talking about, but that wasn’t his focus right now. His main concern was that she didn’t strike that match.
“What I did to Jack, I did to help my people, to protect those I love.” Mel twirled the match between her fingers. “I did it with the blessing of those who sent me to punish you. But what your grandmother is doing is despicable. We do not respect witches who use cruel magic, especially against their loved ones. In our society, she would be banished—maybe even put to death—for her behavior.”
Deacon still had no idea what she meant.
She smiled cruelly. “Oh, you don’t know, do you? Your grandmother has bewitched your grandfather, poor fool that he is. She does to him every day what I did to Jack.” She spat in the grass. “I renounce her blood that runs through my veins. The very thought makes me sick.”
Deacon shook his head, even more confused. “What are you talking about? Grandpa loves her. She ain’t got no spell on him.”
“You are such a naïve little boy.” She held up the match. “Perhaps this will send her a message as well, to keep her corruption to herself. I don’t want her help saving my beloved, I would never trust it.”
“Don’t!” Deacon yelped. “Mel—Neala. Don’t burn the house down. You don’t gotta send that kind of message. We get it.”
“You never got it.” She turned toward the house. “There will never be peace between us. We cannot abide you.”
“Neala!” He squirmed frantically. “Don’t…fuck…please don’t.” His words caught. “You could just take me prisoner. You don’t gotta do this.”
She smirked over her shoulder. “Watching you suffer brings me great satisfaction. While it burns, I want you to think about every Wolvite you’ve ever shot, every innocent life you took in your twisted desire to dominate. I want you to think about the lives and families you destroyed.”
Deacon slumped on the grass and tears slipped down his temples. He swallowed.
“At least let Clem out.” He could barely speak, his throat was so tight. “You can make me suffer all you want, but you ain’t got no reason to hurt an innocent animal. Wouldn’t that make you just as bad as me?”
Mel struck the match. “I never liked that dog anyway.”
* * * *
Lorena stood in a circle of people, deep in the woods, in the camp where Neala had taken her to see Dafydd. Around her were Wolvites and witches, who gazed in grim silence at her. In the daylight, it was obvious how ragged they were, how dirty and skeleton thin. Their eyes were dull, their faces ashen. Some wore bandages. Some stood on makeshift crutches and canes.
Kendrick stood in front of her. A deep and thrumming fear vibrated in her chest, the certainty of Deacon in distress, calling out to her.
“Kendrick.” Her hands shook in fists at her sides. “We have to get to the house and stop them.”
One of the other Wolvites deposited Hazel next to Lorena, on her feet. The old woman wobbled and Lorena gripped her shoulder to steady her. Her white hair was disheveled, her dress skewed. She looked around the circle and clamped her hands over her mouth. Despite their feelings for each other, she inched toward Lorena as though for protection.
“Listen to me, Lorena.” Kendrick stepped forward. Hazel squeaked behind her hands and stared at him. “We can end all of this, and save your Lycan, but you must cooperate.”
Lorena gazed up at him and nodded.
“Abernathy has betrayed us. He led us into a foolish fight, and then he ran and left us to rebuild on our own.” He indicated all the bedraggled people there. “He left us with no help. He took many of the healthy ones off into the woods to protect him so there was no one to look after us, and so we had to build this place in order to recover.”
Lorena looked around at the bleak faces. So much desperation and pain.
“I do not care if you have the book,” Kendrick said. “None of us care, if it will do some good.”
Lorena returned her gaze to him.
“But.” Kendrick’s expression was hard with tension. “Those who have let their hate for Abernathy consume them see this as one more grievous act of betrayal, to give a Lycan’s witch our secrets. Neala has gathered some of those who want to depose him. She is mad with grief over her mate. She is gathering righteous anger to help her commit what she thinks is her only course of action.”
Lorena trembled with nervous energy. “We found the cure. We can save him.”
“She has already acted. Others will follow. They will lash out against the town again, against the Lycans. They will rebuke Abernathy and try to bring him down.”
“But Abernathy gave me the book to try to help you.”
“It matters not to them. They see it only as opening our world to humans.” His gigantic shoulders sagged. “But the consequences of her actions are even greater. Abernathy has always led with fear and force. Those who retaliate against him, he will retaliate on them in return. He will destroy this camp and kill everyone in it, just to punish her, even those who are not rebelling against him.”
Lorena parted her lips. “He…would do that to you?”
“Yes.” His eyes were burning coals in the dappled sunlight. “We cannot fight him. We are still too sick and wounded. He will put us all down for what Neala has done.”
Lorena crinkled her brow. “Haven’t you suffered enough without killing each other as well?”
“That is how leaders rule.” He lowered his voice. “The woman I loved was killed in the raid on the town. She stood by my side and believed we could overcome, as he made all of us believe, and she died for his lies. By grace, I was able to carry her off and bury her, unlike many who were left behind.”
Lorena’s heart ached for him and she was quietly horrified, but her mind was on her own mate and not having to bury him anytime soon.
“We cannot go on this way.” Kendrick kept his voice down. “There will be no more of us if we keep up this fight. Our world is crumbling, and if we want to survive it, we must change our ways. I am among those willing to speak of peace with the Lycans. If it means stopping all outside threats so we can heal and rebuild, then it is well worth whatever we might sacrifice.”
Lorena took a deep breath. Hazel had removed her hands from her mouth and clutched them beneath her chin.
“How can I help?” Lorena steeled herself. This was what she wanted. “How can I stop Abernathy from killing you?”
“You said you have the cure.”
Lorena pushed her hand into her pocket. “Yes.” She pulled out the paper.
“We’ll make it together. You will present it to Abernathy as a sign of good will, and explain we helped you to create it, to save all Wolvites from the Sickness. We will cure Dafydd, and perhaps Neala will come to her senses. Abernathy might show mercy and only punish those who rebelled. If he gave you the book, he must be willing to talk about peace as well. Maybe he will see reason.”
“I don’t…” Lorena shook her head. “I don’t understand some of the ingredients in the potion. It’s not anything I’ve studied.” She held the paper out to him.
He glanced at it. “I cannot interpret those markings.” He looked at Hazel. “The Lycan said you could read the book. You are Grammy, yes?”
Hazel cowered. “I won’t help Wolvites.”
Lorena gripped her arm. “What do you want to preserve more right now?” She shook her. “Your pride, or your life?”
Hazel’s expression was defiant, but her eyes shone with terror. “I can’t help you.” Her voice was uncharacteristically weak and quiet. “I do
n’t understand it either. I can’t make healing water.”
Kendrick shifted toward her. “What did you say?”
“Healing water.” Lorena looked at the list. “Part of the potion calls for water from a Healing Pool.”
A woman with long dark hair spoke up. “Something that can only be made by a White Witch.” She was gaunt and pale, her eyes gray.
“Yes,” Lorena said. “I’m not very good at being a witch yet. Can you help me?” She held the paper out to her.
“There are no White Witches here.” The woman didn’t look at the paper. “It’s nature magic. A witch with such powers can speak to the trees and plants and even control the weather, at times, if she’s so inclined. She can enchant a pool with healing properties, so all those who submerge in it or drink from it will be restored.”
Lorena flashed back to the dream, of Neala kneeling by the pool. “There’s no one here who can do that?”
The woman shook her head. “It’s a rare power. I have not known a White Witch since I was a child, and she was old then and died before I matured.”
Neala had to be one of those witches, and maybe she didn’t even know it. The dream was a sign.
“Is there a spell?” Lorena asked. “Does the White Witch use a spell on the water to make it enchanted?”
The witch eyed her. “Yes, it’s simple, but only useful in a White Witch’s mouth.”
“Do you know it?”
“Many know it, but knowing it does not make it work.”
Lorena turned to Kendrick. “We have to find Neala and bring her back here. We can make the potion and give it to Abernathy with Neala’s help. She can do it.”
Kendrick tilted his head. “Why do you believe this?”
“We have to get back to the house and stop her and her friends from doing anything to Deacon, and then we bring her back here. Trust me on this.”
Kendrick glanced between her and the woman, then at Hazel.
“There is a pool near here.” He nodded to the woman. “Take Grammy to it while we are gone, and tell her the spell. Maybe she can make it work, it is worth trying. She found the cure, maybe she can implement it.”
He didn’t believe Lorena, but then, she didn’t know if she believed herself.
Hazel backed away. “You’re not taking me anywhere. I’m not a White Witch.”
Lorena flexed her fingers. “Don’t hurt her, all right?”
“I’m not going with them!” Hazel shrieked. “You will return me to my home. I won’t help Wolvites and their witches. I won’t!”
Lorena whirled around on her. “If you don’t help them, you’re never going to get home.” She wasn’t sure these people would actually hurt Hazel, but she needed the leverage to make her cooperate.
Hazel stared at her. She shook. Lorena always imagined she’d take delight in seeing her get some comeuppance, but it wasn’t satisfying at all. She just felt sorry for her.
“I can’t believe you would do this.” Hazel’s voice cracked. “You’re a terrible witch but you’re a good person. How could you leave me to them?”
“Just help them.” Lorena touched her shoulder. “They won’t do anything to you.” She looked at Kendrick. “Right?”
“Not unless she tries to harm us.”
“Don’t mess with them.” Lorena looked back at Hazel. “Just see if you can cast the spell.”
“You may hate me but you love my grandson.” Tears slipped down her wrinkled cheeks. “How could you do this to me? To him?”
“Your grandson is going to die if I don’t do this.” She spoke to Kendrick, “We have to go, now.” She could still feel the frantic pulse of Deacon’s fear. That at least meant he was still alive.
Kendrick spoke to the group. “A few of you who are healthy enough, you must go at once to Abernathy and tell him we have the cure and we will not rebel against him. A few others will come with me, we will stop Neala before she brings death upon us all.”
Lorena still gripped Hazel’s shoulder. The old woman was crying.
“I will come back for you.” Lorena leaned in to her. “Just try to cast the spell, even if it won’t work.”
“They’ll kill me,” she sobbed. “They’ll rip me apart if I can’t do it.”
“They’re not going to kill you.” Lorena patted her gun on her hip. “They didn’t take this from me. I know you hate and fear them, but they’re not all bad. They’re more like us than you know. They’ve suffered, and we have to try to stop more suffering from happening to them.”
Hazel looked at her through teary eyes, shuddering.
“I have to go save Deacon. Be the powerful witch you say you are, the warrior you say you are. Be brave. I know you have it in you.”
Hazel gaped at her.
Lorena let go of her and hurried over to Kendrick. “We can get there much faster if you carry me again.” She hated the idea, but it was practical. “Just let me ride on your back or something this time, please?”
“We may have to fight. I will protect you if I can.”
Lorena smoothed her hand over the butt of her gun. “Same.”
Chapter 17
“Why do I smell smoke?” Lorena clung to Kendrick’s shoulders, pressed against his broad, powerful back, as he raced through the trees. Others followed behind them. Lorena kept her head down, so she wouldn’t be lashed in the face by branches and leaves.
“I smell it too,” Kendrick said. “And I hear the crackle of flames.”
Lorena stiffened. “Something’s on fire?”
“It must be. I am terrified to think what Neala has already wrought.”
So was Lorena.
The trees thinned up ahead. They were close to the house, they had to be. The acrid smell on the air grew stronger, until it overpowered even the scent of Wolvite in her nose.
When they came out of the trees and entered the yard, Lorena screamed.
For a moment, her mind couldn’t accept what she saw: flames, licking up the sides of Deacon’s house. Her house. Black smoke curled into the air. Two figures lay on the ground, one unmoving, the other squirming wildly.
Kendrick stopped and Lorena jumped down from his back, and hit the ground running. She dashed toward the house, and Deacon, horrified.
As she realized what was wrong with the other person, her mind recoiled further. Dr. Winston was bleeding from a ragged bite wound on his shoulder. Deacon looked roughed up but not nearly as bad. He struggled against the ropes tied around him.
“Oh my God!” Lorena fumbled for her phone in her pocket. Heat gusted off the burning house. The flames hadn’t reached the roof yet, at least. She looked at the garden hose lying nearby. How much help would it be?
The Wolvites rushed up around her. Kendrick went to Deacon and yanked at the ropes until they snapped. “Where is Neala?” he demanded.
“She took off.” Deacon fought his way out. “They took Dafydd into the woods.”
Kendrick snarled. “We must go after her. We must find her before she incites others against Abernathy.”
Lorena held the phone in her shaking hands, trying to bring up the call screen.
“Lorena.” Deacon got to his knees. “Clem’s still inside, we gotta get him out!”
Lorena gasped. She tossed the phone at him. “Call 911!” She raced around the side of the house.
The office window was about ten feet off the ground, and closed. The flames hadn’t gotten to that side of the house yet, but they would, and soon. She contemplated briefly trying to go in through the front door, but going inside meant risking smoke inhalation. At least the office door was closed, so maybe it hadn’t gotten inside the room yet.
She grabbed a brick from the border of her flower garden beneath the window, then backpedaled and flung it, with all her strength.
The brick smashed through the window and ripped down the curtains in the process. Lorena ran and jumped. She grabbed the edge of the windowsill and hauled herself up, seeking a foothold on the side of the house.
>
Clem was barking. She shoved her torso through the window, in the hope the curtain draped across the sill would keep her from being sliced to pieces. Smoke billowed in under the door and obscured the ceiling. Clem was running around wildly, and when he saw her, he rushed to the window. Being small and low to the ground had saved him.
“Come on, boy.” She reached down. “You saved us once, I’m returning the favor.”
He jumped up and she grabbed him, kicking her legs behind her for balance. Then, someone grabbed them and steadied her.
There was no graceful way to dismount. She wrapped her arms around Clem and fell backwards, breath held. Deacon caught them, as she knew he would, and eased them to the ground.
Clem whined and shook. She crumpled to the grass. Deacon held her phone in one hand and put the other on Clem’s head. He was shaking too.
“Help is coming.” Deacon wrapped them up in his arms. “Holy hell.”
She could have sat there numb, clinging to her boyfriend and their dog, but she had to act. She passed Clem off to Deacon. “Come on.”
She scrambled to her feet and hurried back around the house. She was able to grab the hose and drag it back a bit, away from the heat of the fire. Would it melt? Would the small amount of water help at all? She also faced the dilemma of how to get close enough to the spigot to turn it on.
“Here, let me.” Deacon set Clem down and he loped away across the yard. “I don’t know how I stand up to burns, but let’s find out.” He strode toward the house.
“Deacon!” Lorena watched in terror.
He managed to turn it on, and ran back. Water sputtered out, then sprayed in a steady stream.
Deacon was flushed and clutched his hand where he’d cranked the spigot, but he grabbed the hose from her. He aimed the water toward the worst of the flames, around the back door and kitchen.