She focused, envisioning a protective net over the pen. With the one she created for her home, the net was there to keep things out. In this case, she focused on creating one that would keep Calder's dad in. She closed her eyes, tried to build the ward bit by bit in her mind.
She tried, time and time again, and the wards crumbled, fell apart just before completion, like her magic was just out of touch. There, but not. Shadow was there, though, swirling within her, excited by her trying to access the magic within her.
As she worked, she tried not to freak out. Mr. Turcotte continued to snarl at her, and she focused, instead, on Calder and Jon. Jon was talking. “I'm sorry. I know I acted like an asshole,” he was saying.
“Forget it,” Calder said. “Sorry I threatened beast mode on you. That was a shitty thing to do.”
Sophie heard it all, felt it all, and yet, felt separate from it. Numb. Calder's father, looking so much like Calder, stood there growling at her, fur on his shoulders bristling, teeth snapping at her.
There was no man there. No sense. Only rage and the need to destroy. The way he looked, the smell of him… everything about it was wrong. He was skinny, his flesh seeming to flow off of bone. His teeth were yellow, his claws bloody, broken from trying to dig at the fences through the concrete that reinforced them on the inside of the pen.
This thing. This was what Calder would become, because of Migisi. Because of her line.
Every spell she'd known, every spell she'd learned from Migisi's journal, none of them had worked to lift the taint from Calder's family.
Could she do this, when the time came? Could she keep the man she loved in a cage, listen to him roaring in rage and agony? Could she end his life?
She couldn't do it. She couldn't see Calder look at her with that expression in his eyes.
She felt Calder's hand on her arm, pulling her gently away from the pen, and she went, unable to take her eyes away from Mr. Turcotte.
Mr. Turcotte was growling, roaring, ramming the fences, trying to get to her. She guessed, maybe, that he knew a little of what was going on. Knew who and what she was.
“Sophie, you need to leave. You're making him worse,” Calder said quietly, gently. He pressed his car keys into her hand. “Just go, okay?”
She nodded numbly, gave his father one more look, then walked down the driveway, Mr. Turcotte's insane, anguished roars even more frenzied behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
December 9, 1860
“What I need, is for you to get away from me for a while. Go trap some helpless animal so you can profit off of it,” Migisi said, rolling, turning away from Luc in their cozy bed of furs and woolen blankets.
She looked at the wall, waiting for him to leave. The cabin had expanded in the past few years. Luc had gone to work, gathering large stones and setting them, building a large stone fireplace in the main room of the cabin. That had been his project after they'd lost their first child.
The small cooking area off to the side, he'd added after they lost their second. That one, she'd carried for months, and they'd thought the family they'd started to want so badly would finally happen. When she'd delivered it, the tiny girl had already been gone for some time.
She didn't allow Luc to touch her for nearly a year after, her nights full of nightmares about children she'd lost, looking at her mournfully. Blaming her.
She blamed herself too. She was weak. Not weak of body; child-bearing should not have been a problem. Weak of spirit, of mind, maybe. She blamed Shadow. She felt it oozing into every part of her being, and she'd stopped trying to fight it back. She'd tried. She'd tried for years, and failed, and she was tired of fighting.
Her once-great magic was failing her. She could still work simple healing spells. Not like those she used to, though.
“Aren't you gone yet?” she huffed as Luc put a hand on her waist.
“I miss you, little ghost,” he said, and she closed her eyes, his pet name for her like a stab to the heart. The fact that he could still say it so tenderly confused her. She abhorred herself; how could he still look at her, with everything she'd put him through, with love in his eyes? “I will go. A run might be a good idea,” he said. “But I need you to know something.”
She turned. That serious tone. Here it comes, she thought. He will tell me he's heading south, to his partners, and that he won't be back. She'd been preparing herself for this moment for years.
“What is it?” she asked.
His eyes searched hers. “I love you. I love you in the Light, and I love you in the Shadow. I know you can barely stand yourself. I know you feel wrong in your skin.”
Migisi stared at him. She'd been so sure she'd been hiding it well. The damnable man saw everything.
“I need you to know that I love the woman, not her magic.”
“We are one and the same,” she said, and he pulled her closer. She usually stiffened and refused his attentions, but he was not the only one who missed the closeness they'd once shared. This wall she'd built between them, preparing herself for his eventual desertion… she hated it. So she let him pull her close, and, after a moment, she pressed her face into his broad chest.
“You say that, but I have been here through it all. I was here when you were at your most powerful in the Light. I've been here as you've sunk, slowly but surely, into Shadow. I love you as much as always, Migisi. You hate yourself. You struggle. My love for you has never faltered.”
Tears came to her eyes, and she held him tighter. She let him love her, and when he left to check his traps a few hours later, he looked happier than she'd seen him in months.
She washed herself, sending a prayer that no child would take. She couldn't handle another loss. She dressed, added a few more logs to the fireplace, then went outside.
The woods she'd loved no longer gave her the solace they once did. She walked them every day nonetheless, hoping, waiting to feel something of the Light again. She still held it together. Other than Luc, everyone believed she was fine. They attributed any oddness to mourning over the child they'd lost. It was probably for the best that they thought that.
As she made her way back to the cabin, she stopped, pulled out the small knife she kept on her belt, and carved her rune into another of the trees nearby. She didn't know, anymore, if they worked to keep her land safe, but she wanted to believe they did.
“Still superstitious,” a smooth voice said behind her, in her own language. She knew what she'd see. The gray-eyed man with his cold, hard gaze. He who stalked her steps. She had yet to exchange a word with him, for, while he often talked to her now, she refused to give him her attention.
He felt wrong. He was Shadow, and even as far gone as she was, he felt wrong.
“You have fought so long, so hard. Stubborn witch,” he said, following her as she continued walking. “Foolish. Don't you know you will ultimately fail? You and your piety, your devotion to Light. What good has it done you? Light has forsaken you, deserted you.”
She walked faster. He laughed. “Fine. Have it your way, then.”
She glanced back, and he was gone. Migisi closed her eyes, tried to pull herself together. He did this sometimes, as if he was checking to see just how far gone she was, as if he was waiting for the day she'd denounce the Light.
She cursed the day she'd met him. He'd been traveling with the missionaries and had taken an immediate interest in her. It was years before she'd met Luc, and, since he wasn't asking her for blessings or healing or trying to turn her into a Christian, she'd found him refreshing. She only realized later that he was everything she hated. He was vile. He was Shadow. He found her ways amusing. She told him she didn't want to see him again, once she realized what he was. He hadn't taken it well. He'd followed her, showed up in the places she usually visited. But she was more powerful than he was, and his pathetic attempts to hurt her were met with her own derisive laughter. For a few years, it seemed as if he'd finally given up, though she'd occasionally see him among the Europea
ns.
It seemed he'd decided he wasn't finished with her. Why now, she didn't even want to wonder. She hoped that ignoring him would be enough.
Arriving at the cabin, she saw a group of people from her tribe, as well as a couple of white men. One had a contraption she recognized as a camera from a newspaper article she'd read. She held out her hand, and the white man holding the camera handed it to her, looking confused. Migisi inspected it.
“Such a beautiful machine, really,” she remarked in French to her visitors, repeating it in Ojibwa for her people. “Thank you for letting me look at it. I hadn't yet seen one in person,” she said to the man, handing his camera back.
“We were hoping to take a few photos of you, Healer,” the man with the camera said. The white men often called her that, simply “Healer,” as if that was the entirety of what she was. She forced a smile onto her face.
“And why is that?”
“Because you are a woman of some renown and mystery. Because one can't walk among your people without hearing tales of your greatness. And because you healed one of the priests who lived here for a while, and he still sings your praises. People are interested in you. And pictures sell newspapers,” he added with a grin.
She looked at the camera doubtfully.
“Please,” the other white man said. “It will only take a few minutes.”
She sighed, knowing it would only prolong their visit if she refused, and her small confrontation with the one who stalked her steps had left her feeling unsettled. She nodded, and someone grabbed a stool from near the cabin, set it near her.
“There, there. Sit there,” the photographer said, and she did. “All right, look over here. Smile now.”
“Maybe a profile shot,” the other man said, and they argued over that for a while. Her patience was already wearing thin.
She heard icy ground crunching beneath heavy footsteps to her left, and she looked that way, watched Luc as he approached, so much larger, so much more pleasing to the eye than anything else she could imagine. He studied the scene, met her eyes, and smiled at her, clearly being able to read her annoyance at the situation.
She raised her face a little, a small smile lighting her face, sharing, for just a moment, in his mirth. She heard the camera click, smelled the scent of the flash, and looked toward the photographer.
“That was perfect. Thank you,” he said, bowing to her a little. She nodded in response, and watched as they all trooped away from her land. Luc reached her, pulled her into his arms.
“You looked like you were considering trying to turn them into toads or something,” he remarked, and she shook her head, a slight smile on her lips.
“Maggots, actually,” she said, and Luc laughed and followed her into the house. These were the moments that held them together, those moments when he reminded her, just by being himself, that he understood her. It was enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
She'd had every intention of just going home and waiting for Calder, waiting to hear what had happened with his father. Sophie got home, and parked Calder's truck in his driveway and tucked his keys between the storm door and heavy front door at the front of his house. She wandered back across the road toward her house, numbly noted yet another yellow rose on her mailbox. She made a gesture with her hand, and the rose burst into flames, which died out just a quickly, leaving nothing.
She looked down at her hands, remembered Mr. Turcotte's crazed howls.
Instead of going into her house, she got into her car and drove down the highway, her mind racing. She nearly missed the wrought iron fence, she was so deep in thought. She pulled into the gravel parking lot, walked quickly between the graves until she got to Luc's grave. Migisi's grave.
She stood there for a while, then knelt on the damp ground. Another gray fall day, and the ground was littered with leaves. Red maple leaves, yellow birch covered Luc and Migisi's graves.
“I wish I knew what I was supposed to do,” Sophie said quietly, feeling stupid. She pushed the rose vines away from Migisi's headstone again, looked at her name, those dates. “I wish I knew how you ended.” There had been a message on her voice mail from Thea. There were obituaries for both of them. Migisi had died of “a sudden illness” and Luc had died of “a fall.”
Sophie had the feeling there was so much more to the story. And she'd never know, most likely.
“The only thing I know is, I'm not you. I won't let it take me completely. I won't give up the way you did. I won't be used.”
She sat there a while longer, Migisi's writings, Mr. Turcotte's snarls, Calder's words “I forgot how to shift back,” running through her mind.
She came to a decision, because of her two options, it was the only choice that made any sense.
When Sophie entered the small, dark bar near the interstate, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The place smelled of stale beer and whiskey, and a tired old Randy Travis song played. The place was small, and mostly empty. A corpulent bartender stood behind the scarred bar, and a few men sat on stools, either staring at their drinks or at the television mounted behind the bar, which was showing some sports thing. In the corner, she spotted Marshall sitting at a small table. She took a breath and headed to him. He stood up, grinning widely, and sat only after she'd sat down.
“I told you you'd come to me,” he said.
“Don't gloat. I'm not doing it for you.”
“It doesn't matter why. All that matters is that you're doing it.”
“I am still me,” Sophie said, and he laughed.
“Your magic has failed you. You know it, and I know it. And look, here I am, not hurting you. All of that needless running, little girl.” He took a sip of the dark-colored drink in front of him.
“Will it break the curse?” she asked.
“Will the paltry bit of magic you have now break it?” he asked in response.
“That's not an answer,” she said, raising her voice, aware that she was losing her temper and, for once, not caring.
He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that would have been attractive if she didn't know what he actually was. “It is all the answer you need. You have zero chance to save him as you are. Come to me, and you have the unlimited power that comes with the Shadow.”
“And what do you get?” she asked quietly.
“A goal met. A feeling of accomplishment. You.”
She studied him.
“Not your body, though I'd take it. You're a little fat for my tastes, but all that really matters is what's between your thighs in that regard.”
She felt like vomiting.
“No, my little weakling. I'd get to turn a Lightwitch. That is a reward all its own.”
“Why?”
He smiled again. “Someone hasn't studied up on witchy history as much as she should have.”
“Tell me why. Why is this happening? You know why, damn it.”
“You have it figured out. I heard you talking to that delectable shifter woman.”
“You stay away from her,” she warned.
“I would not touch one of yours, if you are of the Shadow,” he said, smiling. “At any rate, you had it right. Some smart chap ensured that the object of Migisi's desires would end up being her downfall.”
“Who?”
He just smiled smugly.
“Not you. You're not that old,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Ah, little girl. Looks are deceiving. Power is all that matters.”
“How old are you?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“So you've what? Spent the last two hundred years messing with my line? Why?”
He laughed, and it was cold and heartless and sent shivers down her spine. “Oh, it's cute how you think you understand. Two hundred years is nothing, and your line has been my plaything for centuries.”
Sophie stared at him, and he grinned. “Feeling less significant now, aren't you? It's not all about you. Hurts, doesn't it?” He watched her fo
r a few moments. “This is checkmate. This is the part where you surrender, because every option has been taken from you.” His voice was low, serious. “Wait, and he's lost. Wait, and you're just as lost. Do you want to know what happened after she cursed him?”
Sophie didn't answer.
He shook his head. “It didn't end there. She cursed him, and came to her senses shortly after and tried to fix it. Her methods of trying to repair the damage were… unconventional. It helped pull her deeper into the Shadow. It was a beautiful thing to watch.”
“I don't believe you. You are a liar and a murderer.”
“Have I ever lied to you yet? Think about it. Every word I've ever said to you has been the truth, and you know it.”
“You said you can help me save him.”
He nodded.
“How?”
“Our powers are great. Limitless,” he added, his steely eyes searching hers. “Anything we desire, anything at all, becomes ours.”
“Yet it took you almost twenty years to succeed with me,” she said, raising her eyebrow.
He smiled. “But I succeeded. That is all that matters. And as we've established, it felt like nothing to me.”
“But not because of anything you did. I don't have a choice.”
“There is always a choice. You want added power, this gives it to you.” A twinkle came to his eyes. Amusement. “And you are desperate. Poor little witch,” he murmured.
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