Calder quickly walked through the living room and down the short hallway that led to the bathroom and bedroom. The door was closed, and he heard a painful-sounding retch from the other side.
“Sophie,” he said gently. He was answered by another retching noise. He opened the door to find Sophie kneeling in front of the toilet, holding her mane of hair back with one hand. He took over holding her hair, and she heaved again.
“We seem to be making a habit of this,” he said lightly, remembering doing the same thing for her after she healed the witch sister after Marshall’s attack. “Must be what love looks like.”
She gave a weak laugh and then retched again, whimpering in pain.
“Everything hurts,” she moaned. She started standing up and he helped her, then waited as she rinsed her mouth out, brushed her teeth, and rinsed some more. He studied her in the mirror as she did. She had dark circles under her eyes. She was pale, and her nose was running. “My ribs, my back, my stomach, my throat… “
“Esme said you overdid it today.”
“Esme has no idea what she’s talking about. In regard to anything,” Sophie spat, splashing cold water on her face. “She hates me, and I’m kind of pissed at you for making her promise to stay with me.”
“You can be pissed at me, as long as you’re safe. And she doesn’t hate you.”
“How would you know?”
“I can tell. She’s not your biggest fan, but she doesn’t hate you.”
“Hm.”
“Okay. Back to bed?” he asked, and she nodded.
“There’s some food in the oven. Patti brought it over. She said she can feel the difference with the forest being healed, and she knew it was me.”
“That was nice of her. Do you want some?”
Sophie gave him a look, and he laughed. He started pulling her clothes off, and then got her into bed and stripped and got in beside her.
“I didn’t overdo it,” Sophie said. “This was actually an easy day. Just one section, and then I was done. I’m tired, and I think all of the crap that’s been happening is finally hitting me. I can’t relax. I’m like a bundle of nerves, and I don’t know whether to scream or cry. And I missed you. I hate having you away from me like that.”
“I know,” he said softly, holding her close. “I hate it, too. As soon as we find him, that’ll end.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, forcing his body to calm the hell down. No playtime tonight, he thought regretfully. “Maybe you should go to the doctor.”
“And tell him what?” Sophie said with a little laugh. “This will pass soon and I’ll be good as new. Plus I’m not writing off the possibility of Esme poisoning me.”
Calder shook his head.
“I mean, really. I don’t need her around.”
“I know you don’t,” he said. “But it makes me feel better to know you have an angry, vengeful witch backing you up in case he makes a move before we catch him.”
Sophie sighed. Calder rubbed up and down her side, her hip, her thigh, reveling in the feel of her silky skin.
“The pack is about ready to name a holiday after you, I think,” he said softly.
She snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been great for the pack.”
“You healed their home. They know you have their back. Strong forest, strong pack.”
Sophie rolled over and looked up at him. “Layla won’t let me heal her.”
Calder rested his hand on her hip, gently squeezing and massaging it. “I heard.”
“She doesn’t trust me.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that, kitten.”
“Sure it isn’t.”
“Bryce pulled me aside this afternoon after he got back from checking on Layla. She told him you offered and she refused.”
Sophie was watching him, exhaustion and pain evident in her big brown eyes.
“Layla’s worried about you,” he said softly. “Bryce said that she said you looked like death warmed over, like if a strong breeze hit you, you would have toppled over. She didn’t want to add to it. And she’s getting better, slowly but surely, on her own.”
“She was using a walker today instead of her wheelchair,” Sophie said with a nod. “It wouldn’t have cost me anything to heal her the rest of the way. I thought of it almost right away after I healed Charlotte that night, but everything got crazy after that. I texted her about it, and she said I didn’t need to do that, but I wanted to talk to her about it, to make her understand that I could do it… I just got the feeling that she didn’t want my magic anywhere near her.”
“Honey, that wasn’t it. They can all feel, every one of them, that your magic isn’t the twisted thing Marshall’s is. She was worried about you. And so was Bryce. As much as it bothers him seeing Layla struggle, he agreed that it wasn’t fair to accept that from you, not when you’re wearing yourself out healing an entire damn forest already.”
“My magic is like Marshall’s, though. It’s the exact same thing,” she argued sleepily, eyes closing.
“Not the way you use it,” he said, lowering his face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Stay with me tonight?” she murmured.
“I promise I will.”
She smiled, and gave a sleepy little nod, then curled against him and fell asleep. He watched her, held her, as the room darkened around them. He heard Esme return and settle into her usual spot in the living room.
As he looked at Sophie, a wave of pure rage washed over him. Part of it was his bear, being an anxious asshole from being too close to Sophie and her Shadow magic. That was something he was getting used to, and he refused to let it be enough to keep him away from her.
No, this rage was all him, and it was all for Marshall. He’d tried to destroy her, so many times Calder couldn’t even count anymore. He’d tried to take everything that mattered to Sophie away from her. He’d killed too many people who mattered to her. He’d destroyed the forest, and Sophie was killing herself saving it. And he knew the Shadow warlock wasn’t done yet. He’d make a move for Sophie.
What the fuck was taking him so long?
As soon as Calder had the thought, he hated himself a little for it. It was becoming more clear every day that they wouldn’t find him during their hunts. He was very, very good at not being found. He was a master of the sneak attack.
He was almost sure that Marshall had destroyed those areas of the forest knowing Sophie would fix them, and end up weakening herself. And Sophie was tired. She was sick. But she sure the hell wasn’t weakened by it. He could feel it, just being near her. It was like lying next to a live wire, the constant sensation of power just held in check. Instead of making her weak, Marshall’s little ploy had shown her just how powerful she actually was.
But now he knew how strong she was, too.
Calder blew out a breath. There was something they weren’t seeing. Something they were missing. Or maybe not. Sophie had said before that Marshall’s thing was manipulation. Mind games. Hell, he’d basically had Sophie imprisoned in her own house for years, just from the suggestion of what he might do to her. And that had been before he’d killed anyone close to her.
A while later, Sophie opened her eyes and kissed him. “We’ll catch him soon,” she whispered. “We’ll catch a lucky break, and we’ll catch him, and we’ll be able to move on with our lives.”
Calder nodded. It was feeling less and less possible the longer this stupid game of cat and mouse went on.
“You’re trying to protect me. Don’t lose yourself in the process by becoming obsessed with this.”
Calder didn’t answer, and Sophie climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. He looked up at her, skin lit by dim moonlight, hair hanging down, tickling his chest when she leaned forward and kissed him. She lowered her body to his, and they both groaned in ecstasy when he filled her.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Always,” she murmured, and after that, they were both lost for words, trying their best to be silent, all too awa
re that they weren’t alone in the house. He took advantage of the situation, playing with her, bringing her close and then stopping just before she lost control. He’d never get tired of the way she responded to him, the way she belonged, utterly and completely, to him, the same way he belonged to her. The fact that he could smell himself all over her, as if it was utterly clear to the universe that he’d claimed her, only made him more determined to keep her happy, safe, and believing in herself.
When they’d finally exhausted one another, Sophie fell asleep with a drowsy, “I love you so much.” She had a way of making him feel like he was about twelve feet tall, like he could take on the whole damn world and win, as long as he had her at his side.
And he knew that he would do anything in his power to earn that from her. The first thing he had to do, of course, was kill a certain warlock.
He lay awake, thinking. There had to be something he wasn’t seeing.
Sophie barely had time to acknowledge that she was in bed alone again before she was forced to race to the bathroom. She just made it, pulling on a robe on her way out of her room, before she was kneeling in her tiny yellow bathroom again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she heard Esme say in disgust from the living room. There wasn’t much to heave up, and soon Sophie stood and washed up. Aside from the way her ribs and back ached from heaving, her breasts felt sore, heavy. The terrycloth fabric of the robe brushing against her almost had her in tears.
Calder had been maddeningly gentle with her the night before.
She slipped out of her robe and got in the shower, letting the hot water soothe away some of the ache in her back. She stood, leaning against the cool tile as she let the heat soothe her. She closed her eyes.
She felt weird.
Not bad weird. Just… weird.
Light. She felt the Light. Her eyes shot open when she realized it, and then she closed her eyes again. She focused, almost giddy with excitement. If she was making her way back to the Light, she should soon be able to see Light magic the way she used to. She’d be able to use her power the way it was meant to be used, not this cobbled-together garbage of trying to make Shadow into Light.
She stood there, and focused. She could see the Light. She could feel it. It was right there, so close, so strong and pure and perfect she found herself in tears. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how intensely she focused, it remained just out of reach.
By the time she finally gave up, the water had run cold. She turned the shower off with a twinge of guilt. Esme hadn’t showered yet.
And then she remembered Esme acting like a jerk the day before, and felt a lot less guilty.
She pulled her robe back on, ran some serum through her curls, and went out into the living room. Esme was still snoring on the daybed, and the house was still fairly dark. When she went into her bedroom to dress, she looked out the window. The sun was just starting to rise through the trees, and the sky was a pinkish gray. She could already tell that it was going to be a scorcher, and humid besides. She grimaced. Days like this, her hair grew about four times in volume from its already ridiculous size.
She pulled on some shorts and a sleeveless top, then went to work braiding her hair into a thick rope over her shoulder.
“Ugh. Don’t you have air conditioning?” Esme grumbled from the living room. Sophie shook her head and went out to the living room to join her.
“I have a little window air conditioner, but I haven’t had a chance to put it in yet,” she said as she sat in her favorite reading chair. I haven’t done much reading lately, she thought mournfully. It seemed like a dumb thing to be sad about, but for so many years, books had been her solace and her only companions. They’d made the world seem a little less grim, even when she’d had almost no hope of escaping Marshall. That period before she’d finally left Detroit, when she’d wanted nothing more than to die rather than live another day fearing Marshall, was something she wished she could forget. She didn’t feel like that girl anymore, like that girl who’d tried to end her life only to have it saved by the Light.
“You seem different,” Esme said. Sophie glanced up to see Esme studying her.
“I think I’m getting closer to the Light. I swear, I can feel it.”
“And I keep telling you that’s impossible.”
Sophie shrugged. “Yet, here I am. Feeling different and knowing what I feel better than you do.”
Esme rolled her eyes. She went quiet, and then finally said, “I want to go home.”
“You can.”
“No, I can’t. I promised. I wasn’t much good for Luc while he was alive. I can do this for Calder, at least.”
“I would argue that you were good for Luc. He likely stayed alive longer because of you.”
“Yeah. To suffer under Migisi’s curse. Great.”
Sophie shook her head. “But you have to imagine that there were moments of happiness in his last years. Maybe he enjoyed a few more sunsets, had his favorite meal a few more times. I remember Calder’s dad, how he was at the end. Mostly, he was overwhelmed by the curse. But Jon said he had moments of being his old self. Moments where he’d talk to Jon and Calder, and for just a little while, they had their father back and he had them, too. Those moments became almost non-existent at the very end, but the few they had were like gifts. And he may have made his way back to Migisi… which I know wasn’t something you wanted, but it might have given him some happiness in the end.”
“Maybe. We’ll never know that. Maybe he died in agony. In misery and alone.”
Sophie studied her. She looked exhausted.
“You can drop your glamour, Esme. It’s wearing you out. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how tiring this must be for you, having to keep it up all the time.”
Esme nodded, and a moment later, the glamour fell away, and a withered husk of a woman sat before her. She met Sophie’s eyes. “I don’t want him or his brother to see me like this.”
“I know. I have a feeling we won’t be seeing them today, though.”
Esme nodded, then curled up and closed her eyes again. Sophie watched her sleep for a while, feeling a stupid little pang of affection for the angry, violent witch. She knew Esme wasn’t doing any of this for her, but she still couldn’t help feeling grateful for it. As many times as she’d told Calder that she didn’t need a babysitter, she could admit that she’d felt safer knowing that Esme was there. Not that she couldn’t protect herself, but because it meant another person having her back. She’d gone so long without that, completely alone, that she knew what a gift it was to have someone else looking out for you.
Sophie got up and walked out the back door. She needed to feed Merlin and give him some fresh water. And make sure he was still there. That was the daily question now (aside from “Where is Marshall?”): Would Merlin still be here?
As she neared the goat barn, her stomach sank. She didn’t see him.
But as she drew closer, Merlin sauntered out of the little barn…
…Followed by two more goats. Dumbledore and Gandalf had returned.
All three walked toward her, and she greeted the newcomers, patting their heads. “I am so happy to see you guys again. Thanks for coming back.”
She fed them and filled their water trough. Dumbledore and Gandalf left her, finding their breakfast much more interesting. Merlin stayed near her, giving her what could only be described as a very serious goat look.
“What, goat?” she asked. “I’m trying. You three are here again. That has to be a good sign, right? I’m trying, but the Light’s just out of reach, no matter how strong it feels. And it feels strong,” she added.
Merlin continued to study her, and then he took a few steps until he was standing directly in front of her on his side of the fence. He lowered his head like he was about to butt her, and she prepared to leap away. Instead, he lowered his head and gently pressed his forehead against her stomach as she leaned on the fence. It was an almost respectful, almost adoring act, and
something she’d never seen him do before.
“Weirdo goat,” she muttered. And then she froze as it hit her.
The puking.
The aches.
The exhaustion.
The Light.
The familiars.
She sank to her knees and Merlin watched her, and she swore he gave her a nod.
They weren’t here for her.
They were here for her daughter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
November 22, 1889
The arrangements had mostly been made. Since Luc had finally agreed to the spell, Migisi had worked tirelessly. There had been items to gather, minor spells to work, spells that would be activated upon the moment she completed the main spell, and journal entries to write.
She’d written to a future daughter of her line, telling her how to break the curse Migisi had given Luc and his line. This daughter… Migisi ached for her. She had not foreseen many details of her life, but she had seen enough. She would see so much pain, so much loss. Far more than Migisi ever had. And she would have to remain strong through all of it. She would break the curse, finally.
What happened to her after that, Migisi could not tell. She saw only more death and destruction.
She’d wrapped her journals, all of them, in a swath of linen and stored them in a trunk in a dark corner of the attic. It would only ever be seen by a witch of her line. Anyone else who lived in this house would look right past the trunk as if it wasn’t there.
How this future witch of her line would end up in this exact house, and even think to look for the journal, Migisi had no idea. That was the way with foresight. She’d seen Luc, too. She’d seen him in her mind before she’d ever seen him in her woods, and she’d known that he was meant for her, and that he would change her life forever.
One can never know, exactly, what foresight is showing. If she’d known all the pain that would arise, would she have walked in the opposite direction that day, instead of tracking Luc through the forest?
Maybe it would have been better for everyone if she had. Maybe that had been what her vision was trying to tell her.
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