“Just come inside when you can,” she shouted back over her shoulder while unlocking the door. She left it open behind her and jogged toward the family spell room. Even though she wasn’t part of her family’s coven, she still used the spell room when she needed to. Well…she did when her mother wasn’t pissed at her.
Carefully, she laid the pixie on a small towel on the table. Its gray body was limp. There was a little stub of a wing left on one side, but on the other side the wing was broken off at the joint and a strip of skin had been torn away.
She grabbed a wound-mending elixir off the shelf and doused the pixie’s back. It was a lot of magic for such a little thing, but she had to try. It would take at least twenty minutes for it to work, so she turned her focus to the other urgent issue.
Her mind whirled through the possibilities for a remedy. The slime-vomiting hex was a childish spell mostly used by bullies in school. It was obvious the witch that used it on Amber intended it as an insult, you’re as threatening as a child. She felt a little guilty for thinking it, but the way Amber had tried to help had been a little…stupid. You didn’t just grab a witch. Every werewolf knew that; especially an alpha.
She grabbed a lighter and a half-burned bundle of sage, then stuck it in its holder. Smoke curled from the tightly bound herbs as soon as the flames of the lighter touched it. She blew lightly across the top to encourage it, and the sharp, cool scent cleared the stench of the slime from her nose.
“Ceri?” Amber said from the front of the house.
“Back here!” she shouted back. “Just follow your nose!”
Amber muttered something but appeared in the doorway a few moments later. She closed her eyes in relief as she stepped into the room. “That smells so much better.”
Ceri grinned. “Just vomit in the trashcan if you get nauseous again,” she said, pointing at it in the corner.
Amber nodded, but she was distracted, looking around the room.
“Never been in a spell room before?” she asked as she picked the ingredients she needed off the shelves.
“No,” Amber said. “I’ve known a few witches, but they never let anyone but coven inside.”
“My mother probably wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew,” she admitted. That was closer to a lie than an understatement. Her mother would be furious, but she didn’t have to know. “I’ve always thought that was kind of silly if your clan wasn’t in the running for a position with the conclave or something. No one is trying to steal our family magic.”
“Y’all have one of those family covens?” Amber asked.
Ceri looked up with a laugh. “Y’aaall,” she said, exaggerating the drawl. “Are you from Texas or something? I didn’t think anyone actually said that.”
Amber gave her an unimpressed look. “Yes, I’m from Texas.”
“Sorry,” she held up her hands in apology, “I wasn’t trying to mock you. Anyhow, my family does have a coven, but I’m not part of it.” her smile faltered, eyes straying to the pixie. She’d have to get the pixie out of here, or her mother would chop it up for parts.
“Sorry,” Amber said quietly. “Didn’t mean to bring up…” She let her thought trail off and waved her hand at Ceri’s expression.
“Perfectly normal assumption,” she said, forcing a smile back on her face. Flipping open her old spellbook, she scanned through the list of remedies, then flipped to the recipe. She froze when she saw the ingredients, pressing her lips into a thin, white line. So, the insult wasn’t directed toward Amber after all. It was meant for her. The remedy required pixie wings.
She slammed the spellbook shut. She’d just have to come up with something else. Really, what the magic wanted was a sacrifice. Ritual, ingredients, and the spoken phrase were all part of the trade. She could come up with her own remedy.
The reason most witches wouldn’t let anyone into their spell room was to make sure their coven’s spells weren’t stolen. There were standardized spells, but every coven, and every witch, had their own. Ceri had always enjoyed inventing new spells, but as she grew older, it had changed from passion to necessity.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and immediately regretted it as Amber vomited into the trashcan.
“I’m going to kill that witch,” Amber croaked from the corner of the room.
“I’ll help,” she said, forcing herself to reopen the spellbook. If she wanted to modify the remedy, she needed to understand it first.
Poring over the smudgy text, she studied each step. It had three parts. The potion, the purge, and the spell. The potion pulled the spell from the body into itself, the purge expelled them both, and the spell restored. She straightened as a thought raced through her mind. The potion was there to make the purge easier, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary if she knew another way to pull the spell from the body. Luckily for Amber, she did.
“Alright,” she announced, turning to face her unhappy patient. “I know how to fix this, but it’s going to be a little uncomfortable.”
“I don’t care as long as it stops,” Amber groaned, and she immediately vomited again.
Ceri cringed. It was getting worse. She grabbed and lit another bundle of sage, then dragged Amber and the trashcan to the center of the room.
“The remedy involves more vomiting,” she explained. “But then it’ll all be over.”
Amber looked unhappy about the news, but nodded resolutely and braced her hands on the rim of the trashcan.
All spells, especially hexes, were limited and temporary. Even this one would wear off on its own eventually. Ceri’s grandmother had always told her that if she was lousy enough to get hit with a hex, she should at least know how to get back on her feet quickly. Grandma Gallagher had then proceeded to hex her. She had then made Ceri learn the counter-hex she had invented while she was under the painful effects of the nasty spell.
She could still hear Grandma Gallagher’s gruff voice in her head. “If yer stupid enough ta get hexed, then ya ought ta pay the price, lassie.” Ceri grabbed the boning knife from the counter and jabbed her finger, then grabbed Amber’s and repeated the process.
“What the hell—”
Ceri slapped her hand against Amber’s chest and chanted the counter-hex under her breath. Amber’s face turned green and she bent over the trashcan as the slime and the magic were purged from her body violently.
She grabbed the sage and continued with the rest of the remedy. Hands together, clockwise twice, the Chant of the Sun for restoration, then finally, the cast. She spread her hands an inch apart, then turned her palms outward. The magic flowed from her hands into Amber in a bright stream of light.
Amber straightened slowly. The color returned to her cheeks as the magic poured into her body. Her eyes bled red and her hands shook at her side.
Ceri completed the spell and opened her mouth to ask Amber how she felt, but she was still shaking. “Uhh, Amber, are you okay?” she asked, trying not to freak out.
Amber shut her eyes and clenched her hands tightly. “The magic made me feel weird and…like I needed to shift.”
“Of course, it’s restorative. Pretty much any helpful spell will do that to you, especially as an alpha. How do you not know that?” she asked, trying not to sound too critical. She wanted to like Amber, but first she had grabbed a witch, and now this?
“Because I was bit two days ago,” Amber said, clenching her jaw tightly.
Ceri took a step back. “Two days ago? There’s no way you can be an alpha!”
“So I’ve heard,” Amber snapped. “But here I am. I didn’t ask to get bitten. Some crazed werewolf just ran through a parking lot and attacked me and my…pack.”
“You were changed against your will?” she asked, horrified.
Amber nodded. “Three of us were, and since I was the most dominant of the three, I ended up the alpha.” She crossed her arms, practically daring Ceri to challenge her on it again.
“That explains a lot,” she said instead.
“I s
hould go,” Amber sighed, turning toward the door. “I need to find a job and somehow get a sponsor so I can go through some kind of alpha trial.”
“You’re going through the Alpha Trials?” Ceri asked, eyes going wide. Amber had been human, and she obviously didn’t know what she was getting into. “Do you have any idea how dangerous they are?”
Amber paused at the door. “No, I don’t. I know the basics of pack life, but it’s not like information on werewolves is freely available to the general public. So I don’t know what I’m getting myself into, but I have no choice. I can’t let my pack end up in the system. They’ll be omegas for the rest of their lives,” Amber said, getting angrier and angrier as she spoke.
Ceri crossed her arms. She had an idea that may or may not work. Part of her didn’t want to use the favor that creepy, old elf owed her like this, but she knew it was a selfish thought. Amber had jumped in to help her with nothing to gain. Helping her in return was the right thing to do, but more importantly, she just wanted to. Goddess knew she had little enough chance to actually make a difference in the world. “I might be able to help you get a sponsor.”
“What?” Amber asked, the anger switching to hope.
“There’s someone that owes me a favor, and he’s more than capable of sponsoring someone,” she explained.
“Why would you help me like that?”
“You jumped in to help me save a pixie. It was kind of crazy, and kind of dumb, but you did it anyway because you thought it was the right thing to do,” Ceri said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m helping you for the same reason. I know what happens to shifters who get put in the system. Besides, you saved my ass, and now I can save yours.”
Amber looked like she might reject the offer for a moment, then nodded and held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
Ceri took her hand and shook it. A subtle twist of magic shivered between them, but Amber didn’t seem to notice. Ceri flexed her fingers. She’d have to figure out what that was later.
Chapter 10
TOMMY
Tommy jerked awake, swiping at the dark figure leaning over him with a growl. They jumped back with a curse.
“Tommy! It’s me!” Genevieve shouted.
His heart raced in his chest, and the urge to shift and fight pounded along his skin. He blinked up at Genevieve, his eyes adjusting to the light streaming in the apartment window. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun, and she was wearing a pant suit. She looked like a completely different person.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m not used to being woken up by anyone friendly.”
“Right,” Genevieve said awkwardly. “I didn’t think about that, sorry.”
“You can just throw something at me next time.” He didn’t want her to feel bad. It wasn’t her fault. He’d been living on the streets for the past year, and after being jumped while asleep, he’d learned to wake up swinging.
She smirked at that. “I have to go to work. Just didn’t want you to wake up to an empty apartment. Amber left super early and said she’d be back around six this evening.”
“Alright, thanks.” He could barely believe his good fortune. He’d have the whole apartment to himself all day.
Genevieve waved goodbye and hurried out the front door. He listened intently as her footsteps led away from the apartment, then started down the stairs. He lost her after that, but it was good enough, she was definitely gone.
He leapt off the air mattress. The clock on the microwave said it was just past noon. He couldn’t believe he had slept so late, but the apartment did feel safe. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt safe in the place he was sleeping. Not even before he got kicked out.
He put his new clothes in a pile first, then started looking around the apartment for anything valuable. Guilt gnawed in his gut, but he had to make a run for it before things got any worse. Amber meant well, but she had no clue what she was doing. There was no way she was going to pass some weird trial to become an alpha. Especially not with another alpha having it out for her.
The wolf in his mind fought his every step. It hated what he was doing, but he ignored the feeling. He was good at ignoring things. Hunger. Fear. Exhaustion. None of it mattered more than just surviving.
There was no cash in the apartment other than a small jar full of coins. He grabbed it. There was probably twenty or thirty bucks in there. There was no medicine in the cabinet in the bathroom. He yanked open the drawers and found a small box. Inside was some jewelry. Most of it was fake, but there was one necklace with a diamond that might be real. It looked old, like some kind of family heirloom.
He picked it up, but froze. His hand shook a little. He looked at the open drawers, the pile of things on the bed, and he wanted to throw up. He hadn’t meant to become like her.
The memories overwhelmed him, and for a moment he was standing in that little two bedroom house that reeked of cigarettes and old beer.
“Where is it?” Tommy demanded, shoving the empty ring box in his stepmother’s face. “What did you do?”
She slapped his hand away and surged up off the couch. “Show a little fucking respect to your mother,” she snapped, her voice slurred from the alcohol and who knew what else.
“You’re not my mother!” he shouted.
She snorted. “Your mother is dead, kid. I’m all you got, and it’s not like she needed it anymore.”
Rage and anguish rushed through him at her callous words. He barely realized he was moving before he shoved her back as hard as he could. “What the fuck did you do with it?”
She slapped him across the face, her nails scratching his skin. He stumbled back. Tears stung at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t ever let her see him cry.
She yanked a crumpled dollar bill from her pocket and threw it at his face. “Here’s what’s left,” she sneered.
He grabbed the money, staring at it in horror. “You sold it?”
“The pawn shop gave me like two-fifty,” she said, swaying unsteadily.
He lunged at her with a shout. Pain lanced through his fist as it connected with her bony face.
Tommy dropped the necklace and slammed the box shut. He’d only gotten one hit in before his dad had dragged him off her. He had managed to escape before his dad could beat the hell out of him, but he had never dared to go back.
He wanted to throw up. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t do this. He’d survived this long without stealing from people that didn’t deserve it, and he could keep going. He’d take the clothes, because she had given them to him, but that was it. He put everything back exactly as it had been in the bathroom, then hurried out to fix the rest of the apartment.
Chapter 11
AMBER
They had intended to go straight to the elf’s house, but Amber had felt Tommy practically panicking through the pack bond. She had decided to go back and see if he’d come with them. Her wolf would feel better being able to keep an eye on him.
Ceri followed her up to the apartment, looking around curiously. She’d poked at all the truck dials on the way here too. She reminded her a little of a pixie, especially with her wide blue eyes.
She unlocked the door and walked into the apartment. Tommy was sitting on the couch looking particularly guilty, which wasn’t what Amber had expected, but the expression was replaced with surprise when Ceri followed her inside.
“Tommy, this is Ceri. Ceri, Tommy.” He kept glancing at Ceri like she was a threat, so she added, “She’s a new friend, and she thinks she can help us get a sponsor.”
“I thought you were at work until really late.” He shuffled slightly to move in front of his bag on the ground. It was packed.
Self consciously, she smoothed her hair back. She didn’t want to tell him what had happened, especially if he had already been trying to run away, but she had a feeling he’d know if she lied. “I got fired this morning. They don’t allow newly bitten werewolves to work as nurses, apparently.”
“O
h,” Tommy said quietly. He tugged his beanie down on his head and crossed his arms. “Sorry, that sucks.”
For an awkward moment they were all silent. Ceri’s face lit up with a grin and she beamed at Tommy, who, in return, looked alarmed.
“Do you have a job?” she asked out of nowhere.
“Me?” he asked, pinching his brows together. When Ceri nodded he replied, “No, I mostly just fix computers for people when I can. Resell stuff.”
“The shop I work at needs a temporary, part-time stocker. It’d be about twenty hours a week, and you could start tomorrow. If you’re interested.”
Amber felt a tangle of emotions run through the pack bond. Surprise, hope, frustration, worry, and more guilt. This kid was more of a mess than she was.
“Ok, I guess I could try, but I’ve never had a job like that,” Tommy said.
“It’s just putting stuff on shelves,” Ceri said.
The box in her hand let out a squeak and Tommy flinched at the noise. “What…is that?”
Ceri cracked the lid open then pulled a small vial out of her pocket. She poured a little liquid in the box and closed it again. “A pixie,” she explained, putting the vial back in her pocket. “Some witches ripped his wings off earlier. That’s actually how I met Amber. She came to our rescue.”
Tommy snorted. “She does that a lot.”
Ceri grinned, then turned to Amber. “Mind if I leave the pixie here? He’s gonna be out cold for a while.”
“That’s fine,” she said, ready to get this sponsor thing over with. “Tommy, want to come with us to meet this potential sponsor?” She really needed him to say yes. She had a feeling that if he didn’t come with them, he might not be here when they got back.
Tommy hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ceri before seeming to make a decision. “Sure, I guess.”
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