“To answer her question,” Orson teased once she was gone, “it was simply a mutually beneficial situation. He wanted to take over the coven, and I wanted the pack. We both realized the best way to accomplish both, was to force a war between the two. That would be done as soon as the treaty was broken. What better way to do that than turn them into hybrids and have them kill off each other and make it look like the pack? It would look like Hyacinthe couldn't protect the coven and that Isaiah couldn’t control the pack.”
“So, you knew about me, then?” Annalise asked. “Roan told you, and so you thought turning me would have the most impact.”
“Roan didn't exactly tell me of his own free will. I slipped some truth serum into his wine one night and he started spilling coven secrets. Attacking you was purely selfish. Once I found out you could just take over for Hyacinthe and bandage all of it up, I thought you would be better off dead. So, I attacked you and left you for dead right where the pack would look responsible. I didn't think you would survive what I did to you. You had lost so much blood. I was able to cover up my scent and make your memory foggy when I realized I was about to be caught, with the help of a few more potions,” Orson told her, making her look to Hyacinthe for help. How had he been able to get into their stash of potions?
Hyacinthe stood and walked over to Orson, walking around him like a lion playing with its prey. “So, you, a werewolf, were able to get into our stash of potions undetected?” Hyacinthe asked, not sounding like she expected the answer to be yes. She raised an eyebrow intimidatingly at Orson, standing between Annalise and Isaiah. She was demanding he give her an answer.
“Of course not, and Roan insisted he couldn't either. It didn't matter. I knew how to make some of them myself. I have been practicing since I was young. I discovered I was pretty good at it, actually,” Orson responded as if it was nothing. A werewolf that hated witches figuring out how to create potions was a conundrum to say the least. Hyacinthe stared into Annalise's eyes and then Isaiah’s. She was wanting them to think of what that meant about Orson, if he could so easily make potions. Apothecaries were full of humans who thought they knew the secrets to witch potions making. Nothing so true and potent generally came from someone who had no witch blood in them. Did they realize that?
“How would you know how to make such powerful potions?” Annalise asked, causing a smug smile to come to Hyacinthe’s lips. She had taught her niece well.
Orson looked to Isaiah as if he might have the answer, and then he broke out into that annoying, sinister chuckle again. “You still don’t know? I thought you and Roman would have figured it out by now, or that our father would have mentioned it on is deathbed. I guess the man thought he took his darkest secret to the grave with him.” There was no other explanation from Orson, but Isaiah wasn’t in the mood. He felt like it was just another game to stall what was going to happen to him for his crime. He committed treason, plain and simple, and he would be sentenced accordingly, no matter how much it hurt Isaiah to do so.
Annalise had one more thing to add. “Roan couldn't heal because you harmed him with a potion, is that right?” she questioned, barely hanging onto the barrier now. She was drained both physically and emotionally. It would take a miracle for her to help them get Orson back and locked up until the brothers decided what to do with him.
“You’re a pretty smart cookie,” Orson said with a wink. Annalise would have to find the time to talk to Hyacinthe about that later. No way did a werewolf simply teach himself how to make potions like that. For now, it was time to get him back to the pack.
“Are you ready to take him back with you?” Annalise asked, looking at Isaiah and regretting it when their eyes locked. Why did it still make her heart beat fast to look at him sometimes?
“Yes, are you able to help?” Isaiah asked her.
Annalise nodded. “I can try and transport us all back and help you get him locked up.” She could feel herself becoming shaky and weak. It needed to be done quickly. As soon as Isaiah gave the go ahead, she took them all to where she knew the jail of sorts was for the pack. It wasn’t too far from where Tamara had lived with her father. It was isolated, and her nose told her that wolfsbane was all over the place inside.
“There’s no need for a magical barrier here,” Isaiah explained. “Old fashioned guards will work because he would be in excruciating pain if he tried to get out and touch the bars.” Annalise nodded in understanding and thankfulness. She didn't think that she could make another barrier if she tried. She was about to make her way back to the coven when she felt her feet go out from under her, Isaiah’s strong arms the only thing keeping her head from hitting the ground.
CHAPTER TWO
Isaiah laid Annalise down on the couch, memories flooding back to him from almost two months ago when he brought her broken body into his house, unsure what was going on. That night had set so many things in motion, and he wondered if he was destined to be faced with turmoil of some kind the moment he took over as alpha. He couldn't help but feel that it was all personal. That was the biggest pain of the betrayal with Orson. It wasn't so much the fact that Isaiah thought the best of his brother with all those skeletons in his closet, it was that Orson had attacked his position. It was not some random pack member he hardly knew or another pack leader wanting territory; it was his own brother trying to dethrone him as alpha. It felt too close to home.
Hector made sure everything was alright and went off to his room, leaving Isaiah and Annalise in an empty house. Tamara was nowhere in sight and neither was Lacy. If he had to guess, they were either at the rock at the stream, in the woods, or at her father's place. He didn't really blame her, but he had his own things to deal with, and he had to do it his own way.
Isaiah sat down on the couch carefully, placing Annalise’s head in his lap. She was still out cold, and he was worried about her. He began to stroke her long hair, caressing her cheek on the way down as she began to stir. He knew what it would look like to Tamara, and for just a split second, he didn't even care.
Annalise had done so much for him that he hadn’t even deserved. She had become a glue to the coven and the pack, almost seeming like a better alpha than he was. He still felt terrible for the way he had treated her when she tried to tell him that Orson had something to do with all of it. She had been telling the truth and had risked herself to try and save him from her own coven in the aftermath.
Annalise’s eyes fluttered open, and he stopped his hand movement as he locked on those blue eyes that drove him crazy. It felt like forever that they held that gaze, though it was probably only for a few seconds. Then, she groaned as she tried to sit up. He steadied her. “Don’t try and sit up too fast. You passed out, and I had to carry you here,” he told her.
She rubbed her head like she had a headache, and Isaiah tried to focus. It was rough to be alone with her. It made him wish that Tamara was there scolding him and keeping him in check. He was afraid he might get out of control again like he did the first time Annalise turned.
“Where is everyone?” she asked groggily, gaining her bearings.
“Roman went off to have some time to think, and Hector is in his room. I am not one hundred percent sure where Tamara is,” he admitted with some embarrassment.
“I kind of figured after what you said to her, she wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight,” Annalise commented. How could he be an alpha and almost 30 but still completely lost when it came to women? “You were a little harsh.”
Isaiah nodded. He knew he was, but it had been necessary. He was discovering that a lot lately and hated how it made him empathize with his father. That was the last thing he wanted to do with everything else going on.
“So, are you going to be alright? What happened back there?” Isaiah asked with concern. Annalise hated when that man was worried about her. It made him too attractive.
“I will be fine. The more powerful a witch is, the easier it is for her powers to drain her, especially when she or he is doing a lot of
high-level spells. I have overdone it a little bit, I think,” she admitted.
“I had no idea that was something that could happen. I think I am partially responsible for that. I insist that you stay here for the day and tonight. You can get back to it in the morning. I don’t think we will have a sentencing hearing for Orson until tomorrow, anyway. The emotions are too fresh for everyone,” he told her.
“You insist?” Annalise asked with an eyebrow raised.
“You look like Hyacinthe when you do that,” Isaiah told her, pointing to her eyebrow. They both looked at each other and laughed.
“Well, she is my aunt,” she told him.
“So, what happened to your parents?” he asked softly. Annalise looked startled when he asked, and he wondered if he had hit a sore subject. “I’m sorry if it is too personal to talk about…”
Annalise wasn't thinking clearly still. She reached out and placed her fingers against his lips to silence him. It ended up silencing them both.
“Considering I haven’t seen them since the first day I came into the world, I don't think it’s too personal. Besides, you know so much already. You brought my broken body into this house and lived with me for a month,” she told him, a little too gently, before finally moving her fingers.
“I suppose you’re right,” Isaiah answered, looking down at the ground. “So, what happened?”
“It would figure that your father didn't explain, even to the next alpha,” Annalise scoffed. “It was bad enough of a situation that he had to be informed. It put the werewolves in a great threat, though I don't think it ever came to that. My parents were both very powerful people. They were descended from extremely powerful bloodlines. Once some got word, they were having a child together, a lot of other covens wanted to have me for themselves. There was one coven in particular that was using dark magic and actually came for me the day of my birth. From the way Hyacinthe tells it, my mother was losing her mind because of the strength of my powers. It was a difficult birth, and my father went out to sacrifice himself for my safety. He was able to obliterate the entire coven almost completely on his own. That made him weak and easy for the kill by the few who were still alive, though dying right there in the woods. When my mother found out she killed herself with Witch's Fire along with those left that had killed my father.”
Isaiah was taken aback by the story. He couldn’t believe something so important and tragic had happened in his lifetime and he had no idea about it. “My father should have told me,” was all he could manage to say to that.
With each footstep, Tamara hesitated, wondering if she should just turn back. She had gone to her father’s house the instant that she had been dismissed from the interrogation of Orson. She had made it to the door and stopped, knowing there was somewhere else nearby she could go if she wanted answers. She kept chickening out, though, taking three steps forward and two back, psyching herself out.
Tamara knew that Isaiah would not approve of what she wanted to do, and she couldn’t guarantee the guards would not mention she had been there. She knew her curiosity would win out. So, she took the turn and walked more confidently this time, toward the row of cells that were lined up inside what looked like stables on the outside. It was essentially werewolf jail, but there had not been anyone in there for the last year. Now, Orson would be occupying one of those cells, sitting in the middle of the change painfully due to the wolfsbane that coated everything. Tamara could already smell it as she approached and knew she would have to be careful not to touch anything. She was already going to feel sick from being there in the first place.
The minute her feet sifted across the concrete floors, stirring Orson from whatever trance he had put himself in, Tamara knew more than ever she shouldn’t be there but also that she had to. She looked at the two guards standing to each side of his cell and dismissed them. “Could you give me a moment with the prisoner?” she asked them, using her authority as the alpha’s mate. The two looked at each other before nodding, probably finding a place to stand guard outside instead. She knew they wouldn’t leave entirely.
“Well, well, look who showed up, and behind her mate’s back,” Orson teased in his typical fashion. Tamara already saw the pain in his eyes and his movements from being in that cell. It was hard not to feel bad for him even though she remembered what he had done to all of them. “Where is the alpha right now, plotting just how he's going to do away with me?” he asked in a dark tone followed by a wrenching laugh.
“Firstly, don’t play games with me, Orson. Secondly, do you really expect Isaiah to have you killed?” Tamara asked. She just couldn’t see it happening.
“For someone who has mated with my brother, you don’t seem to really understand who he is,” Orson commented. Tamara dropped her head, turning it away in shame without even thinking. “Oh, so it’s bad enough that you haven’t even mated. How does it feel to be second best to a witch?” he hissed out with a devious smile as if he was enjoying her pain. And maybe he was. He had to like pain at least a little to out the pack, and Annalise, through what he did.
“It will work out eventually after all this blows over. It wouldn’t have even happened if you hadn't set all of this in motion and brought her here,” Tamara scolded him. She was looking to blame anyone other than those actually at fault, and she knew it. It was one of her unhealthiest habits.
“It never would have happened if you hadn’t settled for him just because he was alpha. He has a catch with you, and he's wasting it just like he does everything else. The first time he’s going to step up and use his position as alpha is to kill his brother, and if you think he won’t, you are sorely mistaken. It’s what’s best for the pack and for his image. If he lets me roam free, I can, and will, try again, Tamara.”
It was the most serious and honest she had seen Orson in years. It made her think of when they were together, and she was so confused as to why he would do what he did.
“I still don’t get it, Orson. Why you did all of this. Why you are out to hurt everyone. Why couldn't you just let me love you?” Tamara blurted out before she could stop herself. She was looking for closure and reasoning from someone who had just betrayed his own flesh and blood. She knew it was insane, but everything about her life now was insane.
“I did this because nothing that has happened to me or most of the pack under my father's rule was fair, and nothing under my brother’s rule will be stable. You have been by his side long enough to know that. Even now, even from here, I can hear the whispers of the dissatisfied, demonizing all the new hybrids. Isaiah will never put his heart aside to deal with it the way a true leader would,” he told her angrily, screwing his face up in a grimace as he accidentally touched the bars in his mad state. Then, he paused, pacing his jail cell for a moment.
Tamara waited for him to answer the rest of the questions she had asked. She was about to just walk away when his face calmed, looking more like the old Orson she knew so well. “As far as you, I always knew something like this would happen. I knew I was going to rebel against my father, against the traditions, and possibly against my own brothers. On top of that, I had already committed deplorable crimes. I have killed, Tamara. I have killed and gotten away with it. I knew that you would not come in this direction; down to hell with me, to get the pack back to its glory.”
Orson’s eyes were sad at his confession. Tamara didn't know what to say as tears started coming down from her eyes, like rain. He was never the wounded boy she thought he was; the one she comforted with her lips. He was cunning and strategic, but she stopped short of calling him evil.
“I still don’t want you to die,” she admitted in an almost wail. The guards could obviously hear it, and who the hell knew what they were going to think of her now. She was a lousy mate for the alpha. If only she had realized it sooner.
“I’m ready for it,” Orson told her, his chest in the air and that sinister air surrounding him again. “But I am sorry. And you’re the only person I am ever going to say that to.
”
Tamara nodded, having nothing else to do or say but let all the tears fall. She wrapped her arms around herself in a way of comfort, as she walked out of there, not daring to look back. From now on, she was going to be the best mate for the alpha that she could be. No, she would be better than that. They would need each other once all of this was said and done.
Tamara began to walk back to the cabin, knowing she couldn't stay away forever. She would just have to let the cold wind dry her tears on the way.
She swung the door open with little conviction, not expecting a whole lot when she walked in the door. What she definitely didn't expect was to see Annalee asleep on the couch, as if it was old times.
“Don’t say anything about it,” Isaiah told her from the dining room, forcing her to look his direction. He was sitting at the table with Roman, Lacy, and Hector. Lacy must have returned to the cabin after losing Tamara. That was exactly what she had planned, taking a winding route home. She had needed to be alone. “She drained her power for us and is exhausted. That’s all,” he continued, beckoning her over. Tamara wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of whatever conversation they were having. She was too drained and upset for that.
“Don’t worry about me, I won’t get in the way,” she told them. “I think I need a little rest as well.” Tamara went for the bedroom, but Isaiah grabbed her arm, pulling her to him.
“I need you here for this. You are a part of this decision as well,” he told her softly, coaxing her to sit down at the table by his side. What kind of good mate would she be if she didn't oblige?
“What decision?” she asked, instantly regretting it upon Isaiah's answer.
“What Orson’s sentence should be. This is the official sentencing hearing.”
Chosen Witch Page 2