by H. A. Wills
“Fun,” I mutter, frowning down at the table. “You know, the supernatural world seems like a real downer as a whole.”
“It’s all about balance, my dear,” she explains, walking back to the shelves to thumb through more books. “Just like all things in life, there is light and dark. Good and bad. Reward and sacrifice.”
Dropping my elbows down on the table, I prop my head up with my hands. “Pretty familiar with the dark, bad, and sacrifice. Can I get to the good part now?”
“Very soon,” she assures, glancing over her shoulder before pulling another book from the wall. This one looks far newer and smaller. “Until then, I have another gift for you.”
“Does this one also help keep me from blowing up the town?” I reply cheekily with a grin. “Speaking of, any new ideas on removing the binding spell?”
She gives me another ‘save me from teenagers’ face, then walks back over, placing the book in front of my braced elbows. The cover has an inked pattern of what looks like the Wiccan tree of life mixed with various symbols and designs. Some I recognize as illustrations of elements, others I have no clue.
“This was your mother’s grimoire. I’d like you to study it,” Mildred informs me, warmth and fondness filling her voice. “A witch’s grimoire is more than just spells. It can be a window into the heart and soul of its owner.”
Tears immediately burn in my eyes, as I gently stroke the tattered edges of its pages. It’s the first time I feel like I can get an honest look at the woman I never knew but has nonetheless shaped my life in countless ways.
“Thank you,” I murmur, sniffing and blinking rapidly. “This means a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies and kisses the top of my head. “I would’ve given it to you sooner, but it was hidden in a box in the back of my closet.”
Ah yes, in the deep reaches of Narnia.
Mildred expels a deep breath. “As for the binding spell, I have some ideas, but I need to find a way to test them before I try them on you.”
Standing up straight, I stretch my arms over my head, before folding them over my chest. It's been a long day. “Just for the record, I’m also pro that. Not going to lie, not big on the idea of being a spell guinea pig.”
She laughs and begins flipping through the open tome again. “As I’ve said, magic is life-- in some ways nearly sentient, having its own way of interpreting a witch’s will. Hence the importance of having the exact right spell.”
“Or you might end up with a monkey’s paw kind of deal?” I jest.
“Exactly,” she chirps, absently tapping her finger on the page she’s opened to. “And spirit magic is the most powerful magic of all, because it has no element. It’s pure life, and so it’s nearly impossible to control.”
“Unless you’re a spirit witch.”
“Unless you’re a spirit witch,” she echoes with a nod. “What I’m trying to do is convince magic that should only be controlled by you to do my bidding and collect in a vessel that would allow anyone to use it.”
“But it’s to save me which my magic should be all for, right?” I sigh and begin to pace laps around the room, looking at all the things on the wall but not really absorbing any of it.
“And if you had control of your magic, it would be a relatively easy thing for you to command your magic to do,” Mildred supplies unhelpfully. “Right now, your magic is on a kind of... survival mode autopilot, if you will, and it's doing its best to protect you.”
“Not really appreciating this ironic Catch-22,” I grumble, making a sharper turn when I get near the stove. Just because I’m okay with the fire being safely kept in its cast iron box doesn’t mean I want to be next to it. “But you said you had an idea.”
“Yes,” she declares, leaning against the table and following me around the room with her eyes. “To cast a binding spell requires witches from all four elements, and they offer up blood along with their magic. This got me thinking that perhaps, along with my own magic, I could use ingredients of both water and earth mixed with my blood when I cast the spell. The combination not only represents all facets of a spirit witch’s power, but it also has the added connection that my blood shows I’m kin.”
“Kind of like the blood… er, the magical family heirloom chest over here?” I comment, stopping next to the chest in question.
“That’s the idea, yes,” my aunt replies evenly, “but I haven’t found a way to safely test the concept before I try it with you.” She clears her throat. “Considering how volatile your magic has become, I fear the backlash if I’m wrong.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I mutter, then sigh, “So when does the good part of magic kick in?”
She shakes her head and picks up my mother’s grimoire, then holds it out to me. “Go read this. Your mother came up with some pretty interesting spells if I recall correctly.”
A soft smile plays across my lips, as I gently extract the book before holding it to my chest. I’m about to do as she asks when out of the blue, I remember Nolan’s party is in less than a week. I still don’t have a costume. “Aunt Mildred? Any chance one of the spells in here involves how to conjure a Halloween costume?”
Completely deadpan, she replies, “Do you see any magical pumpkins lying around?”
Despite knowing the answer, I still take a look around the room before stating, “No.”
“That’s because we’re witches, not fairy godmothers,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes. “We can’t create something out of nothing. You do, however, have a credit card with a rather high limit. Have you considered online shopping with expedited shipping?”
“Right! Money. We have it,” I chirp, then clear my throat. “I’ll just go do that now.”
“Wise decision,” she praises, her shoulders shaking with contained mirth.
Chapter 14
Connor
I nod at the two betas that open the access gate for the dirt path that leads to pack grounds, and I’m met with narrowed eyes and sneers. These are the Alpha’s men. With a sigh, I drive past and hope that it won’t take me long to check in so I can leave. This entire pack is a powder keg ready to go off, and I don’t want to be here when it does.
What the Alpha doesn’t want to see is that there’s a clear divide in the pack: those that are loyal to him because they view his brutality as strength, and those that stay loyal out of fear of what he might do if they don’t. Both follow orders, so he likely doesn’t care-- but fear only controls people for so long.
Until recently, it didn’t matter to me. I had a plan. A way out. Bide my time until graduation, then get the hell out this ciudad de mierda and follow Donovan when he left. I’d help him hunt down demons, and he could help me find my mother. He doesn’t know, but he also didn’t have a choice, so why risk my plan getting out?
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, as I follow the sad dirt road that cuts between countless densely packed trees. The scenery seems to blur as haunting memories flash before my eyes.
I learned my lesson after Sam. She’s been the only one to disobey the Alpha’s orders to shun me, and it nearly got her killed. We thought we were so smart-- only interacting off of pack grounds, careful that only our closest friends knew about us, making sure to scrub each other’s scent off before coming home, but it didn’t matter. He knew and was waiting. Waiting for me to care about her. To love her. To be willing to sacrifice for her.
Then, while I was tied up and restrained by my two lame botas half-brothers, I was forced to watch the Alpha beat the shit out of her. When her wolf tried to save her, he chained her down with pure silver and beat her all over again. While she panted on the floor, her white fur matted with blood, he told me to choose.
The choice: give over my full loyalty to the pack, cut all other ties, and she’d never know pain again. She’d be elevated in status as the future mate to one of the Alpha’s sons-- and considering she was turned as a child, not born a wolf, that was more than she could possibly hope for. If I didn’t, the Al
pha couldn’t promise his leniency again. How would it look if he let some turned wolf openly disobey him?
Hearing her wolf’s painful whines, I almost did it. If I’d thought the Alpha would keep his word, I might have, but I knew that evil bastard too well. If I broke, Sam would never be safe. For the rest of her life, she’d be a tool used to control me.
Instead, I broke all ties with her. Pretended she didn’t exist. He tried a few more times. Beating her into unconsciousness and making me watch. But I hardened my heart, kept my face blank, and he eventually stopped-- allowing her to live on the chance I may grow lax again and go back to her.
After Sam, I knew I couldn’t stay, and I knew that no one could know my plan for escape. The Alpha is powerful, but even he can’t steal thoughts from someone’s mind, so as long as my secret never passed my lips, he wouldn’t be able to stop me.
But that’s all changed now.
I shake my head to try and dislodge the memories, and turn up the music on the radio. It’s some type of old rock station that plays songs I mostly don’t know, but it’s noise to drown out my thoughts. It won’t be too much longer until I hit a paved road… just long enough for anyone snooping to think there’s not anything of worth at the other end of this path. If a human were to accidentally come across pack lands and see too much, it wouldn’t end well… for them. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a human died from a vicious animal attack.
Tension builds between my shoulders and there’s a confusing freefall sensation in my gut as my thoughts stray to the person who changed everything for me-- Callie. She has so much power over me-- literal control that I have no say in because she’s a spirit witch, and I’m a descendant of the original pack. Her ancestors created mine.
That’s a goddamn mind fuck, not that my wolf gives a shit. No, he’s completely content at her side, pleased and unquestioning about his destiny as her guardian. What’s throwing me is that when I’m with her, he’s not the only one.
Away from her, I can think more clearly. Question why this is happening and what it means, but it feels like there’s a rubber band that binds us together. I can’t be away from her for too long-- even now I’m only on pack grounds so that I can check in with the Alpha then leave to go to her-- and when I’m with her, the rest of the world doesn’t matter. With a sniff of her scent or a touch from her hand, I find peace and my life narrows to a single focus: protect.
Is it just the magic that draws me to her? I care about and admire her. But do I feel this way only as justification for something I have no control over? Does it matter? Callie has done what no amount of beatings from the Alpha could accomplish. Receive my complete loyalty. For her safety, I will do and sacrifice anything … and I would do anything she asks of me. I don’t know if it’s even in me to refuse her.
The dirt road finally gives way to a paved street lined with a dense collection of rustic homes that house the pack. The grounds look like a small village that’s managed to cram itself in the open spaces between the trees, the forest still clearly master of these lands.
Equal amounts of people and wolves mull around going about their business. There are adults sitting out on their porches keeping an eye on the pack’s young. Children finally able to hold their human form rolling around with the pups in the yards. There are no fences, no separation, between one home and the next, bleeding into each other and the trees that surround them.
This drive is always the loneliest, seeing how the pack takes care of one another. The Alpha family home is at the very end of the street, the deepest into pack lands, and each time I come and go, I’m forced to see exactly what I've cut myself away from. It hurts far less than it used to, the connection I have to them feeling like a thin thread-- and since meeting Callie, ready to be cut loose. I barely feel the Alpha’s magic anymore. The force that binds the pack together and keeps us strong, but also holds us to the Alpha’s will.
I park on the street, choosing to walk up the long driveway, instead of risking getting boxed in by some idiot that wants to subtly prove their loyalty to the Alpha. What better way than being an asshole to the unwanted son?
The waning afternoon light barely escapes the overcast clouds and the thick overhang of leaves, making it darker than it should be at 4 pm. Even at the base of the drive, the house is clearly visible, because unlike the rest of the pack’s homes, this is a three-storied small mansion built literally into the trees-- and more than thirty feet off the ground. Good for protection and a sign of dominance.
When I make it to the end, there’s a small group of people waiting for their audience with the Alpha to solve their complaints. My half-brothers stand at the bottom of the stairs, ensuring no one can go up to the main house unless authorized. They’re from the Alpha’s first marriage-- a natural born wolf that died within a year of having the twins. Cancer.
Their appearance favors their mother more than the Alpha-- paler skin, sharper features, and straight dark brown hair. Honestly, the only way anyone can see we’re related is our eyes and our build. Same height, same lean bodies, but they’re soft where I’ve grown hard. Their muscles built from vanity instead of survival. They’ve had every advantage, and I could break them both like twigs.
I cut my way through the crowd until I’m at the front of the line, ignoring growls and grunts of protest, and the twin assholes, of course, block my way from going up.
“Need to see him,” I sigh, not wanting to do this dumbass circle jerk, but knowing I have to.
“So do all these other people,” Bayne replies with a smartass grin.
“Yeah, wait your turn,” Daveth adds, forever an echo chamber for whatever his elder brother says.
I roll my eyes, then grit my teeth in an attempt to keep my frustration from showing. As much as I just want to barge through them, it’ll only make this bullshit take longer.
“I. Live. Here,” I state like I’m talking to a slow toddler.
“Do you?” Bayne taunts, narrowing his deep-set, auburn eyes like he’s trying to recall the information.
“Yeah, do you?” Daveth echoes, puffing out his chest to appear more intimidating than he is.
“Let me in,” I grunt, not playing their dumbass game.
“Or you’ll do what, outcast?” Bayne challenges, visibly enjoying being a pain in my ass.
Before Daveth can parrot his brother, with blurring speed, I make a sharp chop to his larynx, causing him to double over, coughing and gasping for air. Then I slowly step into Bayne’s personal space, my face inches from him, and quietly murmur, “Don’t fuck with me.”
He’s either brave or stupid because he doesn’t back down, meeting my glare with one of his own, then after a few sniffs, a smug smile pulls at his thin lips.
“Is that witch I smell on you?” he sneers, with an interested light sparking in his eyes. “You some witch’s bitch now, outcast? Tell me you at least get a pity fuck out of the deal.”
I feel like I’ve been shot, and real fear claws at my insides. Callie’s scent is all over me from holding her this morning. Her tears that fell on my shoulder, her hair that wove through my flannel, her face pressed to my neck, even her core pressed against my stomach when she wrapped her legs around my waist, all of it are strong indicators of her presence. Hell, she practically scent marked me. And despite the idiot’s condemnation, The Call my wolf feels for Callie could only come from one genetic source… the one I share with these assholes.
I back away as if I can hide her scent with distance, even though logically I know it’s too late, but I can’t let them find her… I can’t trust The Call to be enough to protect her.
My wolf climbs its way to the surface, pushing against my skin, ready to eliminate these threats against our Reina. A deep guttural growl of warning rumbles in my chest. I know this is not the right way to handle the situation. My reaction only highlights there’s something important about this scent, but instinct is much faster than logic.
The small waiting crowd sniffs t
he air, and it’s like watching a noxious gas spread through them, their faces souring and real hate clouding their eyes.
A cold sweat builds on the back of my neck, and unconsciously, I spread my stance, hands already clenched into fists, readying myself for whatever comes next. I expect possibly being jumped. Maybe chased off pack lands, and I’ll have to sneak back in the middle of the night to check in.
Unfortunately, it’s one of the betas that steps forward just off a shift from monitoring the grounds. He’s bulkier than the average wolf, barrel-chested and thicker through the arms and shoulders. It’s clear that just looking at him is usually intimidating enough to keep our people in line and scare off anyone that doesn’t belong.
“You’ve disrespected this pack for the last time, pup,” he grunts, the crowd quickly parting to let him through. “The son of our Alpha choosing a witch over his pack.”
I’d snort at the pup dig if his intent wasn’t so obvious in his gaze. This is not going to end well. Don’t do it. Don’t make me…
“I formally challenge Connor Lopez,” he announces, stoic and sure-- stupidly believing he can win against me.
Everyone falls silent, the cold winds shaking through the leaves and the distant noises of our oblivious community the only sounds that puncture the air. Unlike the rest of the pack where a challenge can end when one party yields, ever since I’ve been able to hold my own in the ring, the Alpha has made it clear that with me it’s always a challenge to the death.
And I’m still standing.
I have the right to refuse, but it means exile and now more than ever, I can’t leave Twin Cedar Pass.
There’s a sickening sorrow where my fear sat, and I release a bone-deep sigh before answering, “I accept.”
“I’ll inform the Alpha,” Bayne declares, the smugness gone from his face.
Even my idiot brothers have enough self-preservation not to challenge me.
I should’ve gone straight to Callie and snuck back onto pack grounds when there were less people, I lament while making my way toward the challenge ring. With the chance of whoever set the fire coming back, I wanted to make sure I could stay the whole night and watch over her.