by Kat Bostick
“You dress like a hobo.” Emma scoffed.
“Ah teenagers, always so charming.” Charlie came up behind them with another tray of finger food. “I remember when my children were that young. My oldest was particularly troublesome.”
Veronica was distracted by conversation, eager to have anything to talk about with Charlie. The topic drifted from parenting teenagers to something equally boring and Mari tuned them out. This was going to be a long two days. They should have eloped. Or skipped the marriage thing all together. It wasn’t that important. Not so important that she had to spend days pretending not to hate her stepmother, pretending that there was even a modicum of normalcy in her life.
A hand cupped her elbow, coaxing her away from the island. Dad appeared in her peripherals, his mouth set in a familiar line. Mari didn’t have to look up to know Jasper was watching them retreat through the back door.
Hopefully he would observe without intervening.
The moment the kitchen door was closed, Dad turned on her, blue eyes ablaze with something that wasn’t quite anger. “You’ve been practicing.”
Mari lifted her chin. “Witches tend to do that.”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What you’re risking?”
“No,” She growled back. “I don’t, because you never bothered to tell me. Any of it. I have no clue what I’m doing because I was banned from practicing, banned from asking, and banned from joining Gran’s coven.”
“For good reason, Mariella.” He rubbed his temples with two fingers, a gesture she hadn’t realized that she picked up from him. “You were never content to follow any of my rules. Why? Why can’t you just be normal and forget all of this?”
“I’m not normal!” She almost shouted it. “You are not normal, Dad. How can you even pretend that you are when you close your eyes every night and see dreams that aren’t your own?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Dad paced away from her, red climbing up his neck. “What are they?”
Mari blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Them!” He pointed an angry finger toward the kitchen door. “I know this isn’t a guild. They’re not wizards. What are they?”
“My in-laws.” She answered plainly. “My future family.”
“Do not lie to me.”
“Why not? It’s the only skill I learned from you.”
They glared at each other, fury and hurt and what felt suspiciously like fear undulating in the air between them. Mari knew this game, knew Dad was waiting for her to capitulate, to lower her eyes and apologize. She always did. For years she gave up challenging him, gave up asking questions because it was never worth his ire. It was never worth feeling hated for wanting something—anything—about herself, her mother, her history, to cling to.
That was the old Mari. That Mari was shed from her like a snakeskin when she completed her rites. The last vestiges of that young woman died in a lake of her own blood three months earlier. Overeager, desperate, Mari was gone and her absence had only just become obvious. What should have been a giant chasm inside of her was instead a river, overflowing with magic, with life, with the fine golden threads woven between her soul and another. There was no weakness left in her.
She would never surrender.
Power came alive beneath her skin. Mari hadn’t consciously buried her booted feet in the snow but there she was, drawing on the power of the goddess below her, hissing and crackling like a bonfire. Like a wildfire. Her gaze was still locked with her father’s, letting a taste of that power dance around her. It was eager, feral, hungry to be molded into a spell.
Shades of gold and green overtook the edges of her vision. Just beyond it, Mari spied something strange, inky and writhing, that snaked toward her like a ravenous serpent. It was familiar, not only in appearance, but in feeling. She felt as if she was seeing a face she’d noticed in passing, a face she recognized yet couldn’t quite remember why.
A memory of a dream flickered briefly in her mind. She was too distracted to recall it clearly. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, instinct telling her to be wary. Quietly, Mari murmured to the power she’d inadvertently called, returning it to Earth Mother with gratitude. She had no interest in revealing what she’d gained to her father. Not when he was staring at her with such derision.
“What was that?”
“That was my backbone. I’ve grown one recently.” She let out a heavy breath. “Congratulate me on my upcoming marriage, Dad. Tell me you’re happy for me.”
Mari aimed to go back inside but that same hand on her elbow stopped her. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”
Six months ago, maybe it was. Old Mari wouldn’t marry someone on a whim. She would never have stayed in this house. She’d grown bolder though, more sure of herself and what she wanted. The choice was already made. A wedding was only meant to satisfy her frivolous desire for rituals and titles. It seemed silly now that she and Jasper were already so deeply bound.
Distantly, she could feel him forcing himself into stillness. If she looked through the floor to ceiling windows of the dining area, she would see him glued to his chair, ignoring whatever Veronica was trying to talk to him about. It was the only way to keep himself from storming out here with the intention of butting into her heated debate. Jasper was ready to defend her. Silently, Mari thanked him for giving her the space to fight her own battles.
Someday, she would be glad they chose to get married. The weight of the ring on her finger was comforting. A very human reassurance, but one she knew she would cherish. She could easily be cherishing it without her father’s presence.
It shouldn’t matter that he approved of them. It shouldn’t matter that he was here, that he witness her face her fears, that he was here to witness how loved she was. Plenty of things shouldn’t matter, though. That never stopped them from keeping her awake at night, never stopped them from plaguing her wandering mind.
“Why is it ridiculous, Dad?” She wished she could will that strength from a moment ago into her voice. Mari so fervently wished she could make her words steel. Instead they were soft and fragile.
“You wanted my attention. You’ve got it. Now call this thing off and come home.”
“This thing?” Even with her power tucked away, the darkness had come to devour her. It swirled around her, cocooning her in misery, sucking away her joy until she felt oddly empty. Hers was a tainted soul, undeserving, unwanted. Why was she trying? She would never truly be loved, not like she claimed. Not when her father took her in with such disdain.
“You know you can’t stay out here. Where will you work?”
“I have a job!”
“As a motel clerk? Really? You spent four years in school so you could waste your life making minimum wage in some tourist town? Or is Veronica right and this—” He gestured aggressively toward the house. “—Is what you’re really after?”
How dare you! Mari wanted to scream. But she didn’t. Perhaps the old Mari hadn’t died, only fallen silent, dormant until she came upon familiar landscape. Because she was here now, the little girl missing the soccer ball during her first game as she stared at the sidelines, searching the many faces of smiling parents and feeling the aching absence of the one that belonged to her.
So small. She was so terribly small.
“I wanted you to be happy for me. That’s all.” She managed to say, eyes burning with humiliation.
There was still a brave spark of hope flickering in her heart. One spark that believed she would turn back and see remorse on Dad’s face. But there was none. No guilt or regret. Mari glanced over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the trees and was sure she saw hatred.
A thousand questions returned to her mind. Why was he here? What obligation did he have to drive across the state if it was only to judge her?
The answer didn’t matter anymore.
Chapter 17
Jasper
Alan was calf deep in snow, the clouds left by his breath the only movement coming from him as he watched Mari retreat. Would he stop her? Was he concerned that his daughter was venturing unattended into the forest in the black of a winter evening? Jasper got the feeling it would be a relief to Alan if she walked in there and never came out again. That was only one of many, many reasons he was struggling not to maim the bastard.
It was as clear as the winter sky above that Alan didn’t care what Mari’s future looked like, so long as it didn’t require him to intervene. Like her grandmother, Mari’s father was afraid of her. The sour stink of it was thick and warm in the air.
Jasper watched him watch Mari and recognized the look in his eyes. It was an expression that his old alpha often held when he looked upon Jasper. Disgust, disdain, all mingling with fear.
Nikolai claimed to hate Jasper because he was impure—bitten, not born. In truth, Nikolai hated the power he saw—the potential. Jasper could easily be alpha if he wanted. It was fact, not ego. He knew the weight of his own strength well.
Mari was coming to know that weight too. It did make her dangerous, as he’d heard her father claim. Not in the way that Alan believed, though. It was dangerous for a young woman to take ownership of herself, to break free from the chains her father bound her with. It was dangerous for her to have a say in how she lived, how she practiced, how she utilized the powers innate to her.
“I’m fighting the desire to kill you right now.” Alan started when Jasper slipped quietly in beside him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You’re cruel to her and I want to kill you for it.” He made a show of rolling his shoulders, just in case Mari’s father thought Jasper couldn’t or wouldn’t do it.
Some animal instinct inside Alan’s brain was smart enough to be concerned. The scent of fear became wilder, headier. Jasper licked his lips. “What makes you think you can threaten me?”
His tone was intended for some lanky teenage boy waiting awkwardly to pick his date up at the front door, not a full grown werewolf that was edgy and violent on a good day. Alan was beneath him—literally. Jasper towered over him, the width of his shoulders far outmatching the man.
“You’re in my territory, talking about my—wife.”
“Wife,” Came out as a scoff. He shuffled in the snow, putting space between himself and the werewolf that barely had a hold on his restraint. “What’s in this for you?”
Jasper cocked his head. “I don’t think I understand the question.”
“What do you get out of this wedding arrangement?”
“Mari.”
“I hate to break it to you, but Mari is not the marrying type. She’s flighty and irresponsible. She can’t make up her mind about what she wants.” That description didn’t fit Jasper’s image of Mari at all. “Whatever it is you think you’re getting from this, it won’t last. Mari is going through something right now and you’re the distraction. I just didn’t think she would take it this far.” His lips puckered like the air was as sour as him. A steely stubbornness reflected in his eyes. Mari didn’t have her father’s coloring, but Jasper saw hints of her in his grimmer expressions.
When Jasper didn’t respond, Alan blurted, “Aubrey told me about your family.” It sounded like an accusation.
“Told you what, exactly?”
“That you’re keeping secrets. That something is wrong with you. I’ve been told everyone in this town believes Charlie runs a cult.” His gaze cut to Jasper’s, then darted to the trees where Mari disappeared. “I know it’s more than that. I can feel it. What are you?”
“Why are you afraid of her?” Jasper countered.
“Afraid of—I’m not afraid of Mari.” Lie. I can smell it on you.
“Is it because you can’t control her anymore? Or because you’re afraid of what she can do?”
Those eyes, already so shrewd and untrusting, narrowed to slits. “What do you know about what Mari can do?”
“I know what she’s capable of.”
“Then you should know it’s not safe for her to be practicing. She has no power or skill. All she’ll do is hurt someone.” The only emotion in his voice when he spoke was resentment. “Whatever you are, you can’t handle her.”
“I handle her just fine.”
“When I leave here, Mari is coming with me. I’ll make sure of it.”
Jasper growled. He couldn’t help himself. This man was a disgrace of a father and he would have hated Alan even if he was a stranger. But he was here for Mari and in all the wrong ways. The hurt and humiliation he knew she was privately nursing right now made him feel like he was breaking into pieces. All he wanted was to fix it.
Biting off a few of Alan’s fingers, maybe even a limb, felt like it would fix it.
Teeth flashed from behind Jasper’s lips. “You don’t want to see what happens if you try to take her from me.”
“What are you?” Alan repeated.
Jasper captured Alan’s gaze, letting the wolf rise in him enough to make his eyes brighten. Whatever faint color Alan had on his already pale face was drained away until he matched the snow. “Your future son-in-law.”
He walked away from the conversation before the animal writhing beneath his skin decided he wasn’t content to serve as nothing more than a threat. Instead, Jasper focused on the pull that drew him further beneath the trees. Mother Moon was tucked behind her veil of shadows, only a thin sliver of her face looking down over her sister. The trees were hulking shapes in the night. Even his excellent night vision struggled to make out a clear path in the snow.
Dark or not, it was easy to locate Mari amid the trees. He hung back, leaning into a rough trunk and listening to the soft crunch of her boots in the snow. Jasper intended to give her the space she needed, but he would be close in case she couldn’t find her way back in the dark and got too cold. She’d neglected to grab a coat and was wearing a pair of boots that belonged to one of his brothers, based on the size.
“It’s okay, Jas.” Her voice was soft. “I knew you’d show up eventually.”
Jasper stepped in front of her, hooking her hand with his and tugging her to him. “You’re cold.”
“I didn’t notice.”
He remained silent, holding her loosely as she sorted through her head. After a drawn out, tight silence, she whispered, “I think Dad is right.”
“About what?”
“I think…I think I’m evil.”
The only reason he held in his laughter was because she was dead serious. “You’re not evil, sweet Mari.”
“I killed someone.”
“I’ve killed too. Am I evil?”
Mari slipped her hand from his grasp and started pacing in the snow. “You don’t understand, Jasper. I used magic—dark magic. I think I opened a door that I wasn’t supposed to.”
“It was self-defense.”
“The rules of magic don’t care about self-defense!” She tossed her arms up, breath swirling around her in the frigid air. “I feel it. I feel like something dark is all around me.”