by Cheree Alsop
Virgo shot his sister an annoyed look. “And witches are all humility and modesty? Who did your hair?”
She put a hand up to her recently highlighted long red curly hair. “I wanted to look nice to pick up Mom,” she shot back. “None of your business.”
“And nice, too,” Virgo continued. “Did I forget to mention that witches are nice?”
“That’s enough, Virg,” Rosalinda chided. She drew him in for a hug. “I’m glad you came home.”
Mrs. Willard smiled at me. “You, too, Zev. You’re not getting away that easily.”
Everyone laughed at my obvious attempt to linger on the outside of the group. Mrs. Willard gave me a gentle hug, then let go of me and glanced down. “We’d better get you off that leg.”
“What happened?” Alia asked.
Her concerned tone made me look at her for the first time. I had been dreading it so much a pit had formed in the middle of my stomach. Alia had stolen my heart with her gentle ways and understanding as I recovered from being hit by the car. Her acceptance of the fact that I was a werewolf combined with her own search for her place in this crazy world had lowered my walls and allowed me to trust her.
I had no idea when that trust had turned into something deeper until Mitch showed up. Their immediate attraction to each other had been so painful I became reckless. Other girls had tugged at my heartstrings, but there had been no denying that Alia owned the place in my soul where the undying love and loyalty of a werewolf resided.
When I lifted my eyes to meet hers, I dreaded the way my heart would skip a beat and confirm that I was still locked in the hopeless and unrequited love that had nearly driven me crazy. Yet this time, when I regarded her hazel eyes and warm smile, no such betraying longing occurred. I stared at her far longer than the moment dictated, amazed that I could see her hand rest on Mitch’s wolf head without any pang of jealousy. The brick in my stomach loosened, and an answer smile swept unbidden across my face.
Alia’s eyebrows pulled together. “Zev, are you alright?”
I realized everyone was watching us. I cleared my throat and said, “Yes, yes, sorry. I’m just a little tired.”
Surprise showed on her face. “You must be ready to fall over, then, because you never admit you’re tired.”
She was right. Werewolves hide weakness because admitting exhaustion during a fight could be deadly. I sucked in a breath at the slipup and glanced at Virgo.
Fortunately, the warlock had my back.
“We had to fight some lizard demons on the way home,” he said quickly. “Zev got bit. Maybe it poisoned him.”
Gasps ran across the family. I lifted my hands to ward off what I knew was coming. The warlock definitely did not have my back.
“Bit?” Mrs. Willard said. “Zev, we need to get you inside. Boys, carry him.”
“I don’t need to be carried,” I protested.
“I brought my bag,” Rosalinda echoed. “But I haven’t restocked in a while. Let me check which antidotes I’ve got in stock. I may have to zip off home.”
“I’m fine,” I told her. “It’s nothing.”
“He’s bleeding.” Ian pointed at my leg. “Look.”
“He wouldn’t let me take off the brace,” Virgo supplied helpfully.
I shot the warlock an accusing look. He shrugged with a taunting grin. He was definitely enjoying my discomfort.
“Come on, come on,” Mrs. Willard shepherded. “Let’s get you inside. You shouldn’t have been wandering around the forest. You probably pumped the poison all the way to your heart.”
I couldn’t fight the push of so many hands; I gave in and allowed them to lead me through the backdoor into the kitchen.
“Right here,” Mrs. Willard directed to the closest chair.
Alia pulled up another one and eased my leg up onto it. “I thought you were going to take better care of yourself,” she said.
“I was,” I replied. “But demons don’t care about that when they’re trying to kill you.”
She shook her head. “Why does trouble always seem to find you?”
“Some people are just that way,” Rosalinda commented as she carried in a bag so laden with ointments it looked as though it was going to burst. She set it down with a thump. “Some are just born with a knack for chaos. Now, let’s see what I brought.” She began to rummage through the assortment of vials, bags, flasks, and corked horns.
I glanced at the window next to the table longingly. Not that many weeks ago, I had smashed through it and fled the same kitchen. The urge to do so again was a strong one.
Mrs. Willard came over with an armful of clean rags, stitching supplies, and bandages. “Let’s get this brace off,” she told Alia.
I closed my mouth against a protest. To be honest, I was anxious to see how it looked also. The bones had been shattered from the ankle to above my knee when the tentacled demon threw me against a wall. Dr. Fi had done the best he could, but since he was unable to use rods due to my need to phase, he had left it in a state of partial repair. If I could avoid phasing or jostling it, putting weight on it, or doing more than sitting in a chair watching the world pass by, there was the possibility it might heal. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one to sit when lives were on the line.
“Easy does it,” Rosalinda said as they undid the straps.
Their pulling and touching, no matter how gentle, made me want to yell. I sucked in a breath and held it, telling myself that no werewolf worth his or her strength would cause a scene at such a minor injury. I turned my attention to the group I could see just beyond the living room door. Everyone not caught up in torturing me had gathered around Virgo. They all leaned closer as he gestured to emphasize the more important points of his tale.
“And so Zev thought it would be a good idea to throw things at the doorway and try to break it to distract my dad,” Virgo was saying.
“Why would that be a good idea?” Ian asked. “What if the demons got out?”
Virgo shot me a mocking look. “I don’t think he thought that far ahead.”
I rolled my eyes.
He grinned and continued in a storyteller’s tone, “As soon as the dark warlock turned his back, I zapped him with all of my strength.”
I tuned the warlock’s voice out. My leg was a welcome distraction from reliving the past few days.
“How big was the creature that bit you?” Mrs. Willard asked.
I followed her gaze to my left leg.
The brace was open, revealing the skin beneath. Instead of pale or tanned, my skin was mottled with a myriad of bruises of every size and color imaginable. A long, healing scar ran from my knee down to my ankle. Another scar crossed just above my knee as well. Both had been closed with glue instead of stitches or staples. It was the one concession Dr. Fi had given me so that I wouldn’t be in a position where I needed to take them out by myself. The detached voice in the back of my mind noted that I looked as though I had lost an intense paintball competition. I replied wryly that was only if someone shot scalpels along with paintballs.
“Most of this is from an encounter a few days ago,” I said, keeping my voice level. “My leg was shattered and I had to have surgery.” At their worried expressions, I said in a tone I hoped was more firm than hopeful, “It’s healing.” I pointed to the double rows of teeth that had bitten into my skin. “These are the lizard’s.”
On closer inspection, they looked like a shark’s bite, complete with serration and the multiple rows. Fortunately, thanks to the brace, the teeth hadn’t sunk in too far. The wounds were already beginning to close on their own.
Mrs. Willard clucked her tongue and said, “At least it looks like it’s not poisoned. The moonlight must be helping.”
“Yes,” Rosalinda agreed in a professional tone. “I don’t see any streaking or anything that would have me believe it’s getting infected.”
They looked at each other as if holding a private conversation.
“More moonlight,” Mrs. Willard said with a
nod.
“And lavender,” Rosalinda agreed. “I’ll also make a tea.”
“Not tea,” I protested.
Both of them looked at me. The thought of the tea I had been forced to drink with the coven of witches who had shot me made my stomach curl in a knot.
“Now don’t be silly,” Rosalinda chided. “All bodies need a bit of tea, even werewolves.”
They turned toward the stove and cut off my argument.
“Wait,” Alia called out.
The sound of paws rushing down the stairs made me turn just enough to see Alia and James scrambling after a blur of white. The creature turned the corner into the kitchen and bound toward me with all the energy of a hyperactive bunny.
Sit, I thought toward the dog.
The Pitbull immediately sank to his haunches and sat watching me from two feet away. His tongue lolled out and his doggy grin was infectious as drool dripped from his jowls.
Alia and James stared at me. “How did you do that?” James asked.
“Do what?” I asked.
Both of the mothers stared at me as well.
“He stopped for you and you did nothing. We can’t even get him to sit.”
I looked back down at the dog. Recognition of the animal I had saved from being clubbed to death in an alley made a smile spread across my face. He wriggled his rear in return with such vigor his whole body shook. Scars from the dog fights he had been in and from the beating had receded and his skin was a healthy pink beneath his shiny white coat. The way he watched me with full, expectant alertness filled me with happiness. He was no longer a beaten, tortured creature. He was happy, loved, and filled with self-assurance the way I had hoped he would be when I brought him to the Willards.
Come. Slow, I thought toward him.
He walked carefully to my side. At a thought from me, he sat again and lowered his head onto my lap so I could pet him without moving.
“Incredible,” Mrs. Willard breathed. “He hasn’t been that calm since we brought him back from the vet’s.”
“We really haven’t had the heart to discipline him after all he’s been through,” Alia said. She walked over to pet him as well. “One harsh look and he’s under the table hiding, and he won’t come out no matter how we talk to him.”
“He’s deaf,” I said.
They all looked at me.
“How do you know that?” Ian asked from the doorway.
I ran a hand across the dog’s head. His soft fur hid the scars of his fighting days. A surge of understanding welled up in my chest.
“He just is,” I replied. “He can’t help it, and that’s why they treated him so bad. They couldn’t get him to do what they said because he couldn’t hear them.”
“Rocky,” Mrs. Willard called. She clucked her tongue. “Rocky.”
“Rocky?” I repeated.
“It was my idea,” James said. “Mr. Rexas the vet said he wouldn’t have survived if he wasn’t such a fighter.”
Rocky, I thought in my mind.
The dog looked up at me. I smiled at him.
“It fits him.” I glanced at Mrs. Willard. “I’m glad you brought him home.”
“We didn’t know where you’d gone,” she said. Her voice tightened, letting me know that she truly had been worried. “And we didn’t have the heart to take him to the shelter. Now that we know he can’t hear, we can focus on training him.” She smiled, revealing her soft heart. “If we try to train him at all. I’ve kind-of enjoyed his chaotic energy around here.”
“He’ll want to please you,” I told her. “You can tell he likes to make his humans happy.”
I lowered my hand and projected the image of him lying on the floor. The dog immediately dropped to the ground. At my motion, he rolled over.
“Whoa,” James said with a whistle. “You should be a dog trainer.”
“He’s smart,” I replied. “He wants to learn.”
I motioned upward and he rose back to his feet. Hands reached in to pat him and he wriggled with happiness. His lolling tongue swiped across Aspen’s face before she could pull back.
“Silly dog,” she said with a grin.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. The dog looked as though he couldn’t be more pleased with himself. At a motion from the little girl, the dog pranced beside her out the back door. Ian followed with a tennis ball in one hand and a string cheese in the other.
I leaned back in my chair feeling exhausted. Mrs. Willard must have been watching me closer than I realized because she said, “Let’s put your brace back on and get you to bed. I’ll have the couch made up because I don’t think you should attempt the stairs to the basement until that’s all healed.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t look great,” Virgo said. I could see the worry in his eyes as he looked at the bruised and scarred leg.
“It’s nothing a little moonlight won’t heal,” I replied. I forced a dramatic sigh that would have done him proud and said, “I just wish it would hurry up.”
He responded with a small smile. “Give it time. The moonlight is a fickle mistress.”
“Spoken like a true book nerd,” Jemmy said.
Virgo stuck his tongue out at her.
“Speaking of books,” I reminded him.
His eyes lit up. “I need to go to my bookstore,” he said. “Who can take me?”
“I will,” James said. “I need to fill up my car anyway.”
“Thanks,” the warlock told him.
“I can go with you,” I said.
Hands held me down before I could rise. It felt too easy for them to keep me from going. I didn’t want to be an invalid, but my body was far too willing to remain where I was.
Weakling, the Master’s voice whispered tauntingly. Listen to the humans. Let them pamper you.
My knuckles turned white where I gripped the arm of the chair. I willed my hand to relax before I broke Mrs. Willard’s furniture.
“You need to rest,” Alia said, unaware of my internal battle. “Let them go.”
They headed toward the door. James grabbed his keys from the hook on the board that said, ‘Drive as if your mother is watching.’
Virgo followed James to the door, then paused.
I had expected as much.
“Uh, what am I looking for again?” he asked.
“The book by Wolfsbane,” I said.
His eyes widened with understanding. “I knew it!” he said with a triumphant laugh.
“If you knew it, why did you ask?” Jemmy pointed out.
Virgo ignored his sister. “I’ll be right back,” he told me. “Try to sleep.”
The door shut behind them.
“What about wolfsbane?” I heard James ask as they crossed to the garage. “I thought Zev was allergic to the stuff.”
“He is, but this one’s an author. He’s got tons of knowledge and even though the books are fiction, I always suspected….”
Their voices faded away.
I tried not to wince as Mrs. Willard and Alia put the brace back on. The heavy scent of Rosalinda’s ointments tickled my nose. If they helped, I was more than grateful to have them. I was far less grateful for the tea she brought over.
“Gulp it down if you don’t want to taste it,” she ordered. “It’ll help you sleep. I’ll make you another in the morning.”
I picked up the cup. Alia closed the brace a bit too hard right below the knee and my hand tightened in response. The glass shattered and tea splashed all over the place.
Everyone was silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” I began.
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Willard said. “I have a million other cups and there’s plenty of tea.” She gave me a teasing smile. “Unless this is your way of getting out of drinking it.”
“It’s not,” I replied. “I’m really sorry.”
She patted my shoulder. “It’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.”
Alia grabbed a broom and began to sweep up the glass while Rosalind
a mopped up the tea with a rag. I felt extremely guilty for accidentally ruining what she had given me.
“I really do appreciate the tea,” I told her.
She smiled up at me. “I know, Zev. I think we’ll just go with a plastic cup next time.”
“Or maybe we wait until the brace is all the way on,” Alia said. She gave me a knowing look. “I’m pretty sure that was my fault.”
I shook my head just as Ian and Aspen burst through the door. They were breathless and had big grins on their faces.
“Rocky responds to everything!” Ian said excitedly. “He watches us and it’s like he’s ready to do anything we ask if we figure out how to ask it.”
“Yeah,” Aspen said with a nod that sent her pale hair waving around her face. “And he likes chasing the ball. He brings it back no matter how far Ian throws it! And Ian throws really far.”
Rocky looked just as happy as the kids. He held the yellow ball in his mouth and pranced around the room as if he knew they were talking about him.
“Come on, Rocky,” Aspen said. She motioned to him with her hand. “Let’s go to my room.”
She took off running and the dog followed right behind.
Mrs. Willard smiled as she looked after them. “I didn’t know what you were thinking when you brought that dog here,” she told me. “But I’ve never seen Aspie’s cheeks so rosy. I think she needed him.”
That made me smile. “I think he needed her.”
Chapter Four
Virgo and Ian maneuvered the couch to the window. When Mrs. Willard judged that there wasn’t enough moonlight coming through, she had them carry it outside. I felt ridiculous lying there beneath the stars in such lavish comfort, but when I mentioned I could have slept on the grass, Mrs. Willard wouldn’t hear of it.
“She’s been really worried about you,” Alia said. She held a blanket in her arms and leaned against the back of the couch to look down at me. “We all have.” She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “What happened, Zev? You left with Virgo to check on Ceren at the hospital and then disappeared.”
I thought of Virgo pulling the gun on me. His intentions had been ironically pure; he hadn’t meant to get me into a situation where I was blackmailed to work for the Division. How could he have guessed the way it would have turned out?
