by India Kells
CHAPTER TEN
The moon shone over the treetops, turning the colorful canopy into shimmering waves of silver. The drying leaves rustled joyously with the wind. And he ran.
In wolf form, it was the moment when Asher could find his footing and see through any problem. His wolf chased the night away, the blood of a stray rabbit still fresh in his jowls, his heart pounding with fierce freedom.
Near the stream bordering Sanctuary land, he slowed down to a trot and stopped. All prey sensing his approach had left the area and Asher growled in frustration. Even though every muscle in his wolf form quaked, he would have gladly sunk his teeth into warm flesh again, sating him until he could do the same with the witch.
As his thoughts moved to more dire matters, his body went through the change - muscles, and bones magically reshaping and reknitting into man’s flesh. A metamorphosis endured by his kind countless times. He didn’t care about the weird change, his beast yearned for it.
Back in human form, Asher stretched naked in the cool fall air, soothing his feverish skin. He was debating taking a dip in the stream when the wind shifted, alerting him of a known intruder.
“Damn, son. You run like the wind. I almost had trouble finding you.”
Asher arched his brow as Robert came from behind a tree, slightly out of breath.
“Almost?”
Robert smiled. “I’m getting old, son. Same as you are, don’t forget that. It’s not something you can escape, even at that speed.”
Asher looked at Robert fully dressed. “You didn’t run here, you still have your clothes on.”
Robert looked around and put his hands in his pockets. “I did run, just not in wolf form.”
Asher rolled his shoulder as impatience crept in. “Do you need anything?”
“No, not really. Great night to be outside.”
Asher inhaled deeply, reining in his temper. His uncle meant well, but never knew when to back off, or say no to his mate for that matter. “It’s Aunt Ellen who asked you to come see me. To talk to me.”
“Careful, son. One day you too will be mated, and you’ll find it very difficult to say no to her. And on that day, I’ll be the one laughing.”
Asher remembered his own parents well and how they were together. He may tease his uncle, but part of his heart, part of his wolf, envied him. From his own parents, he also learned about duty and what was necessary for the survival of the pack, in this case, the Sanctuary.
“What does my aunt want, Robert?”
“She worries about the witch you keep in the basement. Ellen searched for any possible disappearance in the Otherworld, a warrant on her head, anything to find her identity. She found nothing. Well, nothing without raising flags, which we don’t want to do right now.”
Crossing his arms, he turned to the water. “All the better then, nobody will miss her.”
Robert took a step in his direction. “Asher, be careful. Don’t you find it strange that this witch doesn’t use her powers, even worse, that she accepts magical restraints without even blinking? She was homeless, starving and she even tried to end her life when you cornered her. It doesn’t add up.”
“What are you suggesting? That she’s some sort of spy?”
“Maybe. It can’t be that simple an explanation or a coincidence that she’s here.”
Asher walked to the stream and pondered on what Robert said. The moon flickered on the moving waters in a hypnotic dance. Magic in his eyes was everywhere, in the good, as well as in the evil.
“It seems unlikely that she set a trap, Robert.”
“And what if she purposely left a scented trail for you to follow? You must at least consider that it may not be a pure coincidence.”
Asher was about to answer when something or someone caught his attention. The shadow was downwind, the reason why he hadn’t been alerted sooner. Robert followed his gaze and stepped forward growling when the shadow came into the pale moonlight.
“Holy hell, Genevieve, you could have said something, I almost attacked you!”
Beside him, Robert relaxed his stance, but his frown remained in place. Asher saw the fae woman bow her head and smile as she walked toward the two men. At that instant, he wished for some clothes. He was not shy about his body or being naked at all, but it was a bit more awkward for a reasonable discussion.
“What can I do for you, Genevieve? Are you alright?”
The fae woman came closer, almost gliding to him. He knew very little about the dark, willowy woman. She came to Sanctuary half beaten to death, her little girl bundled up in her arms. It was Spring, all flowers in full bloom and fresh leaves the deepest green rustled by a fragrant warm wind. But when he saw her, scared and hurt, with determination set in her eyes, it was as if the fae brought sadness and darkness to his doorstep, making the cheerful day gloomy. Asher offered her shelter and protection, but she never really recovered, remaining shy and discreet, never talking about her ordeal.
“Why didn’t you tell me that a witch was in Sanctuary?”
Asher crossed his arms, looking at the delicate, almost ethereal being standing in front of him. Faes always acted in peculiar ways. Even if you thought to know their reaction, their real motive, they would surprise and blindside you.
“Genevieve, that witch is a prisoner, dangerous and unpredictable. And she has not used her power for a long time, from what Robert and I could observe.”
Robert stepped closer. “Asher is right. He would never endanger anybody who sought shelter at Sanctuary. You know that.”
The woman looked around, swayed a little, and her forlorn gaze glided back to him.
“My child’s dying, Asher. None of my people could help. Well, those who were actually willing to help. I sacrificed so much. I had to hide here. Do you think I’m not ready to risk even more to save her? To protect my precious child?”
Asher knew well what Genevieve had sacrificed to help little Maya. Part of him wanted to grant her what she wished for. But his more pragmatic self was reluctant to allow the witch any power where he was concerned.
“I will think about your request, Genevieve. But, if the danger is too great for you or Maya…”
The fae woman bowed gracefully. “Well understood. May I be of service and summon some clothing for you?”
Asher refrained from looking at his nakedness and smiled kindly. He knew too well that Genevieve was evading the discussion, and would never let go so quickly. But she was wise enough not to confront him directly. “No, thank you. I’m heading back in wolf form. Clothing would be lost.”
Genevieve smiled and bowed again before walking back, almost floating and evaporating through the trees. Robert came closer as he watched the forest where the fae had disappeared.
“What are you going to do, son?”
Asher didn’t like the idea of letting someone as emotionally fragile as Genevieve close to this treacherous witch. On the other hand, the murderess could do something good before dying. He would need to find a way to discover if she would be the answer to Genevieve’s prayer. If she did, she might know a more humane and painless death at his hands.
“Robert, we’re going to put that witch to the test.”
Robert quirked a smile. “I can’t wait to know your plan.”
Asher turned, preparing to change, and head back to Sanctuary.
“Simple, I’ll apply some woman’s psychology.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Time went by slowly, she supposed. Valeria didn’t have a way of telling what the hour or day was, only that it was day or night, by looking at the cracks in the placarded window.
She tried to discipline her thoughts, meditate, focus. Not always an easy task, but she had been trained well. Her father made sure of it. Years and years had passed in which she complied, submitted, acquiesced to all her father’s requests. Her only solace had been her mother. And, more recently, James. The memory of them squeezed her heart painfully. She may have introduced James to her father and fought fo
r him, but he had been a good man, a good friend, making her laugh, succeeding at thawing her heart. She would have gladly spent her life with him. If she hadn’t put him at risk and got him killed. It may have been an accident, but the fault lay on her shoulders.
Valeria looked at her shaking hands. The same hands as her mother’s; hands from a great lineage of witches and healers. That great lineage had stopped with her mother. Even though she had passed on many spells and secrets, her husband had stopped her from practicing that kind of craft. If he only had to have one child, a girl, Lionel Lancaster would make her a warrior.
She gazed at her hands again. They were strong hands, capable hands, adorned with scars and burn marks. Some pretty recent. Strange that she wouldn’t be able to use them to do magic anymore. Probably for the best, as no good could come from her fingertips.
How was her father faring? The question haunted her. If only she could know. Now alone, maybe facing justice for crimes he hadn’t committed. Grief and guilt had a firm hold on her. She may have obeyed her father’s wishes, but she wouldn’t be able, or capable of hiding forever. She would have to face what she had done, even unintentionally. Her father may have been a tyrant, but he wasn’t a bad man. Only the situation had been a mess. A terrible mess.
Valeria wiped her cheeks quickly when someone approached the door. Ellen came in with a tray, as she did three times a day, like clockwork, since she’d been imprisoned in this cell. Each time the door creaked open, Valeria wondered if the blonde werewolf was finally coming to rip her throat out. She would fight back, it was instinctual to survive. But she would survive for what? What fate was for her from now on? She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight forever. Or live forever with guilt squeezing at her heart.
Ellen put the tray on the table and unlocked the cell door. As usual, Valeria went to sit at the table while her jailer sat in front her. Each time she brought her food, the meal became more substantial. Valeria made sure to eat slowly and stop before her stomach was too full. It was difficult but essential. What would tomorrow bring? If she had to go back and live on the street, she couldn’t get reacquainted with the comfort of this world. The pain of hunger, cold and loneliness of her first six months were engraved in her bones forever.
Staring at the fuming bowl of stew, her tummy growled. Valeria spooned the stew and brought it to her mouth, measuring, assessing the quantity she took. The flavor in her mouth made her sigh. Five more spoonsful. Once she had swallowed her fifth spoonful, she noticed she barely had made a dent. It took all her willpower to put her spoon down and push the bowl away.
“Isn’t my food good enough for you, witch?”
Valeria forced her gaze from the tempting bowl to the insulted werewolf in front of her.
“What?”
Ellen didn’t only sound frustrated, her entire face was reflecting that emotion.
“If you don’t like my food, just say it.”
Valeria rubbed her forehead. How could she explain her behavior to Ellen?
“Your food is beyond delicious. The best I’ve eaten in a long time. I don’t want to overeat, that’s all.”
Ellen humphed and crossed her arms. “What kind of stupid answer that is? You’re barely out of the woods, you should eat. Your body won’t heal otherwise.”
Valeria shook her head. “Magic…”
“Magic cannot save you all the time, child.”
Valeria winced at the words. “You’re right on that one.”
Ellen pushed the bowl toward her again. Valeria cupped it and stared at its content for a whole minute. The older woman groaned.
“You’re as stubborn as my Robert. At least when you were sick, we could sedate you, forcing you to heal.”
Valeria couldn’t help but notice the change in her voice. Frustration laced with worry.
“Robert? Is he your mate?” Valeria remembered the word equivalent to ‘husband’ in the shifter community.
“Yes. I have trouble with him too. He’s eating alright, but he’s having problems with his stomach. Some sort of heartburn that keeps him up all night.”
“Uncommon for a shifter to have heartburn, or any kind of problem, from what I know. Werewolves have the sturdiest constitution of the whole realm.”
Ellen rolled her eyes, smiling thinly as she clasped her hands. Curious, Valeria continued.
“What has he tried?”
“You know our kind doesn’t react well to human medicine.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Does he take something more suited for him? Herbal medicine can help him a lot.”
“You don’t know Robert. Just utter the word herb, and he’s has a fit.”
Valeria smiled. “You could marinate or season your food with some medicine. That’s the beauty of herbs, they taste good when cooked and blend into the food, too.”
That caught Ellen’s attention, and she listened when Valeria offered two or three options that might help.
“Try one at a time and wait. Observe the result. Don’t mix them up and watch the dosage. Otherwise, you may cause side effects, or worse, your mate could detect it.”
Ellen leaned forward. “How can I trust what you say? What if your remedy is poison?”
Valeria smiled. “Easy, make an infusion and bring it to me. I’ll drink it in front of you. If I die, you’ll have your answer.”
Ellen stood up and took the tray back. Valeria didn’t know what was that all about, but she decided she didn’t really care. If she didn’t want her help or was suspicious of her, too bad. Instead, she went back to sit on her cot. Ellen locked the door and held back, hesitating.
“Why give me this advice? We hold you prisoner, and still, you try to help.”
Valeria sat on the cot, her back to the wall.
“I will die soon, but that doesn’t mean I should let other people suffer in the meantime. Probably advice from my late mother.”
Ellen nodded and turned one last time before leaving the room. “A wise woman, your mother.”
Valeria didn’t answer her as Ellen switched off the lights. In reality, she couldn’t answer or say anything. Emotions were trembling so close to the surface, she had trouble keeping them in check. Laying down, she pushed the ‘what-might-have-beens’ from her mind and forced herself to sleep.
Well, she tried. Her eyes were closed, but her brain was as bright as a lightbulb, making her body twist and turn on her cot in search of sleep, but obviously, it was a lost cause.
She stood up and started pacing her cell, hoping it would settle her restlessness, despite the lack of space. After a moment, the air shifted somehow. Valeria waited. Through the shadows, someone was moving.
Instinctively, she took a step back toward the wall and braced herself.
The shadow moved closer, opening its arms. Luminous flickers sprang from its hands. After a moment, the room was filled with fireflies. So many danced and illuminated in a soft greenish glow allowing Valeria to see the intruder.
A beautiful young woman, ethereal, like only the Fae people could appear. And this little neat light trick was the definition of nature, the very core of their magic and powers.
The bugs stilled around them, illuminating the glistening dark hair and pale skin of the fae woman. She stood there, in a white dress, examining her. So frail and beautiful.
Valeria didn’t know whether to move or talk. Fae could be tough to understand or predict. A real mind of their own.
After a while, the fae woman came closer, her face almost touching the bars. Her eyes were a pale hazel and strangely unyielding.
“You’re a witch. I feel the magic in you.”
Valeria swallowed. “I was a witch. I’m not anymore.”
The fae blinked and angled her head. “You’re a witch. You’re still a witch. What a strange thing to say.”
Valeria shook her head. “I may still have powers in me, but I don’t use them.”
The fae seemed to ponder this for a while. “Is it why they’re keeping you locked
in here? Because you don’t want to use your powers anymore?”
“I don’t know why they keep me here. They do think I can use my abilities, though.”
Valeria held out the bracelets around her wrists.
“Do you know why I’m here, witch?”
Valeria frowned. “I don’t know who you are, let alone what you want, fae woman.”
The fae turned her head for a moment, listening. Then, brought her attention back to Valeria.
“I’m tracked by evil people. Of your kind. I was lucky enough to find Sanctuary. Me and my daughter. Here, they can protect Maya and me, but they cannot save her. However, you can.”
Valeria shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The fae continued. “He will come and ask for your help, please say yes. I need your help.”
“Listen…”
“Genevieve, my name is Genevieve.”
“Listen, Genevieve, I don’t know what you want. If it’s magic, I repeat, I cannot help. Not anymore, not ever again.”
Genevieve ignored her outburst and turned her head sharply before calling back the fireflies into herself and vanishing into the darkness.
A moment later, the door opened, and a large figure switched on the lights. It took a moment for Valeria’s eyes to get accustomed to the brightness, before realizing a man was marching in her direction. She noticed that Genevieve had managed her quick escape behind his back, undetected.
The man appeared anything but friendly. She didn’t know who or what he was yet, but he was pulsing with an aura of danger, making her instinctively step back. He was huge, with black curly hair, a dark thick beard, and eyes like bottomless pools of dark caramel. When the intruder locked his gaze to hers, a menacing growl reverberated deep in her own chest. Anger flooded his face, and he lunged.
A scream squeezed in her throat but Valeria forced herself to remain still and silent. The predator on the other side of the bars could feed on her fear, the situation slipping into an actual nightmare if she didn’t get a grip.
