Hunter's Moon (The Witch Who Sang with Wolves Book 1)

by Kat Bostick

  “Stop that, Gran! You can ask for help.” Mari gently bumped her grandmother’s hip with hers until the old woman surrendered and handed over the oven mitts. Her crabby grumbling didn’t cease as Mari lifted the heavy pot off the heat. “Stubborn old crone.”

  “I recant my statement. Good girls don’t insult their elders.”

  “And good elders are supposed to be wise and respectable, not cranky crows.”

  Both women burst into a fit of laughter. Mari loved this about her grandmother. For all her grumping and cursing, the woman had a heart as light as feathers. Very little negativity took root in Gran’s head. The mind and soul were a garden in the old witch’s eyes and it wouldn’t do to let noxious plants take over the finite space available. She insisted on planting seeds of joy, love, and magic whenever possible.

  “You must not ignore the question, Mari. We old hags do fret so over our precious grandchildren.”

  “I’m fine.” Mari shrugged and refocused her attention on preparing the salad.

  “Fine is what I call Javier who fixes the dishwasher.” Gran shook a bony finger in protest. “You stink like an animal, are pale as egg whites, and look like you have been eating less than a sparrow. If you wish to be fine, fine, but don’t hesitate to tell me what’s in your heart.”

  “I will be fine.” She amended. “I’m walking the path towards fine.” Mari received a doubtful look for that.

  Eventually Gran nodded and said “Very well. It’s time for food. You’ll eat everything I put on your plate.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Once they were seated by the window that was indeed too small, Mari deliberated on how to bring up the topic she came to discuss. The depth of her thoughts must have been obvious because she earned another dissecting look from across the table. Mari smiled innocently and stuffed a tender bite of beef into her mouth. It was much more than she could reasonably chew but at least it gave her the excuse of having a busy tongue.

  A busy tongue wasn’t going to stop Gran. “What is it then?”

  “Hmm?” she grunted with lips pinched together to hold in her food.

  “You’ve finally called because you have something to discuss.” Gran put up a hand when Mari opened her mouth to insist she was here simply for the company. “Quelle horreur! Chew your food before you speak. And don’t lie to your grandmother. It will give you bad karma.”

  “You don’t believe in karma.” Mari garbled out.

  “I believe in the law of return. I’ve seen it work. If you lie to me then you will be lied to in turn.”

  The mangled beef finally slipped down her throat. “Is it really that literal?”

  “Oui, if the Father Above or the Mother Below believes you need a lesson. Now, spit it out—the words, not your food. What do you need to talk about?”

  Mari sipped from her water glass to stall. If Gran suspected she was up to something, she might not get the answers she came for. The old witch was fickle with her teachings and could never make up her mind about what she thought Mari should know. “Do you believe in demons?”

  Two coffee colored eyes bore down on her. “Of a sort. Not the kind that belong to the Abrahamic religions.”

  “Interesting.” Mari speared a leaf of spinach with her fork and examined it in excess. “So does that mean familiars aren’t demons?”

  “Familiars? Is this about that dog?”

  “Yes but I’m only curious. Please don’t shut me down, Gran. For once I just want answers. What harm could information possibly do?” She hadn’t intended to let her lifelong frustration get the best of her but her voice carried the sour taste of fermented anger. Damn her family for denying her the only scraps of connection she had to her mother and to the world that she could have belonged in.

  “There is no such thing as a familiar.” Gran said firmly.

  “But what about Ina? You told me she had one.”

  The old woman set down her fork and sighed like she was too tired to answer questions. “It was no familiar that walked at Ina’s side.”

  “Then what was he? Why is the story so special?”

  “That story was taught to me as a warning, not a heartwarming tale. Ina was powerful, maybe too powerful for her own good.”

  Mari scowled. “Why? Was she a black witch?”

  “No, she was a good witch and a good woman but in the eyes of my coven, her story is an indiscretion, a mark on our bloodline that brought shame to the generations that followed.”

  “Why?” Mari repeated.

  “The answer is far more complicated than you would understand.” Gran silenced the oncoming argument with a shake of her head. “But I owe you more truth than I gave you as a girl. How much do you remember about the story?”

  Mari shrugged. “Just the fun parts about the magic and the wolf.”

  “I will refresh your memory.” Gran closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, setting the stage. She never failed to enthrall Mari with her tales, even now that she was a grown woman.

  By Gran’s recollection, Ina and her parents immigrated to the United States with most of their coven when she was little more than an infant. Gran was unclear as to why the family left Sweden but it wasn’t uncommon at the time. They settled into a large homestead in the far north, raising animals and living off the land. There they had access to endless forests, grasslands, rivers, and lakes to connect them to Earth Mother and grant them energy for their practice. Ina’s family was one of the oldest bloodlines known to the world of magic folk, with an ancient and deep tie to the natural world.

  Like Mari and many who came before her, Ina’s magic manifested in the form of song. She practiced with Kulning, weaving her traditional herding calls into magic melodies. Many family spells came from her and the art of her songs carried on for generations. Over time their line was weakened with mundane blood and much of their power lost, making the songs useless to those who could not muster the strength to manifest magic into them.

  When Ina was a young woman and newly a witch by rites, Mother Moon came to her and, in a pale whisper, gifted her a song. Carried in this song was a type of magic that called upon creatures not of the natural world. They were neither demons nor innocents; complicated and dangerous beings of magic.

  Ina learned of them as she sang this new song in the shadows of trees during the coldest night of winter. A powerful wolf, far larger and more ferocious than an ordinary predator, was summoned by her haunting call. He wasn’t a familiar or a common animal but a beast capable of great violence and evil. The beast did her no harm only because her song soothed his wild spirit. Their magic was crafted of the same stuff, made by the Blue Goddess to influence each other.

  “The powers that run in your blood are many. You have gifts from your father’s ancestors, who believed in purity and wed only their own kind for many generations. And you have gifts from our side. Both earth magic and moon magic, sensual and primal. One of those gifts, granted to us by the Blue Goddess, is linked to these beasts that are also primal in nature. Their magic manifests in carnal rage and hunger. They walk in the skin of wolves and ravage the land wherever they roam. Ina sang with them, lived with them, and eventually died with them. Because of the nature of these beasts, it brings shame on our family.” Gran bowed her head. There was a touch of fear in her dark eyes when they met Mari’s.

  “Evil magic wolves? Seriously?” Mari scoffed. “When is the part where you tell me more than you did when I was a kid? You just changed the wording so the wolf isn’t a familiar.” Ina had been her idol since Mari was a small girl. She refused to believe that Ina did something wrong just because some uppity great-great-grandmothers decided it wasn’t cool to run with wolves.

  “Not strictly evil-hearted but not good by any definition.”

  “So, neutral magic wolves?” It was hard not to lose her temper with Gran when she was so vague. “None of this adds up and you know it. Is the story even true?”

  “Of course it’s true. Witches are not the only being
s of magic in this world, Mari, and witches are not the only ones capable of doing harm if they veer too far from the guidance of the Earth Mother and the love of Father Above.” Gran poured herself another glass of wine from the open bottle in the center of the table. “I can’t explain why this dog attacked those boys and not you but I can guarantee you it was no familiar and no wolf like Ina’s wolf. They never would have caught him, not without many deaths. It is not simple to kill their kind. And that dog is dead, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, he’s dead.” It wasn’t a lie. The dog that they captured was dead. Jasper wasn’t a dog. “What are they called? These horrible, evil wolves?”

  Gran scowled at her sarcastic tone. “They have many names. Some know them simply as ‘the beasts.’ Others call them ‘hounds of hell.’ When I was small, my grandmother titled them ‘children of the moon.’” The old witch tipped back her glass and took a deep sip of merlot.

  “Too much of this doesn’t make sense.”

  “Of course it doesn’t make sense to you. You’ve never walked in the world of magic, read our history and heard the stories of horror and death.” Gran said bitterly.

  “Why can’t I walk in the world magic? I want to hear the horror stories! Please, Gran. Why doesn’t the coven want me? Why do you still follow Dad’s rules?” Mari barked back.

  “Forget about the coven. It’s not everything.” Gran ducked her eyes and took another long sip.

  It was everything to me! She wanted to scream.

  Her grandmother tapped a finger on the table. “You need power to see our world. And training that I cannot give you.”

  “Why not? I know I’m no Ina but I’m not completely powerless. I could learn, even for the sake of passing down knowledge.”

  “Please, Mariella. I cannot argue this again. There is much that you don’t understand about your magic and your family.” The old woman sighed so wearily that Mari almost felt guilty for raising her voice. Almost.

  “And whose fault is that? Why even tell me about magic if you’re just going to give me the runaround?”

  “Because you needed to know why poppies can spring from the ground at the sound of your voice.”

  Mari swallowed her anger and her food, nearly choking on the half-chewed bite. “How do you know about that?”

  “Your father told me.”

  “How did he know about it?” He wasn’t there. He shouldn’t have known. Mari certainly didn’t tell him.

  “A wizard can sense the use of magic, even an unpracticed one like your father. He said there was a potent aura around you that night, one he couldn’t wholly attribute to the full moon. He went to the park to investigate and make sure the only harm done was to the landscaping.” Gran returned her focus to her meal.

  And to make sure it hadn’t been me that eviscerated Jacob and Kevin? Does he really think I’m capable of that? She was more likely to do it with her bare hands than with her meager magic.

  Mari went back to her food as well, unenthusiastically pushing a potato around on the plate. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t mention it to me.”

  “No.” Her grandmother shook her head. “I am sorry, chérie.”

  “Everyone is.” Mari was sick of sorry.

  Chapter 6

  Mari

  Mari was fuming when she exited the automatic doors at the lobby of her grandmother’s apartment complex, which was probably why she didn’t notice the tall blonde man casually leaning against a pillar until he crooned “Hello, little bird.”

  She gave a wimpy shriek before getting a hold of herself and whirling with fists raised. It wasn’t a very impressive move since she had half a loaf of sour dough in one hand and a container of pot roast for Jasper in the other.

  The man let out a deep throated chuckle and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Yeah, that’s why you were hovering in the shadows Phantom of the Opera style, right?” Mari hadn’t intended to sound so snappish but his sudden closeness kick started her adrenaline and she wasn’t happy to be approached by a strange man just before walking through a dark parking lot.

  Laughter twinkled in his deep blue eyes. “I apologize, fledgling. I was merely enjoying the sweet respite of nightfall.” Fledgling? What was with the bird nicknames?

  An odd prickle ran up Mari’s nape when she met his eyes and she became aware of a funny taste on her tongue. There was something familiar about it and not because it was flavored like tonight’s dinner. Examining his face, Mari was positive she didn’t know the man so it wasn’t recognition that had her instincts on high alert. The dimpled smile on his square jaw made him appear friendly and unassuming, despite his height. Yet, there was a suspicious electric hum in the air around him.

  He wasn’t exactly an unpleasant sight with that Minnesota-Scandinavian Viking man look complete with a blonde man-bun that was all the rage in hipster coffee shops but Mari didn’t find him attractive enough to warrant what felt like literal sparks in the air. A mistrustful scowl knitted her brows and his smile widened.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Does that line actually work for you?” She resisted rolling her eyes. Barely.

  More laughter from him, which was starting to feel patronizing. “Always.”

  She readjusted her hold on the Tupperware of meat in case she needed to drop it in a hurry. “Did you need something or do you make a habit of waylaying women in dark parking lots outside retirement communities?”

  “I need to give you something.”

  Mari couldn’t hold back a derisive snort. “Is it the candy that I can have if I just get into your van? Or were you going to sucker me into your super food pyramid scheme?”

  “Suspicious little sparrow.” He tilted his head, studying her with curiosity. “You don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” She was already in a bad mood and this guy was trying her patience.

  “We’re hardly strangers, fledgling. My name is Henrick.” Henrick extended a large hand. Mari didn’t shake it. “I’ve met your grandmother.”

  She studied him back. “Aren’t you a little young for her?”

  “I like your sense of humor.”

  “No seriously, how do you know her? Because I highly doubt she’s comfortable with you stalking her apartment.”

  “She lives across the hall from my aunt, Gretchen.” Henrick explained. “I discovered that your grandmother and I have something in common.”

  Another cool prickle danced up Mari’s spine and a suspicion gathered in her mind about what that uncanny air around him might mean. Other than Dad—and possibly Samuel, though he didn’t seem all that magical—Mari had never met a man with magic. Gran told her little about them because except for the few that joined the covens that their wives belonged to, wizards kept to their own groups. It had a name that made them sound like D&D nerds but she couldn’t recall it.

  Three months ago, if a man with magic approached her, Mari would have been thrilled to speak to him. Now, any modicum of trust she had for strangers, even strangers from the magical world, was completely shattered. Her legs itched with the desire to run and in her head she was calculating how long it would take to jam the key in her car door, open it, and slip inside while her hands were full.

  When Mari didn’t respond, Henrick said “Why don’t you give me your number? I think you and I might have something in common too.”

  “What might that be?”

  His lips twitched in another smile, this time teasing. Mari imagined he used that smile on women often and expected it would get him what he wanted. “Something enchanting.”

  Conflict split her right down the middle. On the one hand, Mari had just stormed out of her grandmother’s apartment in a rage because after years of begging, she wasn’t allowed the answers she wanted about the magical world. Answers that, coincidentally, this man might very well have. On the other, her gut was adamant that there was something off about this guy and whether or not he wielded
magic, she should be cautious. Gran was always quick to point out that the most powerful witches were usually the darkest. That probably applied to wizards too.

  “I don’t give my number to strangers.”

  “We won’t be strangers if we become friends.” Another disarming smile. Damn, this guy knew what he was doing. “It’s fine, little bird. Just take this and if you change your mind, call me.”

  Mari eyed the card in his outstretched hand warily. Before she could make up her mind, Henrick set it on top of her Tupperware. She instinctively stepped back and nearly jumped out of her skin when the automatic doors whooshed open behind her.

  Henrick shook his head at her and said “I’ll see you around, fledgling.” Without another word he turned in the direction of the street and walked off.

  Mari waited inside the lobby with a pounding heart for almost fifteen minutes before she risked stepping back into the lot. She’d parked her dinky Corolla under one of the lamps but unfortunately, she still had to set everything down and unlock the door manually. Every second felt like it stretched on and gave Henrick the perfect opportunity to leap out of the shadows and grab her. He didn’t seem like the kidnapping type but Mari was still incredibly on edge.

  She slammed the locks down the moment she was in her car and backed out as soon as the key was turned. Her spike of adrenaline didn’t die down until she was pulling into the parking lot of Klein Park. Mari hated herself for being so easily frightened. She hated what a coward she’d become.

  That self-loathing was forgotten, at least temporarily, when an eager but somewhat irritated Jasper, came bounding out of the trees to greet her. The expression on his face made him look like an impatient parent demanding to know where she’d been. Mari held up the container of pot roast and explained her tardiness.

  Telling him about Henrick made her feel silly, as did the way her anxiety picked back up when she mentioned it. Proving once again that he was far more intelligent than any animal, Jasper growled in response to her wavering voice. He ignored the roast to sit with her, pressing comfortingly into her side until she was calm again.