by Kat Bostick
And where did Jasper tie into it? He shifted forms that night. Was it in response to her magic? Mari tried singing to him as she did her plants on several occasions since that night and nothing happened. Gran was decidedly unclear in her retelling of Ina’s story but Mari was almost positive the glaring detail left out was that Ina’s wolf was a werewolf. Shouldn’t that mean Mari’s magic impacted Jasper in some way?
Today she would do anything necessary to make Gran tell her the true story.
Pacing distracted her just enough to miss the sound of Gran’s car coming up the driveway. A rhythmic tap on the front door had her leaping into the air like a scared cat. Jasper slid silently from the couch and stationed himself between her and the door, rumbling a muted warning.
“It’s Gran, remember? Please don’t play the villain from Red Riding Hood.” Mari shooed the beast away and hurried to the door before Gran could let herself in. His hackles were up and his eyes burning hot but the growling ceased.
Mari slowly guided the front door open. The old woman on the other side smiled when she caught sight of her granddaughter, revealing a history of similar expressions etched into the weathered skin around her eyes and mouth.
“Mariella, you are exceptionally beautiful today.” Gran enveloped her with thin but soft arms. The comforting chocolate and herb scent that belonged only to her embraced Mari too. The smell and the warmth disappeared abruptly as the tiny woman propelled herself backwards. The cheeriness on her face died and a suspicious scowl marred her brow. “What have you done?”
“Well, that’s actually why I asked you here.”
“You have changed. I can feel it.” A chill ran up Mari’s spine when her grandmother spoke nearly the same words as Henrick. Was her shift in power that obvious?
She gently cupped behind her grandmother’s elbow and led her inside. “Come in, then we’ll talk.”
“Maudit! Watch out Mari!”
The next ten seconds were such a whirlwind that it took Mari four times that long to process what happened. First, Gran noticed the wolf sitting across the room. Then she gripped Mari by the arm and with notable strength for someone so frail, shoved her against the door, shielding her granddaughter with her body. Mari had to be impressed with the old woman, throwing all five foot nothing of her osteoporosis ridden self in front of her kin to defend against a beast thrice her size.
In response to Gran’s manhandling, Jasper lunged forward. The two angry parties glared at each other, neither willing to relent and lower their eyes for one sliver of a second.
“Gran, stop! Jasper won’t hurt you.” Mari put a calming hand on Gran’s shoulder and stepped around her to diffuse the situation.
“You can be such a fool, Mariella!” Her words were laced with fear and despite her show of bravery, she was beginning to tremble.
“It’s okay, Gran. Come sit down.” Any effort to move Gran to the couch proved fruitless. The old woman locked her knees and dug her heels into the floor, effectively turning herself into an immovable statue. Her normally soft brown eyes were rounded and white with terror.
“How did you get in here, wolf?” Gran snarled at Jasper. The snarl rebounded from the red wolf and he took two steps forward. “You stay away from her, chien crasseux.”
“Gran! Je ne parle pas Francais but I can guess by your tone that whatever you said to Jasper wasn’t polite.” Mari chided.
“You would have me be polite to a monster? Stay back, loup-garou!”
“Aha! So you do know what he is. I knew it!” She crossed her arms and glowered at her grandmother, only feeling slightly guilty for the terrifying werewolf surprise. The guilt gnawed at her when she saw the ashen shade Gran’s complexion took on and she turned to ask “Jas, would you go sit on the couch before you give Gran a heart attack?”
Jasper backpedaled until his left haunch bumped the arm of the couch but refused to sit. This situation could go south very quickly.
“Mari, come outside with me now. It’s not safe with this beast.” Gran rasped.
“It’s perfectly safe! Jasper has never—“ Mari stopped when she realized how instinctively a lie rolled off her tongue. Technically, Jasper had done a few things to hurt her, even if they were well deserved. “Jasper saved me, Gran. He protects me.”
“This is the dog that killed the Nordbury boy?” Gran spat Jacob’s name out like it soured her tongue. “I should have known this day would come. What have we done? You are so unprepared. He will harm you. Their kind does not tolerate our kind.”
Jasper made his unhappiness known with a menacing snap of his teeth.
“Their kind? You mean werewolves? Forget to mention that little deet the last time we talked?” Mari tried to keep her temper in check but this was getting ridiculous.
“We must go!”
“Enough, Gran!” She wormed out of the old woman’s grasp and quickly covered the space between her and Jasper.
“Mari, no!” Gran shrieked as if Mari was walking off a cliff.
“He seems pretty tolerant to me.” She knelt and put an affectionate arm around Jasper’s shoulders, digging fingers into fur. His eyes stayed firmly on Gran but he made a show of nosing Mari’s exposed throat, all with the smuggest look a wolf was capable of. “See?”
“You know what he is?” It came out as a question but Gran’s voice was heavy with admonishment.
“As do you, mémère. I think I deserve some answers.”
“What did you cast on him?” She was avoiding the conversation.
Mari sucked air through her teeth to quell her growing frustration before responding. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to.”
“What reason did he give you to curse him?” The old woman barely blinked.
“I didn’t curse him. Whatever happened, it was good magic.” Her face warmed at the memory of touching his bare skin. “How do you know he’s cursed? Is that why he can’t change? I need you to tell me exactly what you know.”
Gran’s tight-lipped silence was infuriating. Enough was enough! She was a grown woman and a witch—a true witch—and she needed to know about herself, her heritage, and her powers.
By the time Mari realized that Gran was casting, it was too late to stop her. The throaty incantation bubbled from her mouth with deliberate haste. Her arms extended to their full length, rigid and tensed. Familiar warmth tickled up Mari’s belly just as the earthy taste of magic settled onto her tongue.
“Reveal yourself, shapeshifter.” Gran commanded.
Beside her, Jasper bristled and tensed the way Gran’s body had when she was casting. Mari crouched and took his head in her palms, tugging his attention to her so she could find the damage Gran inflicted. When their eyes met, she wasn’t looking at a wolf.
She saw only him. The man. He looked as heartbroken as he first appeared in her dreams. All around him was wispy black and gold, tethering his body in place, caging him in darkness.
“Oh, Jasper.” Mari could feel every moment of his torment, every ounce of his despair. It was too much to bear.
There was only a breath of warning before the world around Mari zoomed away as she was sucked backwards into a tunnel of black. In mere seconds, the blackness swallowed her whole. For the second time in her life—and in one week, at that—Mari fainted.
✽✽✽
“You did this, demon!” Gran’s tenor raked through the fuzz in Mari’s head, clearing it away and leaving discomfort in it’s place.
Her words were met with a growl that carried similar hostility. Slowly, the fogginess left Mari like a receding tide, starting with her skull and travelling all the way to her toes. She wiggled those toes tentatively and felt a wet nose press against them. It tickled, coaxing out a tepid giggle. The sound seemed wholly inappropriate given the human and wolf curses that filled the space around her.
“Talk to me, Mariella.” A wrinkled hand caressed Mari’s cheek.
All she managed was a groan that sounded vaguely like “Jas?” The wet nose gave her foot a
prod in response.
“Send this dog away!” Gran demanded.
The force of her breath jostled Mari’s head, which was apparently in Gran’s lap. How did she go from arguing with Gran to lying limp on the living room floor? She sat up cautiously, swaying as little black dots marked her vision.
Jasper snarled at the insult. “It’s rude to call a werewolf a dog, FYI.” Mari explained.
He licked the closest part of Mari, the sole of her foot, and her knee jerked involuntary. The frightened old witch snaked her arms around Mari and heaved her away, dousing Jasper’s tentative happiness.
Mari understood how offended he was at the implication that he was a threat to her. He could be too rough to make his message clear—communication without words lacked delicacy—but Jasper would never hurt her. She was his and he wanted only to protect her. Especially from nasty old witches that made Mari’s heart ache.
His?
The thought faltered as she realized it wasn’t entirely her own. Not that she was reading Jasper’s mind or vice versa—at least, she hoped—but somehow she grasped the emotions storming inside of him. That was why she fainted. The feelings that plagued him were overwhelming, especially when they flowed freely into her. Was this another dimension of her magic? Was she an empath now that her power was activated?
Mari was distantly aware that her grandmother was speaking. She hadn’t intended to ignore Gran but she was too caught up in the comforting warmth emanating from Jasper. Wherever she experienced emotions, his were there too, flickering in and out like blinking Christmas lights.
There was a lingering tingle in her extremities as Mari rose from the floor. Once she was positioned directly between Jasper and Gran, she put a palm up to each of them, signaling for them to stay put.
“No more evasion. You’re going to answer my questions with one hundred percent honesty.” Mari leveled the old witch with a stern glare. “And you,” she fixed her attention on Jasper. “have got some ‘splaining to do, mister. What is that magic gunk in your wolf noggin?”
“He’s cursed.” Said Gran.
“Yes, I get it, Gran. Apparently you hate werewolves. But that doesn’t explain—“
“It does. Someone has cursed him. That is what you saw.”
“Trapped. Broken.” She whispered sadly, suddenly understanding. “They were your…thoughts? Memories? Everything that I’ve been dreaming for weeks was coming from you.” She crouched beside him. “How did this happen? Who cursed you? You can’t just go around cursing people.”
Jasper’s only response was an amused chuff.
“It takes a very specific brand of magic to curse a wolf in this way.” Gran eyed Mari with unexpected sorrow on her face. “So few know and practice this magic anymore because the bloodlines have been weakened or lost to wolves and witch hunts.” There was another pause as she stared at Mari without really seeing her. “It is likely that only the witch who cast it can break it…”
Gran hunched and blew out a weary sigh. “Oh chérie. What a glorious mess your father and I have made.” She threaded fingers through a lock of her grey hair. “I will answer as many of your questions as I can but you must understand, there are parts of our family history that have been lost. Traditions and practices that were once vital to us were set aside when we left our homes in the forests and prairies to seek out cities. There is much I cannot tell you simply because I do not know it.
“If you have changed in the way that I sense, it’s dangerous to keep you in the dark. Either way, it is dangerous for you. There are others like us and others like him,” she pointed somewhat rudely at the wolf. “who wish you harm or wish to possess you simply for the power you were born with. Your father and I never handled this well but we weren’t wrong to shield you from it.”
She gave Jasper a sour look. “For better or for worse, he has changed everything. The wolf’s arrival is the catalyst for a divine plan. What chaos and peril that will bring, I cannot say.”
“Alright-y,” Mari said as casually as she could, trying to ignore the ominous tone of Gran’s words. “Where do we begin?”
“I don’t trust the wolf.” Gran protested, arms crossed like a stubborn teenager.
“I do.” Mari assured, smiling warmly at Jasper. Ever since the solstice moon she was overwhelmed with affection for him, to the point that it was almost embarrassing. Perhaps because now she recognized who he was underneath all of that fur. That and he was the only person who wasn’t coddling her or lying to her. “With my life.”
Jasper responded by happily nuzzling her hip. They were a pack in his mind and that meant they would keep each other safe.
Mari wondered if that explained the strange emotional connection between them. Plenty of the books and movies they’d delved into described pack bonds, a magical link that bound pack mates together. Some kind of magic, presumably werewolf magic, wove between them when Jasper gave her that lovely dead rabbit. Maybe there was some truth to those stories. She would ask him about it when she was done interrogating her grandmother.
Resolve found a home on Gran’s time touched face. With a final sigh, she let Mari help her off the floor. “From the moment I could speak, I was taught the dangers of werewolves. They had only just become an enemy to witches then. Now they loathe our kind and kill them with little provocation.”
Jasper grumbled noisily.
“Obviously not all werewolves.” Mari patted him sympathetically.
Was it weird for her to pet him? She’d never actually asked. If he was a man and he wanted her to touch him, she would probably oblige.
She shook her head and forced herself back on topic. “What happened to make them enemies?”
“I don’t think it was one dramatic event, rather a series of them. For almost a century there has been animosity between werewolves and witches. Modern times have changed our ways—stifled our power, robbed us of tradition—but witches have adapted. It is not so easily done for those like him.” Gran gestured to Jasper. “Witches can hide in plain sight. That is a challenge for a wolf. He cannot disguise his nature. He may even be at the mercy of it.”
Jasper gave another grumble of disagreement.
“Are they in hiding? Is that why I’ve never seen one before?”
“I don’t know how they live but I believe they keep to the outskirts of inhabited areas, interacting with humans only when they need to. It’s safer for everyone that way. The beasts are known for their poor control and blood thirsty ways.”
Mari lowered her voice and mumbled “it sounds like witches are racist against werewolves if you ask me.”
Jasper tapped his tail in agreement.
“They are savage and untamed. He hasn’t killed you,” Gran’s dark eyes grazed Jasper. “and for that I am grateful. Do not expect the same security if you encounter another. They kill indiscriminately. If they scent your magic and know what you are, they will tear your throat out for spite.”
“What about Ina? Her wolf was a werewolf, wasn’t he? That’s why you didn’t want to tell me the real story.”
The old woman’s mouth made a moue of derision. “Yes. Ina was one of the first witches to make contact with the werewolves in North America. She rekindled an old connection, marrying two forms of magic that were designed to work together. Her blood—our blood—is unique from most types of magic. That’s why the wolf heeded the call of her song. As for the rest? There was no magic involved, only the youthful whimsy of a young woman out of her depths.”
“What is ‘the rest?’”
“Ina was known by many as The Witch ho Sang With Wolves. On the night of the full moon, deep in the heart of winter, Mother Moon taught her a song to call the children of the moon. This part you know. She carried that song with her into the forest and sang for these mysterious children that could take the shape of wolves. The first to answer her call was the alpha of a formidable pack. They called him King of the Northern Lights. He was a fierce leader and warrior.” Gran bowed her head in sha
me. “There is some of him in our blood just as there is some of Ina.”
“They were lovers?” Mari nearly jumped from her seat. “That is a very different story than the one you told me.”
“Over the years the legend of Ina was twisted to fit the narrative that suited our bloodline best. Better to let lesser witches think our foremother held a pack of wolves under her spell because she was a powerful luminary rather than explaining that she led them side by side as a wolf’s mate.” Some of the contempt leeched from Gran’s gaze as she watched Jasper rest his head against Mari’s leg. “There was a time when we protected each other from greater enemies, like witch hunters. Once, we magic folk were good friends with the children of the moon.”
“More than friends.” Mari muttered, followed by a quiet “sweet baby werewolf Jesus.”
“Ina was one of few witches to look beyond a werewolf’s propensity for bestial behavior and accept him. It was not only because they are creatures of violence that witches avoided such relations.
“The gifts we are given by Earth Mother are precious. They are passed down through blood and only children born of parents who both possess the ability to wield magic will inherit the full weight of that magic. Even if he hadn’t been a werewolf, Ina’s decision to take a husband who was not a wizard was looked down upon by magic folk. Bloodlines and family names carried clout. In some cases, like with your father’s name, they still do. Ina was of good breeding and brandished unusual power. It was expected that she would marry a wizard and pass on that power to her children. Instead, she birthed mutts.”
“Mutts? Those mutts birthed you and I, Gran.” Mari stepped away from the couch and began pacing out her anger in front of the coffee table. Jasper was probably the first werewolf Gran had ever met. How could she be so hostile?
“When I was fourteen, three sisters from my coven were murdered during their vacation. A mother and two children slaughtered by werewolves simply for the fact that they were witches. When I was thirty-two one of my very best friends was found in a ditch on the edge of the forest with so many bites out of her flesh that they could barely identify her. When your mother was in high school, her friend’s entire family was killed while camping in South Dakota. Even the father, who was as mundane as they come, was ravaged by wolves.
