by Megan Morgan
“The clean-up still going on?” Deacon asked.
Dr. Winston nodded. “Some of the bodies were packed up to be sent to my lab. They all reverted back to their Wolvite forms when they died. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.”
Lorena folded her arms. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it, and how you managed to convince the agency to turn out.” She swallowed. “Even if it did end in a massacre.”
Deacon slipped an arm around her waist. “If they hadn’t been there it would have been a massacre still. Only, it would have been the people in this town being slaughtered. Either way, it was gonna end bad. Wasn’t no stopping it.”
“It made sense, what you assumed,” Dr. Winston said. “The sudden migration, the idea they might want revenge. The agency listens to me. I’m sorry it ended the way it did, too. I wish they had listened to you when you tried to warn them. Imagine the advances we could have made, scientifically, and socially. They were blind with rage. It was a foolish move on their part.”
“They’re not used to fighting us,” Lorena said. “They’ve never had the upper hand. They weren’t using reason, just emotion.”
Deacon squeezed her hip. “You want some coffee?” he asked Dr. Winston. “I got breakfast on. You’re welcome to eat with us.”
Dr. Winston lifted a hand. “I just wanted to come by and give you an update. I’m going back to the farmhouse and sleeping for a couple of hours. I’m dead on my feet right now. Then I have to head to Lexington and catch a plane to DC. I’ll have so much work on my hands for the next few weeks.”
“Are they still cleaning up bodies?” Lorena asked.
“Yes. There were some humans.” He paused. “Witches, I assume. I’m sorry about that. They don’t know what to do with them, if they can identify them, notify families…some of them might not even have families, from what you told me.”
“Did you find her?” Deacon asked.
“I didn’t, and I made sure I looked at every human body. You should probably go and look yourself, make sure. Maybe she got away. I think many more than we’re guessing did.”
Deacon’s eyes were filled with consternation. “I’d ask you to keep hush about what you know. We ain’t gonna tell my family who she was, at least not yet. I don’t think my Mama and Daddy could take it.”
Lorena slipped a comforting arm around him.
“Of course,” Dr. Winston said. “I won’t say a word. I’m going to have my hands full with other matters, figuring out the human forms of Wolvites, trying to connect them through their ancestors to Lycans. I’ve just been shown how little I know.” He squinted at Deacon. “She was part of your family already, though. What will you tell them?”
“My Daddy thinks she was helping the Wolvites. Me and Jack decided to stick close to the truth, but not the whole truth—she was with the Wolvites, pretending to be our friend.”
“If she’s still alive,” Lorena said, “this could become very complicated.”
Dr. Winston nodded. “They haven’t done anything with the human bodies yet, just moved them to a makeshift morgue out in a field. People from Blue Ditch are out in droves, gawking. If you tell them you want to try to identify someone, they’ll probably let you through. If not, drop my name.”
Lorena looked up at Deacon. “Dafydd probably protected her. She’s out there somewhere.”
“She’s always been out there somewhere.” Deacon spoke grimly.
“Call me in a few days,” Dr. Winston said to Lorena. “We’ll talk about some things. Right now, try to rest and clear your head. I know this is an awful thing, but hopefully, a lot of knowledge will come from it. Hopefully we can stop this from ever happening again.”
Her head would probably never be clear. The future was hazy, concerning her job and everything else, and she was strangely complacent with that, too tired and too damaged by the horrors she’d witnessed to care what happened next.
Dr. Winston left and they went back inside. Clem trotted out of the kitchen, carrying a hunk of steak in his mouth.
“Go on.” Deacon shooed him back. “I’ll give you a flannel cake, too.”
“I’m sorry I took him out in the woods,” Lorena said. “I figured he could track you much better than I could. I realize he could have gotten killed.”
“But he didn’t. He was a damn hero. I’m glad you took him out.” He kissed her forehead. “You were a hero, too. You saved this town. You saved us.”
At what cost?
“You can’t feel guilty about what happened.” He smoothed her hair back. “They would have done what they did no matter what. A lot more people would have died if they’d run up on the town without any intervention. Then the agency would have turned around and wiped them out anyway. There was no way for it to end good, unless they listened to you about talking peace.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Deacon, about Chelsea. This is a mess.”
“Hey, she was still alive. I reckon that’s something. I’m glad you didn’t take that offer they gave you, to go live with the witches and take one of them Wolvites as a mate.”
She lifted her head. “Did you think I would do that?”
He shrugged. “Not really. But I thought they was gonna kill us all. It would have been your chance to live. Even though I knew the agency was waiting, after you told us in the cave.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a life to me.” She stretched up and kissed him. “Besides, I’m already a Lycan’s mate. I don’t think they could brainwash me enough to forget that.”
“Yeah.” He stroked his fingers through her hair. “Reckon we gotta talk about that, don’t we?”
“We will.” She pinched his side. “After some food and sleep, though. I can’t talk about anything too serious right now. My brain is offline.”
They walked to the kitchen. On the way there, Lorena paused at the doorway of Deacon’s office. Jack was stretched out on the couch adjacent to the door, underneath a blanket.
Zeke was taken to the hospital last night. His wife called a few hours later, to tell them he had a concussion but he’d be fine. Jack crashed at Deacon’s place, mentally unable to go to his house where all his former wife’s things remained.
Lorena motioned to Deacon that she’d join him momentarily, and entered the room. She sat down on the edge of the couch.
Jack wasn’t asleep. He opened his eyes. He was pale and looked depleted, the whites of his eyes shot through with red.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You want some breakfast?”
He shook his head.
“It’s going to be okay.” She rubbed his arm. “I know it’s hard right now, but no one will ever know, just the four of us. It wasn’t your fault, Jack. She had a spell on you.”
“It’s not your fault either.” His voice was gravelly. “What happened last night.”
She looked down.
“We both got put in situations we couldn’t control. We were both manipulated.”
She leaned over and placed a kiss on his shoulder. She would have hugged him and tried to say all the right words, but there weren’t any. This would take some getting over, for both of them.
“I don’t feel anything for her anymore, it’s all gone.” He covered his eyes. “I just feel dirty and sick. And used.”
She rubbed his arm again.
He drew a shaky breath. “I reckon this is where you make a joke about hillbillies fucking their cousins.”
She wiped at her eyes. “No, Jack.” Her voice wavered too. “It’s not funny at all.”
“Kinda wish she’d got what she wanted. Kinda wish they’d killed me.”
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
“I’m sorry too, Lorena.” He uncovered his eyes. They were bright. “I ain’t sad they got mowed down, not one bit. I hope they got her, too. I’m glad it happened. They wouldn’t have showed us no mercy either, not one bit.”
She didn’t reply, and she didn’t blame him for feel
ing that way. She also didn’t doubt him.
She got up and joined Deacon in the kitchen. Clem munched on a pancake. At least someone was enjoying the aftermath.
She and Deacon ate breakfast in silence. Lorena picked at her food, though it was delicious. She felt like she was moving underwater, heavy and sluggish and mentally and physically exhausted.
A car pulled in the driveway. Deacon looked up, then at her.
“Probably my family.” He gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry, we’re gonna have a lot of visitors today. I ain’t gonna be able to keep them away.”
“It’s all right.”
Indeed, members of Deacon’s family had arrived. His father, grandmother, and grandfather. Lorena stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as they hugged Deacon in turn.
“I brought you some poultices.” Hazel pushed a package into his hands. “For any bumps and bruises.”
“Thanks, Grammy.”
“Where is he?” She adjusted her glasses.
Deacon pointed to the office.
Lorena returned to her stool and resumed picking at her food. The soft murmur of voices filtered into the kitchen, Deacon talking to his father and grandfather, Hazel talking to Jack. Lorena bristled and fought the urge to go in and drag the old woman away from him. He didn’t need her meddling right now.
Deacon, Ray, and Clem—the grandfather, not the dog—walked into the kitchen. Three generations of the same hardy, handsome physique, the same beautiful eyes and square jaw. If Deacon was going to look like them in later years, she would definitely stick around.
Ray touched her shoulder.
“Thank you, for searching for my son and nephews. If not for you, things might have turned out a whole lot worse. It was brave of you to go out in those woods and risk your life like that.”
“I feel like I could have done more to stop what happened.”
“You saved this town, I think that’s plenty.”
Clem patted her other shoulder. “You’re quite a woman. Not like that one Jack had. If they didn’t get her, we’re going to hunt her down. Can’t believe she tricked him like that. Can’t believe she was trying to get us all. It’ll do him good to see her dead.”
“I think what Jack needs right now is some time to heal.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, he’s upset. This is hard for him.”
“Course it is,” Clem said. “But my Hazel will help him. She’ll heal his mind and spirit, she’s got her ways. She’ll get him right as rain again. He’ll move on.”
Lorena narrowed her eyes.
The men continued talking over coffee. Lorena slid quietly off her stool and left the room.
She went into Deacon’s bedroom, where her luggage sat, and dug through her duffel bag. She found the book Hazel had given her and stepped out into the hallway with it.
Hazel stepped out of the opposite room. She lifted her glasses and wiped her eyes.
“My poor grandson. He’s been through so much. I never trusted that woman, not one bit. She was always too shifty for my taste. I was right to dislike her.”
She was clearly reaping some self-righteous satisfaction from this.
“Here.” Lorena held the book out, “I’m giving this back to you.”
Hazel lowered her glasses and peered at it. “Keep it, it’ll teach you how to be a proper witch.”
“I am a proper witch. There’s nothing in here I wish to know.”
Hazel pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Dear, you don’t know half of what you should. That book will teach you more than you could ever imagine. I suggest you read it thoroughly.”
Lorena stepped toward her. The old woman shrank back.
“There’s nothing in here I wish to know,” Lorena repeated. She pressed the book into Hazel’s hands. “There’s some things a witch shouldn’t do.” She looked out to the kitchen, at Clem. “And I never will do those things. I’m not that kind of witch.”
“You’ve been tainted by that devil woman.” Hazel snatched the book away. “She put ideas in your head.”
“I’d watch who you call a devil.” Lorena fixed her with an unflinching gaze. “She manipulated people, which I hear isn’t so uncommon.” She was too tired, too raw, and too certain the witch in front of her was just as bad as the one who tried to kill them last night. Deacon would see it someday. She’d make sure of it.
“Child, you are lost in the woods.” Hazel emitted a soft, haughty laugh.
“No, I know exactly where I am. I’m going to be the best witch I can be, without your help.”
She turned and walked into the kitchen. Deacon looked up and flashed her a small, tight smile. She smiled in return and sat down, picking up her coffee cup.
Deacon stepped away from the counter and walked over to her, rubbed her back, and kissed the top of her head.
“You okay?” he murmured.
“Yeah, I think I will be.” So many aspects of her life were about to change, but she would float along with the tide. A big rock like Deacon would help keep her head above water.
She clutched his hand and held on.
Epilogue
Lorena sat on a blanket, on bright green grass in a wide field flanked by trees. She was hunched over a notebook, writing.
She hadn’t found much in the woods to catalog since spring began. Over the winter, there were tracks in the snow and the ground remained unchanging, so impressions didn’t fade as fast. Bits of hair and droppings became embedded in the ice. In the spring, she faced constant rain and muddy forest floors, a continually shifting ecosystem that carried evidence away. Her collection kit remained woefully unused this week.
She lifted her head and soaked in the beauty around her. She loved spring, despite the difficulties it brought to her work.
The forest had come into full bloom, canopied with thick green leaves and full of brightly-colored flowering bushes. The grass was full and lush. The sun shone bright and the day was warm. If she could bottle the perfect weather, it would be this.
She checked the time on her phone. A little after noon. She returned to writing, racing to get her notes down before she was interrupted.
A few minutes later, a vehicle rumbled in the distance. As it drew closer on the nearby dirt road, she smiled. The truck’s engine wasn’t the only thing that signaled his arrival. She felt him too, like a whisper on the breeze.
Deacon pulled into the field and parked next to her truck. She waved. After shutting off the engine, he got out and waved back. He wore a black t-shirt that showed off his biceps. The warm weather also meant bulky body-hiding coats were no longer necessary, and she was thankful.
He walked across the grass toward her, a cooler in one hand, and a duffel bag in the other. He set them down next to her blanket.
“Brought you some lunch. Us. I don’t gotta be back until two, the boss has some stuff to take care of.” He lowered himself onto the blanket and sprawled next to her.
Still a jack of all trades. Deacon had spent the winter working on cars at his father’s garage in town and now he worked in a lumber yard. He said multiple jobs kept him from getting bored. She understood. Because sometimes, even now, she longed for a break in routine.
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. He pushed his fingers into her hair and kept her there for a moment.
When she drew back, he smiled, that mischievous grin of his.
“Figured we could eat, have a few beers,” he glanced around the field, “maybe do a little frolicking.”
“Someone could drive past.”
“They could.” He squeezed her thigh. “How was your hike today?”
She wiggled one of her boot-clad feet, which she was trying to keep off the blanket. “Muddy. I’m glad the rain finally stopped, though. This weather is beautiful. It can stay like this as far as I’m concerned.”
He sat up and propped his chin on her shoulder, and peeked over at her notebook. “You writing me a love letter?” He smelled good, better than the
fresh grass and flowers. He was a little sweaty and that made him even more appealing. Her hard-working man.
She poked his thigh with her pen. “No, it’s my notes. I type them up at night and send them to Dr. Winston.”
“Sounds boring.”
She closed her notebook. “I never thought I’d be happy as an independent researcher. I also never thought I’d settle on one field of study.”
“At least he’s still paying you.” He leaned over to the cooler. “The word ‘independent’ usually means doing lots of tricks for little change.”
She tossed the notebook aside. “It’s not what I’m used to, but the perks are worth it. Getting to stay here, with you. Enjoying life in a small town.”
He handed her a can of beer. “You don’t miss the big city?”
“Sometimes, I guess.” She cracked the can open. She had something to tell him, but the moment wasn’t right yet. “This place reminds me of when I was a kid, what it was like living on my Grandma’s farm. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I don’t think I could have learned what I have about my powers in the big city.”
She’d been studying witchery with Zeke’s wife, Stacy. This irritated Hazel, which was a magnificent bonus. Stacy was sassy and smart and she shared Lorena’s dislike of the old woman. Deacon still didn’t seem to get why she didn’t care for his grandmother, but he didn’t push her to be friends, either. If Lorena ever discovered the old biddy had some kind of spell on Deacon to keep him blind, she would kick her into orbit.
“You’re becoming a good witch.” Deacon kissed her temple. “The witch a Lycan man needs.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not even.” She’d gotten handy with a few simple spells. She’d also made a few potions, including one that cleared Deacon of a nasty cold this past winter. Lycans healed quickly but they were still susceptible to germs.
“You are,” Deacon said. “Don’t doubt yourself.”
“I thought other things made me what a Lycan man needs.” She popped a button on her shirt. “These are much better than my witch skills.”
