Leaning my cheek into my palm, I ask, “How does that work?”
“We can communicate through images and thoughts, without having to transform,” she replies. “Once they pledge their loyalty to us, they are gifted with the ability to speak as we do.”
“That’s awesome.” I’m almost speechless.
Almost.
“So, how does the whole Watcher, Follower thing work? I mean, I know the Conways pretty much force their people into choosing life or death.”
“They do. Once a human learns what they are, they’re either killed or picked to be a Follower. I don’t know how the Conways choose another person’s fate.” She glances toward the carpet, deep in thought, but is quick to add, “We don’t do that—make them choose. Our Watchers help on their own accord.”
I nod. “That’s good.”
When Beth doesn’t respond, I ask, “So, will I be able to do that?” Questions zigzag through my brain, waiting their turn to be asked.
“Do what?”
“Communicate with Watchers.”
“Well, of course you will. We all have that ability, but you won’t obtain it until your birthday,” she explains. “Whatever you do, Candra, don’t lose that locket.” She nods to the metal heart lying on my chest.
I shake my head. “I won’t. Promise.”
She carefully lifts Shakespeare off the end table.
“Wait,” I say. There’s one more pressing question I have to ask. “What if I can change everything?”
Beth’s eyes scrunch into a questioning look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What if I can stop this?”
“Candra, don’t you think we’ve tried everything by now?” She releases a short sigh. “We’ve tried to be peacemakers, but they won’t give until we do.”
“I can talk to Ben,” I say, hoping my words might mean something.
But Beth’s already moving her head, disagreeing with me. “No, I can’t let you see him anymore. This is for your own protection. I can’t emphasize how important you are—to us, and your parents. It simply won’t work.”
“I haven’t tried yet,” I mumble. Adrenaline races through my bloodstream, swirling into every open port of my body. Is it the idea that I’m forbidden to see him, or the idea that each time I’m with him may be my last?
Chapter Sixteen
I’ve never been to Maggie’s alone—only just that once with Beth. Am I scared? A little. I don’t know what her visitor policy is like, but I guess I’ll find out.
I fibbed earlier. I told Beth I might work today, when I knew I wasn’t. I can’t exactly come out and say, “Oh, I meant to tell you—I’m going to visit Maggie. Hope she doesn’t mind.” Yeah, right. Beth will never in a million years fall for that one. She’ll keep me locked in my room until I graduate. I can picture it now: Me seeing the crazy eyes outside my window. My nightmares returning. Maybe even going without food until Beth gets over her grudge and feeds me something.
So, I have to stick to the plan. I have to do this alone, and cautiously. Maggie seemed like a nice lady when I met her. She’ll remember me. There shouldn’t be a reason she denies my company.
The only reason I’m doing is to see if she can clear things up for me. Beth’s explained a lot, but there’s still something I want to know, one question Beth told me is impossible. My gut nags me to believe otherwise.
Outside, the brittle air clings to my exposed skin—around my neck, my face, and my hands. Leaves skirt the bottom of trees, and only move when the wind passes through. The sky’s a hazy grey. Clouds slowly pass overhead.
I bury my hands in my pockets and my face in my jacket; I have it zipped as far as the zipper will let me. The trip isn’t long by car, but by foot is a different story. It’ll take me at least twenty minutes to get there.
Inside, I’m a wreck. What if she tells me to get lost? I mean, she seems powerful with her voodoo ways or whatever. What if she calls Beth and tells her I stopped by? This might be a mistake, but she also might be the only person I can talk to right now—the only person who will understand what’s going on and know how I can stop this mess.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later I arrive at her Godforsaken house. The decrepit place still looks like a T-Rex shit on it.
I hesitate before walking up the dirt driveway, if you want to call it that. She doesn’t even own a car from the looks of things. But then, she doesn’t really need one. I guess being a werewolf has its perks.
I make progress, trekking up to her front porch. Dried herbs hang from the rafters. I push a couple out of the way just to get to the door. Before I can knock, Maggie greets me.
Her face is rigid, her eyes tired. “Well, what’re you doing just standing there looking dumb?” she asks, then turns around and disappears into the house.
I step inside. Barely. “How’d—how’d you know I was here?”
“You’re too loud,” she grumbles from the kitchen.
I shut the door behind me. “Too loud?” I repeat.
She nods in an almost sarcastic manner. “Yes, that’s what I said. Are you deaf now?”
This woman seriously has some nerve. I should turn around and walk out, but I came here to get an answer, and I’m not leaving until I get one.
Maggie pivots around to the countertop and ties dried flowers together. A bow is perfectly bound at the center when she finishes.
“I wondered if you could, maybe, help me,” I say.
She gripes almost inaudibly. I stand there, too nervous to budge. The house freaks me out. Hell, she freaks me out.
“Well, speak up, girl. What is it that you want?” Her back still faces me as she sets aside the flowers and begins working on herbs.
“Can I…” I begin to speak, but the words clog my throat. I’ve been over this in my head, and it seemed so easy. This is different. This is the real deal.
“Ey?” She turns around and glares at me. “Spit it out.”
“Can I ask you something?”
She drops her herbs on the counter, like she’s frustrated with me. “What have I stood here and told you for the last five minutes? Get on with it. If you’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it.”
I bite back the urge to say something totally uncalled for. But, if I lived by myself, I’d probably be bitter too.
“Is there a way to stop this?” I cringe, waiting for her to bark at me.
She turns around, working on gathering her dead plants into an arrangement. For a minute or so, she doesn’t answer me. I contemplate leaving, but she finally decides to respond.
“I’m afraid not.” She sighs loudly, and shifts her body to face me. “Those Conways are in deeper than they bargained for. Granted, a few have tried” –-her eyes bore into mine— “…and failed. There’s nothing you can do that can help.”
I nod, realizing my trip here is a lost cause. Just like this whole battle between our families, our packs.
“There’s got to be something…” I trail off, having absolutely no idea where I’m going with this. If Maggie says it can’t be done, then it can’t. She an Ancient. Who am I to question her?
I dig my hands further into my pockets, realizing there’s a chill creeping in around the door sill. Or maybe it’s one of the windows. Either way, it doesn’t ease my tension.
“Nothing, child. Nothing can be done. They’re working with instruments beyond your control.”
“Instruments? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like this.” She runs her hand over the faded green ribbon roll, and then a bushel of her dried flowers and herbs. Resembling something out of a magic show, they hang in the air, as if a string pulls them along. Only, Maggie’s the one guiding them.
I feel my face lose blood. There’s no way she can do that. There’s nothing that can make me believe otherwise. It’s a hoax. Has to be.
“How—how’s that even possible? It’s like—” Dare I say the word? “—magic.”
Maggie snorts. Except her snortin
g sounds more like a grumpy person with a cold. Well, she is cranky.
“Child, there are things of this world that you have yet to experience. Some are good. Some are evil. Those who have this…this…power, if you will, also have the ability to choose which side they use it for. There are only two.” For the first time since I’ve known the woman, a lazy grin creeps across her face, vividly showing her yellow teeth.
Freaky old lady.
“So you’re saying that people are born with this gift?”
She shakes her head. “No, no. What I’m saying is that they can learn this talent. Nothing is that easy.”
“Anybody can learn magic?” I’m in a state of shock. First there are werewolves, and I happen to be one of them. Then there’s the deal with unique powers that I’ll gain on my eighteenth birthday. Now she’s standing there telling me magic exists too. This is all too much. I massage the sides of my forehead, concentrating, taking her words in.
“If they are up to the challenge, yes.”
I frown, and decide to take a seat at the table. “How’s magic a challenge?”
“Anything’s a challenge when you’re not used to it. Just like the power you’ll receive will be a challenge. You have to learn to control it. You can’t just prance about” –-she waves her hands in the air— “and pretend like you know what you’re doing. No, you have to be able to make sure it stays within your reach at all times.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that?” I lean against the back of my chair, as if I can absorb her words the closer I am.
“Time.” She shrugs. “That’s all it takes.”
“But you said people have to pick what they use magic for, so they pick sides?”
“Yes,” she grunts. “Good and evil. Always good and evil.”
“This is insane.” I exhale a long-winded sigh.
“Insane or not, it’s the reality of our world.”
I prop my chin on top of the chair. “Does this mean all werewolves use magic?”
“No. Only those who want to. It’s a choice, not a gift.”
Suddenly, I feel giddy. I perk up, sitting straight in my chair. “What if I wanted to learn? Can you teach me?”
Maggie flails her arms into the air. “Absolutely not. You have enough on your plate as it is.”
“There’s got to be another way,” I mumble, feeling my happiness drain from my body.
Calmly, she says, “There are several ways. None of which I want you to seek out.”
Yeah. Big problem right there. Don’t tell me not to do something. I’ll do it. I swear I will.
I decide to play coy. “Mmhmm. Like what?”
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m not falling for that.”
“Ah, c’mon, Maggie.” I stomp my foot. “I’m new to this stuff. How am I ever going to learn anything if everyone hides it from me?” I whine. She watches me for a few seconds. I try my best to look pitiful. No clue if it’s working or not.
The look on her face tells me she’s contemplating something. I just don’t know what it is.
She purses her lips then asks, “Have you heard of Night Sky Books?”
I shake my head, puzzled. “No, can’t say I have.”
“Mmm,” is all she says—whatever that’s supposed to mean.
Then it hits me like a flying sack of two by fours. “Whoa, wait. Was that my clue?”
She continues on like our conversation never happened, like I’m not sitting right there in the same room as her. That is my clue.
I stand from the table and scoot the chair back in its place. Even if she is a harsh old woman, I have to admire her. She has guts. She doesn’t take sides, like Beth said, yet she clearly just helped me. I have no clue where Night Sky Books is located, but I have a feeling someone in this town will know.
“Thanks, Maggie,” I say, and leave the house as if I was never there.
Chapter Seventeen
After my visit with Maggie, I want to know where the book store is located. But I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m searching for it. What if it’s one of those places that I’d be forbidden to visit? What if it’s a freak show? I don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of weirdoes in capes and pointy hats.
I have the bright idea to look in the yellow pages, which isn’t a total loss. I do find the listing, it just doesn’t have an address—only a phone number.
The only real solution I can come up with is this: To know more concerning what I’m dealing with, I have to think like what I’m dealing with. If there are some out there who possess the skill to use magic, and I face them empty-handed… Well, I don’t want to think about it; it could be disastrous.
I pick up the phone and dial the set of numbers. My finger stays directly below the listing, so I won’t lose my place.
The receiving end stops ringing, and a gurgled cough follows. “Ni-Night Sky Books. Can I help you?” A woman’s voice wheezes out each word.
“Yeah, hi, um, I’m trying to get your address.” Okay, so I sound like a total loser.
She chuckles through phlegm. “Afraid I can’t give that away, dearest.”
Weird. “Why not?”
“Bad part of town. You sound too young to be here. Just stick to the library.”
“But I don’t want to go to the library. I want to visit your store. Now, are you going to tell me where you’re located or do I have to find you myself?”
Her voice lowers to a whisper. “153 Southwest Tails Drive. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She hangs up.
I stare at the phone briefly, then decide I’d better scribble down the address before I forget. Good thing Beth and Randy aren’t here. Beth would be all over my ass about where I’m going—yet another reason why I’m happy to have a job, even if I haven’t worked in a few days.
Speaking of which, I’m surprised Jana hasn’t stopped by to check on me or call me into work. Maybe Lily has picked up extra hours. I have bigger problems on my plate, though. Like my freaky dreams. They didn’t start until I got here, so they must be a direct result of someone or something who wants me out of this town for good. But who? The only people I know of who want me gone, even dead, are the Conways. Would they stoop so low as to use magic against me?
I’ll think about it later. I need to finish this. I have to learn as much as I can about magic, including the bad stuff.
I wiggle my mouse, and the computer wakes up. Hastily, I search for directions to this place. It’s located near Hartford. How am I supposed to get there? By foot? I can’t exactly tell anybody that I’m going there, either.
I don’t really have a choice. I have to suck it up and make the trek.
~*~
An hour later and I’m standing outside of a tattered building, where the paint has faded to a maroon color and crumbled off the exterior.
“This can’t be right,” I mumble, pulling the folded piece of paper from my jean pocket and re-reading the directions.
According to them, this is it. This is the place.
“Whatever,” I say aloud, and walk toward the heavy metal doors painted with graffiti. I knock twice. Nothing happens. I raise my hand to knock again when I hear conversations taking place. My ears guide me to an alley next to the building. I don’t see anyone, but they’re there. Somewhere.
Continuing down broken concrete steps, the noises become louder. My right hand uses the brick wall for support. I ease one foot in front of the other. Where are they? To my left, the wall is indented, and a door stands open. Peeking inside, I see now where the commotion is coming from.
Several people dressed in an array of outfits—none of which are modern—are absorbed with shelves upon shelves of books. Their clothing reminds me of a cult with long capes and hoods. The women are wearing lacey corsets that tie up the front, and the men have on some sort of masks—Phantom of the Opera style.
I can’t move. It’s intriguing and frightening at the same time.
And any one of them can turn me into a toad.
&nbs
p; Okay, don’t be stupid. They won’t hurt you if you don’t pay them any attention.
So, I grow some balls and step inside the place. Cautiously, of course. All eyes are on me; I can feel them branding my face, my skin. I don’t look at anyone, just run my fingers over book spines to pretend I’m totally interested. I’m hoping and praying it works, that it’s enough to convince myself and these people.
“You look lost,” a seductive male voice says.
I don’t meet his eyes, but continue to act like I’m searching for something. In reality, my heart feels like it’s about to pound up my throat and squeeze its way out my ears. “No, I’m fine,” I say.
“Are you sure?” He whispers, “A girl like you shouldn’t be here, you know.”
That’s when I actually look at him, see his face. His hair is in wispy, brown layers to his shoulders, and his eyes are the color of a dandelion.
I try to break my trance, but I’ve never seen eyes like his—except in the forest.
“Are you, uh,” I pause and glance around the store, “one of them?”
“One of the members of the Black Label?”
I snort. “Is that what they’re called?”
He nods. “Yeah, that’s them. Very genuine stuff. But no, I’m not in their circle.”
“Oh,” I blurt a little too quickly. “So whose circle are you in?”
A smile slowly makes its way across his face. “Mine.”
Slightly embarrassed that I keep staring, I turn around to toy with the books again. I ask, “What’s your name?”
But he doesn’t reply.
When I glance behind me, he’s not there. I frantically search the store, but don’t see him. How can someone tell me not to be here, and then just vanish on his own?
He stood here and told me he wasn’t a part of the Black Latex, or whatever they’re called. His own circle? Does that mean he worries only about himself? What a weirdo.
Silver Moon (Silver Moon, #1) Page 10
