“Well. We’ll deal with whatever comes up. Not like we can do much else. I’m going to call Bryce, then I’m going to stop by the house and pick up a few things and tow the Barracuda over. Can I use your truck?”
Jon nodded, and Calder got up, washed his dishes, then headed out.
As he drove, he thought about her. Of course. He’d expected it to be so much worse. He’d expected his bear to be raging to be let loose in its anger and hurt. And his bear certainly wasn’t happy, but it felt like it was in mourning, just as he was. For once, the gnawing emptiness inside had nothing to do with his curse.
He ended up stopping by Bryce’s when he saw the car he’d restored for Bryce in the driveway. He’d finished it in the first week of Sophie needing her “space,” and had moved on to finishing the Barracuda. He went into Bryce’s house, and they talked. Bryce filled him in on Layla and what had happened the night before, mentioning that he’d seen Sophie there. Calder told him, in the fewest words possible, what had happened with Sophie. It was met with shocked silence.
“That’s not like her,” Bryce said.
“What do we know? Maybe it was. You said she was turned on by you that day.”
“Because of the curse. Don’t be an asshole.”
Calder shrugged. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be nice about it right now.”
“She’s not the cheating type.”
“I thought so, too.” They stood there for a minute. “Anyway. I’m going to be staying out at our old place for a while. Do you need any help with anything?”
Bryce shook his head. “Nah. I’m getting ready to head over to the hospital. You’ll be at the funeral, right?”
Calder nodded.
They stepped out of the house, and Bryce clapped Calder on the shoulder.
“Don’t give up on her so easily, man. Cut her a little slack.”
“Would you be able to go back, if you saw Layla with someone else?” Calder asked.
The emptiness in Bryce’s eyes, the exhaustion in them, made Calder feel like an asshole for even asking.
“Man, I would give anything right now for a second chance. People work through all kinds of shit, and if you throw this away because your pride is hurt when we both know damn well she loves you and probably only gave into the curse, then you deserve any misery you have ahead of you.”
“She wanted space,” Calder said quietly. “We haven’t been seeing one another for the past couple of weeks,” he reminded Bryce.
“Doesn’t mean she meant to move on, man.”
“Jon doesn’t agree.”
“Jon doesn’t trust any witch, and he trusts Sophie even less. Just give it some thought, okay?”
Calder nodded, then got back into his truck and headed toward the house he’d lived in for the past few years. Jon was right about that much; he couldn’t live across the road from her, seeing her all the time.
She wanted space, he thought bitterly. It hadn’t looked like Jack was giving her a whole lot of space.
Damn it.
Her car was in her driveway, and before he realized what he was doing, he was storming over to her house. They would have this out, if for no other reason than that he had things he needed to say to her. He walked around the side of her house, and stopped short. She was there, near the edge of her woods. Her long curls whipped around her, and she stood in the snow wearing jeans and a gray sweater he’d always liked.
Her focus was not on him. She was focusing, moving her hands in a way that her recognized as a spell.
All of a sudden, it was as if an invisible force was shielding her from the wind. Her hair stopped blowing, and the light snowflakes that were falling seemed unable to reach her. She looked in control, calm.
She waved her arm, and the shield fell, her curls blowing wildly around her again. He watched as she looked at a tree that had fallen at the edge of her woods.
Her hands worked again, her movements calm, fluid, not at all like the jerky movements he’d so often seen from her when she tried using Shadow magic. As he watched, the tree fell into pieces, stacked neatly, the perfect shape and size to burn in a fireplace.
She smiled as she observed her work. Despite everything he was feeling, he was impressed by her control.
Whatever else had happened, she seemed to be getting a handle on herself. And she’d need it, if she had any chance against the warlock. Maybe she’d been right. Maybe space was exactly what she’d needed.
I need to master myself a little. And I can’t do that when I’m wrapped up in you. Her voice echoing through his memories.
He watched her pull another dead tree apart, and then he did the one thing he definitely didn’t want to do.
He turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
February 22, 1871
“I am not going to chain you,” Migisi repeated, glaring at Luc. “My magic is enough. You don’t need to be treated like an animal.”
“But I am that, Migisi. I am, and you made it clear last week that you aren’t capable of controlling me when I need you to.”
“I kept you from killing your wife,” Migisi said.
“Wrong. Esme kept me from killing my wife. You seemed to be taking your time about it.”
Migisi shrugged and watched Claire crawl across the large rug near the kitchen.
“You do understand that if I would have hurt her, I would hate myself even more. Tell me you understand that much, at least. Is that what you want?”
Migisi didn’t answer. In all honesty, she would love to see the woman gone. She had no business wearing the title of “wife” when she clearly refused to act as one, in any way.
That title rightfully belonged to Migisi.
“Do you even care?” Luc asked, the anger in his tone forcing her to look at him.
“Of course I do.”
“Clearly not. Or you would not have let it get that far. I know what you’re capable of, Migisi. You could have stopped me anytime before I got back to my house.”
“Well, maybe you should start running to Esme whenever you need help. She would love that,” she spat.
“As if you don’t love having some claim over my time,” Luc muttered. “You truly are everything she says you are.”
Migisi seethed. Esme. Esme this, and Esme that, and Esme keeps my household together and Esme protects my wife and child… she was utterly sick of hearing about Esme.
“Go to her, then. I certainly tire of having you here,” she said.
“Liar.”
She stood up and went to the window. “What do you want me to say, Luc? Yes, I’d like to make your wife disappear. Yes, I would love to rip Esme’s eyeballs out. Yes, I like the fact that, a few times a month, you need me. Is that what you wanted me to say? I’m not a nice woman. Not anymore.”
She turned, and he was watching her.
“Well, that may well be the first honest thing you’ve said to me in a very long time.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Perhaps you should start looking at things in a different way, though,” Luc said, crossing his arms over his chest. “My wife was there for me when no one else was. She loved me, despite seeing what the curse did to me. She married me, never expecting that it would get as bad as it has. She gave me a child, who is my light and joy. And Esme keeps them safe from me, and by doing so, saves me over and over again. So if there is any part of you that actually cares for me as you continually claim you do, maybe you should appreciate both of them a bit more. They save me, on a daily basis, from what you’ve done to me.”
There was silence, and then he continued.
“And you seem to think that if they were gone, I would come back to you and things will be as they were before. Surely, you are smarter than that. Never again, Migisi. I won’t deny that, insane as it is, I still love you, that my heart still in many ways belongs to you. But you and I will never be what we were. I cannot look at you that way, not after everything you have done. Underst
and that, and let go of any ideas you have to the contrary.”
With those words, he clamped his hat back onto his head and opened the door, walking out into the drifts of fine snow that had fallen overnight. She watched as he trudged through the snow, his boots sinking deeply into the snow with every step.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw a flash of red near her woods. She focused, leaning forward, and looked in that direction.
Esme.
It took a moment to realize what she was seeing. She stood there with the warlock, Marshall. He kept his distance from Migisi, but she knew he haunted her woods, keeping tabs on her. Of course, she was not the only witch under his influence. She wondered if Esme was as well. She hadn’t considered it, especially since Esme had come from Canada. But he was Shadow incarnate. He could travel where he wanted to.
She watched as they talked. Marshall seemed to be listening, not a sign of his usual arrogance. She realized with more than a little anger that he seemed to be treating Esme as an equal, which he had never, ever done with Migisi.
They spoke for a few moments more, and Esme held her hand out. Marshall took it, and they shook. As far away as she was, Migisi could feel power wash over her. Whatever they’d just agreed on, they’d sworn on magic.
Migisi watched with concern, expecting… what, exactly? That Esme and Marshall would come through the door to hurt her or her child? That her doom would come as a result of that handshake?
Out in the woods, Esme gave Marshall a nod, and he answered with a bow, and then they turned and went their separate ways, neither of them sparing a glance for the house or Migisi.
“What are you up to, Esme?” Migisi murmured.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sophie drove up the winding lane that led to the small stone chapel in the Copper Falls cemetery. She could already see a long line of vehicles pulled up along the side of the road near the chapel, mostly trucks and SUVs. She parked behind a rusty old Ford and got out, then maneuvered the gravel drive in her heels, focusing on not tripping and falling on her face.
It was better than focusing on her guilt. Or the fact that she’d see Calder. She’d already spotted his truck among the others.
She knew he’d moved out of his house. She’d watched from her living room window as he’d piled boxes into his truck, then hooked up the car he was working on and towed it away. Part of her was relieved; it would be too hard seeing him every day.
But mostly, she missed him. The fact that it seemed like her little ploy had worked was the only thing that made it even slightly okay. Since the morning after he’d “caught” her with Jack, she’d felt clearer, calmer. More in control. And from what she’d heard from Bryce, it was the same for Calder, even if he didn’t seem to realize it. From what Bryce said, he was still mostly dealing with the end of what he’d had with her. It had worked.
But even that knowledge didn’t exactly keep her warm at night.
She walked up the walkway to the chapel’s stairs. Bryce, who was clearly there representing his wife-to-be, Cara, the twins’ mom, Jean, and their grandma, Faye, all stood just outside of the chapel, talking softly to mourners as they entered. She’d only been to one shifter funeral before, but she knew from that experience that these events were not about mourning, really. The family would mourn in private, for a very long time. No, shifter funerals were about celebrating the life of the deceased, about remembering the joy. It was like a gift the community gave to the family, like a candle brightening the darkness.
It looked like any other funeral. The attendees were dressed in the customary black, befitting a solemn event. There would be tears shed. But the focus would be on joy.
When it was her turn to speak to the family, she reached Bryce first, who met her eyes, then gave her a quick hug. She hugged Cara tightly, for several long moments.
“Thanks for coming,” Cara said softly.
“Of course,” Sophie said. They’d been on the phone most nights, Cara pouring her heart out to Sophie as Sophie sat through another long, empty night. It felt like a paltry amount of help to give to her friend, considering that she was the cause of the mourning.
She hugged Jean, and the woman held her tightly, a warm embrace that Sophie knew well. Jean was a hugger.
She bent down to kiss Faye on the cheek and hug her, and Faye patted her cheek in that grandmotherly way she had.
When Sophie walked into the chapel, she noticed that it was full of shifters she knew from around town. Their pack, and at the front of the chapel, Jack sat with his brothers. She looked away from him quickly, her gaze immediately finding the one figure she both did and did not want to see. Calder sat beside Jon a few rows from the front. He wore a dark suit, and it looked like he’d gotten a haircut. For a moment, all she could do was stand and stare at him, just the back of his head, his shoulders. It was as if she’d hungered for the sight of him, and now all she could do was take her fill.
Shaking herself a bit, she walked to one of the pews a few rows behind Calder and Jon and sat down. A few other women from the pack were there, and they greeted Sophie quietly. She nodded and sat down.
She tried not to stare at him, but she couldn’t stop herself.
The organist began playing a song Sophie was not familiar with as the last of the mourners filed in. Mr. Daniels’ casket sat at the front of the chapel, open, his hands folded serenely over his chest. Sophie looked away. That pose was one she’d had to see too often already, between her parents and David. More caskets, filled simply because the people knew her.
People started speaking. There were no prayers. It was a sharing of stories, memories of Russell Daniels. Sophie’s mind wandered, and her gaze continued to come back to Calder.
At one point, when she was looking at him, he turned in his seat. His eyes met hers, and her heart stopped. He held her gaze for just a moment before giving his head a small shake and turning back around. He did not look at her again.
Once all of the friends and pack members who wanted to speak had done so, Russell’s brother stood up and shared stories of growing up with Russell, making the assembled crowd laugh. He sat, and, to Sophie’s shock, Cara stood up. His children weren’t expected to speak, mourning as they were. And Cara, much more so than Layla, was a shy, quiet type.
Cara walked shakily to the lectern and looked at the crowd, meeting her mom’s eyes for a brief moment, then Sophie’s. Sophie tried to give her friend a reassuring smile.
“There is not much I can say right now. I want to thank all of you for coming and sharing your memories of my dad. I want to thank you for the love and support you’ve given my family over these past few days. This community is our family, and you’ve reminded us again and again why we love you all so much. We’ve seen a lot of darkness here lately,” she said in a quiet voice, and Sophie froze. Cara’s gaze met Sophie’s again. “We’ve seen violence like we’ve never seen here before. Not in any of our lifetimes, anyway. We’ve seen loss. My family has been hit particularly hard by it, but we’ve lost others. Neighbors. Visitors. And it would be so easy to be angry right now. It would be so easy. It would be easy to look for simple answers, to lay blame where there is none.” Cara met her eyes again. “None,” she repeated in a determined tone, and Sophie realized then that Cara knew the guilt she’d been dealing with. “There is madness and evil in this world. But there is beauty as well. And believe me when I say that I know the difference, and I will continue to see the beauty, even when I want to rage.” Tears slipped from Sophie’s eyes, and she saw Cara blinking away tears as well. “And I want you all to remember that, too. Thank you,” Cara finished, and then she stepped down.
Sophie swiped at her nose with a tissue she dug out of her purse, then blotted at her eyes. The assembly stood and watched them close the casket. Pallbearers, including Jack — as the alpha, it was an honor to have him serve as pallbearer, Sophie knew — and Bryce, flanked the coffin and carried it down the aisle as the mourners looked on. As they m
ade their way down the aisle, the mourners filed in behind them. Cara’s father was being cremated, as was typical for shifters of their local pack. Sophie watched as the pallbearers loaded the casket into the back of a hearse, and then they all stood, silently, and watched the hearse drive away, a final moment of farewell, shared together as snow fell yet again.
“Well. Isn’t this cozy?” a voice she knew too well said behind them. Marshall stood on the steps of the chapel, in his customary black trench coat, a sly smile on his face. “All of Sophie’s favorite people in one place.”
Cara ran forward, ready to spring, and Bryce grabbed her, holding her back.
“You killed my father, you bastard,” Cara screeched as she struggled against Bryce, trying to get to the warlock. Sophie started making her way to the front, and she heard the unmistakeable sound of the shift happening all around her.
“He’s only the first. You can thank Sophie for your losses. All she had to do was uphold her end of a certain bargain,” he said, malice glinting in hie eyes. People started trying to run, especially those with young children, and they were met, to everyone’s shock, with an invisible wall. Marshall cackled. “Trapped. Plan on being here a while,” he said. “Now. Who’s going to die for Sophie’s sins first?”
Sophie worked feverishly, drawing her power up and over the people around her, separating them from Marshall with an invisible shield.
Someone brushed past her, and she watched the twins’ Grandma Faye stalk to the front, toward Marshall.
“Not today. Get behind me, Satan,” Faye shouted, and in the next moment, she was leaping in a way that belied her many years, shifting to her wolf in midair, and when she landed, she had Marshall’s throat in her mouth, having taken everyone, including him, by surprise. They fell back, and his screams and Faye’s growls erupted around them. Sophie focused on forming her shield around everyone as she moved forward, watching waiting. And… there it was. Marshall panicked and tossed Faye off of him, trying to free himself, focusing on ending his pain rather than hurting Faye, in that instant. Sophie caught the old wolf with her magic and set her gently inside her shield.
Shadow Sworn (Copper Falls Book 2) Page 24
