by Cecy Robson
“My God,” he says. “How is this possible? He’s too young.”
My face falls briefly into my hands. “We didn’t do anything,” I repeat.
I make my way to Celia, worried I abandoned her. I reach for her, wishing that gentle warmth her touch causes didn’t result in waves of butterflies fluttering up my spine. Not in front of my parents.
“Celia is in trouble,” I say. “I found her in the forest the day I went hunting.” I clear my throat twice. “She’s my girlfriend now and she needs me.”
Dad places his arm around Mom. It’s then I realize there’s more to their reactions than what appears on the surface.
When Dad speaks, I know my world will change forever.
“She’s not your girlfriend,” he says. “Aric, you found your mate.”
Chapter Seventeen
I start to speak, ready to deny it and accuse Dad of reading too much into it. But my wolf is doing backflips inside of me, lunging at my chest, excited I finally understand what he’s been trying to tell me.
Instead of arguing, I squeeze Celia’s hand, trying to reassure her that this isn’t so bad and that, maybe, it’s actually perfect.
The joy spreading through me is like a breath of fresh air I wasn’t aware I needed to take.
“Whoa,” I say, vaguely aware that I’m smiling.
“I’m sorry,” Celia says. “I don’t understand what this means. I’m not like you.”
“Celia isn’t like anyone,” I explain. “She’s unique. A special being unlike anyone else in existence.”
“I gathered that much,” Mom says.
Mom isn’t judging Celia. Like the rest of us, she recognizes Celia is different. Yet even knowing Celia is a non-pure were, she’s welcoming of Celia’s presence. It means everything to me.
As mated weres themselves, my parents understand Celia’s importance and they are genuinely happy for me. But all isn’t well with the world, and the next few moments are harsh reminders.
The wind bangs like a fist against the window. Leaves that should remain firmly in place along the trees sweep by as if torn from their branches.
Dad’s narrowing gaze fixes on the window and beyond. “Aric,” he says. “Help me bring down the storm shutters. I want to preserve the generator’s power.”
“What’s happening?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t hesitate to answer. “The dark magic we’ve hunted has dispersed from the borders and scattered around the state. It’s closing in around us and we’re not sure where it will strike next.”
The muscles around my spine grow rigid, squaring my shoulders. “It’ll strike here, Dad. This darkness, it’s coming for Celia.”
Dad and I secured the windows and doors with the metal shutters. We then tightly locked up the barn. I tell him as much as I can in the short time we work. We walk inside about an hour later to find Mom and Celia cooking in the kitchen and softly speaking. The wind sweeps inside before Dad can finish closing us in, fluttering the skirt of Mom’s pink dress around her legs.
Mom gave Celia another set of clothes, a blue shirt that hangs off her shoulders and white shorts. They fit her perfectly. I smile when she looks up from where she’s helping Mom cut up vegetables.
Seeing Celia like this in my kitchen, I suddenly can’t remember a time when she wasn’t with me. She returns my smile, but it doesn’t last. Worry crinkles her brow. As much as I want to smooth it away with a kiss, this isn’t the time. Too much is coming and those I most love are in danger. We need to form a plan.
We talk about the last few days over lunch, each detail of Celia’s arrival thickening the air around us as the harsh winds continue to pummel the house.
Dad tightly holds Mom’s hand where they sit across from us. I hold tight to Celia’s, waiting for Dad to provide some insight and maybe the hope we need.
He drags his hand down his face, something he does when he’s frustrated, and the answers aren’t coming.
“There’s a lot that doesn’t sit well with me,” he says. “It’s not just Celia’s arrival and the darkness her presence brought here. It’s the timing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, knowing he’s going somewhere I won’t like.
“It’s a rare thing for weres to meet their mates this young,” Mom explains, offering Celia a gentle smile. “It’s not that we don’t welcome you, dear, or the happiness you will bless our son with. It’s simply that matehood at your age shouldn’t be possible.”
“I apologize,” Celia says. “I’m trying to understand. But I’m not familiar with your ways.”
“I’m familiar,” I interject. “And I’m still confused.” I suppose I should know, but I never cared about matehood enough to ask. My parents are mates and that’s all that mattered. Until now. “I’ve heard weres can find their mates as young as eighteen, but more often in their early twenties. Why, if their souls are meant to connect for eternity?”
“It has to do with breeding,” Dad replies. He leans forward, his white T-shirt stretching across his broad chest. Dad isn’t one to mince words, but I can tell he’s uncomfortable saying what he does in front of Celia. “For centuries, our numbers were few. We’d become an endangered species. Then something changed. Either our beasts adapted, or nature adapted them for us. Weres began finding mates later, the maturity of their bodies resulting in stronger offspring and more weres to strengthen our numbers.”
“Revitalizing our race,” I infer.
“Exactly,” Dad agrees.
“Is that what has you so upset?” I ask. “I mean, it’s not like Celia and I are looking to breed.”
I regret the words as soon as they shoot out of my mouth. If it weren’t for me holding Celia’s hand, I think she’d disappear under the table.
Dad just smiles. It’s not a friendly smile. “You’re right about that, son.”
Mom pushes around what remains of the pie she baked with her fork. “I’m wondering if we should move Celia’s room closer to ours and perhaps redo the barn to give Aric his own space?”
“What?” Celia asks. She glances around. “You’re inviting me to stay here permanently?”
I’m not sure who’s more stunned, me or Celia. Dad winks at Mom. “Mates have a hard time keeping away from each other, sweet one.”
“I can’t stay,” Celia says. “My family needs me.”
Dad nods. “Aric told me the circumstances surrounding your family. But you must understand, your bond with Aric is too strong to permit you to go so far away. Look at the way you woke together, and you were merely a few rooms away. In another state, it would be unbearable.” He works his jaw. “And with what I feel stirring in those winds, you’ll need our protection and so will your family.”
“My foster mother, Ana Lisa, is very sick,” Celia says slowly. “She needs a great deal of care.”
“And she’ll find it here with us, child,” Dad tells her gently. “You’re Aric’s family. That makes you our family, and your family will be ours, as well.”
I’m ready for Celia to agree to all of it. But her pride and circumstances get in the way. “This is a lot to consider and it’s not my decision alone,” she says. “It’s not that I want to leave Aric, but I need to take care of my family first and see to their needs. We’re really struggling, and Ana Lisa’s insurance is based in New Jersey.”
I never told Celia my family and I come from a great deal of wealth. Mom does it for me, more elegantly than I ever could.
“You won’t have to struggle here,” Mom says. “We’ll make certain Ana Lisa receives the best care in the local hospitals and beyond. There’s a healing witch not too far from here. She won’t be able to cure Ana Lisa. Magic works with magic and as a human, your dear foster mother has none to spare. But she can ease her pain and possibly improve her outcome.”
“You’re very kind,” Celia says, glancing around. “All of you. But I can’t ask you to pay for her medical costs.”
�
�You’re not asking, child,” Dad says. “We’re offering, and we will gladly manage everything, including the move.” He looks at Mom. “I like your idea of giving Aric his own space. But if we reconstruct the barn, we can give Celia and our new family their own home.”
Celia doesn’t speak. The tears filling her eyes say enough.
Dad’s expression softens, but soon worry overtakes it. “There is much to do and discuss with regards to your family. But our first priority is figuring out your situation and making certain you stay safe.” He rises. “I’ll summon Mimi. Perhaps she has found the answers we need.” He makes a face. “Although, I would have preferred it if you’d gone to Bellissima.”
My gaze falls on Celia. I would have preferred a lot of things. “I didn’t think I could.”
“Ordinarily, it would go against our ways,” Dad agrees. “But these are extraordinary times.”
And Celia is an extraordinary person, I don’t bother adding.
“Leave those, dears,” Mom says when Celia and I start to clear the table. “This is more important, and it won’t take long.”
Dad reaches into the fireplace and scoops up a mound of ash between his palms. He steps backward and into the space where Celia and I danced the night before, sprinkling the ash in a circle as he speaks.
“Mimi,” he says. “Wild Hag of the Whispering Mountains, Guardian of the Owls, Granddaughter of Ahanu the Great Bear. I, Aidan Connor, Leader, Alpha, and pureblood, summon thee to my home.”
He closes the circle. “Come forth in peace and leave in peace.” He brings his foot down, slamming it hard. I ease Celia behind me, expecting a big explosion of light and power with the summoning.
It doesn’t come.
The circle Dad created glows with faint light, solidifying the call, but then, nothing. He looks up at us. “Mimi,” he bellows. “I summon thee. Appear.”
Again, he slams his foot. Again, the circle glows with that faint light. But that’s it.
“Something’s wrong,” Mom says, standing.
Dad edges away from the circle, watching it as if expecting answers within the space.
He looks up at Celia, his expression wrought with worry. “Celia,” he says. “What day is it?”
“Sunday,” Celia offers.
“No,” Dad says. “It’s Wednesday.”
I don’t like his tone. Not for a simple mistake like this. My heartbeat pounds in miserable and angry strikes. “She lost track of the days, that’s all,” I reason.
Dad abandons the circle completely, walking slowly toward us and stopping in front of Celia. “Child,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “How old are you?”
“I’m fifteen, sir.”
Dad sighs, appearing relieved. “And what time of year is it?”
“Summer, sir. Almost fall.”
Panic threatens to choke me. “Celia,” I say, carefully. “It’s May.”
Her eyes widen and she releases my hand, stepping away.
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s okay.”
She startles when she bumps into Mom. Mom holds her gently. “Aidan?” Mom says. “What’s happening?”
My dad closes his eyes and releases a long breath. When he opens them, he’s not any less fearful. “Child,” he says to Celia. “What year is it?”
My stomach bottoms out when Celia answers two years from now. “She’s just confused,” I interrupt. “We fought a skinwalker and those scorpions. She could have hit her head.”
“I didn’t hit my head, Aric,” Celia replies. “You know I didn’t.”
Yeah. I do. But this . . . this is so wrong.
I walk away, dragging my hand through my hair. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I recognize things are worse than I could have imagined.
Mom smooths Celia’s hair, trying to reassure her when Dad tells her the year.
“What?” Celia asks, close to tears. “How am I here in the past? In a season and place very different from my own?”
“Because you don’t belong here,” Mimi croaks behind us. “Not now. Not with Aric.”
Mimi sits in the circle, her cloak dripping with blood and pieces of red-soaked plumage stuck in her hair. Her face is bruised and she’s clutching her limp arm against her chest.
Dad jets to Mimi’s side, lifting her and placing her small, damaged body on the couch.
Mom covers Mimi with a blanket, carefully examining her broken arm. Mimi’s breathing is shallow, and her skin is the color of her gray, crooked teeth. The hysterical and psychotic cackles so associated with her personality are notably absent, as is the insane amount of power that marks her as a formidable hag.
I barely get the words out. “What happened?”
Mimi manages to speak, but the effort costs her. She grimaces in pain. “I told you they’d come after the tigress and anyone linked to her.” She smiles. “They found me first and now, they come for the rest.”
Celia clutches my arm. “Aric, that means they’ll go after Gemini, Liam, and Koda.”
“And those they hold most dear,” Mimi finishes for her. She stares blankly at the ceiling, the life in her eyes fading fast. “No one who helped her is safe.”
Dad wrenches to his feet, racing to the door. He throws open the storm shutter leading out to the terrace and barrels through. I’m right behind him, moving so fast I almost trip over his feet.
The wicked wind and debris it carries cuts into our faces. To the far east and west, lightning crashes and several dark twisters take form. Their thin shapes bang into each other like vicious warriors, desperate to find what they seek.
To the north, about twenty miles away, the ground begins to quake, sending boulders crashing down the mountain.
Dad howls, calling for my friends. I join him, throwing my head back and using all the breath I can manage. Celia referred to our calls the other night as beautiful. These are far from that. They’re angry, demanding their presence and warning them of the danger.
We wait for several long minutes. But only the fury of the twisters and quakes can be heard.
Dad and I try again. Nothing but our howls ring out. As their Alpha, they’re obliged to answer Dad unless they can’t.
“Dad? Why aren’t they answering? Why isn’t any wolf answering?”
“In times like this when evil rises, my weres know to join their packs and seek refuge.”
“But they should respond, at the very least to let you know they’re safe,” I bite out.
His thick white hair flutters in the breeze. “I know, Aric.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rage tightens Dad’s stance. He thinks they’re dead and he’s not alone.
“Aric? Mr. Conner?”
I whip around to see Celia, standing in the doorway. “Your mother wants you both inside.”
We don’t waste any time. I help Dad bring down the metal shutter just as something hard crashes against it, denting it inward and preventing us from closing the door.
Mom has Mimi sitting up, helping her sip on tea with leaves floating on the top. I recognize that tea. The healing witch Mom spoke of gave it to her to treat those of magic injured in her absence. It’s probably the only reason Mimi remains conscious.
Mimi’s cloak lies in a clear bag near the side table. She’s wearing a white nightgown and her long, matted hair falls around her in thick clumps. Someone attempted to brush through it, until they saw the ugly gash along her scalp.
Mom and Celia saw quickly to Mimi. But she’s still close to death. For the moment, she’s awake, and given her state, it’s an absolute miracle.
Celia edges away so Dad can kneel beside Mom. I gather Celia so her back presses against my chest, kissing her cheek and hugging her close.
“The wolves didn’t answer you, did they?” she asks.
I want to assure her they will. But I won’t give her false hope. It’s not what any of us needs now. “No.”
“Great Mimi,�
�� Dad says. “I beg your forgiveness for what I request of you at this time. But for the sake of my pack, I implore you to tell me what’s happening.”
A crazed expression overtakes Mimi’s features. She attempts to smile, but doesn’t quite manage, moaning in pain and clutching her arm. Her voice is a shadow of what it once was, but I understand her well enough. What follows isn’t anything I’m prepared to hear.
“Alpha, your pleas for forgiveness are not needed, but your strength for what I must tell you is.” She motions to my mother for more healing tea. Mom holds her head as Mimi takes several greedy gulps. Mom attempts to dab Mimi’s lips when she finishes, but Mimi bats Mom’s hand away. Mimi doesn’t want to be fussed over. What little energy she has is needed for her to speak.
“The little tigress must survive,” Mimi says. “Everything good in the world tells me it must be so.”
Mimi’s eyes lower and she appears to fall asleep.
“Why?” Dad asks. He shakes Mimi gently. “Stay with us, great hag, and explain your reasoning.”
Mimi blinks open her eyes. Mom offers her more tea. Mimi takes it down as if dying of thirst. But thirst isn’t what ails her.
“The tigress is special, as are her sisters,” Mimi continues, tea dribbling out of her mouth. “For the dark ones to triumph, evil cannot allow her to live.”
Mimi swallows a few times, as if she’s drinking tea, even though none is offered. Her dull gaze drifts to Celia, the effort causing her more pain. “Good knows you’re needed, just as it knows evil needs you dead. It alerted the light witch, but she was untrained and ill-connected with her gifts. She followed you, intent on warning you. But then the dark witches arrived.”
“She couldn’t fight them,” Mimi continues, her voice stuttering. “She was outmatched in skill and supremacy. She realized as much and cast the only spell she could to keep you safe.”
“The one that sent me here.”
Celia’s voice is so quiet, I’m not sure how Mimi hears her. “Yes,” Mimi replies. “To the one being who will forever protect you and share your soul.”
