Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4), page 13
“When did he get here?” I ask, indicating the cat.
“Sometime this morning, I think. Daya was here, too. I was mostly asleep.”
“You look all better.”
Noah slides into bed beside me, holding me close in the small space. “Do I?”
I nod my approval and wince again. “This hurts more than I thought it would.”
He immediately hops out of bed and starts apologizing.
“Not you, silly. I liked you where you were.”
He moves the kitten and his brows slide together as he inspects the bite Becca left behind. Then, with clinical efficiency, he checks the shoulder that Ty got a hold of and lets out a long controlled breath.
“Those are definitely going to scar.”
“Is it bad?”
“Nah.”
“Be honest. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?” I’m suddenly desperate for a mirror.
“Nope. Not at all disgusting. Makes you look mysterious and strong.”
And with that, a swarm of nurses overtake my bed and shoo Noah away. There’s more magic, more chanting, more healing. They’re clearly not cool with the idea of me looking mysterious and strong and have made it their mission to smooth the bites over until they’re barely noticeable. I close my eyes and surrender myself to their ministrations and before I know it, I’m asleep once again.
Chapter Twenty
Days pass and my scars fade. Although not completely. Apparently, my mystery is just a part of me now. I’m a badass witch with the badass scars to prove it.
But, scars or not, the healers have deemed me healed and I’ll be heading home tomorrow. To be honest, I’m kind of dreading it. Daya swears my house is as good as new. Better actually, because, as she put it ‘they’ve taken the liberty of adding a few pops of color.’
As long those pops aren’t blood colored, I might be fine. I don’t know if I can handle being in that living room again, not after what I saw happen there. I still see Becca with that head in her hands…
Ugh.
I can’t let myself give those thoughts power.
Regardless, I’ll be heading back to the house. Hopefully it’s as clean as Daya swears it is and I’ll be able to sleep peacefully again. But today, I have a meeting with her and I’m more than a little nervous. We managed to skip the need for a formal summit. Albert didn’t press charges and his wolves didn’t feel the need to challenge his decision.
Apparently, there still isn’t anyone in Lucy’s old position, so the vampires could care less about what happened. I’m not even sure if they even really believed the stories about Becca being a hybrid and Daya’s being really close-lipped on the subject. And for that matter, so is Becca. I know she’s somewhere here in Windsor, hopefully freer than she was the last couple weeks. Hopefully fitting back in. Finding some friends. Finding some guidance. Hopefully things are better for her. I’d like to say I know the answers to these questions, but I haven’t seen much of her while I’ve been here.
Which is fine. I guess. I’m not sure if a friendship is in our future.
I’m ushered to Daya’s old office and take a seat on one of the couches while I wait for her to show back up. There’s so much up in the air right now. Like, who will take Daya’s place here at Windsor? Who will take Lucy’s place with the vampires? Why have there been so many summits between the leaders and why did Daya mention the Overseer a few days ago? I’d like to think that none of that really has any effect on me. That I could just fade back into my life and forget all the politics of the supernatural union, but I know that’s too much to wish for. Whatever happens is sure to affect me. That’s just the way it goes, I guess.
Daya ambles into the room, filling the large space with her even larger energy. She swoops in for a hug and it surprises me, but after an awkward heartbeat of a moment, I return it, wrapping my arms around her ample shoulders.
“You’re looking so much better,” she says and peeks at the scar on my neck. “That one’s barely noticeable. I don’t think you’d see it if you didn’t know it’s there.” She fluffs my hair over my shoulder, hiding the mark. “Our healers are so talented,” she says with pride.
“They really are.”
She tugs on my shirt, revealing the slightly uglier scar on my shoulder and grimaces. “At least that one will be hidden by your clothes most of the time.”
I just nod, and fight the urge to remind her about bikinis and tank tops. Rather than sit down at the desk, Daya lowers herself down into the loveseat.
“It’s strange, being in this office. It looks so solemn and serious without my stuff here. So bland and official.”
I smile and wonder if she ever considered it’s better this way. “Do you know who’s going to be taking over your position?”
She glances at me, sizes me up and then hides her true reaction behind a wide smile. “Why? You want the job?”
“God no,” I say, half-laughing but totally serious. “I’ve been a witch for all of a few months now and how many times have I almost died? I don’t think I’m very good at this. Definitely not boss-lady material.”
Daya laughs with me, but there’s something clicking away behind her eyes and I don’t like what I see. “Not yet,” she says. “But we’ll have to see what happens.”
“I can’t imagine how that would go over. Zoe Tate. Vampire Slayer. Witch princess.”
“Witch princess?” she asks, through a clenched jaw. “What do you mean?”
Well, that reaction was a little strong. I laugh it off and pretend not to notice. “I never knew any of the proper titles. I always called Barnabe the witch king, and now that you’ve taken his place, I call you the witch queen. If I took your job here, I just made a leap and went for princess.” Daya visibly relaxes and forces a laugh. “I know,” I hurry on, “not a very funny joke.”
Daya shrugs. “You’re fine. But we really do need to get you caught up on all your lore. You’re rather handicapped with your lack of knowledge, aren’t you?”
She couldn’t have set me up for a more perfect segue if she’d tried. I explain to her about trying to use the library to teach myself the things I didn’t know. I skip the part about discovering all the Overseer stuff in case that was at all relevant to all the summits recently. Sometimes it’s better to keep yourself seeming small and insignificant.
She nods appreciatively. “Is that why you requested that meeting? It seems like a year ago. The one that was interrupted by problems with Becca?”
I take a breath. Do I dive in? Do I go ahead and ask her about my parents? Ask about the missing pages? Do I care? I mean, how important is it, really? I realize that it’s both not at all important and incredibly important. Knowing the truth about where I come from won’t change a thing, but I can’t imagine continuing in this life without knowing. I’m tired of being incomplete.
“I was hoping you’d tell me more about my parents.” I tell her about what Becca’s dad said at her funeral, how he knew I was adopted. I tell her about looking up my parents, about discovering the pages torn out of the lineage books. “I know it’s not gonna change my life to know their story, but, I’d still like to know. To understand.”
Daya studies me. “I’m the one who pulled the pages from the books.” There’s a dreadful pause where she just stares me down and I’m afraid she’s gonna say something terrible like ‘and now I have to kill you.’ But she doesn’t say that. She takes a breath. Lets it out. “Zoe, your parents are alive.”
I can feel the shock on my face and can’t believe the hope that surges through me. I love the Tates. Why am I so eager to discover that Tara and Malichi survived? So eager to know them? “I wondered,” I say and Daya holds up a hand.
“I’m going to tell you the truth and you’re not going to like it.
Hope drains from me. “I’ve been learning a lot of truths that I don’t like lately.”
“Zoe, the Tates are your parents.”
I don’t know how to take that. “You mean Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton are made up?”
Daya shakes her head. “No. I mean the Tates are Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton.”
All my thoughts come screeching to a halt and then go spinning around like tornados in a trailer park. “Do they know?” I ask after a few seconds.
“They did.”
I crinkle up my face, not at all in the mood for cryptic answers. “What’s that mean?”
“After Tara got pregnant with you, they went into hiding. Cast a few spells to keep from being discovered. Stopped using magic altogether. Took on the identity of Helen and Joseph Tate. It wasn’t until after you were born that we found them.” She pauses, and I assume it’s for me to ask a question, but my mind is whirling and none have formed yet.
“Your birth was monumental,” she continues. “A child born of light and dark. The most powerful witch born in the last handful of centuries. There was such a disruption in the balance of magic that day, there was no way they could keep you from us.” She pauses and I try to digest what she’s saying. The most powerful witch in how long? “We found you while you were still at the hospital. Found Tara. Healthy and happy. Beautiful as ever. And then Malichi, dark and broody, but happy as well. And, well,” she looks uncomfortable. “You know the plan that came into being when we discovered what you were.”
I nod. “The Trinity and all that. The ranch.” I shudder. I still hate thinking that my existence was the reason for all those other kids having to go through what they went through.
“There was no way Tara would give you up. And Malichi was more dangerous than you’d like to know. We weren’t prepared to anger him. So…” She trails off and swallows. “We put a spell on them. So they’d believe they actually were the Tates. Forget themselves.”
“So you could use me without them getting involved.” I’m trying to keep emotion out of my voice, but, damnit, I’m getting really mad. I can’t believe that I hugged this woman not five minutes ago. That I sat here and joked with her about witch kings and queens and princesses. That I actually thought, if only for a second, that I might be able to trust her.
“Yes.” She doesn’t make excuses. Doesn’t try to explain further. Just says the word and waits of my response.
“How did Becca’s dad know I was adopted? Why did you even make them think they’d adopted me?”
“We thought the adoption story would help sever ties to their past.”
“I see. And Becca’s parents?”
“We wanted to test whether or not the spells were working. Got Lucy interested in the story of your birth. Created a little doubt as to whether or not you were actually Tara and Malichi’s daughter. It didn’t take long for Lucy to ask Becca to get her parents to ask about your birth.”
“And when they explained that I was adopted, it gave Lucy all the validation she needed to believe that I was the child she was looking for.”
Daya nods. “And it gave us the validation that our spells were still active and Tara and Malichi still believed they were the Tates.
“I see.” There’s not much else to say on this whole topic is there? Not while my emotions are busy flying all over the place, getting in the way of my ability to think clearly. “Will that be all?” I stand. Ready to leave.
“Zoe—”
“Please don’t. I’m sure I’ll swallow all of this soon. Digest it. Come to terms with it. But not right now. Do you realize that I can’t believe a single thing you tell me? That everything you say is a lie? That my entire life has been manipulated for your benefit?” My voice is raising despite my desire to stay calm. I hold out my hands and take a breath. “Am I free to go?”
Daya stands. Straightens her dress. Composes herself. “Of course.” She’s all business now and I’m fine with that. This woman is not my friend. She’s manipulative and has no qualms about messing with people’s lives to better serve her own purposes. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’s actually a psychopath. Without another word, I sweep past her and reach for the door.
“Zoe?” I freeze but don’t turn around. “The Tates are not to know the truth. Understand?”
The Tates. How very subliminal of her. I nod without responding and leave.
********
“Zoe?” My mother’s singsong voice lilts out of the kitchen and into the living room where I sit with my father and Noah in the house where I grew up.
“Yes, mother dear,” I singsong back to her.
She pokes her head through the doorway. “I hereby formally request your presence in the kitchen, darling.”
I smile and stand from my place on the floor near the tree. Follow the scent of snickerdoodles and coffee into the kitchen and wrap my tiny little mother in a great big hug. “Thanks for letting me bring Noah. Can’t imagine Christmas without you and Dad, but I couldn’t imagine a Christmas without him, either.”
She beams up at me and hands me a pot holder. “If ever anyone was going to capture my daughter’s heart, I couldn’t imagine someone I’d approve of more.” She opens the oven and slides out a tray of cookies. Hands it to me and slides another back in.”
“He’s pretty special,” I agree as I transfer the cookies to a cooling rack and wonder how long I need to wait until they’re cool enough to eat.
I’ve been wandering around this house since we showed up yesterday and my parents showed us to our rooms. Separate rooms, of course. As much as they approve of Noah, I don’t think they’re ready to approve of us sleeping in the same bed.
There are so many happy memories here. I mean, I couldn’t have had a more idyllic childhood. And to think it’s all based on so many lies. It just boggles my mind. My parents — Helen and Joseph Tate — are actually Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton. Powerful beyond imagination. And I’m the most powerful witch to be born in the last handful of centuries. Powerful enough to create some strange ripple in the force or whatever and allow Daya to find my parents despite their cloaking spell.
And here we sit in a modest suburban home, cookies in the oven. Stockings on the fireplace. A tree so large it’s overpowering the corner it’s been stuffed into in the living room, its branches filled with ugly ornaments made beautiful by good memories. Being here has made me less angry. Watching my parents who are still so clearly in love meander through their lives has given me a little perspective.
Maybe they don’t need to know who they are. Maybe they don’t need to know who I am. Maybe they’re fine like this. Together. In love. Loved by their daughter. Happy to see their daughter in love.
That’s not to say that I’ve forgiven Daya. She’s still high on my ‘thou shalt not trust’ list. Hell, let’s be honest. Everyone is still high on my ‘thou shalt not trust’ list. Everyone except Noah. I trust him. A lot. Enough to tell him the truth about my parents. Enough to bring him here. Enough to let him sneak into my bedroom at night after he promised we’d stay quiet enough to keep my parents asleep.
I slide two of the cookies off the rack, still so warm they fall apart a little in my hands. Wink at my mom as I take a bite and sigh. There are years of Christmas afternoons wrapped up in that taste. I pause in the doorway and watch my dad talking to Noah, both of them animated and confident, handsome and happy. Throw a smile over my shoulder at my mother and wander back into the living room and hand Noah his cookie, squeeze into his lap and plant a kiss on his lips for both my parents to see.
“Thank you,” I say into the surprised but happy silence.
“For what?” comes the response from three different people, almost at the same time.
I smile, gesture around the room, meet everyone’s gaze one after the other. “For this,” I say, and mean it with all my heart.
********
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Books by R. M. Webb
Witches and Warlocks series:
Speak
Hush
Roar
Howl
Whisper - coming soon!
Immortal Memories series:
Façade
Unleashed
Reclaimed – coming soon!
Also in the Immortal Memories Universe:
Til Death
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
R. M. Webb, Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4)
