Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5), page 25
I grit my teeth to keep from snapping back, but the wolf prowls forward in my mind regardless to speckle gold across my gray eyes. How will Lucy treat me if she knows the wolf and I are becoming closer with every passing day?
“A simple divorce will put everything right, and really, after they learn what you’ve done, the odds of one occurring are startlingly high. Don't you think? Thank goodness you’ve not sealed the mark,” she says, her voice suddenly filled with exasperation. “It’s the one thing you’ve managed to do right.”
I am dumbstruck, not merely at Lucy's heartless behavior, but at my own nativity that somehow, after everything, things will be all right. The gold specks fade. There will be consequences no matter what hand I play.
I stall a moment longer, taking a sip of my coffee to contemplate what response I can give. “After hearing what Atticus said, I doubt any intervention will be needed to provoke the packs into a final confrontation,” I say.
“Indeed,” Lucy replies, back to her poised nonchalance. “But your parents—the alphas of your rightful pack—want this tricky little magical curtain surrounding the town felled.”
“You heard what happened last night,” I argue. “The Wselfwulfs aren't just going after the pack. They’re going after the humans of this town. Deactivating the border will put them at risk. Besides, we don’t even know if giving the tonic to Luna will make any real difference in the border’s stability. What’s the point—”
Lucy lets out a cruel laugh, her head tilting back and her glossy ponytail swaying back and forth. The sound almost covers the pacing occurring overhead.
“I knew it,” she says, at last, her brown eyes pinning me in place. “You’ve completely assimilated here, haven’t you? God, why your parents even tried to bother with keeping the Blanc pack bonds around you is beyond me. I always knew you would falter. I knew you would leave us the second the opportunity presented itself. It was only a matter of time.”
My throat tightens. “That isn’t—”
Lucy scoffs, the sound harsh and grating. “Please. Your pathetic excuses will not sway me, cousin. Besides, your disloyalty is of no real consequence in the end. I’ll be taking up the cause in your stead.”
“What?”
She hums. The glint that's in her eyes is insidious. “Your parents must have had their doubts too. Why else would they make such a contingency plan? And cousin—" she leans in once more, her wicked smile still in place “—the tonic they gave me isn’t nearly as forgiving as yours.”
“No,” I say, my voice firm. “You are not hurting Luna.”
“Then do it yourself with the tonic you’ve been allotted. Or else I’ll do the deed with mine.”
I clench my jaw, glaring daggers at my cousin. “I could have you confined with a single phone call.”
“Oh, cousin, you don’t think we haven’t planned for that, do you? All eventualities have been accounted for. If the Wselfwulfs can get past your precious wolves and magical border, what makes you think I can’t give you the slip? I told you. Everything is in place. Even if I’m held back, there will be another to take my place. The fairy still enjoys walks in the forest, no?”
“You said my parents don’t want a war with the Adolphus pack.”
Lucy slips her hand behind her back, and a moment later she is sliding a silver flask across the table to me. Her smile cuts.
“I lied,” she says with a laugh. “It’s your choice, Winter. Will the fairy live or die?”
A thick silence overwhelms the kitchen. My fingers clutch the coffee cup in my hand, but my tension and fury cannot be contained to the simple action.
“Tick tock, cousin. Your beau will be down soon enough. I wonder what news he’ll have to share with us.” Lucy’s expression forgoes any attempt at concealment. Her glee at knowing something I do not is unbearable.
My hand snatches up the flask.
++
Somehow, I am able to leash the tears that beg to fall for the long walk to the Trinity Coven’s house. I expect my feet to drag the entire way, but my trepidation seems to have the opposite effect.
At the very least, I’m more prepared for the trek than my last into town. I’m bundled up against the harsh batting of the wind. Atticus caught me at the front door, an expression of surprise on his face with his phone at his ear.
I waved my own phone at him, mouthing my cousin’s name as my excuse, then left.
When I reach the witches block, I am surprised—and somewhat disappointed—that Atticus has made no attempt to come after me. My throat tightens unexpectedly as I suck in a sharp breath of cold air. That he didn’t come to rescue me, I correct myself.
But it isn’t me who needs to be rescued. It's Luna.
You’re going to get someone killed.
Aunt Mo’s words whisper like a ghost past my ear. In my mind's eye, she follows each step I make. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself in such a role. Nor that Luna and Juniper would play the part of my potential victims.
At the end of their driveway, I stand. An odd sensation tingles across my skin, but it is one I am familiar with. Magic. My wolf comes to the surface and wishes us to be careful in the witches’ territory.
My rabbit heartbeat cannot be slowed as I inch closer to the house. It is still decked in Yuletide cheer, with wreaths of evergreen and pops of holly. The sight of the bright red berries makes my stomach twist as I recall Atticus’s first attempt at communicating with me through the language of flowers.
Holly meant hope, but their message couldn’t be further from the truth to me now.
I curve my path to take the shoveled walkway to the front door. I don’t expect it to open halfway as I near nor Aunt Mo to be standing there. I shuffle to a stop, staring with wide eyes at her unexpected presence.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she says. Her hair, as white as my own, is braided in a thick plait and hangs over her chest. “Why don’t you come in out of the cold.”
But I can’t. Not when my boots have suddenly frozen to the ground, and the flask in my back pocket weighs as much as a brick. “I—”
“Yes, I know,” Aunt Mo says kindly, though a sadness lingers plainly at the corners of her soft smile and wrinkles near her eyes. “I don’t have long to chat. Diana and Lydia are expecting me, as is my daughter at the clinic. Well, child?”
She moves to the side, leaving the door open wide as she fetches a long wool coat from nearby. I take a step forward, my lungs emptying out in a large cloud of white before me.
Aunt Mo watches my cautious approach with a knowing gleam. “Don’t fret, child. Your journey is nearing its end. Though the road is treacherous, your sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”
I stop before ascending the small porch. “I don’t think sacrifice is the right word,” I say, my voice brittle. Or maybe it is considering I’m about to sacrifice Luna for Juniper.
“You’ll see,” she counters as she wraps a technicolor scarf around her neck. The action doles out a strong waft of her perfume, and rose, amber, and lily of the valley fill my nose. “We all have our parts to play in the grand design. Even I.”
Aunt Mo dons an equally bright hat and slips out the door to stand in front of me. I swallow and avert my eyes, before I dab at the bottom of my nose with a little sniff.
“Does the cut of your deck continue to repeat itself in my regard?” I ask, surprised at how level my voice is.
She places a hand on my shoulder as she goes to pass, her mittened hands giving an affectionate squeeze. “For you and me both. It seems our paths are unavoidable.”
“What do you—”
Aunt Mo uses me to steady herself as she steps down off the porch, a weary sigh flying past her lips.
“Remember, Winter. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit.”
I watch her go, dismay swelling inside my chest as my retort lodges itself in my throat. Her words, no doubt meant to provide comfort, do not hit their mark. How can she be so calm and collected knowing what I'm about to do? Why doesn’t she banish me from the house with some spell? Or warn Luna of my approach?
“Hello?” a curious voice calls from inside. “Is someone there?” Footsteps pad lightly from afar, nearing at a reluctant rate. I take another step forward and scan the interior of the house, my eyes colliding with Luna’s figure.
“Hi, Luna,” I say, a weak smile in place.
“Winter!” A large smile splits her face, and she reaches me in three large strides. “Come in. It’s too cold to be outside.” Taking my wrist in her hand, she tugs me past the door’s threshold and eagerly shuts the door behind me.
“I… I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Oh, no,” she replies, bobbing on the balls of her feet as she watches me shed my outwear. “I’ve had a very nice day today. Much better than yesterday, or the day before. This morning I took a long walk, and when I returned, Zoelle was here! She took off work today to spend time with me, and we’ve been baking cookies.”
My smile falters. “Zoelle is here?”
She nods, her strange purple eyes regard me with an intensity I’m unused to. “She used to live here. She comes by quite a lot,” she tells me matter-of-factly and cocks her head to the side. “Are you feeling all right? You look… ill.”
Luna takes a step back, her eagerness swiftly waning.
“I am feeling a bit under the weather,” I confess, stripping off the last of my winter wear and patting down my hair. A terrible knot forms in my stomach. “I’m sure it’s nothing a spot of tea can’t fix.”
“You came for medicinal tea?” she asks. With a little sniff, I nod. Luna stills eyes me cautiously. “Are you contagious?”
My mouth opens and closes as I stare back at her. “No,” I finally say, confused and uneasy by her line of questioning. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugs. “The aunts don’t want me to catch my death of a cold. You probably shouldn’t walk around outside so much,” she prattles on. “You might catch your death too.”
“Luna? Who are you talking to?”
Before I can answer, Luna turns about-face and begins skipping off in the direction of the kitchen. “Winter came to visit! She’s sick and needs tea.”
I blanch, but with little reason not to, I follow. My hands fuss with the bottom of my sweater. I'm glad for its thick nature as it better covers the flask's bump in my back pocket.
“Hi,” I greet Zoelle with a small wave and force a smile onto my lips.
She’s leaning over an open oven, two tattered oven mitts on either hand. The room smells of chocolate and sugar, with traces of lavender and eucalyptus in the air. I eye the steaming kettle placed at the back of the stove and Luna’s perched position on the kitchen table’s end.
Her blunt ivory hair sways as she rocks along to the music playing softly from the radio. But it's the gentle fluttering from her iridescent wings that steals my attention. Luna pays no mind to my study, but the weight of Zoelle’s gaze rests heavy on my figure.
“You’re still not feeling well?” she inquires, straightening with a tray of cookies in hand. The oven door closes softly without aid from Zoelle. Magic. It tickles beneath my nose, and I give another sniff.
“Yes, but this is a more standard affair,” I lie. “If you have anything to help fend off a cold, I’d be grateful.”
Zoelle smiles back, but I see the wane edge to it. “I’ll check the cupboard. I’m sure we have something.”
I stand awkwardly near the kitchen's entrance, taking my fill of the cozy atmosphere.
“Can I help?”
Zoelle looks over her shoulder at me and gives a nod. “That would be great! I need to get the cookies off the tray and onto the cooling rack. Gran requested a batch for the coven meeting tomorrow, but I’m not sure if they’ll last the night here. Use two scoops of this”—Zoelle waves a jar full of dried leaves and other bits at me—“and half a scoop of this.” The second bottle is a glittering navy powder.
“What is it?”
“The first is a mixture of ginger, lemon, and clove. And the other is, well, some magic really. It will give the tea a real boost. If you like honey, it’s in the cabinet just there.” Zoelle sets a third jar full of green leaves and little white feather-like strands on the counter. “And if you can make some of this jasmine for Luna and me, I’d appreciate it.”
I’m lucky Zoelle and Luna are absorbed in their own worlds. They don’t notice my mechanical movements as I make my way toward the far end of the kitchen island. Zoelle hums along to the song on the radio as she transfers the cookies from the sheet pan to her cooling rack. Luna’s eyes have flutter closed as she continues to sway to the music, her feet kicking absentmindedly in the air.
“Do I need to put on a new kettle?” I ask, my tongue heavy in my mouth as I force the words out.
“Hmm.” Zoelle spins around and picks up the kettle, giving it a little shake. “It can do with some more water.”
I tame the tremble that dares rise as I take the kettle and place it beneath the faucet. My gaze slants surreptitiously back over to Zoelle, who is finishing up her task.
Can I do this? Drug Luna, right under Zoelle's nose?
Do I have a choice?
I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I would be able to ask for help and avoid this measure altogether. A lump forms in my throat, one I struggle to swallow down as I turn off the faucet and place the kettle back on the stove. The flame flickers to life underneath its black belly.
I can’t afford to take Lucy’s threat idly. I’m sorry, Luna, I think with great remorse.
Zoelle sits at the table when she’s done, stretching her feet out onto a spare chair. “I think this afternoon I’ll take a nap. I was up so early this morning,” Zoelle comments. “What are your plans for the rest of the afternoon, Winter?”
Digging my own grave. And Luna’s.
I keep my back to the two, searching the cabinets for three mugs. “Making sure my cousin doesn’t stir up trouble,” I reply.
I hope they can’t hear the hoarse quality to my voice as I try to keep my emotions in check. Grim anticipation snakes through my veins, coursing through my body mercilessly. The color drains from my face as I square my shoulders and turn back around to gather the tea leaves.
Zoelle and Luna pay me no mind. While Luna's indifference does not surprise me, Zoelle's does. Surely she can feel my unease through the pack bonds? Either she makes no mention of the fact for the sake of my privacy or other issues must occupy her mind.
I wait impatiently for the whistle of the kettle. My fingernails find purchase in my palm, flexing and unflexing with nervous energy.
“Can I have a cookie, Zoelle?”
The witch laughs at Luna’s question. “I told you they wouldn’t last,” she says. I force out a chuckle in response. “Sure, Luna. Bring me one too, would you?”
“Do you want a cookie too, Winter? Zoelle makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”
“No thanks,” I reply, tensing as I hear Luna’s approach. “I just ate.”
For whatever reason, their lack of suspicion only makes my nerves worse. When the kettle sounds, I nearly jump out of my skin. I place a hand to my heart, my bottom lip trembling as I turn off the heat.
I can’t do this.
“This is so good. Are you sure you don’t want one, Winter?”
I shake my head as I hunch over the countertop to dole out the tea leaves. “Positive,” I reply breathlessly.
“I was going to call you today, Winter,” Zoelle says from her seat. “I wanted to know if the tea you had at the cafe yesterday helped you figure out how to help your cousin?”
The spoon I use to measure out the leaves falls from my grasp. Its clatter sounds like the crash of broken glass in my ears. I hold my breath, slamming the spoon down to stop it before it can bounce off the counter.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’ve worked things out. Sort of,” I say more loudly.
Remember, Winter. You’re doing this for Juniper. And if you don't... Lucy will.
I take a deep breath and force myself to focus on the superficial task at hand. A faint buzzing-like static begins to sound in my head as I slip the flask from my back pocket and hurriedly splash its content into a turquoise mug.
“That’s good,” Zoelle replies, her words slightly jumbled from her chewing.
The flask returns to my back pocket, and the rest of what occurs is like something out-of-body experience. I see myself reach for the tea kettle and pour the steaming liquid into each mug. The purple for Zoelle. The green and white striped one for myself. The turquoise with the tonic for Luna.
“Let me help!” Luna chirps.
Her enthusiastic reply breaks me from my spell. Before I can dissuade her, she is at my side, plucking two of the hot mugs from out in front of me as I scramble to set the kettle back down.
“The turquoise mug is for you,” I spit out. “The purple is for Zoelle.”
“Okay!” she responds, sparing me a happy smile. “Isn’t this nice. I like having visitors. A lot of the witches come around, but they don’t stay for long. Plus, they all look at me funny still. The pack doesn’t like to visit because they don’t like magic. Do you like magic? I’ve been told it bothers the lycans?”
I stare dumbstruck at her back, her wings fluttering more vigorously with her excited chatter. “Pardon?”
“The magic doesn’t bother me, but that’s because Gran says I’m made of magic. Like her and Zoelle! And Aunt Lydia and Mo! We’re all magic, so it doesn’t bother us.”
I don’t know how to respond, let alone react. Luna stretches forward, and Zoelle leans forward to meet her reach halfway. A sharp prickle of apprehension crawls down my spine.
“Remember, the turquoise is for Luna and—”
“Do you think the witches like me?” Luna asks Zoelle, slipping back up onto the table and finally turning to face me.
My breath catches in my throat before a startled cry makes its way out. I dart forward, and Luna lets out an indignant squeak as I barrel toward her.
