I rake a hand down my face, peering at Cinder between my fingers. He’s shaking his head in small successions, as if he never expected he’d ever be sitting on a bench inside a coven’s magical garden, listening to witches talk about potions, summonings, and spirits while an apple tree above him begs for attention.
“This is what you get for dating a witch,” I tell him.
I’ve seen witches do magic. Cinder and I both have, and none of them are pleasant memories to recall. I’ve seen them pull vines from a realm so barren it looked like a desert graveyard – with twining skeleton trees that disappeared into a fog so thick I was sure there was no sky. Those vines had wrapped around the enemy, could slice them in half, too. But still . . . still. . .
I pocket my hands with a deep exhale. “So what are we doing today?” I ask, effectively putting the conversation behind me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jacob Trent
The edge of the porch’s old wood digs into my thighs while I watch Cinder’s wolf being tackled by Jinx’s spirit wolf. I adjust my seat and squint at the high sun. The sun makes Jinx’s fur look golden as it shimmers and waves, and my feet, dangling over the edge, brush against the tall weeds that I have half a mind to pluck from the ground. This entire place needs an overhaul. A serious facelift. But, I get the feeling the witches prefer disorder. I get the feeling it wouldn’t win me any favors.
For the last hour, we’ve watched Jinx transform into several beasts of her choosing – from the bear I’ve seen her wear in my territory, to a bird who soared gracefully in the sky, to a squirrel who terrorized the others.
Each was a seamless transition. I’ve never seen anything like it. One minute, she was on two legs, then on four, then had two wings.
For shifters, shifting into our wolf form is brutal and barbaric. Our bones crack and reshape, and at the beginning, it’s a painful process. For Jinx, it’s a blinking light, and a split second later, she’s wearing a different spirit’s skin. No pain involved. No mental backseat. She gets to wear different forms and still remain herself. She’s come very far from the woman who would fear for her life and unknowingly call on a spirit to save it.
She’s been practicing, though. It’s obvious. All of that time alone in the forest, she’s been practicing. For what? That’s the real question. To take on the Bane? To distract herself? To prepare for whatever the future may bring her way?
Jinx may spend her entire life justifying her genetic make-up. She may spend the rest of her life fighting for herself. She and her aunt – they’re the same. I can’t imagine there are many more skinwalkers out there. Uniqueness isn’t always accepted. It fills me with a simmering rage that even when this is over and the Bane are no longer a problem, her fight may not end. Ever.
I glance back at her, watch as she plops herself to the cold ground to cool down from her antics with Cinder. This is why I trust her. Because someone has to. Someone has to show her that just because she’s different doesn’t mean she’s any less worthy of breathing.
Cinder lies next to her, spine to spine. His ribs rise and fall, and he sneezes into the grass. A smile lifts my cheeks as I’m reminded of his earlier envy. He had thought her quick transformations from one animal to the next was remarkable. Then, he had begun practicing himself, to see if he could shift as quickly as she swapped forms.
I shake my head. Jinx had won every time, but not for Cinder’s lack of trying. At the time, I had remained silent, still brooding over what Jinx may or may not be telling me. And then I decided it didn’t matter.
Whatever it is, she has to have a good reason for keeping me out of the loop.
The thump of a cane against the porch wood pulls me from my thoughts. Startled, I glance back. Slowly but surely, Marian makes her way to me. There’s a squint of accusation in her stare, and I brace myself.
Truthfully, I can’t tell if she’s suspicious of me or if her face is permanently set in a scowl.
Behind her, two other witches – both I recognize only upon passing – are peering out the dirty window. They mutter angrily to one another until they notice I’m watching them watch me. I guess the cat is out of the bag – or, I suppose, the skinwalker. Everyone knows now.
Once they disappear back into the home’s dark depth, I hold out my hand for Marian.
“Thank ya, Alpha,” she mutters, her cold hand grasping mine. Gently, she eases herself down on the porch steps and sighs with relief. “These ol’ bones don’t act like they use ta.”
I smirk at her, unsure how to respond.
“Ya don’t have ta be frightened of me,” she mutters with a cackle. “I don’t bite.”
I grunt dismissively, rubbing my hand over my head.
She peers at the side of my face then looks out at Jinx and Cinder. They’re no longer sunbathing. Instead, Cinder’s wolf is in the process of making a mad dash around a shed. Jinx is hot on his heels while Sara slams her hands on her hips in annoyance.
“She a marvel.”
I snap my attention to Marian. Her eyes glitter with pride as she watches the white wolf whose fur seems to dance with her speed. “Yes, she is.” I pause, wondering just how far I can push this conversation. “It’s a shame she had to wait so long to be who she is meant to be.”
Wagging her finger at me, Marian chastises, “Now don’t ya go blamin’.”
“You knew who – what – she was from day one, and you said nothing. You let her feel the full weight of everyone’s judgment and disregard. You –”
“That’s enough.” She sets her cane aside and folds her hands delicately in her lap. “They’d have treated her no differently.”
“Oh?” I challenge.
She angles her torso toward me. “Do ya think her knowin’ would have changed anything?”
“Maybe if –”
She shakes her head. “No, alpha. It wouldn’t have. It woulda been worse.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “If those vultures knew fa certain she was different in the beginnin’, they woulda cast her ta the wind.”
I narrow my eyes while she straightens the wrinkles marring her skirt. “I know what it’s like ta be an outcast. It’s no place for a child. I knew the more I denied Jinx her potential, the more she’d look fa it elsewhere.”
“You wanted her to leave.”
She gives me a curt nod. “Not because I didn’t love her.”
I exhale. “Because you couldn’t help her.”
Marian looks at her palm and curls her fingers into it. “Not in the way she needed.”
“Jinx had mentioned you were powerful,” I mutter. Her cane teeters on the edge of the porch, and I grab it before it falls. Gently, I place it next to me. “Do you still have to hide that part of yourself? Under your own coven?”
She smirks. “O’ course I do. People fear power. Shiftas. Humans. Witches, too.” Her gaze wanders back to the two wolves. “An’ Jinx – she has power. Power no one will understan’ besides those like her. Power otha’s will try ta use. Power otha’s will damn her fa.”
I snort, all the while knowing she has a point. My thoughts on the matter are parallel. “All she does is call upon spirits. It hardly compares to witch’s magic.”