“You heard them, honey?” my mother asks.
“O’ course she did,” Marian barks as the witches in the room begin to murmur.
“I knew it,” someone snaps from within the crowd. Greta steps out from under a cluster of jack-o’-lanterns. “I knew you’d bring trouble. I knew it!”
Marian thumps her cane. “Enough.”
“No!” Greta swipes a hand through the air, and it crackles with magic. Sparks spit from the pumpkins’ candles. “Run, they said. Run, Marian! Trouble is coming. Rivals on our doorstep! And you want to –”
“I said enough!” The black fire in the fireplace roars, spitting flames out in every direction until the sagebrush burns away entirely. The flames return to the normal orange hue, and it calms Marian’s next words. “I said enough. What is done is done. We must prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” my mother whispers. Her hair is in disarray as if she had been tugging it during the whole ordeal.
“Did they say who was comin’?” Marian asks both me and Jacob. “Did they give ya a name?” We shake our heads.
“What do you want to do, Jacob?” Cinder mutters. He and Sara stand next to the couch, his arm wrapped protectively around my best friend.
The door leading to the porch quickly opens, and everyone tenses with the damp air pushing into the living room. Candlelight’s flare, and Jacob tucks me behind him.
Standing on my tippy toes, I peek over Jacob’s shoulder. I breathe a sigh of relief as Jamie, Sara’s mother, enters the house and shuts the heavy door behind her.
“Jamie?” my mother calls. “Where have you been?”
Jamie shuffles out of the shadows. Her cheeks glisten with fresh tears.
“What’s wrong?” Greta asks, the words a heavy weight.
Sara’s mother’s face crumples, and she angrily wipes her cheeks with the heel of her palm. My mother starts forward, prepared to comfort her long-time friend, but stops abruptly when Jacob murmurs to the newcomer, “Don’t get any closer, Jamie.” He reaches and gently grips my mother’s upper arm, a warning to stay where she is.
“What?” I hiss. “Why?”
“Cause she the one he seeks,” Marian whispers darkly. “What have ya done, Jamie? What have ya done?”
Ringing begins in my ears as I stare back into Jamie’s eyes. She holds my gaze, her bottom lip wobbling.
“Mom?” Sara whispers. Her voice cracks, but Cinder keeps a firm grasp on her. “What do they mean?”
“I – I – I didn’t want to.”
“You started this, didn’t you?” Jacob blames. His voice is steady, calm, but with my hands on his back, I can feel the tense muscles ripple and shift – feel the surge of his wolf fighting for the surface.
Confused, I try to step out from behind my mate, but he stops me by flinging out an arm and blocking my path. “Don’t,” he growls at me. “She’s not safe.”
“What the hell, Jacob?” I demand, slapping his arm away to no avail. “It’s just Jamie. She practically helped raise me. What do you mean she’s not safe?”
He turns his head but keeps his glowing eyes on the witch. “She’s the one who started this all.”
“You don’t even know her!” I yell. “How can you place blame on someone you’ve never met?”
My words go ignored. “She’s the one,” Cinder mutters to Jacob. “The female scent we couldn’t identify.” He releases Sara, steps out in front of her, and crosses his arms over his chest.
I blink as it clicks into place. “The field,” I whisper. Cinder only spares me a glance. It’s the only confirmation I need. “You smelled something in the field.”
“We smelled her at the edge of the property today and investigated the field, yes.”
“No.” Sara laughs but there’s no humor in it. “My mother hasn’t been here for days.”
“And yet, despite the rain, we smelled her fresh scent,” Jacob murmurs. “Her and several others.”
“Jinx,” Sara pleads.
I hold up my hand and peer at Jamie. Guilt tells a tale, and that tale is written in the way she closes her eyes. I’m well versed in betrayals enough to know the signs. “You know as well as I do shifters have an excellent sense of smell, Sara.”
“Someone had to have told the Bane where to look to break their curse,” Cinder continues, speaking to his girlfriend. “Someone who knew more than they should. Someone who knew who they should go after. Someone who could show them the way through a warded coven’s home.”
“Jamie, no,” my mother sobs, her hand going to her mouth. Anger swipes away the pain of the accusation, and her face hardens. “You turned in my daughter? You told them where to find my daughter?”
“Ya took down the ward, didn’t ya, child.” Marian visibly shakes. “While we slept.”
“It was all a huge mistake!” Jamie blurts.
“Explain,” Jacob growls. “Because as I see it right now, everyone in this room is in serious danger.”
Jamie turns to her daughter – the only person in the room whose opinion matters most to her – and whispers, “It’s true, Sara. All of it. I did this. I allowed this, and I will take what consequences come my way.”
“Explain!” Marian booms with a thump of her cane. The room rattles, and all of the pumpkin candles gutter and hiss. Jamie startles, wincing as if she were struck. She wipes away more tears and looks at her shoes. Grass clippings cling to them, and a wet stain soaks the bottom of her long skirt. The fire behind me tries to warm my chilling bones.
“I met Wice a long time ago,” she begins, and the room collectively sucks in a breath. “At first, I was in love with him. I knew the rules: No relationships, and stay away from shifters. I didn’t know what he was like for a long time. What he was really like. He hid that part of himself so well.”
She straightens her spine and inhales deeply. “So I kept our relationship quiet, and when I found out that his pack was trying to find money the old alpha hid, I promised to help him find it. I knew the man who could talk to his spirit. I used to go to his house as a child, play with him and his toys.” She looks at me, just for a second. “Your father. I was young and stupid and . . . I helped him find Adriel, and when Adriel refused, I spent the better part of a year helping to lure his sister – my sister – away, in hopes that she too might have shaman magic. And when she couldn’t call on the old alpha’s spirit, he returned to Adriel’s house.”
“And killed him,” my mother mutters, enraged.
Anger consumes me. Anger so hot my bones made of ice become molten. “But not before my father cursed them.”
She nods solemnly. “Kaya Whitethorn had fallen in love with Wice just as I did. He – They – killed Adriel and expected Kaya to undo their curse. Kaya couldn’t, but not for the lack of trying. She’s a kind woman despite how everything looks. And when she gave birth to their daughter and Malila grew, she couldn’t either. The only person left was . . .”
“Me,” I whisper, heartbroken. Mixed with my raging emotions is relief. Relief for trusting my instincts that my aunt was in trouble – that she might have actually cared for me instead of just pretending to. But it all still hurts.