Claiming His Witch (9 page)

She glared at me. “Have you lost your mind? They’re hunters, even if they choose to lie about it. I’m protecting my coven.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m that man’s mate, and I won’t have you hurt him.”

She looked shocked, her expression one of surprise and rage. “You cannot mean to breed with a dog?”

“He’s not a dog.” I looked over at Pup, who’d moved into the firelight at the bottom of the steps. “He’s not a hunter, but he is a wolf. I’m his mate and he’s my…” I shrugged, unwilling to share the part of him being my thread. That information was for him and me alone; I didn’t want anyone ruining the moment with their disbelief. Pup gave me a smile, though his was small and forced.
 

“Oh, for the love of the Goddess.” Bethesda grabbed my arm and turned to the rest of the group of witches waiting for her direction. “They’ve brainwashed the middle one. Let’s go back to the lighthouse so we can talk some sense into these girls.”
 

She pushed me forward as the rest of our group began creeping into the darkened woods. Feeling the thread between Pup and me grow tight and painful, I took one more look at the men of the Feral Breed. Pup stood at the head of them, stepping closer as I watched. He looked as upset by our parting as I felt. I wished I could run back to him and find comfort in his arms.

“I tried to tell them.” Scarlett came to stand beside me, looking bored and tired. “Do they not realize I would’ve burned this place to the ground if I thought they were hunters? Please.”

Bethesda looked at each of us in turn then glared at the wolves. “We’ll deal with this so-called mating business when we get home. Do not attempt to follow us, beasts.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll wait to hear from you.” Rebel yelled from behind us. I turned again, peeking at him over my shoulder. Rebel glanced at Pup before meeting my gaze, his eyes practically glowing and his face serious. “Come back soon, Azurine. It’s not pleasant for a wolf to be separated from their mate.”

I nodded, my eyes going to Pup. “Soon. I promise.”

The third man, Beast, stepped forward as we reached the trailhead. “Your time is nearing its end.”

Witches gasped and spun, moving into defensive stances. Beast’s words sounded like a threat, like the coven was in danger. My blood ran cold as I waited for some sort of attack, though nothing came. Beast stood calmly, tall and stoic, neither threatening further nor apologizing for his words. My eyes flitted to Pup, who was watching me, worry etched on his handsome face.

“Is that some kind of threat?” Scarlett asked as she let the fire within dance on the ends of her fingers.

Beast rolled his eyes. “Easy there, burner. I’ve got no plans to raid your henhouse.” He pointed at Sarah. “I can smell your death approaching. Do you have access to medical care?”

Bethesda stepped in front of Sarah. “We take care of our own, hunter.”
 

Beast huffed. “Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but she’s got something rotten inside of her. Chamomile tea and mint leaves may not be enough.”

Sarah sighed, looking even more exhausted than she had seconds before. Cautiously, she stepped from behind Bethesda and gave the men a small smile.
 

“Thank you for your concern, but I trust my coven to take care of me.”

Beast nodded reluctantly. Sarah, Amber, and Bethesda walked into the woods, leaving Scarlett and me alone at the edge of the forest. My sister met my gaze, looking just as concerned as I felt. Sarah had been our rock, our guardian, since we’d been left with the coven. And while we all knew she was sick, I don’t think any of us was ready to hear that her time to leave us for the Summerlands was drawing close.
 

Without words, Scarlett hurried into the tree line, following the rest of the coven. I trailed after her, my heart practically tearing in two. On one side, it wanted to follow Sarah, the woman who’d raised my sisters and me. To comfort her and spend as much time with her as possible before her end. On the other, it wanted to stay at the camp with Pup. To explore our connection and find comfort in his arms.
 

“Weaver!” Bethesda’s shrill yell cut through the confusion in my mind, and my body followed her call as it had so many times in the past.
 

“Bye, Azurine,” Charlotte called. “Come see us soon.”

I waved, wondering when the last time was someone in my coven had used my real name. Sarah and my sisters did, of course. But the rest of the women tended to call us by our surname. We were the Weavers, the orphaned triplets left with their leader. And though I’d always considered them my family, the simple use of my first name by a woman I’d just met had made me suddenly wonder if I was missing something.

The walk to the lighthouse was filled with a wary anxiety every one of us had to feel. Scarlett stayed close to my side while Amber and Sarah walked just ahead of us. None of us spoke through the woods and across the sand on the way to the only home I’d ever known. And yet it wasn’t where I wanted to be. At all.

“Weavers,” Bethesda said as we entered through the front door. “Go wait in the hall. The coven needs to be updated. Sarah, I want you resting.”

I watched as Sarah nodded, exhaustion plain to see on her face. She gave us each a small, dry kiss on the cheek before heading for the stairs. Amber, Scarlett, and I followed Bethesda down the foyer and through the kitchen to the back hallway. A low bench sat on one wall across from a set of double doors. The doors led to the coven’s meeting room, the storage area for magick supplies, a library of documents and teaching books, and the fireproof safe where the grimoire rested.
 

The centuries-old book explained the origin of the Parity Lake coven, how our magick manifested, and the spells our ancestors had built. It also had tips on everything from growing nettles in the winter to identifying hunters and other beings outside the norm. As I sat on the bench and my mind drifted to Pup, I wondered if there was a section on shifters and anything about their mating bonds. Maybe the coven would be willing to accept my relationship with Pup if I could find something in the grimoire about shifters versus werewolves.
   

“I can’t believe you did this, Zuri.” Amber paced the length of the hall, shaking her head and looking altogether angry. “You knew there could be hunters in the area, yet you did nothing when you found a pack of them in the woods. How are we supposed to defend ourselves with you fraternizing with the enemy?”

“They’re not hunters.” Scarlett slouched against the wall, sounding bored.

“And what”—Amber threw her hands up—“now you’re the all-knowing expert on witch hunters? You think just because they say they’re not hunters that they’re telling the truth? You’re just as stupid as she is.”

“Hey.” I jumped to my feet, tired and confused and wishing I was back in the dirty little cabin with the man with no last name. That wouldn’t stop me from defending myself, though. “You don’t get to insult either of us. Something led me to that camp and to Pup. I’m his fated mate, and I trust him when he says they’re not hunters.”

“Right.” Amber snorted and shook her head. “I mean, he and his friends just happen to be staying at the edge of our property, showing up right around the time we start seeing a witch hunter, but he’s not a witch hunter. And he turns into a giant wolf, just like a wolf hunter, but he’s not a witch hunter. And now, you’re telling me I should believe that you’re some kind of soul mate of his, that the two of you were joined together by the Fates as you waited to be reincarnated in the Summerlands. Sure, that makes sense.”

“You don’t know,” I exclaimed, my face burning. This was why I hadn’t told them. Why I refused to say he was my red thread. The mocking and disbelief Amber was showing was a perfect example of my need to keep this secret. “You have no idea what happened. You weren’t there.”

Amber spun and came at me, stopping when she was mere inches away. “You’re right. I wasn’t there. None of us were because when we were coming together to protect our coven,
our family
, you chose to run off and play the dating game with your dog.”

“Quit being a bitch.” Scarlett glared at our sister from where she leaned against the wall. “Sarah told us to follow Zuri’s pull. It’s not as if we just decided to go for a stroll through the woods for no reason.”

“Nice,” Amber spat. “I challenge Zuri on her choices and I’m the bitch? How about she’s the bitch for running off and putting this stupid pull she keeps complaining about ahead of her coven. How about you’re a bitch for following her and not notifying the coven of the danger the two of you had put us all in. How about both of you are bitches for abandoning your family and friends when we needed your help.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Sarah
told
us to go.”

Amber shook her head, her eyes growing red and wet. “The Marrins will explain.”

“You’re our sister.” I reached for her, but she pulled away, glaring at my proffered hand. “Why do we have to wait for the Marrins to tell us anything?”

Amber spun. “Because you chose a man over your family.”

“That’s enough, Weavers.” Bethesda stood in the open doorway to the coven room, surprising all of us. “Come inside, girls. There’s much to discuss.”

Amber huffed and hurried past Bethesda as Scarlett raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged and walked into the room, every nerve I had feeling frayed and trampled.
 

The three leaders of the coven families sat at a curved table on the far side of the room, one representative each from the Marrins, the Bishops, and the Gardners. For the first time, something about the setup struck me as incomplete. Sarah had raised us, therefore we’d always been somewhat included in the Bishop family. But technically, we were our own family. As part of the coven, we should have had someone sitting at that table, someone representing the Weavers. Amber should have been seated at that table instead of hovering to the side.

Clara Gardner walked around the perimeter of the room, chanting and pointing her knifelike athame in a manner that spoke of protection. The ceremonial dagger glinted in the candlelight, the double-edged blade slicing through the air with every sweep of Clara’s arm. Though similar to the spell I cast for Pup before leaving camp, this one focused on protecting our secrets and our fellow coven members from dark energies.

A single white candle burned on the altar, one that was never snuffed. In a home ruled by magick, no candles were lit without thought to color and meaning. White enhanced our link to the pure spirits and to the elemental magick within. It was a cleansing color, one of purification and truth-seeking. But around the perimeter of the room, darker candles burned. And they made my blood boil.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

Amber’s eyes darted around the room, an almost guilty expression on her face. Black candles rested upon every flat surface. From tables to bookshelves, window ledges to open space on the floor. Their placement and selection could not have been accidental. The color black was one of protection and safety. Of counteracting negative energies and repelling dark magick. Of reversing curses.

Bethesda glared from the Marrin family seat at the leaders’ table. “You will not disrespect this gathering by refusing to follow the rules.”

“Ladies, please.” Siobhan, Sarah’s niece, took a seat behind the table, looking sad and tired. “Let’s not get bogged down in red tape and ridiculous fanfare no one cares about. We have grave little time for planning.”

Clara huffed but continued on her way, pointing the athame in the corners and calling upon the guardians to watch over us. No one spoke as Clara finished her casting, addressing the room in full.

“Let all those who choose to remain in this sacred and protected space do so in perfect love and perfect trust.” She dropped three iron nails into a pot of earth near the doors, pushing the metal deep in the soil. Ensuring our protection from dark energies. Once finished, she shuffled to the table and took her seat to the right of Siobhan, the place for the head of the Gardner family.

“We found paw prints around the back porch. Huge prints that are too large to be a coyote or domestic dog. My aunt…” Siobhan swallowed, looking to Bethesda as if for support.

“We believe a hunter is responsible. The stink of the hunter was all over the porch and by the kitchen windows. He was watching us this evening.” Bethesda’s voice was grave, her words clipped. “It’s time for us to leave, but Sarah refuses. She intends to die here.”

The room began to spin as the words sank in. I reached for Scarlett at the same time she reached for me, both of us staring at a teary Siobhan, who watched us with red-rimmed eyes.

“We’ve consulted the grimoire,” Clara added. “There’s nothing that can be done to stop the progression of the cancer plaguing her lungs.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Scarlett spat. “There must be something. We’re witches, for fuck’s sake. We should be able to heal a little cancer.”

“You will respect the coven and watch your language, Weaver.” Clara sat, athame in hand, glaring at Scarlett.

“Fuck the coven. We need answers; there has to be something in those moldy old books that can help her.”

As the handful of witches in the room huffed and hollered in response to Scarlett’s disrespect, Siobhan turned my way. The tears that rolled down her face matched mine.

“How long?”

Siobhan sniffed and dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “A few weeks at most.”

“And there are no spells or potions we can brew?” I asked. “Nothing we can do to help her?”

She shook her head. “No, dear. Amber and I spent a few hours in the kitchen brewing a tincture that will keep her comfortable as her time ends, but that’s all she wants. That and to die in the house in which she’s lived her entire life.”
 

“There has to be something,” Scarlett said, her voice rough and angry.

“There was something.” Amber appeared behind Siobhan, her face filled with rage. “There were healing and longevity spells we could have tried. But the coven is already breaking apart. Witches are running and hiding, leaving a handful of us to deal with the work. And you…you were off cavorting with the enemy. Was that him watching Siobhan and me through the window? Or was it one of his friends?”