Chapter 51 #2
It’s only then I notice that her attention has been on me, because once it shifts to Julian, I feel the pressing weight of it lift.
“This isn’t …” I search for a way to say us trying to kill you. “… Anything bad.”
Julian shoots me a look of obvious disappointment. I shrug. He knows exactly who he’s mated to.
“We don’t want a fight,” he corrects with a breath. “We just want to talk.”
“And what makes you think you’re in a position to decide what happens here?”
The velvet voice slithers through the tear, reaching us ahead of its owner.
Sharp, purple eyes breach the opening as it widens, making room for the witch as she gingerly steps through and lands on the balls of her feet with odd glee. Her attention shifts between Julian and me with some mix of amusement and aggravation.
She’s all sharp angles—high cheekbones and cat-like eyes. Her dark curls bracket her face, at least the strands that aren’t heavy with trinkets that jingle as she moves. It’s a mishmash of beads, rings, threads, and goddess knows what else. I doubt it’s just for show.
Power hums off her like its own living entity—a symbiote instead of a tool.
This isn’t some shrivelled witch who can’t mask her strength. She’s young, just like Julian said, but if he said the witch he met was afraid, then this sure as hell isn’t her.
The last thing this witch is feeling is fear.
“You came to find me,” she says to Julian, then clicks her tongue. “Why can’t people ever just leave a good thing alone?”
Julian frowns but stays quiet. He just watches her, cautious as I am. She moves around the tear, half skipping along the edge of her spell, completely unbothered.
“You brought company again,” she says, pivoting on one foot, but she doesn’t look at me.
Her gaze skips over me entirely, locking instead on where Emitt is crouched low in the grass. My stomach sinks. I step forward, and her eyes snap to me.
She tsks, lifting a finger. “I thought you said you didn’t want a fight.”
“We don’t,” Julian replies quickly. “We …” he exhales, steadying himself. “We need your help.”
The witch stills.
Balancing on the one foot, she darts her gaze between us with obvious scepticism. “You …” Her lip curls with disgust. “Werewolves … want the help of me, a witch?”
“Yes,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Her eyes widen a touch. “Is hell freezing over?”
“Depends—are you strong enough to make that happen?” I retort.
She smirks, moving again, ignoring the others in favour of running her eyes over Julian and me.
Her gaze is probing, like a scalpel trying to peel back layer after layer.
I don’t know if she finds what she’s looking for, but she frowns slightly when she looks back at Julian, or rather, at the space just above his head.
“So, two alpha werewolves want my help,” she goads in a singsong chime, sliding a finger over his neck. “What’s in it for me?”
Of course she wants something. Witches always do.
“What do you want?” he asks.
She smiles again, shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t know if I can even help you.” She lifts her chin and gestures to the tear behind her. “Let’s discuss terms.”
That alone propels the others into alertness.
Spikes! Emitt shrieks through the link.
Beckett doesn’t even bother with it. “Don’t,” he warns out loud. “It’s a trap.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” the witch says with a cackle. “Either way, I don’t trust you. And if you really aren’t here for a fight, then”—she steps back—“in we go. Just you two.”
“Aiden,” Emitt warns, standing now. The others do the same, dropping the pretence of stealth. “Please, think this through.”
“We don’t know what’s on the other side,” Isabel adds.
I hear them, but keep my eyes on the witch. There’s something … off about her. And not in a bad way.
Witches were monsters in bedtime stories for a reason—the whole cooking kids in pies thing didn’t spawn from nowhere. But this one doesn’t seem evil. Sure, she’s powerful and clearly not above killing if she has to, but she is also somewhat normal.
I mean, normal-ish. She’s clearly unhinged, but not … I don’t know. Not like a witch witch.
With my internal alarms finally quiet, I take a good look at her. All I see is a slightly manic girl with a shitload of power running through her veins. I glance at Julian, and see the same assessment behind his eyes. Good. At least we’re on the same wavelength about walking straight into hell.
“Watch the gate,” he says, stepping forward.
The witch’s laugh drowns out the others’ protests as she falls back through her tear. We follow after her.
There are no spikes or falling scythes on the other side. There’s actually nothing but a never-ending landscape of stalking wheat somewhere far sunnier than where we’d been. There’s also no other witch. Only her scent is here, meaning she’s all alone.
“I guess we should get introductions out the way,” she says.
I look at her, and her eyes are brown now. The manic gleam is now gone, like she’d taken off a mask. Or maybe it’d slid off in this place that was clearly her safe haven.
“I’m Katerina.”
“Aiden,” I say.
“Julian.”
“Glad to see we all hate each other already,” she says with a smile that throws me off kilter.
“What? You’re werewolves, I’m a witch. You want to kill me, and I really want to kill you, but we’re not doing that right now ’cause we’re negotiating and stuff.
” She clasps her hands, beaming, “Let’s just try and keep it together, alright? ”
I blink. “Yea, sure,” is all I manage.
“So,” Katerina asks, attention already shifting. “What’s wrong with you?” She looks exclusively at Julian.
He frowns. “How do you—”
“You’re worse than before,” she cuts in.
“Worse?” I ask, looking for the tell she somehow pried from thin air, but there’s nothing.
“Something’s wrong,” she replies simply. “What is it?”
“My wolf,” Julian admits, voice strained. I reach for him, intertwining our fingers until he squeezes back. “I can’t reach him.”
Katerina hums, idly plucking at the wheat stems around her. “And you want me to … do what exactly?”
“We need to reach him, so we know what’s hurting him,” Julian says. “If we can talk to him, or even just get him out a little, maybe we can fix it.”
She hums again, twirling the wheat between her fingers before looking up. “Alright, let me have a look.”
Julian and I both take a step back.
“Scared already?” she tsks. “And we haven’t even got to the fun part.”
“What do you mean, ‘have a look’?” I ask, ignoring her jibing. “I thought you wanted something.”
“I don’t need anything other than for you guys to fuck off after this if all you want me to do is take a peek,” she replies plainly.
“If you can get over your fear, I can look inside your head and see why your wolf is playing hide and seek. Then you can go home and leave me alone.” She waves a hand.
“Now, come on, I just need to have a little feel around.”
“They say to keep witches away from your mind,” Julian mutters.
“With good reason, too. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not that bad of a witch, huh?”
Katerina is crazy. Not raving mad, but something close that comes from people who stopped giving a damn what the world thinks.
I look at Julian, trying to gauge his state of mind about this.
We’d already jumped head-first into this with a series of stupid decisions, but was this a step too far?
Letting a witch into your head felt like suicide.
Sure, we were trained to block witches, but that all went to shit when you let them in.
Plains, that might not even work with one of this calibre.
“Why are you here?” Julian asks with narrowed eyes. “Specifically, here. There are no other witches in this area, and yet you’ve popped up out of thin air.”
Her easy smile wavers. “Now you want my life story?”
“If I’m letting you into my head, I’d at least like to know what you’re doing out here alone,” he replies.
For a moment, Katerina just stares at him, eyes flashing violet before she heaves a big sigh. “Let’s just say I was trying to make lemonade but life handed me some prunes, so I’m stuck here making prune juice.”
I chuckle, can’t help it, and she smiles. Julian does not.
She groans dramatically, letting her hands swing in the air.
“I’m topping up on energy. But don’t worry, I’m not drawing from your pack or anything.
You’d feel it if I were, right? And all jokes aside”—she leans in conspiratorially—“I’m not trying to piss off a pack as big as yours. I’m harmless to you guys.”
That only raises more questions.
Some witches—famously dark magic witches—could syphon the power from the living. But Katerina seemed to have earth magic, and definitely didn’t smell dark. So who the hell was she pulling from if not us?
“This is your last chance before I make you fuck off,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Come here.”
Julian glances my way, but there’s nothing to say.
She’s our only option. And as weird as she is, my gut says to give this a shot.
I trust it, I admit through our link.
Glad I’m not the only crazy one.
I snort, and we step forward. Katerina’s eyes prick with interest as we move together, but she’s still, waiting. Her magic is a physical force against us, a tangible pressure that keeps us just shy of touching, leaving it to her to take the last step.
She finally smiles up at Julian before she raises her hands.
He swallows audibly, then bends forward, slotting his head between her open palms.
The humour drains from her face. She takes a deep breath and her eyes slip shut before she presses her fingers to his temples.
They both flinch, but neither moves as the air around us drops to near freezing. Katerina mumbles something low, foreign words that shift into a hum. I listen closely, not a fan of witchy juju, but it sounds kind of familiar … kind of like …
I stare at here, blinking like an idiot, because yes—that’s Hello by Adele.
When she pulls away, she has a strange smile that’s almost appreciative.