Chapter 7
Aster
I never like being near Catherine Adalwulf. I mean, I don’t dislike her, but the female she-wolf is soaked in pain. Being in the same room with her physically hurts me.
Now, as she enters Oma’s room to pay her respects, there’s something chaotic about her energy. If I had to express it as an image, it would be like trapped butterflies scrambling to get out. Beating themselves against a glass cage.
Now that I see it, I realize she’s always had those trapped butterflies in there, but before they were barely alive. Hardly moving. Drugged.
I squint my eyes, trying to see beyond the veil. I must learn to interpret these sensations. I won’t have Oma to guide me much longer. She’s nearing her last breath. I saw that in a dream last night. She’ll be dead before month’s end.
Catherine comes in and sits beside Oma, picking up her gnarled hand.
Oma can’t speak anymore. She hasn’t spoken out loud for three days. She only speaks into my head now.
“She says, You served your pack,” I interpret.
A wave of Catherine’s pain rolls over me, nearly making me pass out. This time I sense bitterness with it. I realize that, too, has always been in the mix, but the older she-wolf kept it hidden before. Tamped down with the butterflies. She kept herself half-dead just to exist with us.
This realization startles me.
Catherine drops the Seeress’ hand and stands, looking down at her with an undisguised contempt. “I hate you for what you did to me. I don’t forgive you. I never will.” No one has ever spoken to the Seeress this way. She is never paid anything but the utmost honor and respect.
It shocks me to hear the hatred in Catherine’s voice, but even more, it shocks me to realize what I failed to see until now. Tears fall freely from my eyes, but I’m not sure who they belong to–Oma or Catherine. Or perhaps they’re mine.
Because it’s the first time it has occurred to me that a female in this pack–other than the seeress–can and should have a will of her own.
Catherine’s story was fed to me in a way that celebrated her sacrifice. Her role for the good of the pack. But now I suddenly understand her deep, deep pain. It’s a wonder she’s even alive with that much pain.
Time suspends for a moment. The air shimmers and hums with potential energy. I don’t know what it’s for–whether Oma is cursing Catherine, or Catherine has cursed Oma, or it’s just the pulse of life hanging by a thread.
But it seems Catherine’s will triumphs. The butterflies I saw trapped inside her suddenly break free, exploding from her center like a glitter bomb, showering me with thwarted lifeforce that makes me shiver and shake. And then I understand the image. It matches that same spark of hope I felt about Oma’s impending death. It’s the sensation of a tamped down spirit coming to life.
I release it all with a sob, but I’m not crying over the end of our Seeress’ reign. I’m releasing the negativity and darkness that’s governed this pack for so long.
I stand and rest my hands on my knees, coughing and coughing until I’ve exhaled all of the smoky mist.
When I finally straighten, Catherine’s watching me with wide, frightened eyes.
A mantle of strength settles over me. Oma may still be alive, but my moon is rising.
I will be the new Seeress. And I know exactly what must be done. I take Catherine’s arm and lead her out of the room.
“Your son is in grave danger.” My voice has the echoey timbre of the new pack Seeress.
She gasps, turning pale.
“He is not free of the moon madness. The infection crawls beneath his skin. It will return if you cannot repair the wound of his father’s death.”
“What? How?”
Her phone rings, but she doesn’t move, still staring at me. As it goes on ringing, I point. “That is his mate calling. She needs your help.”