5. Juniper
JUNIPER
The call comes through Dahlia. Which is how I know it’s real.
Dahlia Mercer wasn’t exactly a stranger. Not anymore.
We’d met yesterday—briefly—when I stopped into her apothecary looking for supplies. She’d clocked me as a working witch in under thirty seconds and decided I was worth keeping an eye on.
Apparently, that now included sending problem cases my way.
“Not urgent,” she says when I step into the apothecary, which immediately tells me it’s urgent. “But concerning.”
“Those are my favorite,” I reply, dropping my bag onto the counter. “What are we dealing with?”
Dahlia ties off a bundle of herbs before answering, movements calm.
“Lion shifter,” she says. “One of Malachi’s people. Name’s Mateo.”
I pause. “Define ‘concerning.’”
“Short temper. Unprovoked aggression. Nearly started a fight this morning over something minor.”
“Could be stress.”
“It could be,” she agrees. “But it’s not.”
That’s enough for me.
“Where is he?”
“Out near the south edge of town. He’s trying to keep his distance from everyone else.”
Smart.
“Good,” I say, grabbing my satchel. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Dahlia watches me for a second, something thoughtful flickering behind her eyes.
“You’re sure you want to handle this alone?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You have a territorial alpha who already thinks you’re his responsibility.”
“I am not his responsibility.”
Her mouth twitches. “You keep saying that.”
“I mean it every time.”
“I’m sure you do.”
I point a finger at her. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She laughs softly as I head for the door.
“Be careful,” she calls after me.
“I always am,” I say, which is technically true.
Just not always enough.
The south edge of town feels different from the rest.
Less contained. The trees press closer, the space between civilization and wilderness thinner, like the boundary isn’t entirely settled.
It’s also where the magic feels… tighter. Not stronger, exactly. More concentrated.
That lines up with the map I made last night. One of the nodes sits somewhere out here.
Which means whatever’s affecting this shifter might not be an isolated problem.
“Great,” I mutter. “Love patterns.”
I spot him near the tree line. Tall. Broad. Built like someone who spends more time in his shifted form than out of it. He’s pacing a narrow stretch of ground, movements sharp and restless, like he’s trying to burn off energy that won’t settle.
Not rage. Pressure. Something pushing against his instincts.
“Mateo?” I call.
He stops instantly. Too fast. His head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing as he takes me in.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“Juniper,” I say, keeping my tone even as I approach slowly. “I heard you’ve been having a rough morning.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good,” I reply. “That makes this easier.”
His gaze flickers, uncertainty cutting through the irritation for just a second. Then it’s gone.
“I don’t need help,” he says.
“Probably not,” I agree. “But I’m here anyway.”
He exhales sharply, clearly not thrilled with that answer.
“Malachi send you?” he asks.
“No.”
That seems to throw him more than anything else.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because something’s wrong,” I say. “And I’d like to fix it before it gets worse.”
His jaw tightens.
“I said I’m fine.”
“And I’m saying you’re not.”
Silence stretches between us, tension building in small increments. He’s fighting something.
I can see the way his shoulders tense, the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s holding himself back from something he doesn’t fully understand.
“Just give me five minutes,” I say. “If I’m wrong, I leave.”
“And if you’re not?”
“Then you’ll be glad I stayed.”
Another pause. Then?—
“Five minutes,” he says.
Good enough.
I don’t get too close. Distance matters when you’re dealing with unstable instincts.
Instead, I crouch a few feet away and pull a small piece of chalk from my bag, sketching a quick diagnostic circle on the ground. Nothing elaborate. Just enough to give me a baseline.
“Stand there,” I tell him, gesturing to the center.
He hesitates. Then steps into place. I start the spell.
It’s simple—just a probe, really. A way to read what’s already there without interfering too much. Magic hums softly as it activates, threads of energy extending outward, brushing against him, mapping what they find.
For a second, everything feels normal. Then?—
There. My focus sharpens.
“That’s not yours,” I murmur.
Mateo stiffens. “What?”
“Hold still.”
I adjust the spell, narrowing it, isolating the interference. It’s subtle. Too subtle. Layered into his instincts that mimics natural behavior, amplifying certain responses while dulling others.
Aggression up. Restraint down. Carefully balanced.
“Someone’s been in your head,” I say.
His expression darkens. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
I shift my hand slightly, pulling the magic closer, tracing it back along its path. It doesn’t end with him. It connects. Outward. Away from him and into something larger.
My stomach drops.
“Oh,” I breathe. “That’s… not good.”
“What?” he demands.
“This isn’t just you,” I say. “You’re part of something bigger.”
“Define bigger.”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
I reach for another tool, adjusting the circle to start unraveling the interference. Carefully.
Slowly. If I pull too hard, I risk triggering whatever safeguards are built into this. And there are safeguards. I can feel them now. Hidden. Waiting.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Whoever did this is careful.”
“That’s reassuring,” Mateo says flatly.
“It’s really not.”
I start the break. Magic tightens, threads shifting as I work to separate the foreign influence from his natural instincts. For a second, it responds. Loosens. Gives. Then?—
Everything snaps. The circle flares with sudden, violent light.
“Move!” I snap.
Mateo jumps back just as the ground where he was standing erupts with magic that was definitely not part of my spell.
I dive sideways, the force of it slamming into the space I just vacated hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
“Not good,” I gasp, rolling to my feet.
The air crackles, energy lashing outward in sharp, unpredictable bursts. Trap. Of course there’s a trap.
“Stay back!” I shout, throwing up a quick barrier as another surge hits, skimming past my shoulder close enough to burn.
Pain flares. Not deep. But enough.
“Seriously?” I mutter. “We’re doing this now?”
The magic doesn’t answer. It just escalates. The pattern shifts, tightening around the broken circle, trying to back into place.
“No,” I say, forcing my own magic into the space. “We are not doing that.”
I push harder, breaking the structure before it can reset. The backlash hits immediately.
Sharp. Bright. Violent enough to make my vision blur for a second. I grit my teeth and hold the line.
“Come on,” I mutter. “Come on?—”
The pressure spikes?—
And then?—
It shatters. The energy collapses inward, snapping back like a severed wire. Silence crashes down in its wake. I’m breathing hard, making sure it’s actually over. Then I straighten slowly.
“Well,” I say. “That was rude.”
Mateo stares at me. “What the hell was that?”
“A warning,” I reply. “And a very well-designed one.”
I glance down at the remnants of the circle, already analyzing what just happened.
“That wasn’t just a defensive spell,” I add. “It was built to activate if someone tried to interfere.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning whoever did this expected someone like me to show up eventually.”
“And they tried to stop you.”
“Yep.”
I dust off my hands, ignoring the sting along my arm.
“Which means this just got a lot more interesting.”
“And a lot more dangerous,” Mateo adds.
“That too.”
I open my mouth to respond?—
And then I feel it. A familiar, unwelcome pull. Strong. Focused. Approaching fast. I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
“Of course,” I mutter. “Why wouldn’t he show up now?”
Mateo glances past me. “Malachi.”
I sigh, already bracing myself.
“Perfect timing,” I say dryly, turning just as he steps into the clearing.
His gaze locks onto me immediately. Not the scene. Not the aftermath of the magic. Me.
And something in his expression shifts when he takes in the state of the clearing. Sharp. Dangerously close to not being either of those things.
“Well,” I say, crossing my arms. “This should be fun.”