Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Wilder
Ididn’t know where I was going. I’d been so lost inside my head that I just let my feet take me in any direction.
I’d needed to put space between me, Dara and Byron fucking Blake.
He’d been…nice to me and I wasn’t sure how to take that.
If I wanted to be honest with myself, I’d liked it, but I wasn’t ready to admit that.
It meant that I might actually like the asshole and there was no way I was ready to admit that to myself. The guy was a dick.
But he’d also found my number and rang me to check that I was okay, and he’d still stayed with me at Dara’s despite finding out all that shit about me. Wasn’t that kind of sweet?
And that was proof of how fucked my head was at the moment. I found a psychopath sweet. Fuck my life.
I finally looked up, dragging my gaze from staring at my trainers and pavement and found myself on the street of my potions dealer. Why the fuck had I brought myself here? I barely knew her and our exchanges were limited to money and goods.
Astrid lived in a charming little suburb and the place looked incredibly normal.
Apart from the fact that most people down here were in the witch community.
There were witches, charmers, herbologists, and all sorts of other magic-related creatures.
But there was only potions master down here and that was Astrid St Clair.
A flamboyant witch with incredible powers when it came to making potions.
Potions weren’t just glass bottles filled with colourful liquid.
They were an artform and incredibly difficult to master—I’d always lacked the skill.
I could conjure you any kind of charm or luck spell, but a potion, nope. I was shit out of luck with that one.
I knocked on her lavender coloured front door and waited for her to appear.
She’d hung a large Christmas wreath on her door, and it reminded me that it was nearly Christmas.
I hated Christmas. Everyone was so jolly and spent it with their family.
I might have Dara, but she was always wrapped up with her wife on Christmas and spending it with them always made me feel like a spare part.
I preferred to spend it alone. It was better that way.
It wasn’t long until I heard the telltale crash and yelp as she tripped over something on her way to the door. For a potions master, this woman was clumsy. How she’d managed to weave spectacular potions without adding a disastrous splash of something, I’d never know.
“I’m coming!” she yelled from behind the door.
I tucked my hands into my pockets and looked around the little cul-de-sac.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as I stared at the empty street and treeline beyond.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I wouldn’t put it past Byron to have tracked me down, but somehow, I didn’t think that it was him.
A flash of dark wings caught my attention in the treeline, and I found a large raven sitting watching me.
…a large raven with human eyes…
The door swung open and the memory of my vision disappeared, my attention back on the door and the explosion of colour currently filling the doorframe. A bubble-gum pink wavy bob, bright pink eyes and a psychedelic print dress made up Astrid St Clair.
“Wilder?” she asked breathlessly. “I’m not expecting you, am I?”
“Um, no,” I replied, digging my hands deeper into my pockets.
“What are you doing at my house?” she asked, her heart-shaped face a picture of confusion.
I scratched a finger along my eyebrow. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just found myself here.”
“Huh. I often find myself in the places I need to be when I least expect it. Come on in, I’ll make us some tea.” She opened the door wide and headed back into her house.
I stepped over the threshold, magic wards brushing against my skin as I crossed the boundary. If I’d come with ill intent, the ward would have probably done something horrific to me. I still wasn’t even sure why I’d come here but I shut the door behind me and followed Astrid into the kitchen.
The scent of chamomile wafted through the air as she poured two cups of tea. I plonked my ass on one of the barstools and ran my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands to ground me.
“So,” Astrid said brightly as she passed me a cup, “want to tell me why you’re here?”
Where did I even begin? “Um, well… I’ve been having visions, but apparently, they’re not visions because I’m a Shadow Witch and I’ve actually been receiving messages from the other side of the veil.
Also, my father did something horrible to me as a child and it was so horrible that my sister had my memories altered so that I wouldn’t remember but they’re bleeding into my dreams as nightmares.
Oh, and I have a psychopathic hitman so obsessed with me that he invited himself into my house without permission and I kind of let him stay the night. ”
Astrid blinked at me a few times then looked down at her mug. “We’re going to need something stronger than this.”
She hopped off her stool and grabbed a bottle of gin and two glasses.
“You let him stay the night?” Astrid asked as she poured a healthy amount into each glass.
I snorted. “Out of all that word vomit, that’s the question you ask?”
She slid a glass over to me. “Hey, if you’re getting some steamy action, I want to know. My cunt is drier than a nun’s so I’m happily going to live through your sexual exploits if you’ve got them.”
“Astrid,” I groaned and took a sip of the gin. It was strong, and I winced as the liquid ran down my throat. “We didn’t have sex; he just slept next to me.”
Astrid blinked slowly, her glass raised halfway to her lips. “You let that gorgeous man into your bed, and you didn’t let him fuck you into next week?”
“Did you not hear the part about nightmares? I woke up screaming, and he was there watching me.”
“Mm-kay, that’s a little creepy.”
“Besides, how do you know who I’m talking about?”
“You mean there’s more than one psychopathic hitman out there? Come on, Wilder, you’re clearly talking about Byron Blake and before you ask, yes, our paths have crossed and yes, I’ve supplied him with potions and no, he doesn’t know where I live.”
“I don’t think that would stop him. He seems to be rather resourceful,” I griped, but I wasn’t even that pissed that he’d figured out how to get my number. I was more annoyed that I was letting the man take up space in my brain.
I took another swig of the gin and then twirled the glass between my fingers, watching the light play in the patterns.
“Aren’t Shadow Witches super rare?” Astrid asked, her pink eyebrows scrunched up in a frown. “Like, I’ve never met one. Hell, I’ve never even heard of one living.”
“You’d be right,” I agreed. “I’m the lucky one who managed to get that gift. And, because fate seems to think it’s funny to find ways to piss me off, my vessel is Byron.”
“Shut the front fucking door!” She gasped. “No way. Byron? Really?”
“Yep,” I said propping the ‘p’.
“Isn’t he human?”
I nodded. “But somehow my magic has decided that this man can protect it whilst I’m beyond the veil.”
Astrid bobbed her head from side to side. “Well, that does kind of make sense.”
I stared blankly at her. “It does?”
“Yeah,” she said with a wide smile. “I mean, think about it. The guy kills people for a living. And not just humans. Somehow, he can manage to kill any kind of supernatural being. He’s the perfect one to protect you and your magic whilst you’re most vulnerable.”
She had a point. Which I hated. It was just another reasonable excuse for Byron to insinuate himself into my life.
Astrid leaned over the table and wrapped her hand around mine. “Look, things sound like they’re pretty intense in your life right now. Would having Byron in it be so bad?”
For such a simple question, there was one hell of a complicated answer. “I don’t know.”
I’m pretty sure he was also deeply obsessed with his twin. I didn’t want to compete with Bishop, hell, I didn’t think I could compete with their relationship. So where did that leave me? Was I supposed to like Bishop too?
Fuck. Why was I even contemplating any of this?
I groaned and dropped my head to the table. I had bigger problems to worry about than Byron Blake and his twin.
“Talk to me about something else. Anything else. Please,” I begged. I needed a distraction for the sheer shit show my life seemed to have suddenly turned into.
“Ooh a new witch has moved to the area. Haven’t got his name yet, but he’s beautiful.”
I perked my head up at that. New witches were few and far between in these parts.
Misthaven was a safe space for supernaturals.
It was run by the three ruling families, the Morozovs, who were vampire, the Leveaux, who were wolf shifters and the Rowans.
Although, there were less of us than the other three families and only two true Rowans.
We’d become a coven of powerful misfits, taking in those who’d needed a home and could contribute to our coven. We’d built it from scratch.
Now I understood why. We’d clearly left our family and coven when Dara took me away to protect me from my father. There was so little that I remembered of my past. I knew I had a father, but where was my mother? Did I have any other siblings? Or cousins or nieces? Nephews? Who was I?
“What’s he like?” I asked, trying to stop my mind from spiralling.
Astrid tipped her head to one side in thought. “Classically handsome. Older. Salt and pepper hair and green eyes. Dresses like he’s in finance but I got the sense that he’s hiding a lot of power under his three-piece suit.”
“Doesn’t sound like your type at all,” I chuckled. Astrid tended to go for the type of man who grew up fighting for everything he had.
A man like Byron…
“Might change my tastes for this man, though.”
“What kind of witch is he?”
“Not sure, actually,” she said, pursing her lips in thought. “Kind of got the vibe that he was a bit of an everything kind of witch but I’m sure he’ll be back in my shop soon.”
It was odd she didn’t know what kind of witch he was. Astrid was unnervingly good at detecting power signatures. “Why do you think that?”
She bit her bottom lip, and a blush blossomed across her cheeks. “We kind of flirted over a discussion of the healing properties of various different plants. It was a very stimulating conversation.”
I snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
Astrid giggled and propped her elbows and the table and chin in her palms. “Yeah, but life’s too short to be serious.”
I hummed in agreement and looked out of her kitchen window for a moment, that feeling of being watched still prickling against my periphery. I couldn’t see anything or anyone lurking across the street, but as I stared at the grove of trees, I couldn’t shake the feeling of a threat.
“What is it?” Astrid asked.
“Nothing,” I lied and turned back to her.
She stared at me with a frown, but she didn’t call me out on my bullshit. “Okay. If you say so. You want another?”
She shook the gin bottle at me, and I was tempted but I had some life-changing shit to deal with. Staying here and burying my head in the sand wasn’t going to help anybody, least of all me.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Attaboy,” she chuckled. “My door’s always open if you want gin or tea.”
I stood and strode around the table, throwing my arms around her in a hug. She flinched in surprise, which was understandable. I wasn’t the type of person who normally went in for a hug, but I needed this. “Thanks, Astrid. You’re the best.”
She patted my back awkwardly. “I know. Make sure you stop by shop this week; I’ve got some new things coming in you’ll want to see. Plus, your order should be ready just after Christmas.”
I pulled back and smiled. “Sure. I’ll find some time.”
“Good.” She eyed me curiously. “You know, you never asked.”
I frowned. “Asked what?”
“If I could tell that you were a Shadow Witch.”
“Could you?” She did have the ability to sense power types, but the thought of asking her hadn’t even crossed my mind. It was too consumed with all the other current crap.
She tipped her head to one side, her bright pink eyes assessing. “Not really. It’s strange. Your power feels… muted.”
“Well, I don’t step into my full power until my twenty-fifth birthday.” Which was New Year’s Day next week.
She shook her head. “It feels like more than that, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. It might have something to do with your missing memories.”
Astrid slipped off her stool and went to rummage in one of the drawers in her old French dresser. Not finding what she was looking for, she slammed it shut and moved to the next one.
“Ah-ha,” she cried, holding aloft a small black business card. “If you want to unlock those memories, see this guy. He’s creepy as fuck, but he’s the best at recalling lost memories.”
She handed it over and in small neat, silver block capitals were the words:
THE MEMORY WRAITH
I shivered as a feeling of foreboding rippled under my skin. There was no address or any other text. Just his name. “How do I find him?”
She dropped her voice into a corny tone and wiggled her fingers. “He’ll find youuuuu.”
“You’re such a dork,” I snorted.
“I know. But you love me anyway. Seriously though, only go there as a last resort. He’ll exact a price and it might not be worth the cost, but if you do want to see him, hold the card and call him with intent.” She wrapped her hand around mine that held the card. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I will. Thank you.”
Then I turned around and headed out of her house, more confused than when I had entered it.