Chapter 9 #3
Encouraged by the actions of the Chicago pack, the other shifter packs in Illinois became emboldened.
They all insisted—no, demanded—that the covens dispose of all their wolfsbane.
The shifters aimed to control or eradicate anything that posed a threat to them.
The covens couldn’t justify possessing wolfsbane, a plant that when ingested or after sustained contact affected lycanthropes just as severely as silver.
It weakened them and prevented them shifting to their animal form, which was their most effective way to heal.
The two known spells commonly performed by alchemy witches that required wolfsbane and was unrelated to the werewolves, had alternative spells.
Although more complicated, the substitutes stripped the covens of any justification for war over possession of the ingredient.
The werewolves kept a close eye on the umbral and alchemy witches, who were likely to resist their demands on sheer principle.
They overlooked and underestimated Ember Hearth covens, not viewing them as a true threat.
Witches who could control weather and use it to their advantage were dangerous.
The Earthroot Coven, made up of verdant witches who manipulated the earth, had prolific command of plants and forestry, and their whimsical personalities led to people disregarding how formidable they were.
These oversights allowed them to go under the werewolves’ radar, which was why they were more likely to still possess wolfsbane.
I suspected that underestimation of the Earthroot Coven would cause the werewolves problems in the future.
A quick text confirmed my theory that a witch from a member of the Earthroot Coven was my best source.
It was her last message of, “I have a witch in mind. Give me an hour. I got you,” that unburdened me, burying the hopelessness with a sense of optimism. Rachel didn’t traffic in pretenses or false hope. She committed only when she was sure. I would get the wolfsbane.
The grimoire and new translation in hand, I headed for the kitchen for coffee and stopped short at the sight of Cirrian on the sofa, insouciantly nibbling on pretzels from the snack box I got for his imprisonment. He was thumbing through one of the books he hadn’t destroyed during his mantrum.
“You’d have more to read if you hadn’t thrown your little adult-fit,” I said.
“You’d have more to read if you hadn’t captured me,” he shot back with a wry smirk.
“Will showing up in my home uninvited be a little quirk of yours?”
“Uninvited? You made me your coerced guest. Despite the entertainment you consistently provide as your guest, I still have collections to make,” Cirrian shot back as he continued to scan the book.
Death didn’t stop because he was here. The thought of the grim reaper just chilling on my sofa sent a shiver through me.
“I would have woken you upon my return, but I found it oddly comforting how peacefully you slept knowing how freely I could move within your home. With little care for the trouble I could cause.”
It was a special skill of his to sound both menacing and flirty. I didn’t know how to respond. He’s a menace, Kara. Focus on that part.
“Or I was just really tired and slept despite that awareness,” I countered.
“I’m sure that’s it.” His tongue roved lazily over his lips, his eyes dropping from mine to the paper in my hand.
“Thank you for the translation.”
“You mean thank you for the correct translation. You had a translation—a poorly done translation—but a translation nonetheless.”
“Yeah, thank you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t believe your success is possible, but I find it amusing enough to nudge it along as I see fit. If it fails, it fails. If you manage to save Amelia…” His eyes iced over. “When you fail to satisfy your oath, I will take you next.”
“I’m glad you find my effort to save my friend so entertaining,” I snapped. It was hard to be grateful to an insufferable prick who was being flippant about Amelia’s and my life.
“Kara.” He said my name in a sultry rumble purely diametric to this situation.
The cold look he maintained made it clear it was a warning.
Cirrian was a string of contradictions. “I’m the incarnation of death.
Don’t expect me to be warm and cuddly. Nor should there be the expectation that you’ll be coddled by me, given false hope, or ignore that dealing with werewolves and demons is a colossal hurdle you must contend with.
I won’t deny it will be interesting to watch. ”
“I don’t need to be coddled. Definitely not by you.
There’s no reason for you to be an asshole or to find my heartache and difficulties entertaining.
” I attempted to steady my tremulous voice, but unfettered rage was steering my words.
“At the very least, recognize that this is not a game for me and I find nothing entertaining about this. What you see as amusing has real consequences for me. If I fail, I lose someone I love. So, don’t make light of my situation,” I managed through clenched teeth.
Tossing the book aside, he was off the sofa and in front of me in a flash of movement, giving me a considering look.
A dark cast lingered over his assessing look as shadows moved across his face.
He nodded. “I will respect your wishes as long as you lower your expectations of me. I don’t grieve.
There is no empathy for those I collect.
My job is to remove the soul and magic that no longer belongs here.
I’m not human. Don’t hold me to the standards of one. ”
“Do you need to be heartless? Just—”
He tapped at the nonexistent watch on his wrist again and made a ticking sound.
I dismissed all notion of him behaving as a human or ever being kind.
Moving past him, I regretted my attempt to shoulder check him.
A jolt of pain shot through me like I just slammed against a door frame.
His deep chuckle forced me to act unfazed.
Before I could deliver a scathing remark that’d contend with my shoulder pain, he’d vanished.