Chapter 14
“You’re okay?”
Rachel had asked some variation of the question several times while I briefed her on what had transpired at Diehle’s home.
She received the heavily edited version that didn’t include Diehle breaking the terms of our contract and attacking me.
Cirrian’s breaking of rules and killing him was also withheld.
Being forced to tell lies of omission and give modified retellings was becoming frustrating.
Rachel bombarded me with questions, and I kept my answers as succinct as possible, while my thoughts kept wondering about the debts and contracts Diehle held.
Were they voided upon his death? Would another demon take over his territory and incur the debts?
I liked the idea of a demon-less territory, even more so now.
“We’re still working on a counterspell,” Rachel provided, a hitch of apprehension in her voice.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m afraid.” Her voice cracked with the quiet admission.
It cost her something to disclose the vulnerability.
“Our magic wasn’t right for several hours after we performed the location spell on Amelia.
We’ll do anything to help her. But I’m afraid we’ll end up sacrificing our magic or risking our lives only to fail to save her. ”
My heart wrenched at her despair. I shared similar sentiments.
“The spell I have will work,” I asserted with a confidence I hoped would ease her worry.
“And it only requires one witch to invoke it.” That wasn’t much solace because the invocation would put that witch’s life and magic at risk.
“Don’t worry. No one in your coven needs to perform the spell. I’ll find someone else,” I told her.
After a long, brittle silence, Rachel spoke in a hushed, concerned voice.
“Don’t let desperation force you to do things that challenges who you are.
The vampires are fond of you, but if you earn a reputation for weaponizing them, your life will be at risk.
Witches will not stand for their magic to be exploited through compulsion. ”
Her words landed like an accusation, and it stung even though I knew it didn’t come from a place of malice. Rachel understood that the kind of desperation that drives a person to make deals with demons could easily lead them to other reckless and dangerous actions.
“I would never do anything like that,” I said. “A witch owes me a big favor and I’m calling it in. I acknowledge that this is a powerful spell, and I don’t know if he can handle it. I need you to continue to work on a backup plan, in case it fails.”
“Who’s the witch?”
“Jonah. I don’t have a last name—”
“A last name isn’t needed. We know him. How did you come about earning a favor from him?”
“I saved his life.”
“His life? Or did you save someone from him?” Rachel’s disdain for him came through her tepid tone.
“Both.”
The tension in the quiet was palpable. “Be careful dealing with him, okay?” After more strained silence she warned, “There’s something off about his magic.”
“That seems to be the general consensus.”
“Because it’s true. Take that into consideration during every interaction with him. He is not a safe person to have in your life,” she warned.
“Message received.”
“Kara,” she interrupted before I could end the call. “Don’t just receive it. Take it.”
“Okay.” I’d take her warning, but I needed Jonah’s magic for now, and he was a person of interest, so I’d have to deal with him. If he was not involved with the curse, then I’d place him persona non grata.
In my car, Rachel’s warning and Paige’s comment about Jonah stayed with me as I looked at the directions to get the wolfsbane in Indiana.
What if Jonah was the answer to fixing this, eliminating the need for wolfsbane and the vampires as a conduit?
Finally, sticking with my initial plan, I headed out of the city.
If he wasn’t the answer, I would still need wolfsbane, and I wasn’t sure if there was an expiration date on Terran’s offer.
The directions to the location of the wolfsbane placed me at the ingress of a dense wooded area within a small subdivision. Dealing with a faction who preferred to only deal with other werewolves meant my presence was immediately noticed.
Curious eyes peeked from the sides of curtains or through the slats of blinds.
Some occupants didn’t bother hiding their surveillance, boldly stepping onto porches to watch me, their eyes lit with that predatory glow as if, by some chance, I didn’t know they were werewolves.
In the daylight, the effect of their eerie eyes was diminished.
Shooting the observers—seen and unseen—a cutesy finger wave, I readjusted my sling backpack and headed for the woods.
Traipsing deeper into the woodland, the trees became denser and formed a verdant canopy.
The streams of light filtering in did alleviate the portentous atmosphere as I navigated obscured trails and gnarled roots that clawed through the soil.
Earthy scents, pine, and the sweet aroma of wildflowers were a constant reminder that I was deep in werewolf territory.
I pushed aside the recurring and unsettling feeling that instead of this being an opportunity for a retrieval, it could be a setup for being hunted.
My inner skeptic reared its head, and I had to take several deep breaths to rid myself of the forming anxiety.
Tannin coated the air along with a cloudy remnant of energy from recently performed magic.
Magic on lycanthrope land where wolfsbane is present?
Clearly, werewolf and witch relations were quite different here.
The Chicago pack and the covens didn’t make it a habit of dealing with each other.
When they did, it was purely transactional.
Witches performed spells for pay. On rare occasions, in lieu of cash, they’d provide protection services.
Lust seemed to be a great unifier. For a group with a general disdain and mistrust for one another, they managed to set that aside to satisfy their carnal urges. It was beyond me how people who held so much animosity could just discard it at the door when they wanted to fuck.
Despite permission to be on the property, I felt like I was trespassing.
The signs affixed to some trees and stakes, warning me that I was on Layne City werewolf property, didn’t help.
Unlike covens, who used counties, lycanthrope packs were divided by city.
A compromise was made several decades ago to decrease the constant disruption to the pack and violence from challenges for Alpha.
Smaller territories meant fewer wolves who believed they should lead.
Deep in the heart of the woods, the sounds of the city that had given me a modicum of comfort that a person was a scream away were gone.
Now there were only the rustling of leaves, distant sounds of birds, and woodland creatures.
Fingering the side pocket of my backpack, I touched the handles of the knife, stun gun, and baton stored there.
Was it enough or too much? Would the arsenal of weapons be perceived as intent to harm or acceptable basic protection?
Finding the balance with that was frustrating, and the politics of the supernatural world kept me on a knife’s edge, never confident that I knew what could be deemed offensive and a slight against a faction.
My position with the vampires complicated matters.
A simple act could easily be perceived as hostile and quickly become the inciting incident of a war.
Searching the area, my eyes latched onto the purple hues of flowers near a pond surrounded by staggered rocks and low grass. A good location for wolfsbane. Nearing the flowers, large rune-etched rocks illuminated when I was close and pulsed when I passed them.
Ignoring the constant displays of magic, I kneeled in front of a patch of wolfsbane. Retrieving the hand shovel, pruning shears, and paper towels from my backpack, I placed them next to me. I snipped a handful of flowers. And dug out another bunch, taking care to save the roots.
“So the rumors are true, you are immune to wards.” The low, raspy whisper broke the silence.
A woman stepped from behind the trunk of the oak, her eyes as bright as her smile.
Long auburn hair was pulled back into a braid.
I wasn’t able to tell if her sandy-hued skin color was a result of sun or Mediterranean genes.
Her angular appearance and nose that curved sharply downward gave her a look of quiet authority.
Gentle, earthy-brown eyes complemented by long lashes had a disarming effect.
Experience had taught me it was foolish to ever allow that to happen.
Her attire—dark-blue wide-legged linen pants, loose-fitting teal button-down, white tank, and mid-height slingback shoes—made it apparent that she hadn’t planned for her day to involve trekking through the woods.
Her smile widened at my silence. She flicked her eyes at the rune-etched stones.
“I created the repulsion spell just for you, and you breezed past as if they weren’t even there,” she said.
Based on the storm of magic that flowed off her in waves, I suspected she was the Archanist of her coven.
If she wasn’t, then her coven was a force of magic, and I didn’t want them as enemies.
My continued silence caused her amicable mood to cool. Narrowed eyes homed in on me like a sniper scope.