Chapter Eighteen
Seraphina
As I awoke, the ache in my chest felt unbearable. I stared up at the ceiling, where shadows danced and played tricks with the dawn. I pushed back the covers, which felt heavier than lead, my emotions dragging me down. I wanted to curl up and hide under my duvet forever. I’d truly believed Tyler felt the same way I did this time. But, three long days had passed since the painful morning he’d made it abundantly clear, for the second time, that he regretted being intimate with me.
The thought stabbed deeper into my heart, twisting painfully. That was why my comings and goings had turned clandestine again. I found myself avoiding him, a skill I had practiced well. I snuck into the bathroom, the cool tiles biting against my bare feet as I quickly showered, the water refreshing but failing to wash away the ache.
I slipped into a pair of navy blue overalls. As I hurried down the staircase, slinging my bag of magic supplies over my shoulder, I took each step two at a time, eager to escape the confines of the house. I couldn’t bear to see Tyler. Each time he looked at me with a flicker of remorse, it cut like a fresh wound.
We had crossed paths in the kitchen after our night together, and any thought of addressing what had happened melted into the air. The weight of his shame hung between us, suffocating and making any discussion feel impossible. So, I resolved to harden my heart. I was done allowing him to dictate the trajectory of my emotions.
From that moment, I hardened my heart. I swore to myself he’d no longer have any influence over me.
This morning, I skirted past the kitchen door, the heart of the house that now felt foreign, filled with memories of passion and tenderness. Where Tyler had once looked at me with ardor, he now saw only regrets. I stepped outside and let the fresh dawn air greet me, the coolness biting against my cheeks as I made my way to Tara’s house.
Her cheerful presence brightened my day despite a violent yawn as she answered the door, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown. “You should’ve waited for me to pick you up,” she complained.
Tara had confided that she and Elder Carl were now in Tyler’s confidence. They knew a traitor lurked among us and the truth about my parents being framed. Consequently, she had become even more protective lately.
“My magic’s fully recovered now. I can handle a ten-minute walk without a babysitter,” I griped, even as I appreciated her care. Rebuilding my magic with Tara had successfully returned my abilities to full capacity, but I relished having someone else besides Logan to confide in about the ongoing investigation.
“Stay for breakfast?” Neave called from the circular table in the kitchen’s center, her voice inviting.
I had taken to sharing meals with Tara and her family, Ollie and Neave.
Ollie smiled from behind his scruffy beard, his blue overalls stained with the paint the pack had been busy whitewashing the houses with lately.
“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry,” I said. “I’ll see you guys out there.” I waved as I joined Tara’s sleek silver wolf as we wandered toward Logan’s. She left me at Logan’s front door, disappearing into the trees for her patrol.
Just as I was about to knock, Logan stepped out. He handed me a travel mug, one of his almost-smiles on his lips.
My eyebrows shot up as the nutty aroma wafted up to me. “Is that hazelnut?”
Logan nodded, his brown eyes sincere and warm, gazing at me with affection. “Your favorite.”
We had played a game about favorites yesterday, but I hadn’t expected him to immediately use my weaknesses against me. “You didn’t need to do that,” I said, taking a tentative sip, unable to stop the contented sigh escaping me.
He shrugged. “You needed cheering up.”
Embarrassment fluttered through me. Had he noticed how down I’d been?
Logan had been his usual quiet presence around me the last few days, and I hadn’t thought I’d been so transparent. But he surprised me even more as he said, “I can feel it, you know? Your feelings for Tyler.”
No accusation laced his tone, but I blurted out, “I don’t have feelings for him.” I wished desperately for that to be true, hoping for the pain to disappear, longing to cut out this ache that had become my ever-present companion.
With a gentleness that ignited something unexpected in my chest, Logan observed, “You wish you didn’t have feelings for him. I feel that, too.” He placed a hand over his own heart, a point of connection that made the world feel both vast and intimate.
The sincerity in his eyes made me feel transparent, and my cheeks heated under his steady gaze.
“It may not feel possible now, Seraphina,” he promised, “but I will bring you happiness. I will help lift the weight of Tyler’s shadow from your heart.”
His earnestness surged within me like a tide as I envisioned a future where that might just be possible. Feeling lighter than I’d thought possible, given everything, I enjoyed the rest of the day painting with Logan’s quiet presence stirring a new ease in me.
Each day, I found a new rhythm, allowing Logan to be the steady strength, lifting me from the shadows. With time, perhaps there could be happiness—or at least more hazelnut lattes.
The energy around us felt lighter. Ever since the jedra herb had cured the last of the Silver Moon warriors like Neave, the pack thrived. The sun filled the skies, warmth returning with a last burst of fair weather, and the camaraderie seemed to blanket us, a balm for our collective spirits.
One day, Logan and I were taking a break from painting and enjoying some brownies that Tara and I had made together when Neave wobbled on the ladder.
“Babe!” Ollie called out, startling me from my thoughts, and I turned to see Neave swaying precariously on a ladder.
“It’s probably just a sugar gap,” Neave laughed, batting Ollie away. Still, he helped her down, and she ambled over to join us on the tree rounds Logan and I were perched on.
Logan, with a mouthful of brownie, replied, “If this is your wicked plan to lay claim to one of my brownies, Neave, it’s working.”
A genuine smile lifted my lips. Logan’s enjoyment of the gooey brownies—his favorites—warmed my heart.
Neave helped herself to a sizeable slice of brownie, but a sudden worry pricked my gut at the clamminess she wore on her cheeks and brow. I walked over to examine her, pressing my palm against her forehead. Closing my eyes, to my horror, I felt it: a slick, oily presence that clung to her like tar. Dread twisted my insides.
“Ollie, you need to take Neave to the infirmary,” I ordered with urgency threading my voice.
Before Neave could protest, Ollie dashed forward, bundling her into his arms and racing toward the town center. I grabbed my bag of magic supplies from Logan’s porch, my heart pounding as I felt Logan trailing behind me.
The air changed. A choking fog seemed to envelop our town, swallowing the brightness that had dared to bloom. As we hurried toward the infirmary, dread settled heavily upon my chest, echoing in Logan’s worried gaze.
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, but his voice crackled with uncertainty.
“How, Logan?” I shot back, frustration creeping into my tone. “The jedra was supposed to cure the illness. If it’s back—”
“This isn’t all on you, Seraphina.” His steady gaze cut right to the heart of my fears—how the suspicion of the pack weighed heavily on my shoulders. He sensed it, the bond we shared tethering our feelings together. But, with the illness returning, wasn’t it only a matter of time before their scrutiny turned back on me?
When we entered the infirmary, my stomach bottomed out: David already lay in one of the beds, his face pale and drawn. The illness was resurfacing in more packmates than just Neave. The jedra wasn’t the long-term solution we had believed it to be.
Logan went over to see his cousin, David, and my heart squeezed from the worry I felt in my chest.
I unpacked my supplies, frantic energy coursing through my veins as if I couldn’t work quickly enough. Only Kelly, one of the infirmary aides, was present.
“I’ve called for Healer Linda,” she informed me, but there was worry in her voice that mirrored my own.
Almost as if summoned by our fear, Healer Linda arrived. Soon, her arms were full of the jedra herbs and the remnants of the potions we had distilled. But I recognized the grim look on her face. She understood as acutely as I did that the jedra we had counted on hadn’t worked.
The door swung open again, and Harry, the other Silver Moon warrior who had recovered recently, was brought in. His eyes were fever-bright and unseeing.
Panic surged through me as Logan brushed his hand down my arm in a gentle but firm gesture, grounding me as I felt the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. He helped me set up my makeshift station, washing the herbs and sanitizing the tools I needed to brew more of the jedra cure. It had alleviated the symptoms for some time. That was the best we could do for now.
But as I turned to look at Logan again, fear clawed at my throat. A sheen clouded his forehead, and he looked clammy. I darted forward, pressing my hand against his brow.
Though surprised, the warmth of my touch sparked a moment of connection. But he must have clocked my serious expression, his lips becoming a grim line. “I’ve got it, haven’t I?”
I nodded, my heart lurching. The slick, dark magic thrummed ominously within him, and fear twisted in my stomach.
“Let’s get you to a bed,” I urged, guiding him to a nearby cot with gentle hands, careful to keep worry from spilling into my voice. But as I watched the feverish hue blanket Logan’s strong features, panic reverberated through every fiber of my being. Logan hadn’t been infected before. That meant the infection was spreading yet again.
Soon, there were more admissions, some packmates who had had the illness before—such as Monique and Ellie—while others like Susan and Craig, who hadn’t been infected before, were now struck down like Logan. As the beds began to fill up, I heard hushed voices out in the infirmary corridor. Packmates were muttering about calling the Council. Dread pooled in my gut. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was summoned.
Within the hour, the Council of three elders had convened. As Justin appeared in the infirmary doorway, I braced myself for the inevitable. “Seraphina, the Council of Elders would like to see you in the Council Chamber,” Justin ordered.
With a pounding heart, I followed him through the corridors, my steps heavy with dread. There were packmates in the corridor of the Council Chamber, many wearing flinty expressions, their eyes following me with fear and mistrust. My spirits sank, this feeling all too familiar.
Upon entering the council room, I found the three elders—Darius, Tom, and Carl. The shiny giak adorning the chamber was reminiscent of Elder Darius’s silver attire, and I knew in my bones that he had been the one to summon me here.
“These warriors—Neave, Harry, David—have all taken the potion containing the jedra, made by you, Seraphina,” Darius declared almost as soon as I entered, his voice cold and deliberate.
“Logan didn’t have the jedra potion,” Elder Carl countered, his voice steady and a kind smile on his face as he looked at me. My heart squeezed, and I was grateful that he knew the truth about the traitor in our midst and that Tyler had confided in him.
At the thought of Tyler, despite everything that had happened between us, I wished he were here now.
“But Seraphina’s been spending an inordinate amount of time with him,” Darius retorted sharply. “She could have easily slipped him something.”
The weight of his words felt like a blow, leaving me breathless. As the shock of the illness flaring, of Logan being infected, and of finding myself caught in the crosshairs once again flared through me, I wondered, was I always destined to be the scapegoat for our pack?
“We must hold her accountable,” Darius continued, his piercing gaze unwavering. “For the safety of our pack, the council must make an example of her.”
As the weight of his words echoed in the chamber, I felt as if the walls were closing in on me, shock holding me prisoner. If I’d been forced to, at that moment, I didn’t think I could have fought my way out of the Council Chamber.
Luckily, for once, fate was smiling on me. The air grew thick with a scent I recognized—fresh cedar and earthiness—the firm, unmistakable steps of Alpha Tyler resonated behind me as he strode into the chamber, unwavering and resolute.
“Enough!” he commanded, his voice slicing through the tension like lightning. Every pair of eyes now landed on him, and hope blazed through me.