Chapter Ten #3
“No,” Mabel replied. “The werewolf didn’t bite her – just slashed her with its claws.
She lost a lot of blood, though. It took several of our best apothecaries to save her.
Unfortunately, there’s only so much we witches can do for scar tissue.
But considering how bad those gouges were when fresh, it’s amazing how much she’s healed. ”
I swallowed hard, saliva pooling in my mouth. The horror and guilt were more intense than ever, and if I didn’t get my nausea under control, I might vomit right at Mabel’s feet.
“She’s a remarkable High Priestess,” Mabel continued, gazing fondly back at the meeting room. “And despite everyone’s protests, she’s right. Canceling the Halloween festivities is the best way to keep all of us safe.”
“The part I don’t understand…” I interjected.
My nausea had subsided, and like usual, I was itching to ask questions.
“...is why the witches of Wisteria Grove just don’t try and talk to the werewolves?
During the daytime, when they’re in their human forms. Can’t the werewolves just leave and go somewhere more remote during the full moon? ”
Mabel frowned, and I could tell there was a long, complicated answer to that question.
“The thing is… relations between Wisteria Grove and the local werewolf pack have never been good,” Mabel sighed.
“And that goes back hundreds of years. The truth is, the werewolves were here first, and they’re fiercely protective of their territory.
Even if they were willing to talk to us, they’d never agree to leave, even for just one night.
It would make them vulnerable to another pack claiming their territory, which is especially likely to happen on a full moon.
Always having land disputes, those werewolves.
” Mabel frowned in disdain. “Such a feral bunch.”
I nodded, the lump returning to my throat. I was suddenly grateful my werewolf pack lived on such a remote island and never had to deal with such conflict.
A loud, sharp whistle, followed by a shout from what sounded like Juniper, echoed from the meeting room. Mabel and I winced at the sound, and the chaotic rumble of bickering voices ceased a few seconds later.
“Well…” Mabel stepped into the center of the hallway, her hands shoved into her dress pockets. “I guess we should head back inside.”
I nodded. “I agree. I’m curious what the coven will decide on.”
Mabel scoffed. “Oh, deep down, they all agree with Juniper. Having festivities on Halloween night is too dangerous with the werewolf frenzy. They’re all just frustrated about it. Witches are stubborn.”
I chuckled . I guess that’s one thing witches and werewolves have in common.
Mabel offered me a hand, and I took it as she pulled me to my feet.
“So, what is left of the meeting?” I asked. “Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”
“Not tonight. But what’s left of the meeting is the reason we need to head back,” Mabel continued with a smile on her face as we walked back toward the meeting room. “Esbats always conclude with food and drink. And I’m starving.”
My stomach growled in agreement, and I chuckled.
“So am I. Let’s go.”
I arrived back at my bare yet no longer filthy cottage several hours later, once the sun sank below the sky and the temperature dropped enough to make my skin prickle.
And once I caught a glimpse of my meager groceries on the worn counter, I was extra grateful to have eaten a hearty meal at the esbat.
I didn’t think I could stomach another dinner of nothing but potato chips.
Maybe I should buy a hot plate, I pondered to myself as I hovered over my dilapidated kitchen. I studied the sink – one of the few parts of the kitchen that wasn’t falling apart. The metal was dirt-stained and cloudy, but intact, and I flipped the handle with my fingers crossed.
To my surprise, after a few seconds of sputtering and gurgling, clear water began flowing out of the tap.
I cheered at my small victory. I guess the pipes still work.
I stepped in front of one of the windows, on the side of the cottage that bordered Rowena’s home, and cracked open the glass pane. Even with Aria’s superior dust-cleaning skills, the cottage was still a bit stuffy, and I needed to let in some air without making the place too cold.
The little mouse elemental had disappeared, so I was alone for the night.
I pondered where she was and what she was doing as I settled against the wall with my blanket, pillow, and book.
I adjusted one of my faerie fire lanterns so it gave off enough light for me to read, and I basked in its warm blue glow as I thumbed through the pages of the Wiccan mythology book.
Once again, I relished my peace, quiet, and independence as I lost track of time, immersed in detailed descriptions of the moon cycles and illustrations of Wiccan altars.
I noticed they all were topped with either a pentagram or a moon goddess statue, and I thought back to Juniper re-arranging the altar offerings in the meeting room.
Since I had been up so early to work at the café, sleep weighed heavily on my brain not long after I made myself comfortable.
I still didn’t have a clock, but my wolf instincts knew the night was young.
After all, this time of year in Maine, it was dark by late afternoon.
It was truly the season of night, since we spent more time in darkness than we did in daylight.
I had nearly fallen asleep, leaning against the wall with my open book sprawled across my lap, when I heard voices through the cracked window.
I opened my eyes, blinking blearily as my brain struggled to process the conversation. It was two people – a young woman and a much older man.
I realized it was coming from Rowena’s house.
And that was definitely Rowena’s voice.
My wolfish senses piqued, and I debated letting my ears pop out so I could hear the conversation more clearly. But their tones gave me a lot of clues – the man’s words were hushed and urgent, and Rowena’s were calm and firm.
I sat up straight, peeling my back away from the wall, and removed my book from my lap. But as I went to rise and walk over to the cracked window, I stopped.
I was eager to learn more about Rowena, and find out why the town was so wary of her. But this felt… wrong . It was her house, and she was entitled to her privacy. Just because she had a guest over and was talking to them didn’t mean she was up to anything nefarious.
Plus, I was exhausted, and I didn’t have the energy to snoop into other people’s business. I slouched my spine, settling back against the wall, and closed my eyes.
The last thing I remembered hearing was the sound of a door slamming and footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves before I fell asleep.