Chapter Eighteen
Finding Wyn in the back garden of Bell House felt like winning a prize after surviving lunch. Thankfully I didn’t spill anything, break anything or cause a tornado, so I chalked it up as a success, even if I left with more questions than answers.
‘You’re back,’ he said, his face lighting up with delight when I swept through the garden and fell right into his arms. ‘Ashley told me you’d run away to join the circus.’
‘I considered it,’ I replied, before raising my lips to his, happy to forget the last hour and lose myself in his kiss.
Anyone walking past Bell House could see what a grand old home she was but few got to share the beauty of the back garden.
High walls had been built to keep our magic in and the world out, flowering vines and climbing roses covering the tabby walls then wending their way around the branches of the trees and scenting the air with jasmine and honeysuckle.
In the centre of it all was a small square koi pond, dotted with water lilies and home to a school of happy fish, and every other available inch of space was covered with flowers, shrubs, herbs, bushes – anything that could be planted in the ground, lived and thrived in our garden.
Before I arrived, Ashley took care of things, giving it any extra attention it needed, but I knew the plants could take care of themselves.
They sang out whenever I passed by, waving to me when I walked by a window, willing me to come outside and be with them.
As a natural apothecary, I was never happier than when I was surrounded by the natural world, and so I drew on the strength of some of the most useful herbs as I pulled away from Wyn, borage and yarrow for confidence, spearmint for clarity and wood betony to help me concentrate and not get sidetracked by the freckles on the bridge of his nose or the powerful muscles that stretched out his T-shirt in a way they hadn’t before.
There were things we needed to discuss and that wasn’t going to happen when I could feel his heartbeat right beside my own.
He reached over and unclipped my hair, letting the red waves fall around my shoulders.
I moved to straighten them but he caught my hand in his, staring at me starry-eyed.
‘Leave it,’ he murmured, winding a random strand around his finger. The tension as he pulled it lightly triggered tingles up and down my body, sweeter than the tell of my magic.
‘We need to talk.’
Before Wyn, my romantic experience was literally zero, but still I knew these were unpopular words.
‘I don’t love the very serious look on your face right now,’ he said, releasing my hair. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight sliced through the branches of a sycamore tree, separating us with an intangible shot of gold. It was still too much of a barrier.
I walked over to the table and chairs and sat, waiting for him to do the same, his apprehensive expression now matching mine.
‘There was a Were,’ I said, starting slow, remaining calm. ‘On the full moon.’
‘Here in Savannah? You’re sure?’
Now it was me who didn’t like the look on his face. More than surprised, he looked as though he didn’t believe me.
‘Sure I’m sure. We were at the DeSoto Hotel, at a dance, when it attacked. It came straight for me.’
‘We?’
‘Me and Jackson.’ I breathed in the clean, cucumber scent of the borage and the sweet aromatics of the wood betony, a welcome waft of lavender finding me as well. ‘It was some school fundraiser thing.’
‘Was Lydia there?’
‘No, it was a sports fundraiser thing.’
He crossed his arms over his chest, his lips working themselves into a frown.
‘Wyn, it attacked us in public, in front of dozens of people. If Jackson hadn’t gotten in its way—’
‘They,’ he interrupted. ‘You mean, they attacked. If Jackson hadn’t gotten in their way.’
I stared at him for a moment, completely lost.
‘You said “it” but you meant “they”. If your wolf was a Were, it’s a person, not an animal. They’re no more an “it” than I am.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, letting his statement sink in. ‘They. They were definitely a Were and I think they were looking for me.’
He considered the information as I pushed my hands under my thighs, holding myself back from rushing him.
Wyn was an open book, no good at keeping secrets, and a dozen different emotions churned across his face.
I’d expected him to have questions but I hadn’t expected him to doubt me.
What could he possibly be thinking that he couldn’t say out loud?
After a very long pause, eyebrows drawn together with consternation, he looked right at me.
‘Was it a date?’
Not what I was expecting him to say. I gave him another second, waiting for him to laugh or tell me it was a joke. But no. It was an entirely serious question.
‘I just told you I was attacked by a Were in Savannah in front of a hundred people and you’re asking if I was on a date?’
‘It’s OK if it was,’ he replied, although the set of his jaw and the way he clenched his fist suggested otherwise. ‘I know Jackson likes you and I was gone and everything. People go on dates sometimes, doesn’t always mean something.’
‘His date got sick. I stepped in at the last minute. It was a friend date.’
‘Maybe on your side. Pretty sure Jackson didn’t see it that way.’
‘It doesn’t matter how Jackson saw it.’ I reached across the table to entwine my fingers through his, my skin cool and pale against his warm bronzed tones. ‘I’m yours, remember?’
‘And I’m yours,’ he said, sounding as though he’d landed somewhere between ashamed and relieved. ‘Jackson’s your friend. Hell, he’s my friend. I’m sorry, Em, there’s nothing to be jealous of, I know.’
And there wasn’t. No matter what Jackson had said to me at the dance or in the parlour the morning after, he wasn’t a factor when it came to Wyn and me. We had very real problems to solve without worrying about things that were never going to happen anyway.
He sucked in a long deep breath then gave me a half-smile.
‘I missed you so much,’ Wyn said. ‘Can’t believe the universe couldn’t give us a single day.’
A rush of magic passed over the surface of my skin and I could almost see the golden thread between us, glowing as it tied itself ever tighter around our hearts.
‘The universe can have today,’ I told him. ‘We have forever.’
I leaned forward to seal my promise with a kiss, revelling in the sensation of his eyelashes against my cheek, the clean scent of his deodorant, the warmth of his skin, the taste of him. This was worth fighting for. This was worth living for.
‘Tell me everything you remember about the wolf,’ Wyn said when we broke apart. ‘What size, what colour, anything at all.’
‘It’s kind of a blur.’ I closed my eyes to help me concentrate. It was difficult when all I saw was him. ‘Mostly grey, more white around the muzzle, maybe? And it, I mean, they were big. Really big.’
‘Bigger than me?’
‘Biggest wolf I ever saw.’
‘Did it come from inside the hotel?’
‘From the street,’ I said. ‘Jumped right up from the sidewalk onto the terrace of the DeSoto. I told them not to come inside the hotel but they lunged for me and Jackson got in the way, got clawed across the belly for his trouble.’
‘The wolf clawed Jackson?’ Wyn leapt to his feet, ready to bolt. ‘Did he get bitten? Is he OK?’
‘He’s fine, I healed him, and no, there was no biting,’ I replied. ‘If he had been bitten, would that mean …?’
‘He wouldn’t turn into a wolf, no.’ He drove the heels of his hands into his eyes before pushing his hair back off his face. ‘The phase is hereditary but any wound from a Were, teeth or claws, can be fatal to humans if it isn’t treated right away. He’s lucky you were there.’
‘If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have been in danger.’
‘You don’t know that.’
It was obvious from the look on his face he didn’t believe his own words any more than I did.
‘Would a Were bite kill a witch?’ I asked, absently running a hand over my scarred abdomen.
He ducked his head.
‘I don’t know how you survived after I clawed you. I was told a scratch would incapacitate. If it were deep enough, any injury, tooth or claw, would kill a witch instantly.’
‘Catherine told me the Weres act as kind of magical law enforcement, that they keep order in the magical world so they won’t be discovered,’ I said, trying to recall my grandmother’s exact words.
‘She talked as though Weres considered us to be a threat to their secret existence. But if the witches knew a single Were bite could kill …’
‘Then the witches would most likely try to eradicate Weres,’ Wyn finished for me as he sank back down into his seat. ‘It’s one of the reasons we all gather where we do, to keep people safe. Em, you have to swear to keep this to yourself.’
‘Who would I tell?’
There were no other witches. I was all alone while Wyn was part of a pack that could slaughter an entire city in minutes.
‘It doesn’t make any sense. Every wolf in the region was with us on the full moon. If there truly was a Were in Savannah on Sunday night, it was a lone wolf.’
‘And that’s bad?’
‘It’s not good. Once you’ve been initiated, the call to gather is so strong, Em, I can’t even start to explain it.
I could feel the pull hours before the moon rose.
If your grandmother hadn’t poisoned me, I would’ve done everything in my power to get to the pack before the first phase.
To be part of a pack and not share the experience with them must be excruciating. ’
The guilt that would bind the memory of my grandmother’s assault to me always pressed down on me and I curled my shoulders inward, cowering from the pain.
‘You’re saying this wolf ignored that call?’ I asked in a whisper.
‘You can’t ignore the call,’ he replied softly. ‘A wolf cannot leave its pack by choice, only by exile. It’s the most brutal and agonizing thing that can happen to a Were.’
I thought back to the wolf in the hotel ballroom, the waves of pain and rage that rolled off its body, the sickening disconnect between the school party and its violent desires.
‘It only happens if a Were commits one of the high crimes,’ Wyn went on, pressing his hand against his forehead as though feeling for a fever.
‘They’re locked in a silver cage the day before the phase, then, when the moon rises, the pack all turn their back on the exiled wolf and run without him.
It would be an agony beyond anything you can imagine, enough to make you lose your mind. ’
I opened my mouth but had no words, only the taste of ash.
Wyn pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and swiped through the contacts.
‘I need to talk to my mom. If there is a lone wolf running around the south-east, she needs to know.’
‘What would a lone wolf want with me?’ I asked, every living thing in the garden shuddering as one, Wyn included.
‘There’s only one way you can return to a pack after exile,’ he replied hesitantly.
‘And that is?’
‘Present a still beating heart of a wolf killer to the pack leader.’
The garden fell silent and he looked at me with more fear in his eyes than I had ever seen before.
‘A wolf killer like me,’ I replied, my voice as light as air. ‘Who’s your pack leader?’
Wyn swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he turned his head away from me.
‘My mom.’
He placed his phone down on the table, the photo of a strangely familiar woman filling the screen with the word ‘mom’ underneath.
He wasn’t the only one of us who was afraid.
On his phone, she wore a purple smock and a smile.
In my vision, she wore grey. Wyn’s mother was one of the strangers I had seen in my vision.
‘And what does the pack leader do with the beating heart of a wolf killer?’ I asked, my words dancing away on the air like dandelion seeds.
Wyn looked at me as though I was about to be snatched away right in front of him, tears in his eyes and his voice rough-hewn as it scratched out the back of his throat.
‘She eats it,’ he answered. ‘The pack leader has to eat the heart.’