Chapter 5
Rourke picked the table closest to the windows and sat next to Farkas with a low groan. He looked as exhausted as ever. Rourke met Due's gaze across the table.
"That bad?" She raised an eyebrow.
Rourke bit into a sandwich to not have to answer. It was bad, and he was being an ass, but he couldn't hover over Ezra the whole time either.
Tala plunked down on the other side of him.
"Have a good night?" She grinned toothily, and he rolled his eyes.
His muscles ached from having held himself still the entire night.
Ezra didn't look any better. He hadn't noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes until now when he balanced on the threshold between the kitchen and the dining hall.
His gaze found Rourke's only to skid away.
Damn, he should've made sure there was a seat for him next to him. Then Ezra surprised him and walked toward the table closest to the door. He sat next to Ulric who was nursing a cup of coffee. It made Rourke frown. Why was he sitting with Ulric?
"What's the plan?" Due leaned back in her seat.
"For?"
"I don't know. For months, the plan has been to defeat the witches, then it was the negotiations, then it was the mating, and now it's all done. So what's the plan?"
Rourke didn't think it was all done. He'd hoped the mating would mean a long-lasting peace, but he didn't believe it anymore. "Work. Money. Build our defenses."
Due grimaced. "I was afraid you'd say that."
They ran a security firm. Most of their clients were human nightclub and bar owners, which meant they mostly worked at night. Rourke seldom worked in the field, he did the admin job and everything an alpha of a werewolf pack did, but they needed more money. "Any new clients on the horizon?"
Due was the one who had the most contact with clients, but they hadn't dared take on anyone new since they'd been at war. With too many away working at night, they left themselves vulnerable, and if they failed to show up, it damaged their credibility in town.
"I can spread word about us looking, see if anyone takes the bait."
"Do it."
"What about the wicked witch? Does he have a job?"
Rourke didn't think so, but maybe he did.
Witches often did magic work. Their clan functioned like a pack in many ways.
People bought their services--spells or whatever.
He wasn't entirely sure how it was operated, but since they worked as a coven, he doubted Ezra could do anything from here. He'd have to ask him.
Due got to her feet. "I better get started or I won't get anything done today."
Rourke nodded and swallowed a bite. "I'll be in soon."
She gave him a long look, then she shrugged.
"Don't you think you should...spend some time with your mate?
" Farkas looked as if it pained him to say the words.
Rourke glanced across the room to where Ezra was nodding at something Ulric said.
He gritted his teeth. What were they talking about?
Or maybe Ulric was talking and Ezra nodding. What was he nodding about?
"I have work to do."
Farkas didn't reply, instead, he drank the last of his coffee and stood.
"I'm going hunting, we're running low on meat.
I'll take Ulric along." He hadn't gone hunting in a long time, but Rourke said nothing about it.
If Farkas thought he had enough energy to hunt, then he wouldn't remind him of how weak he was compared to his normal state.
Farkas sauntered off toward Ezra's table where he leaned close to Ulric and gave Ezra a short nod. He couldn't see Ezra speak, but he watched Ulric and Farkas as they talked. Rourke grunted and focused on the sandwiches in front of him.
The next time he looked up, Ezra was in the kitchen and placing his plate in the dishwasher. He slunk out of the room without anyone but Rourke noticing. He crammed the last of the sandwiches into his mouth, then he grabbed a cup of coffee and headed toward the office.
* * * *
Ezra stared at the ceiling. He'd made the bed only to lay on top of it sometime later.
Rourke hadn't come back after breakfast. Maybe he'd gone hunting with Ulric and the starved man.
It was a little crazy to think they went out into the woods to hunt, but he guessed it made sense.
They owned a lot of land, more now when they'd regained the area the last war had been about.
He wasn't sure exactly where it was since he hardly ever left the hamlet the clan had built, but they'd lost.
He kept staring at the ceiling for what had to be hours. He'd been full, but now his belly was hollow again. Some time ago, he'd heard voices outside the door and had believed Rourke would come to check on him, maybe take him to eat something, but he hadn't shown up.
A time or two, he'd considered walking out there on his own, but then he'd changed his mind.
He got up and checked the cupboards in the kitchen area. Maybe he'd find the crackers Rourke had mentioned. He opened one door after the other, but the shelves were mostly empty. A couple of glasses, a couple of mugs, a few plates. A plastic bowl and cutlery. Everything was old and well-used.
Halfway through, he found an unopened bag of rolled oats.
The need to make lacy oatmeal cookies was almost visceral.
He hadn't baked or cooked anything in a couple of days, and it had a buzz building underneath his skin.
His unused magic was growing more insistent.
He needed an outlet. Cooking and baking were what he did back home.
He glanced at the door. What were the odds of finding vanilla extract in the kitchen? Eggs and butter were more likely. He pushed the oats back into the cupboard. No. He couldn't bake in Rourke's kitchen. Witches didn't bake. They stole power from animals and turned their enemies inside out.
He went back to the bed, but before he could sit, there was a knock on the door.
Fuck. "Yes?"
Ulric poked his head into the room. "Is Rourke here?"
Ezra shook his head.
"Is he in the office?"
Office? Was there an office? "I don't know."
Ulric narrowed his eyes. "Okay, what are you up to?"
Up to? Did he suspect him of doing something he shouldn't?
Fear slithered through him. He'd lasted longer than he'd dared hope without punishment, but maybe his time was up now.
He doubted Ulric would fling a curse at him.
No, their punishment would most likely be a physical attack.
It was rarely the way they did things in the clan, but the shrinking skin curse Shixyll favored wasn't pleasant.
"Do you have a job or were you only doing witchy stuff in the clan?"
Ezra stared at him. "Witchy stuff?"
"Yeah, spells and stuff. The work your coven does."
"Clan."
Ulric widened his eyes a fraction. "Is there a difference?"
"Covens are fictional, myths. All witches refer to their group as their clan, unless you're talking about fairy tales or Wiccans.
The word was hardly ever used until about a hundred years ago when the Wiccans organized with their high priests and priestesses.
" Wiccans had little in common with witches, but Ezra suspected he would've made a much better Wiccan than he did a witch.
"Really?" Ulric took a couple of steps into the room. "So coven is what, an insult?"
Ezra shrugged. "More like it's highlighting your ignorance. If you call the Enizax clan a coven, they won't be upset, they'll think you're underestimating them."
"Oh, I've seen their work. I'm not underestimating them." Ulric's eyes shifted color, and a shiver traveled Ezra's spine. "I've seen a close friend slowly, and judging by the sounds, painfully, turned into a tree, and then a bitch set fire to it--him."
Ezra grimaced. Izibine. It was her favorite curse.
"Can you do that?"
Ezra wasn't sure, but he believed Ulric had grown, which shouldn't be possible since he already was over seven feet tall.
He was the tallest and broadest he'd seen so far.
The others weren't much smaller, so shifters must've descended from giants.
"No, I can't do spellwork or curses." Against his will, his hand flew to the two braids along his temple. Two. Children had more.
Ulric followed the motion with glowing eyes, and maybe it was because he shifted position, but Ezra believed he shrank a fraction.
"So some witches do spells and curses, and some do other things? What do the tattoos mean?"
"They're spells to enhance power. Some witches can infuse images with power." Was he revealing too much? "They often become tattoo artists."
Ulric's eyes went back to a light brown, much the color of lacy oatmeal cookies, and the buzz underneath Ezra's skin grew again.
"Do they do anything? If they touch them, do the power get unlocked or something?"
Ezra wasn't sure what he was asking, and the pinpricks rushing through his limbs distracted him from thinking clearly. "How do you mean?"
"If they're on the battlefield and tap on one of the hieroglyphs, do they do anything? Is it like playing a card?"
Hieroglyphs. Hieroglyphs were a pretty common motif, but the only one covered in hieroglyphs was Shixyll. He hoped Ulric hadn't met her on the battlefield. Though he was so huge, maybe he could hold his own against her.
"No, it's not something you bring forth. It's always there. You get the tattoo, and it enhances your core power, though they can be infused with different things."
"Like?"
Ezra shrugged. He didn't have any tattoos, and he wasn't entirely sure how they worked.
A power-infused tattoo was expensive, and he had no money.
"Like...eh...to strengthen your bond to your familiar.
Most only want to enhance their core strength, though.
" With strong magic, you would have a strong bond with your familiar, or so he'd been told.
Since he had soft magic, he'd never had one.
You had to force a connection with a familiar, and Ezra couldn't force anything.
Something close to disgust slid over Ulric's face. "Where is your familiar?"
"I don't have one."
"Used him up?" Distaste was dripping from his words.
"No, I've never had one. I don't do spells. I can't draw power from things."
A small crease formed between Ulric's brows. "So, you're not a witch? You don't do magic?"
"Eh..." Shit. Would they kill him now? "I have magic, but not...I can set wards." He hoped. He'd only ever done it around his hut, not a large area of land, but he believed he could do it. Children could do it.
"Wards? What do wards do?"
"Like an invisible spiderweb. If someone walks through, the signal travels through the threads and alerts you of someone having stepped onto your land."
Ulric grimaced. "Things are crossing the border of the area all the time. We'd run ourselves ragged to check every time someone moved."
Ezra shrugged. It was all he could think of offering for the moment, the only thing they could have use of, at least. He could bake, but real witches didn't bake, and since Ulric was half convinced he wasn't a witch at all, he didn't think he should offer.
"I can do a smaller area. Circle the property and the closest forest, then there aren't as many crossings."
Silence fell while Ulric studied him so intently, he wanted to hide.
"Even with a smaller area, won't you go nuts if you feel every little thing passing through the barrier?"
"I wouldn't set it up so it was triggered by every little thing."
Ulric breathed in deeply. "You'd set it up so everything bigger than five feet pinged the radar?"
Ezra scrunched his face in confusion. "Size has nothing to do with it. It's the essence of the creature. If you want to know when shifters cross the border, I'll set it up so you feel when shifters cross the border. Or humans, if you want to know when humans are on your land."
Ulric's eyes widened, and he waved his forefinger. "Witches?"
"Sure, if you want. But I can't trap or block anyone.
" Most could. It was the next level. Anyone could set a basic perimeter, but it wasn't of much use if you couldn't block attackers.
There wouldn't be any shifters entering the hamlet.
The larger area had basic wards, but around the hamlet, intruders would be blocked.
"Let's go." Ulric took a step toward the door. "Do you need anything?"
"A knife."
Ulric stilled and looked at him. "A knife?"
Ezra grimaced. This would be no fun. How big an area did Ulric want him to do? Maybe he'd have to do it in stages. "Yeah, a knife."
* * * *