Chapter 19 - Dani #2
The room was cold. The old furnace downstairs kept the worst of the freeze off, but concrete and stone still leached heat. The other young witch, a teenager, was rubbing her hands together, teeth chattering despite the sweater she’d borrowed.
Dani set Aurelia down gently.
“Stay with the others,” she said. “I’m just going to…” she gestured at the empty fireplace on the far wall.
“Show off?” Aurelia suggested.
“Contribute,” Dani corrected.
She crossed to the hearth. It was deeper than the one in Layla’s shop, blackened from years of use. Logs were stacked already, someone having clearly meant to light it and been distracted by the sirens in the air.
Her hands shook as she knelt.
Not from fear. From anger. Frustration. From the echo of Arthur’s voice snarling go and the way her feet had obeyed even as her pride clawed at her.
Fine.
If she couldn’t fight on the mountain, she’d make damn sure this room was warm. Comfortable. Safe. It felt petty and domestic and utterly inadequate. It was what she had.
Dani took a breath, reached for the magic.
It came like a wave.
No gentle coaxing this time. Power surged up from her gut, eager, bright, like it had been waiting for an excuse. Her palms burned before she even lifted them.
Easy, she told herself. Not the bookshop. Control.
She cupped the feeling, narrowed it, fed it down her arms in a thin, steady stream.
Flame licked over the logs in instant, clean tongues. No flare, no explosion. Just a sudden, fierce blaze that roared up the chimney and settled into a steady, hungry crackle.
Heat washed over her face. The room, almost at once, felt less like a bunker and more like somewhere people lived.
Behind her, there was a little chorus of oohs from the kids.
“That was so cool,” one of the Volkhov pups breathed.
Aurelia gave her a smug look. See? It said.
Dani blew out a slow breath, flexing her fingers as she stood. The magic hummed under her skin, restless but contained.
Fenred was watching her.
Really watching, the way a man might study a weapon he hadn’t realized was loaded.
His eyes glittered in the firelight, pale and sharp.
“I didn’t realize,” he said, voice low, “how strong you were.”
Dani wiped her palms on her jeans, suddenly aware of the sweat there despite the cold. “Bonds…amplify things,” she said carefully. “Layla thinks so, anyway.”
Fenred stepped further into the room, leaving Freya by the door. Sue had peeled off earlier to check the perimeter; it was just them and the kids, who were tactfully busying themselves with blankets and mugs.
“Arthur was like most shifters, constantly disregarding the potential that witches held,” Fenred said. There was no bitterness in it. Almost…approval. “All because of the fear.”
Dani’s hackles lifted.
“He’s not afraid,” she said, too fast.
Fenred’s mouth twitched. “You sure about that?”
She didn’t answer. Because she wasn’t. Not really.
He let it go, or pretended to.
“Still,” he went on, gaze on the fire. “That’s the kind of power our people will need,” he tipped his head, studying her face, “when this really starts.”
Something in the way he said our scraped wrong inside her ears.
“Our people,” she repeated slowly, “you mean Nordan.”
“Don’t we share a pack?” he asked mildly. “Share an alpha now, apparently.” His gaze flicked to the mark at her neck. “Shared blood. Shared bed.”
Heat crawled up her throat. “That’s none of your business.”
He smiled, humorless. “Everything is my business when it comes to keeping the pack safe.” His eyes reflected the fire, catching strange colors. “You think hybrids will care about our little territorial lines? About whether you call yourself Salem or Nordan when they take your daughter’s throat?”
Aurelia, who’d been listening more closely than Dani liked, shrank back against the cushions at that. Fenred’s eyes flicked to her, then back.
“Enough,” Dani said, voice sharp. “Don’t talk about her.”
He lifted both hands, palms out, as if to show he meant no harm.
“Only making a point,” he said. “We’re going to need every advantage we can get.
Wolves. Witches. Vampires, even.” His gaze dragged over the fire again, hungry.
“And witches like you…you could tip the balance. My people will need you.”
There it was again.
My people.
Not our.
Dani’s magic, which had been settling, twitched under her skin like a startled cat.
“You keep saying that,” she said. “My people. You talking about Nordan or your own little fan club?”
Fenred’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You think small, Daniella,” he said softly.
“Like a witch. Coven here, pack there. This is bigger than one valley. You always were single-minded with your passion and your spirit .” He chuckled, a low, rough sound.
The fire threw shadows across his face, hollowing his cheeks, darkening his eyes.
For a second, the scent of the room shifted.
Not much. Just a note, sliding in under everything else, under wolf and woodsmoke. A faint, wrong tang she’d only smelled once or twice.
Her heart lurched.
Fenred’s pupils blew wide, swallowing the pale ring. When they shrank again, for a heartbeat, the color around them wasn’t the clear Nordan blue she remembered.
It was a sickly, unnatural yellow.
Dani’s mouth went dry.
“You’re not wrong,” Fenred said quietly, “we will need witches like you.” His head tilted, bird-like. “It’s just a question of who gets to claim that strength, isn’t it?”
Her mind flashed, too fast, through the last weeks. Fenred’s apology in the bar. The way he’d watched Arthur. The strange restraint when Alex baited him. Kiara’s quiet voice in the meeting, saying they can look just like us.
Human. Wolf.
Whatever they needed.
Fenred stepped closer.
The wards on the door hummed, suddenly ominous instead of comforting.
“Fenred,” she said, pulse slamming. “What exactly do you—”
He smiled.
And his eyes flashed that wrong, glowing yellow again, bright as a predator’s in a car’s headlights.
“Dani,” he said, almost kindly, “I thought a witch would have noticed sooner.”
Cold swept through her that had nothing to do with the mountain.
Fenred wasn’t just Nordan.
He wasn’t just a gruff old wolf trying to make amends.
Fenred was a hybrid.