26. Amethyst
Twenty-Six
Amethyst
T he wind rustles my hair as I stare at the blood-red door of Mom’s house. Breathing takes all my focus as the knowledge of what she hid once again slams into me. Time to rip the bandage off.
My foot hits the first step and the door cracks open. We both freeze. The regret in her eyes is heavy. She opens her mouth, then closes it, taking me in as if this might be the last time she sees me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I did this.” My eyes sting with tears gathering in the rims. Mom crosses the porch, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“I should have never hidden your identity... I can’t begin to imagine the pain I’ve caused you, and no apology can ever rectify what I’ve done. I truly am sorry, Amethyst.
“I believed you had somehow not inherited any traits from me or your father. You never shifted or showed any signs of being gifted with projection.” She looks away wrapping her arms around her chest. “I thought, why give you a reason to doubt yourself?”
Her eyes turn to the floor, a sadness creeping into the air around us.
“And your father...” She releases a slow breath eyes still trained on the floor.
“He left us.” She turns her back to me before adding, “It almost seemed like a blessing you couldn’t shift.
Not to have the constant reminder of what he chose over us. ”
That statement has my eyebrows shooting up, a punch straight to the gut.
“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” She faces me once more.
“I understand now how wrong I was in those thoughts. If only I could have seen it sooner. Tried to figure out if you were gifted or help you learn to shift. Then maybe...”
The unspoken sentiment hangs between us. Maybe you could have defended yourself.
“ Let me help you now.” She places a hand on my shoulder, and her eyes showcase her sincerity. I want to understand this part of me. I want to become what I’m meant to be. Resting my hand atop hers, I nod. “I’d like that.”
An embarrassing amount of time passes as I try and fail to create a projection of myself.
My grandfather was the last to have this power and he isn’t exactly alive to ask the specifics.
“When you were projecting in your dreams what were they about?” Mom asks and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.
“I... uh...” Clearing my throat, I decide to just bite the bullet.
“I was dreaming of Skyler.” She loses herself in a spiral of thoughts, and I catch the exact moment the lightbulb switches on in her mind.
Her eyes brighten with excitement dancing in them.
“And you feel drawn to him? Connected, even. Like you can feel his emotions as your own?”
Until now, I hadn’t put too much thought into the mate bond. With her question though, I remember the pure, unchecked rage I had felt seeing Maeve touch Skyler. It felt like I was being burned from the inside out, flames devouring my chest. Could that have been his anger alongside my own?
“Yes, exactly that.” I confirm as my mind wanders to our trip and just how connected we had been.
Mom nods as my cheeks heat. “Amethyst, he must be your mate. All shifters are blessed with one. Those bonds are pure magic and it must have awakened your power.” Pinning me with that knowing look only a mother can possess, she chimes, “You already know that don’t you? ”
“The mate part, yes,” I admit. “The magic still doesn’t make sense to me.
Why was it dormant this long anyway? In high school I was friends with a fox shifter.
She shifted for the first time at sixteen.
And surely all of us have assumed our feral forms at least once by the age of eighteen...
I’m six years past that. Would I have discovered this power at all without meeting Skyler? ”
Mom’s shoulders rise as she tilts her head. “I don’t have those answers, my dear. The Mother did not gift me with the family magic. I never figured out the why to that either.” She glances at the clock on the wall, eyes going wide.
“Shit, I need to be at the shop in five minutes! We’ll continue this talk, I promise. I’ll help you as best as I can to figure out this tricky power of yours. I love you more than anything, Bee.” She squeezes me into a tight, quick hug. “I love you, Mom.”
She pulls back, looking into my eyes, and rubbing my shoulders with a warm smile. “Take the spare keys just in case.” I nod as she rushes to the door and tosses the keys to me. Just barely catching them before they hit the floor, I stuff them in the pocket of my cardigan.
One last time I look inside myself like Mom had coached.
Searching for a core of power. Hell, even a thread of power at this point.
Easing myself down into a sitting position, I try a different approach.
Imagining myself floating. Sweat beads on my forehead as I put every ounce of concentration into the vision.
Suddenly, I can see... myself.
Holy shit! I suck in a sharp breath, the projection failing as my sight returns to nothing. Just the back of my eyelids. Taking a quick mental note of the power being more visualizing than searching for a thread, I get back to my feet with a new determination.
I’m not very good at this. Yet. I will master these powers; I will protect myself. A primal sound rumbles in my chest, and I would swear it’s the wolfish side of me agreeing.