Chapter 22 #2
She draws in a deep, shuddering breath. “I was so desperate to escape Sophia, and I wanted to protect you so bad. I threw myself into this and told myself it was what I wanted.” She shakes her head against me. “But I don’t know. I don’t know…”
Her admission nearly breaks me.
“I’m so sorry, Sybil.” My voice is raw with my emotions. “You never should’ve had to make that choice. I’m sorry everyone failed you, and I’m sorry for my part in all of this—”
“Shut up,” she says, pulling out of my embrace. “That’s the one thing I wouldn’t change.” She finds my hands and squeezes them. “I love you, Selene. You truly are my sister in every way but blood. I only admitted any of this because I’m tired of keeping the truth to myself.
“And I fucking miss you and all the rest of those batshit crazy witches who live in our house. Shifters are so orderly and aware of the pack hierarchy that’s imposed on everyone. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe in that compound.”
With each rise of her voice, I sense her muscles rolling and shifting. The shudders that I assumed were from her emotions now seem to simply accompany them.
“Okay, so shifter life is a little rough,” I say, tucking several loose strands of her dark hair behind her ears. “Is that why you’re here on campus rather than with Sawyer and the rest of the lycans?” I ask.
This whole situation feels wrong. I swear to the Goddess, if Sawyer broke her heart, I will eat his for breakfast and harvest the rest of his organs for spells.
Sybil nods, then shakes her head. “I needed space. There were too many lycans watching me, and Sawyer was getting weirdly territorial, which was hot but also unnerving, and I felt so cut off from the coven, like I had lost the part of myself that matters.”
My friend glances down at her body. “Goddess, it feels like there are bugs under my skin.” She scratches at her arm as she speaks. “And my magic…” She closes in on herself once more. “I-I don’t know. And right when my symptoms are at their worst, Merlin will fly away.”
Her owl shrieks again from that nearby crypt, as if he has things to say about that.
Wetness gathers at the corners of her eyes.
“So you slipped away when no one was looking?” I ask, trying to follow this disjointed conversation.
She nods. “I placed a few spells so they couldn’t follow my scent.” Sybil scrubs her face. “I just wanted a moment to myself.”
So in a panic she fled shifter territory to get here.
Hell’s spells.
“Sybil, you are and will always be a witch. Nothing will ever change that. And I’m sure once your first Sacred Seven is over, you’ll get to come back to the coven.”
I mean, I assume that’s true. I don’t actually know how long it takes a newly turned shifter to adjust to their powers, nor how volatile they can be in the meantime.
“But I’ll always have to leave during the Sacred Seven,” Sybil says, confirming that my assumptions were at least partially correct. “I won’t get to do any of the coven’s full moon rituals.”
It’s like the loss is hitting her all at once. Her face crumples, and her shoulders curl inward.
“And I’ll never know what it’s like to change form,” I argue.
She all but rolls her eyes. “You were never interested in shifting anyway.”
That’s a fair point.
Sybil clenches her teeth, and a pained sound claws its way up her throat. My concern spikes.
Gingerly, I step forward and place a hand on her shoulder. The rumble that comes from deep in her chest raises the hairs on my arms.
“Is there supposed to be someone with you for your first shift?” I ask, brows furrowing.
She rolls her lips together and nods a little too quickly.
Oh Goddess. “Then we need to find them.”
Now she’s shaking her head.
“Listen,” I say, “your shift is going to happen with or without your pack—”
She grimaces.
“—so you might as well be close enough to them that they can actually help you if you need it.”
“I don’t want to go back,” she protests.
“Don’t be a silly bimbo, Sybil,” I say, lightly directing my friend through the cemetery. To my surprise, she lets me. I try not to think too hard about the way her body trembles or how fragile her form feels. I’m sure it’s because it’s about to change.
Aside from Merlin, who flies from treetop to treetop above us, the Everwoods are ominously quiet. So much so that it raises the hairs on my arms. The only sounds are the crunching of our footsteps. Not even the lycanthropes are howling anymore.
A massive shiver shakes Sybil’s entire body.
Goddess above, I’m running out of time to get her back to the lycan’s land, and I have serious doubts that on a night like tonight they’ll risk crossing over to coven property to retrieve her.
Okay, so plan B.
“Sybil, hop on my back.”
“What?”
“Pretend like you’re smashed and need help getting home.”
She sets her jaw petulantly. “I’m not going to—”
“Damnit, Sybil, stop arguing like a brat and hop on my fucking back.”
She huffs out a misty breath of air as another shiver racks through her. “You don’t have to be mean about it,” she mutters, stepping toward me and hopping on.
“I’m sorry,” I say, hoisting her up and wrapping my arms around the underside of her legs.
“You’d better be,” she responds, like I’m somehow inconveniencing her by carrying her ass.
“Give me strength and speed,” I incant in Sarmatian, the ancient words rolling off my tongue.
In an instant Sybil’s weight seems to lighten, and my legs feel stronger and more powerful. I walk as swiftly as I can, my little pouch of spell ingredients bouncing at my hip as I head in the direction of the boundary line.
“You smell good,” Sybil says offhandedly.
“If you bite me, I will kick your ass.” I try not to think about the very real risk I run by repeatedly placing my neck so close to Sybil’s teeth when she’s on the cusp of turning. Better hope my ward holds.
She guffaws. “As if you’d win a fight against me.”
I smile, even as, at my back, I feel another shudder work its way through my friend. Only now I feel entire swathes of her muscles clench and spasm against me.
Shit. Running out of time.
Luckily, the thought has barely crossed my mind when I see the thin, luminescent blue line that cuts across the forest.
The boundary line.
Thank the Goddess.
I practically sprint toward it, half expecting to be stopped by rogue witches or monsters.
For once, nothing attacks me out of the blue, and we safely cross into werewolf territory.
I take several more paces into pack lands before I set my friend down.
Sybil’s legs are shaky like a newborn colt’s, and from what I can see of her face…she looks wan and unwell.
I reach out to steady her. “I’m still here. I’m not going to leave you.”
She groans and doubles over, her hands digging into the chilly earth.
Crone’s Cane, she’s going to shift.
I crouch down and rub Sybil’s back, eyeing the darkness beyond us. I’m sure we’ll be noticed by the pack at some point. I just don’t know if any of them will come in time. The trembling in her limbs is getting more pronounced.
While Sybil’s distracted, I form a small orb of light in my palm.
“Find Kane Halloway and lead him here,” I whisper in Sarmatian.
The small glowing ball lifts above us, then streaks away through the woods, looking like a sprite as it weaves between the trees before it disappears from sight.
Sybil moans, her loose, dark hair hanging like a curtain around her face and hiding it from view. I grab a spare hair tie from my pocket and gather it up and tie it back.
“Do you want to take off your clothes?” I ask.
She scoffs. “You could at least wine and dine me before trying to get into my panties,” Sybil jokes weakly, her voice threaded with pain.
“Sybil.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t…I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
I swear I see her muscles ripple beneath her purple shirt.
“Yeah, sure…” I place a hand along her spine and focus my magic. When my power leaves my palm, it settles onto her clothes. The fibers part along neat seams, and the garments fall to the ground.
“What are you doing?” The last part of her words come out as a growl, and when she glances over her shoulder at me, there’s an amber gleam coming from the back of her eyes—her wolf peeking out.
It’s captivating but also terrifying as shit.
I swallow down my thoughts.
“Just shut up,” I say. “It’s the full moon, you are going to shift, and the last thing I care about is seeing your tits, okay?”
I kneel next to her as Sybil’s breathing comes in fast, shallow pants.
“My bones—” She gasps, hunching farther forward, and I see a ripple work its way up her back.
A cry is wrenched from her lungs, one that morphs into a howl.
In the distance, I hear a twin howl go up.
I don’t think the shifters are going to need my spell to find Sybil after all.
Next to me, Sybil’s fingernails elongate, and her limbs begin to shorten and bend.
I am so close to shitting myself.
Goddess, she’s beginning to shift.
But just when it seems as though the transformation is truly underway, her claws revert to nails once more, and her forelegs return to looking like arms.
My friend collapses on the ground, panting heavily, her body soaked in sweat. I move closer to her, brushing away the sticks and leaves that cling to her body.
Sybil came out here with nothing. No blanket, no water. My heart lurches, and I try not to tear up.
Reaching into my small bag, I remove one of the larger vials inside it.
“Sybil, all I have is holy water,” I say, lifting the vial to show her, “but if you’re thirsty, you can drink it.” It’s not nearly enough liquid to replenish what she’s sweated away, but it’s better than nothing.
She nods, taking it with a shaky hand. She sits back on her haunches, completely at ease with her nudity now.
Her limbs are still trembling, almost violently so, and her eyes are bleary. She uncorks the vial. “Not going to ask about why you’re carrying this.”
I shrug off my coat.