Chapter 11 - Donna
I’ve barely had time to wrap my head around the recent revelation, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’m ready to accept my fate as a witch.
Delilah explained it so clearly, and I know she trusts Gwen because she’s been in Gwen’s head not once, but twice. So if Gwen had a vision about me being a witch, mixing a potion, along with my healing powers from my hands that help them defeat the dark warlock, Delilah won’t question it.
Apparently, I am one of five witches who will take the dark lord down—a prophecy foretold by a different witch whom the dark lord consulted. That’s what Gwen saw in her vision, along with my face, which revealed me as the fourth witch.
That’s why Tobias was after me—it was no coincidence. The dark lord is targeting the witches linked to the same coven, who will ultimately destroy him for good if they join forces.
I trust Delilah, and I take her word for it. I’m just struggling to come to terms with what this means for me.
I never imagined myself wielding this type of power, and I was content being a shape-shifter.
Even then, I’d escaped being a werewolf in adulthood by throwing myself into my studies in the human world, becoming more interested in the psychological aspects of both human nature and that of werewolves.
But me, of all people, emerging as a witch? How does it make sense? Delilah and Arianna seem to think that I’m a descendant of a witch from the Golden Tree Sisters coven. But if anyone would have been a witch, it would have been my mother.
Unless she had no idea herself….
“Are you alright, honey?” Arianna asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. I lift my head and nod slowly, offering her a sheepish half-smile.
“Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind,” I tell her earnestly, and she offers me a more encouraging smile.
“I know this is a lot for you, Donna, but Nick is running out of time. D had to be quite blunt.”
“Yeah,” Delilah says from behind us, approaching with a piece of paper she holds out toward me. “I'm really sorry, Donna.”
“I-it's fine,” I say, sighing as I take a quick look at the moon before staring at the paper I just took from Delilah. “What is this?” I ask about the strange words in a foreign language, appearing like gibberish scribbled on the lines.
“It's an incantation to begin the ritual, get your mind in the right space. Then, you'll drink this.”
Delilah passes me a vial containing the iridescent liquid from the mixture she and Arianna brewed over Nicholas's stovetop.
“Don't worry, Donna,” Arianna assures me. “Delilah will walk you through the steps, and everything will be fine.”
I gulp as I nod, and for the first time since this morning, I feel a sense of dread curdling my insides.
Fear.
That's the one thing I've been avoiding, but it's there, amid the thing I didn't want to face.
What if I can't do it?
What if this doesn't work?
I must be ambitious again to think that I can pull this off when I've only just learned that I'm a witch.
What happens to Nicholas, then?
Both Delilah and Arianna appear confident in my newfound abilities as they lead me into the backyard, where the ritual will be conducted.
Nicholas is already there with the others; Dominic and Tyler stand on either side of him, while Sean and Hunter wait with claws at the ready, and Emily is on standby with her first aid kit.
A sliver of that fear trickles down my spine, settling in the pit of my belly that churns when I meet Nicholas’s eyes.
His eyes are unreadable, or maybe I refuse to face the fear reflected in them by reading too deeply into the green depths—fear that comes from me.
Or maybe he’s ashamed of his situation, his wrists wrapped with ropes that the others hold on to, like a prisoner in the night.
“You’ll have to remain focused, Donna,” Delilah says as she steps between Nicholas and me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Keep your mind clear. That’s the only way this will work.”
I nod slowly, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Should be easy, right?”
Delilah’s expression is more serious. “You are a witch, Donna. You’re more powerful than you know. And I will be right here, with you.”
I nod, and Delilah steps aside, revealing Nicholas again. I meet his eyes, and for the first time tonight, my heart feels squeezed inside my chest, both longing and guilt curled inside.
I thought I was doing this for the others, doing this for my brother, saving their friend from the dark magic gnawing on his insides.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m doing it for him.
Because I care about him more than I’m willing to let on, every memory from last summer to the kiss last night burned in my brain. How am I supposed to forget what he makes me feel? How am I supposed to forget the scent of him?
I can’t.
But my anger and resentment for the way he rejected me are supposed to keep my heart safe, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“You can begin reciting the incantation,” Delilah encourages me, and I begin reciting the words on the page—a Latin phrase that’s repeated.
The words leave my lips, soft at first, almost hesitant, as the foreign syllables roll off my tongue. While the moon hovers high above us, silver and unyielding, my heart begins a slow trot of uncertainty.
The vial’s contents burn down my throat, leaving a faint metallic taste that coats my tongue, the taste remaining in my mouth. A tremor ripples through my hands, and I look down to see the grass beneath my feet shivering as if the earth itself is holding its breath.
Across from me, Nicholas stands motionless, eyes tracking every movement I make—green flecked with shadow, hollow with exhaustion. The ropes around his wrists are more for reassurance than restraint. No one here truly believes they could hold an alpha if he turned and the dark magic took over.
Delilah’s voice floats behind me, calm but tight. “Focus on your bond. Reach for his wolf. Call to it.”
I inhale deeply and lift my palms, holding them out toward him. The air between us thrums, thick and heavy, like the heavy calm before the storm. For a moment, I feel something alive, pulsing between us, the same force that once tied our souls together.
The mate bond, in the palm of my hands. My gasp is met with Nicholas flinching, his shoulders tensing as a low growl vibrates through his chest. Our eyes collide, and it’s like a punch to my chest.
Then everything fractures.
The ground quakes under my feet as Nicholas jerks violently, a snarl ripping from his throat. The ropes snap as if made of paper, his head jerking back, eyes turning fully black. The air distorts around him, a cold wind bursting outward, sending dust and pine needles swirling through the yard.
“Nick!” Dominic shouts, stepping forward, but Nicholas lashes out with a roar, the sound sharp enough to rattle my bones.
“Stay back!” I cry, but it’s too late. Hunter lunges first, trying to pin Nicholas’s arms. Tyler and Sean follow, circling fast. Claws flash, growls collide as Nicholas bursts into wolf form.
He throws them off one by one like they weigh nothing, quicker than they can shift into their wolves, his strength unnatural, his body jerking as the darkness writhes under his skin.
“Stop!” I scream, but my voice drowns under the chaos.
For a heartbeat, everything slows. I see Nicholas’s wolf face contort with pain, his jaw clenching, his chest heaving. His eyes flicker—green for a second, then black again. There’s something human left in there, trapped behind the curse.
He’s losing the battle he’s fighting internally.
And I can’t just stand here and watch.
My wolf stirs, restless and furious when my Instincts take over. I drop to my knees, pressing my palms to the ground as my vision sharpens, senses heightening. Power hums through me as my wolf emerges through the use of my newly-found powers.
Powers I can hardly control. Maybe my mind isn’t as clear as it should be. This is my failure.
That’s why when Delilah shouts something from behind, her words fade into the background as my bones begin to shift. My spine arches, my body contorting until the wolf breaks free, fur brushing the night air. The transformation burns, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in my chest.
When I lift my head, Nicholas is on all fours, fangs bared, eyes full of darkness.
I move as fast as I can, and we collide in a blur of fur and fury, his snarl meeting mine as our bodies crash against the ground.
His claws rake across my shoulder, but I barely feel it.
My magic floods through my veins, white hot and searing, coiling around my limbs.
The energy burns outward, pouring into the bond that ties us.
His wolf howls, writhing beneath me as I pin him down with both my wolf and magic.
I don’t know what words I speak mentally—or if I speak at all, because it could just be thoughts—but light bursts from my chest, crawling down my legs, bleeding into his skin where our bodies meet. He thrashes, roaring, the darkness spilling from his mouth like smoke and seeping into the ground.
“Donna!” someone calls distantly.
But I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I give it my all, but something doesn’t feel right.
It’s not working.
The black magic that was seeping to the ground is regathering, slipping back into Nicholas’s mouth as he whimpers, and it feels like I’m running out of time.
I thought I could do it, but there’s only one thing left to do, so I raise one hand, sharp claws slicing through the air with an almost-metallic sound before I slash them through Nicholas’s shoulder, closest to his neck.
That’s when the darkness cracks, black veins receding from beneath his fur, the shadows ripping out of him in wisps that vanish into the air. His body convulses once, twice, then falls still as a breath wheezes out of his lips.
The world around us goes silent.
Only the wind moves now, brushing the grass flat around us.
I shift back slowly, breathless, trembling, my hands pressing against his chest as I sit up and back away slowly, too frightened by the closeness to stay in it.
His heartbeat flutters weakly beneath my palms, steadying little by little as his wolf recedes, leaving him in human form.
When his eyes open, they’re green again. Human.
Nicholas blinks, dazed as he sits upright, unsteady, covered in dirt and blood. The others hang back, hesitant. Delilah watches quietly, tears shining in her eyes.
I say nothing. I can’t, even as Arianna comes to help me to my feet.
Nicholas looks at me then. Really looks. The bond between us hums faintly, softer now, and clean. Almost as clean as it was before it was tainted with rejection. His throat works as if he wants to speak, but no sound comes out.
The silence stretches between us like a fragile thread, and I’m the one who breaks it when I look away.
When I’m on my feet, I brush soil off my hands, my legs feeling unsteady, my magic fading. Nicholas remains where he is on the ground, shoulders bowed, gaze fixed on the grass as the others approach him.
He looks like a man finally surrendering to the weight of what he’s done. I should feel triumphant, relieved that it worked, that he’s free. But all I feel is hollow. Empty.
He’s alive, but the look in his eyes tells me he’d rather not be. Shame clings to him like the last shadow the darkness left behind, and I curl my hands into fists, stifling the urge to fling myself into his arms and beg him not to feel guilty.
Because I’m just glad to have him back, even when I won’t admit it out loud.
Not yet.