Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
CHARLI
Shadows, a glimmer of light. I force my way to the surface. Images of wolves and men, howling and roaring, go round and round, morphing from one to the other. I sit up with a gasp and clutch my pounding head, trying to make sense of it all.
Teague’s cologne fills my lungs, and I whip my head up, searching for him. The last thing I remember is him carrying me from the restaurant, his body pulsing with anger.
A woman with dark red hair and crystal blue eyes steps forward, and I automatically hold up a hand to stop her, unwilling to risk another vision. “Don’t touch me.”
Tucked into an unfamiliar bed, with luxurious sheets and a soft, billowy comforter, my brow furrows. With the scent of him permeating every square inch of the room, it has to be Teague’s. In creams and browns, the masculine room is surprisingly calm, easing most of my anxiety.
The woman nods and slowly slides into the chocolate brown upholstered chair beside the bed. “Charli, I’m Raine.”
“Are you a doctor?” I croak, easing back on the pillows.
“No, I’m like you,” she says with an understanding smile. “A seer.” Her head tilts when my brows furrow in confusion. “I too have visions. Of the future. Of people I’m supposed to help.”
“I’ve never met anyone like me,” I tell her, eyeing her suspiciously. Is this a trick?
“There are quite a few of us,” she reveals. “Usually, it’s passed down through the blood. My father is a great guy. Kind, funny. Human. My mother is a seer. A witch like me.”
Witch. The word reverberates through me like a death knell, and I vigorously shake my head. “I’m not a witch.”
She raises an eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe me.
“My mom was human. If she’d had powers, she would have told me.” Especially after she saw Hank try to burn me for being a witch. Raine’s head tilts with confusion. “She died when I was sixteen.”
“I see.” She lifts a nonchalant shoulder. “Must have been your dad then.”
Burning skin and acrid smoke lash out at me from the past, a reminder of what happens to witches.
I pant as the memory tries to take hold.
Desperate to avoid it, I fall into my ritual, starting with my hair.
Touching it. Smoothing it. Then, I slide my fingers across my shoulders and upper back to trace the patchwork skin.
I repeat it until I feel the past recede.
“I never knew my dad. He and my mom had a one-night stand,” I reluctantly admit. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t cast spells or brew potions, nor do I have a wand or magic.”
Raine lifts a shoulder. “Witches have different talents or affinities, as we like to call them. Seers come from an ancient lineage. Our powers were given to us by The Fates, who use us to right the wrongs where fate has detoured from its original plan.” She pauses. “How often do you get visions?”
I finger the sheet. Nobody has ever asked me about them. “I don’t know. Sometimes I get several in a row, then I’ll go months without one.” I used to get them more frequently until I stopped touching people, but I don’t want to admit that to her. “I got my first vision when I was thirteen.”
My voice trails off as I think about the morning I woke up, convinced Hank was going to die in a car accident on his way to work.
“Witches come into their powers at thirteen,” she says with a nod. “Do you always pass out afterward?”
“No. The one tonight. It was different. It started with the past.” And ended with a man who turned into a wolf. Fur and all.
She nods in understanding. “As we get older, our visions get stronger, our abilities broaden, we can see more details or context where there was none. Seeing the past is extremely rare, though. You’re special even amongst seers.
But all that power comes at a price…a nasty little hangover.
Head hurt?” When I reluctantly nod, she motions to the two pills and a glass of water on the nightstand. “Teague left you some medicine.”
I reluctantly look over and see the two pills sitting next to a bottle of ibuprofen and scoop them up, then pop them in my mouth. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about tonight?” she tentatively asks. “You seemed absolutely terrified a moment ago.”
An understatement. I dig my hands into the bed, needing to grip something real.
All my visions have been about ordinary people, not something inexplicable like Leif and his pack of white wolves.
It’s crazy, the stuff of movies and books.
I want to deny it, but I can’t. Every fiber of my being knows it’s true because I saw it. Felt it in the vision.
She leans forward. “Ahh. You saw Leif, didn’t you? What he is. A wolf shifter.” Although she says the words softly, they drop into the silence of the room like a bomb, obliterating any misunderstanding.
“How?” It’s the only word I can get out.
She leans back and sighs. “There are a lot of supernaturals in this world. Most of us, like witches or shifters or vampires, can pass for human, but little things give us away. Like having a vision in a room full of people or moving faster than the eye can follow.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Did she say vampires? Words escape me as my brain tries to grapple with the idea of others existing in the world.
“Greystone Vale is different. Macklin, Teague, and Andros created the Vale to provide supernaturals with a city where we can live without the fear of discovery. Where we can display our powers and be ourselves. Now there are twenty-nine Vales across the world. Oak Vale, Highland Vale, etc.”
Her head tilts as if she’s assessing me. “For the most part, humans don’t know we exist, and since you were raised as a human, this is probably a huge shock. But if you give us a chance, you’ll find a home where you don’t have to hide who you are or what you can do.”
Not have to hide. The concept is so foreign to me, especially after the last two years. All I’ve done is hide. Not just from Hank, but from everyone who tries to get close.
I pick at the loose piece of skin on the side of my fingernail, afraid to ask, but I need to know the consequences. “There were a lot of people at the Wolf’s Den.”
She waves a hand. “Think nothing of it. My family has been here for a long time. They’re used to seers.”
I let out a huge exhale. “How do humans not know about this place? My GPS led me here.”
She lifts a shoulder. “Magic. You saw it on the map because you’re a supernatural.
Greystone doesn’t appear for humans. Not on a map.
Or in person. If they come in via the pass, the road ends at the base of a mountain.
If they’re hiking, they get the urge to turn back.
Unless they’re with a supernatural, they can’t enter.
My mother led my father here, but now that they’re bonded mates, he can come and go. ”
Freedom. To live. To work. A place where Hank can’t find me. Where nobody cares if I see things others don’t. Or if I’m a witch. I hate that word. It’s haunted me since Hank screamed it at my thirteen-year-old self after he tried to burn me to death. Sucks to learn he might have been right.
“That sounds amazing,” I squeeze out, my voice tight from all the hope and fear clogging it. “I’ve been afraid…of everything. For so long. Touching people. Having a vision in public. Someone capturing it on camera. Losing control.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry you were made to feel like your visions were a burden or something to hide. To the supernatural world, seers are valued for our ability to help navigate what the Fates may have in store for us.”
Not only the freedom to be who and what I am, but to actually feel like my ability is a gift instead of something to actively avoid or grudgingly tolerate? That seems too good to be true.
Raine snags the necklace around her neck and holds it out for me to see. Dangling on the end is a black stone wrapped in wire. “But I don’t like the fact that you passed out. You need a lodestone to balance you and a coven. Witches are stronger together.”
My lip wants to curl as she says coven and witches, but I don’t want to offend her.
“Go see Joy or Clarissa at the apothecary. Tell them to give you one like mine,” she urges. “This will help steady the power coursing through you when a vision hits. Right now, your power is spiking when the vision hits, then dropping dramatically.”
She looks at me as I sit there in silence. “There’s a lot to think about, but having someone who understands helps.” Her gaze slips to her right, and she subtly nods as if there’s someone standing beside her. I frown. “I have to go, but I’ll check back with you in a few days.”
“Thank you.” I twist the sheet between my hands. “For telling me about…” It’s still so crazy to me; I can’t say it out loud. “Everything. I was kind of freaking out.”
A tired smile graces her lips. “Happy to help. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll help me.”
Yawning, I rub my gritty eyes and sit up. She’s gone. That’s odd. Did I fall asleep?
Teague strides in and sits down in the chair beside the bed, his sterling eyes more of a stormy grey as he scans my face. “How are you feeling?” His voice is husky and full of concern.
The tension inside my chest eases the minute he’s beside me in a way I don’t understand.
Macklin enters, hands in his pockets, eyes lowered.
I bite my lip, wondering if he’s angry with me.
Teague reaches out and tugs on it with his thumb, then takes my hand in his.
I stare at our joined hands. How can I feel so comfortable around him when we just met? Is it because I haven’t had any visions around him?
“Tired. Better. I…Raine helped,” I stutter, forcing myself to concentrate.
Teague glances at Macklin, the two communicating silently. “Raine was here?”
That’s odd. “Did you not see her?”
“We must have missed her,” Macklin inserts smoothly. “What did she tell you?”