Donovan leans back against the couch and folds his arms, his legs crossed at the ankles in front of him. “None of this explains why you think Callie is a spirit witch,” he grunts, his patience, what there is of it, clearly wearing thin. “She’s a powerful witch, but with her magic bound, how can you tell she’s a spirit witch?”
“Ghosts,” she answers with a smug arch of her brow. “Besides the unfathomable amount of power spirit witches have, they can see and interact with the dead.”
We all look down at Felix, and he shifts uncomfortably under the attention. “Oh come on,” he exclaims, rolling his eyes. “You can’t be too surprised. They’re calledspiritwitches.” He does a quick sweep of his hand over his body, then points to his chest. “Spirit. It’s right there in the title.”
Callie laughs. It’s loud and tinged with hysteria, but it beats crying.
“I presume your friend has said something humorous that highlights my point?” Mildred comments.
Kaleb blinks at her for a moment, before murmuring, “Yes. He pointed out that being called a spirit witch might imply something to do with spirits.”
“Yes,” Mildred chuckles. “Very astute.”
“Okay, time for bullet points,” Callie demands once she’s gotten ahold of herself. “I’m tired and this is all starting to make my brain hurt. What you’re telling me is I’m some type of super witch that died out a long time ago because power, bullshit, etcetera. Being able to see Felix, the whole healing thing,” she tilts her head back to look up at me, “and that I apparently smell different from other witches, supports the spirit witch theory. My magic was bound because reasons, my father was cast out from the council because reasons, and he wanted to unbind my magic because reasons, so he tortured me hoping my magic would eventually stop him. Do I have it right?”
“And Connor is the descendant of the wolves that apparently screwed your family over,” Felix adds unhelpfully.
A low growl rumbles in my chest.
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Felix quips. “It’s your ancestors’ fault.”
“And I, of all people, won’t be judging others based on blood relations,” Callie counters, eyeballing Felix.
He looks properly chastised, and my wolf preens over her defense. I’m stuck somewhere between a smirk and an eye roll. My wolf is usually the least trusting, snarling at everyone to keep us safe, but right now, he’s ready to roll over and show her our belly. He’s kept me safe and alive this long, but damn-- magic makes everything weird.
Callie looks back at her aunt. “Time to fill in the blanks. My magic was bound, why?”
“The official reason is your father was severed from his magic and sentenced to live as a human, and since he was your only living parent, you were cast out with him,” she answers plainly. “Living outside the monitoring of the witch community, the council decided it unwise for you to have access to your magic when your father was severed from his. On your eighteenth birthday, the binding spell was to slowly fade, and myself or one of your other witch family members was to retrieve you.”
“I have other family…” Callie trails off then shakes her head. “Not important. Okay, why was the bastard cast out if he was this really important member of the council?”
Mildred looks down at her hands and sniffs before looking back up at Callie. “He used forbidden magics to try and bring your mother back from the dead. Witches are meant to keep balance, and death is part of life. For attempting to break such a law, there’s little forgiveness. The only reason your father was cast out versus sentenced to death himself was his position. Leniency was given because he was defended as a man lost to grief.”
“That son of a bitch!” Callie screams and sits forward, startling us all and making my ears ring. Her nails dig into my forearm, her fingers turning to talons as they grip my arm. “That’s what that kidnapping was about wasn’t it? He was trying again. All the shit he did to me. He needed me to bring her back.”
“Kidnapping?” Kaleb echoes, his voice calm in the growing storm.
Her eyes cut to him, and her breaths are angry, labored puffs. Gone is the girl who appeared weak and small in my arms, and in her place is one who makes it very easy to believe she’s a terrifyingly powerful witch. Wolf seems fine with the transition, the ass.
Donovan also seems more interested in whose ass needs to be kicked and less worried about calming our angry spirit witch, who has already caused an unintentional thunderstorm, exploding trees, and a raging bonfire. Nolan and I trade wide eyed stares, because what the hell are we going to do? Felix’s expression is hard to read, and it makes me want to know what the hell he saw.
“That fucking bastard who tortured me for years!” she screeches. “You know why he’s in prison?”
“No,” Kaleb answers gently, holding her gaze. Brave. “Why is he in prison?”
“Not for the shit he did to me,” she hisses, her teeth grinding. “Oh no, he’s currently locked up for the next five years in an Arizona state prison, because he was caught trying to abduct a woman who looked a hell of a lot like my mother.”
Kaleb swallows heavily and glances at Mildred. “That’s possible? Placing a spirit into another’s body?”
“Yeah, it’s called possession,” Donovan sneers. “Demons do it all the time.”
“Not without slowly killing the host,” Kaleb counters.
While they argue the finer points of possession, Nolan and I try to calm the ball of rage on my lap. He runs his hand down her arm and his thumb along her knuckles, while I murmur inconsequentially in Spanish about how she’s safe and he can’t hurt her now. I know she doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but our combined efforts seem to calm her down some.
“I hate him,” she seethes, flopping back against my shoulder. “No. Hate isn’t a strong enough word.”
I ache for her, knowing the strength of that kind of hate-- that kind of rage that festers inside. The only solace I can think of is that he will never harm her again, and justice has a way of working out, particularly when I plan to help it along. Somehow.
