I feel even more stupid that I gave him space and told him I trusted him! I was expecting to hear a tragic story of a dead family member…or a horrible accident where he ended up with amnesia…or maybe even complete financial ruin.
Letting the bike roll to a stop near a corner, I pull out my phone and text Grace. Immediately, she asks if I’m okay since I told her I was sick that morning.
I’m not great, I reply.Can I come to your house? I don’t want to be by myself.
Sure thing, hun. I finished at the gardens a while ago if you want to stop by.
I do, thank you! I just need a place to chill for a bit.
Grace gives me her address, and I immediately switch the phone off, just in case Brad can trace it.
I’m not even being paranoid. He probably has all kinds of spy tricks to track me with!
The idea is so frightening, I have to shut it out of my head. Even then, I feel like I’m being stared at through every window and watched by the sky itself.
Grace’s house is a modest little cottage not far from the gardens. Even if I didn’t know the address, I would have guessed who lived here. The front yard is adorned with different flowering plants and shrubs, all glowing with health and vitality. Across the front porch, a long line of vines twists across the entrance, laying tendrils down like a veil.
Before I get a chance to knock, Grace opens the door. When I stumble across the stoop and wrap my arms around her, she hugs me back, clearly shocked.
“Oh, my dear!” Grace whispers, rocking me a little and stroking my back. “Whatever’s the matter?”
I try to talk, but my voice gets tangled in the thick sobs, and all I can do is gasp. Grace reaches around me to slam the door shut, then wraps her arm firmly around my shoulders to lead me to her living room.
Her house is very tiny and somewhat dark, but extremely comfortable. The house is shadowed, thanks to the trees and vines outside shielding the windows. The small rooms with high ceilings make it quiet and cool, like a cave deep in the earth.
“Sit down,” Grace says. “I’ll get some tea.”
“I’m okay.”
“The hell you are!” she snaps. “You look like death walking. You stay there. I’ll be back in a moment.”
While Grace goes to the kitchen, I try, very unsuccessfully, to calm down. I end up just tearing a few tissues out of the box on the table and sobbing quietly into them. I’m solost in my misery that I don’t notice the jet-black cat sitting on the chair across from me until she sits up and stretches.
“Hey, kitty,” I mumble.
The sleek black creature takes delicate steps across the table, boldly climbs into my lap, curls up, and immediately begins to purr. My stress melts away, just a little, but enough to take the painful knot out of my throat and settle my stomach.
“Ah, I see you have met Sabrina,” Grace says, coming back into the room. “She’s my familiar.”
“I’ve heard that werewolves don’t always get along with cats. Or dogs, even.”
“That’s right,” Grace replies. “Some werewolves are wonderful with all animals, but others can put smaller creatures on edge. It really doesn’t apply to you, hun. You’re a witch, and Sabrina is a witch’s pet.”
“Oh. You said she’s a familiar. What does that mean?”
“It means that, however she looks, she will always be familiar to me. I will recognize her, and she will recognize me, no matter where we are.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling like that didn’t really answer my question.
“She grounds me, secures my magic,” Grace goes on. “And guards my dreams.”
“That sounds like a handy thing to have,” I reply, remembering my nightmare.
“Here,” Grace says, handing me a tall glass of iced tea. “And take a few of these cakes.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could eat cake right now—”
“Try one,” Grace says. “Trust me.”
