Page 4 of The Lunatics

Gia’s grin slipped. “How mad do you think they’ll be this time?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” I said.

Like last time, we hadn’t told our parents where we would be tonight. First off, we were in our early twenties, so we didn’t have to. Second, Gia didn’t want her mom here on the off chance that she wasn’t matched. My parents had been planning a hot date, and even though they’d want to support my bestie, it didn’t seem right for them to be here if Gia’s own family wasn’t. Hopefully they’d forgive me afterward. I knew Gia’s mom would forgive her anything if she showed up at her house later with a mate.

Please, Goddess, let her show up with a mate, I prayed.

Gia grabbed my arm. “Look.”

From out of the forest walked a woman. These ceremonies were hosted on a rotating schedule, so no one pack was favored above the others. The same was said for the mystics who oversaw them, and this woman was a stranger to me. She must have been in her eighties, with white hair that fell loose to her elbows, and a lined, weathered face. The green dress she wore was sleeveless and long. Her ankles kicked the hem with every step. Despite her age, her spine was unbent and her legs carried her swiftly toward the edge of our makeshift amphitheater.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice resonating in a way that wasn’t natural. It sounded like she’d spoken from right beside me. The words were so clear that I detected a slight Southern drawl to them as she continued. “Welcome to the eastern packs’ annual bonding ceremony. Would those choosing to take part in it please come forward.”

Gia turned and gave me a fierce hug. “This is it. Wish me luck.”

I squeezed her back. “You won’t need it, but good luck.”

She let me go and joined the others making their way down the steps.

CHAPTER 2

Nearly five hundred wolves gathered together on the floor of the hollow. The elder mystic looked down on them with watchful eyes, granting time for anyone still on the fence about joining the ceremony to make up their mind.

When it was clear that no one else would come forward, she lifted her skirts a few inches and took the narrow stairs down. The shifters gathered inside the towering monoliths parted like a sea for her as she passed through them. She climbed the dais and came to a stop at the plinth. Her gaze rose, taking in the crowd seated around her.

“Goddess be with you,” she said, her voice magically enhanced.

“Goddess be with you,” we answered.

Those born with magic were rare among our kind, cherished, respected above all others. The woman in front of us now might not come from my pack, or the person’s sitting next to me, but mystics were transcendent beings, blurring pack lines, sworn to aid all wolves when called to. In a way, that meant she belonged to all of us, and many among our number would lay down our lives to keep her from coming to harm.

The lines around her eyes deepened when she smiled. “For those of you who have never witnessed a bonding ceremony, welcome. There will be great power released here today. It is completely natural for that magic to bring on the shift. Feel free to give in to the urge at any time. I only ask that you rise from your seats and do so up in the field so as not to disturb the others in attendance.”

Several wolves near me chuckled, one father reaching out to ruffle the hair of his adolescent son. The boy grinned up at him with a bashful expression.

I looked back to the hollow and saw the mystic’s hands fall to the belt at her waist, coming to rest on a knife hilt secured there. I recognized the runes carved into the leather sheath. It was the same one I had seen all those years ago at my first bonding ritual.

When she spoke again, it was to address the wolves closest to her. “This is among our most sacred of ceremonies. It asks the most of those who take part in it.” She pulled the sickle-shaped blade free and laid it on the stone plinth. “It asks you to give yourselves up to the will of the Goddess. To accept that she knows you as no one else does. That she sees you down to the very core of your being. She has heard your every prayer. She knows your deepest desires. She loves your flaws even as She does your strengths. And because of this, she alone can find your true mate, the one wolf among all others able to love and accept you as she does.”

Her expression hardened. “But if you came here today harboring ill intentions in your hearts, know that the Goddess sees you and that she will likely reject and punish you for it. If you came here hoping for an easy match, be warned. Wolves taking part in the ceremony have found themselves bonded to blood enemies. The path that lies ahead of you is difficult. At times it may seem impossible to follow, the worst mistake you ever made. Look inward now, and ask yourselves if you are truly ready to face such a challenge.”

Several in the crowd below shifted uncomfortably. I couldn’t blame them. Good thing I’d shown Gia tough love earlier. It prepared her for the much tougher love of this mystic, who offered no words of comfort to soothe the sting.

Minutes passed before the elderly wolf spoke again. “For anyone in doubt, now is your last chance to change your mind. There is no shame in doing so.” Her gaze rose to the crowd watching from above, and her tone turned commanding. “The wolves here today will not judge you for your decision, but applaud your wisdom in delaying a lifelong commitment that you knew yourselves unprepared for. By the Goddess, they promise this.”

“By the Goddess, we promise this,” we answered as one.

Down below, the wolves who had doubts started filing out of the crowd. They were perhaps thirty in number. I searched them for Gia, who I’d lost in the sea of taller shifters. She wasn’t among them. I let out a heavy sigh and settled back into my seat.

Once they cleared out of the hollow, the mystic leaned forward and picked her knife up. She placed the blade of it against the palm of her left hand, and, with surgical precision, sliced it across her skin. A thin band of crimson appeared as her blood welled up to fill the wound. She lifted her injured hand and turned it parallel to the dais, so her blood dripped down upon it as she paced slowly around the plinth that rested at its center.

When the circle was complete, she paused, lifting both hands into the air, elbows bent and palms up as she spoke an incantation in a language that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. It was a guttural, lupine tongue filled with snarls and yips, punctuated by longer keening sounds. Only our mystics spoke it, though the rest of us could feel its reverb in our very bones.

When she was finished, she made a circular motion with her still bleeding hand, ending it with a violent slashing gesture. Magic flared. My skin broke out in goose bumps as an invisibleyet somehow still perceptible barrier rose between the monoliths, separating those within it from the rest of us.

The mystic returned her hands to her sides, her wound already healing with preternatural swiftness. “The shield is in place. We can begin the ritual. I now ask those who remain within it to step forward one by one. You will take this knife as I did,” she said, holding it aloft, “and likewise open your palm. Press your bleeding hand to the plinth, and then file toward the back of the crowd. This may take some time. I welcome you to be seated when your turn has ended.”

A trim Black woman close to my age with thick, multicolored braids was the first brave soul to step forward. The mystic smiled down at her and handed her the knife. The young woman hissed in pain as she dragged it across her palm, but passed it swiftly to the next in line while she pressed her bleeding skin to the plinth. The smear of red marred the granite for only a moment before slowly being absorbed into what should have been impenetrable stone. Not a hint of it remained visible afterward.