Page 28 of An Anomaly of Sunlight

“Explain what, exactly?” My voice is calm, lethal. “How if you hadn’t harbored this secret, I wouldn’t have been nearly murdered. How I could have defended myself instead of feeling powerless.”

As my hand touches the doorknob, she cries out, “It was your father! The wolf was your father.” I squeeze the knob until my knuckles turn white. The last thing I want is to cry here.

Mom rests her hand on my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I let my curiosity win. “That explains the wolf, but not the dreams themselves. Not the claw marks.” I look at the ceiling, refusing to catch her gaze. “When I dream... it’s impossibly real. Like I really am the wolf running through the forest... How?”

Moving her hand off my shoulder, Mom wedges herself between me and the door. “Because you are.” She states plainly, which only irritates me further. “But I always wake up in bed. No signs of going outside, or that I’ve even moved at all.” Things just aren’t adding up.

“You’re also... projecting.” She nearly whispers. I look at her then, quirking a brow. “What does that mean?” Defeat radiates from her. Her eyes holding a deep-rooted sadness. “We are witches. Our bloodlines’ power is astral projection.

“Which... skipped me. But seems to have chosen you. Since your magic has awoken late it doesn’t know how to function. You must be shifting in your sleep, at least partially. Explaining the claw marks.”

My jaw drops as I shake my head, words failing me. My mother is a stranger. “I never meant to keep it from you... You never showed any signs of magic, you never shifted. I just thought⁠—”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought!” The scream forced its way up my throat. “You hid my entire identity from me! I don’t want you to tell me why; all I care about right now is how much it hurts!”

Reaching over her shoulder, I snatch the key to her old car and dart out the door without another word.

Tears rush down my cheeks as I slam the car door behind me. With blurry vision, it takes a few tries to slide the key into the ignition. I check the time on the dash. Not quite twelve.

I should have plenty of time to make it to Burrow’s before Skyler is supposed to leave.

Eighteen

Skyler

Olyver stares at me blankly. Not a single fucking thought going on behind those eyes. Somehow, I manage to contain the growl creeping up my throat. “Shelves, Olyver. Products. Pull them to the front, make them look neat. What isn’t making sense?” He haphazardly scoops a few of the potion bottles forward. “It just takes so long to grab each one, you know?”

I want to kill him.

Luckily for Olyver, there are two things helping me get through this morning without spilling blood. The fact that I will get to see Amethyst soon, though still not soon enough. And that my assistant manager, Onyx, came home from vacation a day early and offered to close tonight. He likely saved the store from finding an unfortunate, fiery end tonight.

My eyes narrow on Olyver’s, which hold the same empty look they did three hundred and sixty-five days ago when I first hired him. “Olyver. You’ve worked here exactly one year and I’ve told you almost daily in that year that you only need to pull one at a time. Just make it look neat in front. I could not possibly care less how the back of the shelves look. They’ll get refreshed when I do the resets.” Nodding profusely, Olyver turns back to the shelf. “Right. Got it, Boss.”

I severely doubt that. Nonetheless, I leave him to his task.

I really need to figure out something else to do with my life. I’m grateful for the ten years that Burrow’s has given me. They took me on when I was freshly eighteen and fleeing my father’s insanity, but it just isn’t the same anymore.

Back then I didn’t care what I did with my life. Not really. I just knew I never wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. Alpha to him is a fancy title for murderer. His business only thrives when there are unfortunate souls to be slain. Those souls could be someone’s mate, parent, guardian. Father doesn’t care about that, though. Only about who can pay the highest dollar to end that life.

He is notorious for other crime endeavors, but mostly he is known as the Assassination Alpha. August is by birth the next alpha, but she is a she. He therefore proclaimed the title would fall on my shoulders. Something that should not and never will be mine. But if not that, then what?

Burrow’s is not ideally what I see myself doing to support a family; assuming that I will have one now that I have found my mate. Not that it wouldn’t support her and our children if she chooses to walk that path with me.

I make enough to live comfortably. Certainly not as much as my father, though. But Burrow’s is deteriorating as the days go on. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d considered leaving the company all together.

Perhaps it’s time to revisit that list of job openings saved in my search folder.

Good help is in scarce supply. The higher ups in the company constantly want more work to be done without giving any additional payroll. Most of the workload falls on my own shoulders, and there’s only so much I can do on my own. It's frustrating to essentially never see all my hard work paying off since none of the employees help me stay on top of it.

Sage comes in for theft reports more times than I can count. That makes me chuckle. Father would murder me himself if he knew I was friends with the chief of police.

I give my head a shake to clear it. There’s work to be done. I can have my mid-life crisis later and perhaps apply for a few new jobs while I’m at it.

Turning the corner to grab the price change list, the most unwelcome sight fills my vision. A sigh escapes me, and I don’t think my eyes could possibly roll any farther back in my skull as I, very much to my dismay, greet Maeve.

“Maeve,” I draw out the name to make it seem like she’s an old friend I haven’t seen in ages, “to what do we owe the pleasure?” I make sure to douse the words in extra sarcasm. She flips her bronze hair over her shoulder with one hand as she reaches out for me to shake the other in greeting.

“The office, Sky. It's a private matter, unfortunately.” I scoff and disregard her outstretched hand. I can think of nothing more nauseating than having to touch that vile woman. Turning toward the office, her hand brushes across my shoulder. I bristle, a low growl rumbling in my throat. She never has understood the meaning of the word no. I let it slide this time, setting a brisk pace up the stairs.