Page 14 of Wolfsbane

I wasn’t sent to retrieve him. When the others had planned to go, I hadn’t offered, though perhaps I should have. No doubt Mother would have sneered that I had no magic with which to fix my mistakes and ignored me.

But . . . I could have offered anyway. Something stayed my tongue. Maybe just not fully believing that I’d done the wrong thing, even when Ivan was stalking our halls, demanding meals. Even when we sent Kate and Tristan out after Altair and they’d never returned.

When Ivan had finally determined to go himself, I’d texted Tristan and Kate both, warning them that he was on the way. Perhaps that’d been foolish of me—at the time, I’d presumed they were both dead—but I hadn’t known what else to do. Whatever side I was on, it wasn’t Ivan’s.

I’d thrilled to see that, while my message to Kate had only been delivered, Tristan’s was read. Someone knew that we were coming, and they’d been prepared.

We hadn’t.

We hadn’t been prepared for werewolves, or for Ivan himself to snatch Loretta, tear into her neck, and drink her dry. The witches had broken and fled after that, and Mother had hissed at me to get in the car.

We’d gotten away, and the moment we’d returned home, Mother and the others had warded the coven house like never before. By the time they were done, I wasn’t even sure I could leave.

But Ivan hadn’t returned. At some point, we’d had to presume he was dead. The wolves had killed him.

Mother was even pissed about that, because it meant the pack was stronger than she’d assumed.

And then, the wards had caught an intruder, and I’d had an icy, horrible feeling that we’d been wrong. Ivan was back.

In the chaos of witches rushing to counter the threat, I found myself stumbling outside only to come face to face with the werewolf Mother had struck with her spell.

He stared at me like he recognized me too, both of us frozen for a split second—that was all it took for Destiny to cast her spell.

The wolf’s eyes went blank and fluttered shut. He hit the ground hard, and no one moved to catch him.

Not even me, stuck as I was, a wicked howl ringing in my ears.

Mine.

Mine? He wasn’t mine.

He’d—he’d . . . Lauren was on the ground, and Ryan couldn’t get her to open her eyes.

The screen door banged when Mother stormed out. With a complicated bit of spell work, she lifted the wolf off the ground. He levitated, his arms hanging uselessly, fingers trailing over the painted porch floorboards.

“Take him inside,” she snapped at Destiny. “Lock him in the basement.”

A sharp whine caught in my throat. “What are you going to do with him?”

“He attacked us,” Mother snapped, meeting my eyes for the first time in weeks, only to glare at me. “Should I leave him free to do it again?”

I swallowed, my throat dry and rough. “No.”

“Well then, come along.”

It was the first notice she’d paid me in so long, a little piece of me thrilled to have her attention.

I followed her to the library, where she snatched old, worn bound books off the shelves, picking them out particularly and without a moment’s hesitation. She knew exactly what she was looking for.

“Do you know what a witchwolf is?” she asked me.

I shook my head. It was impossible to miss her obsession with getting one, but I’d never fully grasped the significance. “A werewolf who can do magic?”

Mother scoffed, slamming the books down on a table I’d spent countless hours reading at. Just because I didn’t practice magic yet didn’t mean I wanted to be unprepared for when I did, and reading was the closest I’d gotten. The sharp sound made me cringe. The books themselves had always made me think this was a quiet place, but not with Mother occupying it.

“They are unlimited potential,” she said. “A witch with no bounds to their magic. Have you seen a shifter heal?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t like I’d ever stabbed a werewolf or anything. “It’s fast, right?”