Page 10 of Bewitching the Wolf

I nod, still unable to speak as her image clarifies in my mind’s eye.

“You know who she is, don’t you?”

I nod. Finally, I croak, “Marsha Winters…”

Traggar’s mouth tightens. “Why am I not surprised? Damn her evil soul, she did that to you?”

I nod silently, trying to process what I’ve finally remembered.

Marsha Winters is the CEO of DeVines department store in Sparkle City. At least, that’s her public persona. But we’ve long suspected she plays a more sinister role. She has a big stake in DV Medical and Biotech Research, the research lab that’s working on ways for humans to breathe Earth air again. She’s also behind the birth-enhancement program that farms enzymes from minotaurs to increase human pregnancy rates. She’s in the ear of every important human in Sparkle, right up to Ronald DeVine himself.

But until this moment, I’d had no recollection that Marsha Winters programmed me. She just stood there while faceless humans drilled the chip into my neck, turning me into Peripheral 101.

Traggar speaks what I’m thinking. “There’s no doubt now that Marsha is a malefic, Jax. But what if it’s worse than that? What if she is in charge up in Sparkle, not the other way around?”

I stare at him. “You think she runs the whole shitshow? That she’s behind the uptick in munitions supply and putting more troops at the portals?”

“I think it’s plausible.”

“So the Mayor, the human authorities, they could all be doing her bidding?”

Traggar shrugs. “Clearly Marsha ordered the chip to be placed in your neck. She wanted to stop you finding something out, Jax…”

Traggar’s frown deepens. “It also means she will recognize you if you put a foot wrong on the mission. That could be devastating for our plans.”

I sit up, grope for my vape in my jeans pocket. It’s not there.

“I’ve taken it off you,” Traggar says.

“You fucker,” I growl. He must have taken it when I was under hypnosis. “I need it.” Reliving that experience has shaken me to my foundations. “For fuck’s sake, just give me the fucking thing, will you?” I almost beg.

Slowly, Traggar returns my vape. I’m ashamed to admit, I snatch it.

I inhale deeply and my wolf coughs. When it coughs, I get the worst tickle in my throat. I sit there coughing and spluttering while Traggar watches me out of cool, appraising blue eyes.

When I’ve finally finished spluttering, he growls, “You can’t vape on the mission.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re telling me your addiction won’t get in the way?”

“It’s not an addiction. It’s a habit.”

Traggar snorts. “Semantics.”

“I can kick it like that…” I snap the fingers of my free hand.

“Okay then, bin it.”

“What—now?”

“Yep. Put it in the bin.” He grabs the wastepaper basket and places it between us. I look at it. Then I look back at my vape. My fingers tighten around it, resisting.

“Go on,” he orders.

I take one more drag, then chuck the vape into the trash. A wave of terror rolls through me. It feels like he’s asked me to cut off my own arm.

I started smoking just after Mom disappeared. Grabbed a pack out of my dad’s pocket. I’d always hated him smoking, but one puff and I understood the appeal. The release I felt as that first shot of nicotine hit my bloodstream gave me a moment of peace. It made the pain bearable for a while. Soon, I was hooked.