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“You’ve been through a painful, violent experience, something that happens often in Savage, in all of Five Bridges. I’ve had some therapy myself. We had several female wolves in my pack raped and murdered about three years ago. We eventually caught and killed the monster who did it. But I was the one who found their mutilated bodies. I’d blocked the memories until I could handle remembering.”
“Braden, I’m so sorry.”
He used his thumbs to wipe her cheeks. “And I’m sorry you went through so much right after your arrival here. You had no context for what you were going through and little support.”
She released a heavy sigh. “I think that’s why I go into the Graveyard. I was saved. I mean someone must have gotten me out of Veyda’s compound, taken me to safety. I’m giving back in the only way I know how.”
“You’re doing more good than you know. If everyone followed your example, we’d have paradise here in Five Bridges.”
“Braden, I have a strong premonition Kiara won’t live out the night.”
“Is this based on your witch senses? Or do you have some other reason for believing this?”
“Remember how I said she’d been burned?”
He nodded.
She told him about the two-way mirrors in the killing room. “The thing is, I think I was in the same room when I killed the witches. Braden, I’m scared.”
He pulled her close again and once more rubbed her back through the thick terry cloth. His shoulder was warm against her cheek and she didn’t hesitate to lean in and take the comfort she needed.
After a moment, he said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to shower, get dressed, then we’re going to start making plans to get your friend out. You and me. I’m thinking we should explore your witch powers more. You okay with that?”
She drew upright. “More than okay. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
~ ~ ~
When Maeve left, Braden hopped in the shower. His thoughts turned to a concern that had been building from the time he’d made love to her. They both might have agreed to a casual if very physical relationship, but his wolf instincts were pawing at him.
The questions arose: Did he really want to get this close to a witch?
He’d always hated Maeve’s kind until he’d moved to Elegance after his wife died. Since then, he’d gotten to know dozens of witches like Maeve who didn’t practice what the community called the dark arts. Before Five Bridges, they were good people, like himself, who’d been living their lives with all kinds of goals and purpose. Then the alter serum had thrown a grenade into what they’d treasured most: Their human lives.
His view had slowly changed over the past eighteen months. He’d become more accepting. He understood extremely well how the dark covens had almost as much control over Elegance as the cartels did.
When he’d first begun his investigation into Laura’s death, he’d found it nearly impossible to find anyone to interview. Literally. The places he needed to go, the leads he would get, were often hidden behind spells he couldn’t circumvent. They were similar to the one Maeve used to provide extensive security for her growing facility.
In time, bull-headedness had gotten him answers and built him a network of contacts. He’d learned a few simple warlock-tricks that helped him recognize then bypass weaker protection spells. He often ended up with a headache after hours of searching, especially those nights when he’d already put in a full eight-hour shift with the Border Patrol.
He’d become acclimated to the culture of witches, warlocks and wizards. He’d learned the latter were rare and even more difficult to locate than a powerful witch. Warlocks who reached the level of wizard generally were into empire-building. A couple he knew worked hard to build good things for Elegance. One had established a large rehab clinic for flame drug addiction. Another had taken over a chain of mini-marts and hired security to make them safe for ordinary people to use. As a Border Patrol officer, Braden knew how many drug-related crimes like muggings and break-ins, afflicted each of the territories of Five Bridges. As bad as it was in the U.S., it was a hundred times worse in his world.
As he toweled off then got dressed, he mulled all these things over. Yes, he’d come to an understanding that not all witches or warlocks were bad. But his wolf didn’t like being in a community where a person could be manipulated at any given moment.
His wolf senses told him Maeve was in a place of transition and maybe he could help her through it.
He’d lived long enough in Five Bridges to know that those few, with extraordinary power, grew in specific stages. The night she’d gone berserk with her killing power and during which time she’d destroyed two dark coven witches, she’d tapped into her potential. Right now, especially with her memory returning, he suspected she was on the verge of learning just how much natural ability she had and what she could do with it.
But a new time had arrived in her life and whatever latency she’d experienced needed to change, especially if they hoped to save Kiara.
Fully dressed, and his hair towel-dried and combed back, he made his way to the living room. He could see she was distressed, since she sat forward on the couch, elbows on knees, head in hands. Sheba was stretched out on Maeve’s upper back facing Braden, her sharp cat eyes, green like his own, fixed on him.
He didn’t want to distress the cat so he chose to address Maeve with telepathy. I’m here, but I don’t want to startle you, not with your muse on your shoulders. You okay?
I’m fine. My head hurts a little.
You’re growing into your powers. It takes some getting used to.
Sheba jumped down onto the cushion next to her and moved in close. She put a black paw on Maeve’s leg, very possessive and supportive then looked at Braden. Her expression seemed to say, ‘Help out, would you?’
