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An ungodly screech meets my ears, and for a second I think it’s coming from the young Cleo on the grass. But she’s staring blankly up at the sky with tears in her eyes.
The scream is coming from adult Cleo.
I’m wrenched from the memory and hurtled back through the bond, into the real world.
I slam into my body with incredible violence, all of my senses returning too loud and too bright. I lose my grip on the doorframe from the blow and tumble backward, physically thrown back by the force of Cleo’s magic. For a brief, weightless moment, I hang in mid-air before I fall right down the front steps.
Luckily, there’s only three of them, and instead of landing on the front walk, I manage to fall onto my butt in the soft grass. There’s a commotion in the doorway as my mates chorus my name and chase after me, heavy footsteps pounding on the stairs as they come to join me on the ground.
Archer appears in my field of vision first, looking down at me from a halo of darkening blue sky. He presses a hand against my forehead. “Holy fuck, Sable. What happened?”
“I told you it was too much, too soon,” Ridge grunts, peering down into my eyes like he’s checking for a concussion. “We shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.”
“I’m fine,” I rasp, adjusting to get my elbows beneath me so I can sit up. Several pairs of hands grab at my arms and help me find my balance. “Cleo got in.”
Trystan snarls, and Ridge presses his lips together, his honey eyes staring at me intently. “You remained on your feet the whole time. You didn’t pass out like before.”
I look at him, surprised. “Really?”
Archer gestures to the door. “You just went still and gripped the doorframe. Your eyes were a little unfocused, but I never thought it was a Cleo attack.”
Trystan adds, “I thought it was just from using so much power all at once.”
I pull my knees up, groaning at the sudden soreness in my body. I feel beat up all the way to my bones, and I don’t know whether to blame my day of training or Cleo’s magical assault. Both, probably.
But I’ll take the aches and pains, because this means I'm getting stronger. Even Cleo could sense it the moment she laid eyes on me in the cave. I wasn’t totally knocked out when she pulled me into the astral plane, and once there, I was able to manipulate things the way she does. I’m leveling up, and I think maybe the little girl still inside her is afraid of that.
But the fact of the matter is Cleo is much stronger than me. For good reason, clearly, since she’s been honing her powers since childhood under that despotic father of hers.
Dare speaks up. “What happened this time?”
I give them a quick overview of what was said in the cave, and then the trip to Clint’s house and how, in my bid to get away from Cleo’s second attack, I yanked us into Cleo’s memory. Going back over what I saw in the front yard of that house makes me sick to my stomach. Cleo, it seems, didn’t have an ideal childhood, with a tyrant of a man twisting her for his purposes.
Just like me.
When I’m finished with my story, Trystan grimaces. “Fucking hell. If that’s how the witch was raised, it’s no wonder she’s a goddamn psycho.”
The other men laugh humorlessly. I can’t disagree, and it leaves a sick feeling in my stomach.
Cleo is a witch with nothing to lose, and that doesn’t bode well for us.
15
Sable
We pack up the next morning to head back to East Pack la
nds. We hadn’t planned on leaving so soon, but Cleo’s appearance—and the new information we have about her upbringing—has changed our plans. After discussing current events over breakfast, we decide we can’t wait any longer. It’s time to figure out a way to take the coven leader down, and for that, we need the rest of the packs.
We gather the guards we brought with us from their bachelor pad, then shift and make the journey back to Archer’s territory.
After my breakthrough yesterday, I feel like my power is strengthened and I have better control of my magic. Plus, I’ve embraced the witch so thoroughly that it’s almost like she’s always been there. I no longer fear her. So I’m confident I can continue practicing and training without putting anyone in danger. But that doesn’t keep the prickle of unease from following me all the way home.
Watching Cleo fight her sister in that memory taught me something I didn’t know before, and it’s a truth that makes me fear taking the battle to her. Cleo was bullied into being powerful by her shitty father. She didn’t just train and hone and practice until she could destroy anyone and anything for shits and giggles. She did it because he hurt her. Because her sister kept beating her.
Somehow, I think that becoming a stronger witch out of a need for vengeance is a much, much more dangerous thing.
Amora meets us at the outskirts of the East Pack village as if she sensed us coming. Knowing how long she and Ridge have been friends, it’s highly likely she did. She waves at us the minute we come into sight, looking like a dark-haired warrior in her army green cargo pants and black tank top.
