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“Ready?” Cassian asked and squeezed my knee gently.
I shook my head but sighed, “Let’s just rip the bandage off.”
Cassian climbed out and opened my door for me. Everyone stopped and stared as we made our way into the warehouse. Everyone we passed greeted Cassian with respect by bowing their heads—I didn’t get anything, some actually scowled at me. Cassian took my hand and led me through a big open area littered with tables. A cafeteria took up one side of the warehouse, billiard tables on the other. The two upper levels had hundreds of steel rooms, and my heart ached because they looked like prison cells—changing couldn’t be comfortable in there.
The rest of it actually looked surprisingly homely; there was a fire pit outside with seats scattered around it, speakers took up the corners of the room, and the walls even had flags and posters on them. A picture wall lined one of the sides of the warehouse, and soft music played in the background. People were talking in small groups and glancing at us, probably wondering why their alpha brought a witch here. I tried to smile in greeting, but their faces remained stony and hard. I sighed and focused on something on the ground instead. This wasn’t going to be fun, not at all.
Cassian knocked and pushed the door open before anyone could answer. There was a long, black, steel table with 10 black chairs on either side. At the far end sat Grace. I’d met her once or twice in passing in the years that Cassian and I had been friends. She’d always had such a friendly face and she exuded motherliness but also a sense of control. A man around Cassian’s age was pointing at a few papers at her side, and they both looked up as we entered. My cheeks grew warm at Grace’s welcoming smile. The man beside her huffed, gathered the papers, and left without a word.
“Grace, I’m sure you remember Emily,” Cassian said when the door closed behind us.
She stood and walked over, wrapping me in a warm hug that made my eyes tear from the comfort in her embrace. “Of course. I remember when you and Cassian were teenagers, running around town. It’s good to see you again, sweetheart. So much has changed.”
I nodded, I didn’t trust my voice not to wobble if I spoke. Cassian pulled out a chair for me and then one for Grace. He took a seat on the opposite side of the table to me. “It’s been a rough few weeks… months. No progress yet on Griffin’s old pack and finding Samara, and the ferals are increasing. Griffin has gone to keep an eye on his old pack, if Gray moves, Griffin will follow. He’ll update us when he can,” Cassian groaned.
“I know, dear. And the feral wolves are disappearing—no attacks, nothing. Sam was just saying that he wants to see if they can follow one of them. They must be going somewhere.” Grace looked at me. “But that’s not why you two are here. I think Emily here needs to know more about her real mother.”
“I do, I know nothing about her except what the Ancient One told me. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.” I looked at my nails. “Thank you for helping, Grace. It means a lot.”
She smiled and placed a warm hand on my wrist. “I love that I can help. I have an old friend, a witch friend.” I raised an eyebrow at that. “Yes, some of us don’t care much about the tension between our species. She’s been a friend for decades, and when I last spoke to her, she said she knew Asena. She was one of the few that sided with us in the first war and now she lives in the shadows.”
“Grace has sent her address to me, we can go after this if you’d like?” Cassian asked, as if I needed encouragement.
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my lips. I would finally get some information on my real mother. I’d finally find a place to fit in and hopefully, if my mom was alive, this witch could point me in her direction. “I’m ready!”
Grace chuckled, “I’ll give her a call to let her know you’ll be there shortly. Her name is Lyrica. She’s on the quirky side and sometimes she speaks in riddles, but if you ask her for a straight answer, she’ll give it to you.”
“Thank you, Grace. This is monumental!” I stood and hugged her again.
“I can’t guarantee that she will have the answers that you are looking for, but it’s a start.” Grace held me tightly and whispered in my ear. “Ignore all of the other wolves, sweetheart. Most of them weren’t even around for the war. They just hold on to a ridiculous amount of hate that’s been passed down generations.”
I nodded into her shoulder and squeezed one last time before joining Cassian who was waiting for me at the door. We left and this time I held my chin high and didn’t waver from meeting anyone’s glare. It was silly to think that so many people held on to a hate that wasn’t even theirs. I understood that their entire species was suffering, but to hate every witch because of the actions of one was irrational.
We climbed into the car and Cassian pulled off into afternoon traffic. My thoughts drifted to Griffin and if he was okay. It couldn’t be comfortable for him out there, so close to his old pack. What if they’d already caught him? I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text.
Me: Just checking in. Are you still alive and untortured?
My knee bounced while I waited and it felt like ages before his response came through.
Griffin: Missing me already, Princess? Don’t worry, this pretty face hasn’t been damaged… yet.
I rolled my eyes but smiled and shoved my phone back into my pocket. Cassian was humming to a song playing on the radio, and I took the time to actually look at him. He was so different from Griffin, complete opposites. In appearance, Cassian was dark haired and fair skinned where Griffin was light haired and tanned. Cassian was lean but strong, Griffin was a little more muscled. In terms of personality, they were just as different. Cassian was kind, soft, and protective. Griffin was hard, sarcastic, and a loner. How did destiny decide on these two as my mates? It baffled me completely. He looked at me and smiled again, which started butterflies in my stomach.
“Are you ready for this, Em? We might not find her,” Cassian said gently. I think he wanted to prepare me for the worst.
I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I grew up not knowing that Kelly wasn’t my biological mother. I would love to find out more about my real mom, but if she’s dead then I’ll be okay. I just want to get as much info as I can, and if this witch knows her, or knew her, then maybe she can give that to me.”
“Well, whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”
We drove for over half an hour. The afternoon sun was actually quite warm, the heat was a welcome change. We never actually did anything for New Year’s, I was unconscious in the cabin. Since then the days kind of melted into each other and I didn’t realize that it had been so long. We should have celebrated, we should have been together for New Year’s Eve. I’d heard of how amazing it was in the city and now I had to wait a whole year before experiencing it. That’s if we end this war before it begins, otherwise we’ll all be dead…
Eventually, Cassian stopped in front of the cutest colonial cottage. It was white with olive green trim. There was a porch in the front of the house with a comfortable looking rocking chair next to the old wooden door. Each window had a flower box underneath and plants decorated every open space available. In the spring, I imagined butterflies flitted from one flower to the next. Smoke filled the sky from the chimney, but it didn’t smell like firs, instead it smelled like sage and lavender. Soothing. I liked it. I felt happy just standing there.
We strolled up to the door, and Cassian smiled at me encouragingly. I lifted my hand to knock, but the door opened before I could, revealing a surprisingly young woman. Her blonde dreadlocks were tied in a bun with a piece of fabric. She had piercings running down her ears and one in her nose. She had the most peculiar pink eyes that lit up when she smiled.
“Emily Caldwell, or rather Lyall. It’s good to finally meet you.”
“Lyrica?” I asked, a little taken aback at being given my mother’s last name.
She nodded and stood to the side. “Cassian, the last time I saw you, you were just a little pup. You look just like your father, except your eyes, they’re so much like your mother’s.”
“Thank you for meeting us on such short notice,” Cassian said respectfully while she led us into her living room.
Her house was an organized mess, photos and random paintings lined the walls, plants hung from the ceiling and stood on pedestals throughout the house. Little vials of potions and herbs took up most of the bookshelf amongst old, tattered books. A pitch black cat lounged on the windowsill, soaking up the sun. That’s a little cliche—a witch with a black cat. I chuckled under my breath. The house smelled like nutmeg and cookies and despite all of the clutter, it felt incredibly comforting. I sat down on a sofa covered with a colorful quilt and sank down into the plush cushions, it felt like I was being wrapped in a hug. One look at Cassian’s face showed that he felt the same way. It was hard to feel anything but lighthearted and at ease in this house.
A tray of tea and cookies appeared on the coffee table, my stomach growled at the sight. Cassian and I grabbed a cup each and a handful of lavender cookies. Mmm, still warm.
Lyrica turned to me and smiled knowingly. I stopped mid-bite, my heart rate picking up at the intensity in her eyes.
“First,” Lyrica said, her voice calm and gentle, “Your mother is still alive.”
