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“Okay,” I say, wondering if it is. I try to clear my head. A lot has happened since last night and she might be cool with a long story, but I can barely keep my eyes open. “Oscar used to blackout whenever he shifted. He’s not fully connected to his wolf. He was shifting more, with the rest of us, and the blackouts stopped. They started again a few days ago. Last night…” I clear my throat. “Last night I woke up and he was gone. He was in the woods, passed out, next to a dead girl when I found him. Another shifter.”
Rachel gasps out a breath. “Oh no.”
“He didn’t kill her,” I go on. “It looked like he did, but I know…”
“You know him,” she finishes for me, when I trail off. “He would never.”
A lump rises in my throat. She understands, and she isn’t questioning why.
It takes a few seconds to calm down. I know I’m more emotional because I’m exhausted, but I’m also worried for my mate. Oscar’s in pain, and this whole situation isn’t going to help him.
Rachel slowly takes over the conversation while I compose myself, taking charge like she always used to in high school. “I’ll check into what we could do to help Oscar connect with his wolf. If you’ve already tried spells to help with that, we can try them again as a coven.”
“That would be great,” I tell her, wishing that was all we needed to worry about right now. “But helping Oscar with his wolf might need to wait. The girl who died, her pack have accused Oscar of causing her death. There were a few more shifters in the woods close by when I found him.”
“Damn,” Rachel murmurs. “They’re saying they saw it happen?”
“We think they staged it,” I tell her. “It was all kind of strange, but Oscar didn’t have any blood in his mouth, or on his hands. It couldn’t have been him. The pack sent their Alpha here this morning to sort things out with ours. When I told him Oscar didn’t do it, he seemed relieved. He asked for proof that Oscar didn’t do it, and we settled on meeting tomorrow with a witch from the Council of Witches. She’ll cast the spell that shows what really happened.”
Rachel breathes out a relieved sigh. “Well, that’s good. When you know who’s casting the spell, let me know and I’ll check them out. Make sure they can be trusted. You can request another witch if you need to.”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you could be here for the spell. Both packs are allowed to have a witch present who can check the spell after it’s been cast.”
“Of course,” she says. “Just say when, and we’ll be there.”
“They’re going to come here tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. The spell will be cast where the girl died.”
“We’ll be there just after six,” she tells me.
The relief I feel knowing she’ll be there takes the edge off my worry. “Thank you.”
“Call me later, if you find out who’s doing the spell.”
“I will,” I promise. But right now, I’m going to crawl into bed and pass out for a few hours before I face-plant the carpet. “I’ll speak to you later.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Oscar
WithCherylgonefromthe breakfast table, we fall into a vaguely uncomfortable silence. Everett’s mood is dark and stormy. His stare is a million miles away while he shovels bacon into his mouth.
Noah picks up the empty saltshaker and tilts it around. He’s feeling disappointed and guilty when he lets out a sigh and gets up from the table with his empty bowl in one hand and the saltshaker in the other. I take my time with my food, content to enjoy my freedoms while I still have them.
When there’s nothing left in my bowl, I get up and put it in the sink, next to the whiskey bottle Cheryl emptied out last night. I kind of wish I hadn’t told her about it now. I’d rather not be sober when I’m handed over to strangers.
I try not to think about what the other pack might do with me, but it’s impossible not to go there. Now that I’m not preoccupied with the simple task of eating, my thoughts are intent on torturing me. The other pack will feel the same way once they have confirmation that I killed one of theirs.
On the bright side, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll decide on execution. That’s outdated and barbaric, and besides, Omegas are a rare commodity. They’ll have some other use for me that I probably don’t want to know about.
I leave the kitchen, and head for the stairs. The only place I want to be right now is by Cheryl’s side.
I listen for her voice, but the landing is silent. She must be done with her call.
Her scent trail leads to the bedroom, where I find her sleeping on top of the sheets, on the edge of the bed, as if she barely lay down before she passed out cold. She must have been more than tired.
She teleported last night. That would have drained her magic.
Guilt hits me that I caused this. She’s worn out because of something I did.
