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“You do, though.” Ava pulled her hand out of her mother’s grasp and rested her fingers on Sarah’s upper arms. “You spent time with the people on Dad’s side of the family. You told me that you’d seen them work their magic before. Again, at the time, I thought it was just a story. But you were there. You can tell me.”
“Oh, honey.” Sarah pressed her hand to her forehead. Yes, she’d seen some things. It wasn’t the same as knowing, not when it came down to something like this. She might as well try to explain to a human what it was like to be a shifter. “Your grandmother and your Aunt Dawn, they’re witches. Real-life ones, unlike the characters in those books we had when you were little.”
“What can they do?” The light in Ava’s eyes was so bright and powerful.
Sarah saw that excitement and enthusiasm, and it shot another streak of pain through her heart. Ava was a teenager. Sheshouldbe feeling that way about things, yet Sarah knew this was a very dangerous thing for them. Would she really be doing Ava any favors if she tried to deny it all, though? “Let’s see. I’m trying to remember, but it was a long time ago. Dawn was studying to be a nurse, and I’ve seen her heal both with her hands and powers. Joan, your grandmother, could do all sorts of things. She could use it to fight, to move objects, to unlock doors. There’s probably a lot more that I just don’t recall.” Sarah knew that she herself would never be able to do the things that Joan and Dawn did. Her family had no witch bloodline, but that was exactly the problem.
The tip of Ava’s tongue darted out to the corner of her mouth for a moment. “Could she teleport things? Like what I did in the kitchen?”
“Yes. I saw her do that a few times. Sometimes it was just because the item she wanted was across the room.” Sarah smiled at the memory. Joan was a powerful woman, the Luna of the Glenwood pack back then. She had the ultimate respect of her pack, but that didn’t stop them from teasing her when she used her abilities so that she didn’t have to get up and walk across the room to turn on the light.
“And could she teleport people?” Ava pressed.
“I don’t know. I never saw her do it, anyway. I imagine that wouldn’t be easy.” Sarah paused, and her eyes drifted from the row of canned peaches on a nearby shelf up to her daughter’s face. “Why?”
If she thought Ava had looked excited before, it was nothing compared to the exhilaration she saw now. “See, that’s why me moving that little soap bottle is my birthday present to you. I figured if I work on it a little more, I might be able to try it on us.” She wiggled her finger back and forth in the air between the two of them.
“You mean…”
“Yes! I’d only have to do it once, and then we’d be outside. We could get away,” Ava insisted.
Sarah gaped at her. Over the last several years, she’d paid attention to the behaviors and schedules of the guards. She’d glanced up at the cameras that looked over every exit to the house, wondering if she could do anything to turn them off. When Ava had been very small, Sarah had even imagined strapping her daughter to her chest and just running like hell. These mental experiments had always ended up with them getting caught, and the results weren’t ones she liked to entertain. But this was a wholly different thing. If Ava’s magic was strong enough, and if she could get them far enough away, then there was a chance.
“Hey! What are you doing in there?”
Sarah startled at the question and quickly grabbed a carton of chicken broth. “Just gathering everything we need to make some soup tomorrow.”
Frank, the guard who’d been left in charge of them that evening, appeared in the pantry’s doorway. He scowled at her, the look enhanced by the thin line of a scar that ran from his forehead to his jawline. “Hmph.”
“What did you think we were doing in the pantry?” Sarah challenged as she pushed her way past him. “Digging our way out with a spoon?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he grumbled. Frank stood back just enough to let them through, then shut the pantry door behind them. He continued to stand there, watching them with suspicion.
“Why, Frank, you give me far too much credit. Keep that up, and I just might start to think you like me.”
His suspicion turned to disgust, and he stalked back into the living room.
Letting out a breath, Sarah pulled a large pot out of a lower cabinet and set it on the stove. She hadn’t actually planned to make soup, but she figured she ought to now. Frank wasn’t exactly a genius, but the last thing she needed was for him to think she and Ava had been discussing something that would piss Edward off.
Apparently, she’d trained Ava well in this regard. The girl had grabbed the bag of onions from the pantry and set two of them out on a cutting board. “Figured you’d want these,” she said glumly.
“Yes, thank you. Probably some celery and carrots, too. Chicken and rice sounds good to me.” Sarah went through the motions, knowing that having something to occupy their time up there would keep them from having to go straight back down to the basement. It wasn’t much freedom, but she’d take any sliver she could get.
Pain ensconced her heart as she replayed the conversation they’d just had in the pantry. Ava was delighted with what she’d been able to teach herself to do, and she truly believed she could use that talent to rescue them. It was a clever idea, but it also drove home just how much this lifestyle of theirs was her own fault.
The onion and celery went in the bottom of the pot with a pat of butter, sizzling away and filling the kitchen with their earthy fragrance. Sarah added minced garlic and poked it around in the bottom of the pan. Some memories had become fuzzy over time, but one was just as clear as if it’d happened yesterday. Sarah had stormed out of the Glenwood packhouse, so pissed, she could be steaming. She’d just planned to go for a walk. Max was still at home with their son, but if she didn’t leave for a bit to clear her head, she was going to say something she might regret.
She never expected to be captured right there on Glenwood territory.
When Edward’s guards had locked her in the basement of the Greystone packhouse, she’d spent hours pounding on that door. The dents and scratch marks her rage had created could still be seen there. “Let me out of here, you assholes! Max is going to come over here and beat you to a bloody pulp!”
She’d been so worked up that she hadn’t even pulled back when Edward had yanked open the door, his face red and twisted as he snarled at her. “He won’t, Sarah, and do you want to know why? I went right up and told him to his face that you were dead, which is what should’ve happened, anyway.”
“He won’t believe you,” she’d insisted, already feeling the hope dying inside her. “He’ll know better. You wouldn’t kill me.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Edward had slammed the door in her face and slid a heavy bolt into place.
Slumping down, Sarah had sat on that top step for hours. Tears had slid down her cheeks and soaked her shirt, but a numbness overcame her. Max wouldn’t be coming. Anyone might believe that Edward had eliminated her so he wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. There was no reason for Max not to believe him.
