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1
ELSPETH
Boston in the springtime is beautiful,especiallywhen you have a magical rooftop garden.
The apartment building owner almost didn't let me have the garden up here, but thankfully being a green witch means that I could easilypersuadehim to see things my way after a cup of my "special" tea. A few sips later, he was offering to chip in for clay pots and lattices for some of the creeping vines.
Mostly I grow things that I can use in my everyday potions, but tucked between the more commonplace plants are ingredients for poisons and spell reagents. Granted, I don't use them, but they're there if I ever need them. The local wildlife knows better than to go munching on poisonous nightshade or hemlock, so I don't need to worry about any stray birds or cats meeting an early demise on my account.
Once, the landlord was appreciating the blooms on my foxglove, unaware that the plant could kill him. But I quickly remedied the situation by enchanting him with a potion that induced nightmare about foxglove that kept him out of my garden from that point on.
Tonight, the cool air beckons me outside. Even though I need to be at the coven building early in the morning, I can't resist sitting out in my garden under the moon for a little while to soak in the sanctity of nighttime. I sit there, soaking in the starlight and the delicate scent of my plants, and let my mind wander.
During the day, when I am with Sybil, Blair, and Isla—my coven sisters—I'm focus on our duty to the city, which is keeping the supernatural creatures safe and at peace. But when I come back to my apartment at night, I can let my mind wander freely.
I come to my rooftop garden not only to cultivate the things I need for my potions, but also to care for my sanity.
Sometimes, I think my coven sisters don't take me seriously. Being a green witch doesn't exactly command a whole lot of respect, not compared to Sybil's divination or Blair's cosmic magic. But I think my talents are frequently underestimated. I can do a lot more than the coven gives me credit for. I can brew poisons and concoct curses and create salves and tonics that can heal a person even on the brink of death. I don't expect the other witches to understand the intricacies of my craft, but it would be nice not to be taken for granted.
As I sit there, thinking about what else I want to add to my garden and how I really should get some sleep so my coven sisters don't scold me for the dark circles under my eyes, something catches my eye.
There, in the dark shadows at the corner of my garden, I seemovement.
It's a creature of some kind, and I strain my eyes to see what it is. It's too big to be a cat or dog, but when it peers out from between the branches of one of my potted trees, I recognize the body of a big, gruff, yet regal-looking wolf.
For a second, I am stunned. How did the wolf get the roof of my apartment building? It's not as if wolves can scale the sides of buildings like tree frogs. And more importantly,whyis it here?
More questions arise as I look closer and realize it isn't just any wolf—it's a werewolf. I recognize the color of its fur; it matches that of the other werewolves in the city's pack. But before I can ask the beautiful creature anything, it jumps off the roof.
I run to the ledge and look down, expecting to see a flattened wolf on the pavement below. But instead, it's standing on its four feet. It stares at me a moment before it takes off, running down the city street. It looks totally unscathed.
"How is that possible?" I whisper to myself. As far as I know, werewolves aren't impervious to injury, and they shouldn't be able to scale the sides of buildings.
All night, I can't sleep because I'm too busy thinking about the wolf's yellow eyes looking back at me.
I don't bring it up to the other witches in the morning when I get to the coven building. I don't know quite what to make of it myself, and they would only warn me to be careful and tell me how "dangerously unpredictable" werewolves are. Blair might even suggest reporting the incident to the pack alpha, but I don't want to cause any drama, not when there's been peace in the city's supernatural community. Besides, it didn't do anything threatening. It was just standing in my garden. So, I keep it a secret.
"Elspeth, you look like hell," Blair scolds. She tends to be more unfiltered than the others. "Don't tell us that you spent all night awake and stargazing again. You're not a teenager anymore; it shows when you don't get sleep these days."
I roll my eyes at her and wish I could shoot back a sassy retort, but to be honest, I'm too tired to think of one. And my mind is too preoccupied with images of the wolf, sitting on my roof, right next to the poisonous hemlock in my garden, and staring back at me with eyes that reflected the moonlight. Silence is best in this scenario.
"Leave her alone," Isla says, coming to my rescue as she frequently does. Isla is a kitchen witch and, like me, often isn't taken seriously either.
I think about the werewolf all day, and by the time night falls, I have thoroughly convinced myself that it was nothing more than a random occurrence which won't likely happen again. Maybe the werewolf needed a quiet place to think, or maybe it was running away from a fight—who knows? But my gardenisa beautiful sanctuary, so it's not impossible to think that someone else might want to enjoy it. Maybe the alpha saw it when he came to a meeting here last year and told his pack about it. But why wouldn't his pack member ask me before he or she visited? And why would they visit in their shifted form? Did they worry about being recognized? Not that I can tell any of the werewolves apart once they've shifted.
After a few days, I stop thinking about the werewolf. But then, in the middle of the night, I wake up with a start to it staring at me through my bedroom window.
Its face is pressed up against the glass of my window so close that its breath is making clouds on the windowpanes.
I'm immediately frightened and begin to panic. For the wolf to be here a second time, and watching me while I sleep, is nothing short of invasive and possibly even threatening.
I jump from my bed and rush to the window, throwing a spell at the wolf through the glass that causes one of the rosebushes in my garden to swiftly grow up around him and entangle the werewolf in its branches. The rosebush is filled with thorns, more so now that I have enchanted it, and it pierces the wolf with its razer-sharp, tiny daggers as it curls around the animal's shoulders and stretches up around its back toward its neck.
The wolf thrashes against the branches, cutting itself against the thorns, and even tearing away some slices of flesh as it struggles to get free. I watch in horror. I didn't mean to maim the creature; I was simply trying to prevent it from getting away so I can find out why it's here.
I run into my garden in hopes of trying to talk to the wolf and find out why it's here, not caring that all I have on is a nearly transparent nightgown that hangs off my shoulders. But by the time I get outside, it has already broken free of the rosebush, using its massive jaw and sharp teeth to clamp down on the thorny branches, and disappears off the side of the building again.
I'm too shaken to sleep again, and I can't stop thinking about the wolf.
