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The next morning, my coven sisters and I are supposed to meet with some of the other supernatural leaders about a problem that has been emerging between the vampires and werewolves. A territorial dispute between the two has been brimming for weeks now, and it's the coven's duty to mediate. That's our job—play the middleman between supernatural factions and try to de-escalate things before they get out of hand. Sometimes, it's frustrating to be the ones always cleaning up other people's messes. But other times it makes me feel proud because we're key to ensuring the city's peace.
"So, what are they fighting about now?" Blair asks, acting like the meeting is an inconvenience to her.
"The werewolves claim that the vampires aren't abiding by the territory maps and they're feeding on humans living within the pack's territory," Sybil answers, sounding very diplomatic and impartial.
"Hmpfh, wouldn't surprise me if they were," Isla interjects. "Those vampires think they are so much better than everyone else."
"Hang on a minute," Blair interrupts with a raised eyebrow in Isla's direction. "Weren't you just gushing over how handsome one of them was at the coffee shop the other day?"
Isla instantly turns an entire gradient scale of pink hues.
"I can think someone is handsome," Isla says, "but it doesn't mean I have any respect for them."
"Uh huh." Blair rolls her eyes dramatically and stifles a laugh at Isla's expense.
"Why do the werewolves even care?" I ask Sybil, ignoring the drama between Isla and Blair. "It's not like they need the humans for anything."
"It's not about that. It's about the fact that the vampires are breeching property lines. The werewolves are extremely territorial, and they don't want any vampires setting foot on their land," Sybil explains. "And from what I know about the werewolf alpha, he is very protective of his pack. I'm sure he sees the vampires' disregard of their territorial boundaries as a potential threat." She adds, "Assuming the vampires are really breaking the rules and trying to feed on humans living on pack territory."
I agree with Isla. I wouldn't put it past the vampires to think they don't have to play by the rules. But talking about werewolves reminds me of the wolf that I have now seen twice on my rooftop. A part of me wants to tell the others, but I should at least wait until after this meeting is finished so we can focus on the matter at hand.
The vampire clan leader arrives first and seats himself at the head of the long table. Isla offers him some tea, but he is smart to refuse. Everyone knows not to accept tea from a witch unless you want to be slipped a truth serum or something similarly manipulative. I have no idea if Isla would have actually enchanted his tea if he accepted, but it would be a smart move, albeit an unethical one. We'd immediately know whether the vampires did in fact violate the pack's boundaries.
While we wait for the werewolf pack's alpha to arrive, the four of us witches are a captive audience to the vampire leader's complaints about all things wolf related.
"Those werewolves are no better than wild dogs," he says with his angular nose tipped up in the air. "How could any species as unrefined as the werewolves hope to be taken seriously during a discussion at this table?"
"I can assure you," Sybil says with a stern tone in her voice, "the coven takeseverysupernatural leader seriously, and everyone who comes to sit at our table is given equal consideration."
The vampire makes a snorting noise. "Well,wedidn't do anything wrong," he says, acting offended.
"I beg to differ," a robust voice calls from the doorway.
I turn to see the alpha standing there. He's only just arrived, yet his presence immediately dominates the room. I sit there stunned for a few moments, but not because of how handsome he is or how commanding he looks as he sits down, but because his arms and face are covered with scratches—the kind a rosebush might give.
2
LUCIAN
Ever since the meeting of supernatural leaders last year, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. I knew the moment I met her that she was my mate, but I thought I could ignore it. After twelve months of sleepless nights and constant distraction, I finally gave up.
But seeing her sweeping beauty as she sat in her rooftop garden beneath the milky moonlight, with her face shining like a star in the dark, only deepened my feelings for her. Feelings Ishouldn'thave.
Witches and werewolves don't mix, especially notcovenwitches. They're known for thinking they're better than everyone else. But Elspeth is different than the others.
Elspeth doesn't look like any of the other witches in the coven; she's fair and blue-eyed, with long blonde hair she usually wears in loose braids that hang to her waist. She must be in her late thirties, but Elspeth looks like she could be immortal, eternally young. Maybe it's her potions or magic, but she is lovely beyond words.
When she saw me on the rooftop the first time, I panicked and ran, knowing how foolish it was to interrupt a green witch in her own garden. I promised myself I wouldn't visit her again. But she haunted my dreams every night after, until I couldn't stand another night without a glimpse of her.
But that second night, I leaned too close to her window. I just wanted to see her, but when she started tossing and turning, I couldn't look away. I didn't mean to scare her, and I certainly didn't meant to overstay my uninvited welcome and get tangled up in her rosebushes. Rosebushes that suddenly came alive. It was like they had a mind of their own and were trying to choke the life out of me. It took nearly all my strength to break free of them, and by then I was covered in cuts from the thorns that had pierced right through my thick coat of fur. At least I was in wolf form; if I'd been caught in the bush as a human, the damage would have been much worse.
I went home and tended to my cuts, and thankfully my healing kicked in quickly. But as I walk into the meeting at the coven building, the scars of my cuts are still visible.
"You look like hell," Mickael taunts as soon as I step into the room.
I honestly don't have a prejudice againstallvampires, but Mickael is the worst excuse for a leader. He is conniving and malicious; lying comes as easily to him as breathing.
"What, did you and your mangy friends lose a sparring match? A fight with other wildanimals?" Mickael laughs, though the sound that comes out of his mouth is more like a high-pitched cackle.
