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Magic in its abundance existed in so many parts of the world, yet had to be hidden due to its overwhelming truths. Because being able to heal people with potions and chants wasn’t something humans as a species were ready to accept. They practiced their own version of this with modern medicine, but they weren’t entirely ready to grasp the concept of magic itself.
Great power meant great responsibility. And that meant keeping many secrets in the dark. If it were to get out to the general population that we existed and could accomplish great feats, we would encounter another war. And that was the last thing we needed after the vampires had radically diminished the wolf shifter population.
The floorboards upstairs creaked. A sigh floated over the air, soon joined by a squeaky yawn. With that came a softpbbrtthat I took to be Memphis awakening with his human. After a few minutes of silence, the stairs wheezed, and I went back to preparing tea.
Just thinking about war had been enough to erase my arousal. But then warm sugar and vanilla tickled my nostrils, once again prompting my response without warning. I turned around to see a hair-tousled and sleepy-eyed Anita shuffle into the kitchen. Her hair was tucked into a loose bun with strands curling around her cheeks and tickling her ears. Memphis trotted right alongside her, stopping within a few feet of me as if he refused to come near me.
That was fine. It wasn’t like he was going to stay here forever. Once we found out about whether the insemination had worked, we would be right back on schedule. Maybe I could turn him into an outside cat so we wouldn’t have to cross paths. Though by the look of his litter box that Anita had placed in the living room, it didn’t appear like Memphis wanted to ever go back outside again.
Anita floated toward the counter where I stood and reached for the tea cabinet. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
She grinned lazily, grabbed a packet of raspberry lemon, and reached for a mug. She knocked over the salt, sending a line spilling toward the sink. With a defeated groan, she wiped upthe salt and tossed the remainder of it in the sink, keeping a few grains to throw over her shoulder.
When she reached for a mug again, she caught me staring at her. “What?”
“You just threw salt over your shoulder.”
“Yeah, it keeps the devil away.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding. You humans are so cute with your superstitions.”
She blinked a few times, rubbed her forehead, and then frowned. “You humans?”
Shit, I had to stop saying things like that to Anita. I’d literallyjustbeen thinking about a way to introduce the shifter world to her without hurting her brain. At this rate, I would probably accidentally shift in front of her and give her a heart attack. It’d never happened to me personally, but I knew a few people in black ops who’d experienced that.
Maybe that witch can help erase Anita’s memories too, I thought.
Anita waved her hand in front of my face. “You alright over there?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just, uh…” I forced a chuckle. “I guess I’m still stuck in my sleep. I had a weird dream.”
“I had that problem as a teenager. It was hard for me to separate my dreams from reality. It almost got me locked up.”
My brows knitted together. “Like in an institution?”
“That’s a nice way to refer to it. But yes, the foster home in New York was…” She trailed off as she filled a pot of water in the sink. “They were concerned about some nightmares I was having about my parents.”
“What kind of nightmares?”
She huffed with disbelief at her own story while setting the pot on the stove. She turned on the appropriate element and waited for it to heat up. “Funny enough, vampires.”
“Vampires?” My mind raced. Maybe shehadbeen exposed to our world at some point—but she couldn’t remember it. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. There were some creepy men that came to visit my parents one time and I thought I saw fangs. It’s silly.”
She was laughing, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She appeared confused by her memory, like it was too broken up to discern. Any good human foster home would have certainly taken her to a psychologist at some point.
“Did you ever go to therapy?” I asked tentatively as I sorted out tea packets on the counter. I chose the same as hers today. “Did you ever take medicine?”
“They tried to put me on an SSRI once, but that didn’t go well. After that, the nightmares stopped, so we didn’t think it was a problem anymore.”
The honey in her irises shimmered from the stove light. Memories seemed to dance in the gold, both confusing and joyful in their appearance. Although I couldn’t see what she was feeling, I could sense the uncertainty and the yearning for her parents.
“They left you at a young age, I take it,” I whispered.
She played with a strand of hair over her right cheek. “I was five when they put me into foster care.”
