Page 67 of Fated Exile

I dash off with the empty mugs looped over my fingers and the pot of coffee held protectively in front of me, grateful for its tight lid as I scamper up the stairs. Cat calls something up after me, but I hunch my shoulders and let her voice drift by withoutreallylistening. The last thing I need is a critique of my sexual technique.

Though, if the warm curiosity bubbling up from Bastian is any indication, he's about to have one enlightening discussion.

The next time we're together, I'll try very, very hard not to think about where he got his new moves from.

Sliding the mugs down my fingers, I free my thumb and index so I can turn the doorknob to my dad's office. Then I slip very slowly inside, carefully shutting the door behind me. The last thing I want is to disturb Kerry's rest. She's more than earned it.

It isn't until I'm halfway inside the room and spot the empty bed that I realize there was no chance of waking her at all.

Twenty-Six

Delilah

"Aunt Kerry. You're already up." I blink at the variety of open books and strange objects she has arranged around her on the floor. "I didn't expect you to be up already."

Kerry glances up at me and smiles, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. I'm struck by the sudden premonition that if I'd met my mother, she'd look something like this: pale and gently wrinkled, her eyes and mouth telling stories of great love and laughter, the curve of her smile as familiar as my own in the mirror. Grey spatters her dark hair, and she has age spots on the backs of her hands, but she could almost be a mirror image of the me I see each morning.

"I was up before the dawn," she says, flooring me as I count back the hours to sunrise. "It's a habit. Us weavers like to gather the newborn sunlight and store its power in crystal jars. I wasn't able to borrow any this morning, but I did find a few odds and ends around the office, and the coffee maker was easy enough to work."

This is when I spot the empty mug set beside her, rings of coffee staining its white inside. The two mugs I brought up here seem useless, so I set them down on my dad's desk, along with the coffee pot. Kerry speaks as I work, telling me, "I found those curse books you said Kieran's aunt gave to him, along with a few bits of research that someone—your father, I'm guessing—left behind. There are scattered notes here, and bits of history that are interesting to pull apart and research. I was thinking that we should do a few things to prepare for the big fight with Delphine. First, of course, there's teaching you magic—"

On second thought, I grab one of the empty mugs and pour myself a very large mug of coffee.

If the look in Kerry's bright eyes is any indication, I've got a long day ahead of me.

She hasfartoo much energy for a woman pulled from the brink of death. Far too much energy for me to deal with, and I'm still in my twenties. Sinking cross-legged onto the carpet next to her, I drink my coffee and try not to think about all the sore and tender spots on my body.

"Oh, what was I thinking?" Kerry sighs, reaching across to pat my knee. I blink at her. "You're probably too wrapped up in the newness of the mating bond to learn anything new about magic today. Here I am, thinking we might work on a transport charm, and you're—"

"Transport charm?" Suddenly I find myself with new wells of energy. "I've never heard of that before. Does it do what it sounds like it does?"

"If it sounds like it helps transport a witch quickly from one place to another, then yes. It takes a great deal of concentration and energy to create, though, and I don't want to push you into anything too fast too soon. I know magic is new to you."

"It's very new." Swallowing, I stare down at my half-empty mug and admit, "When I was growing up, my father taught me that everything about witch magic is evil and wrong, and that I should avoid it at all costs. Hell, half the pack was convinced witches commune with the dead and sacrifice newborns."

I chew on my lower lip for a moment, considering all the things I learned about witches growing up. "I guess they weren't wrong to be cautious. Now that I know about Delphine and the curse, I know why they felt that way. But it doesn't help me figure my hybrid nature out when one half of me has been hidden away. The only thing I've even learned about magic since discovering I'm half-witch is how to center myself in the earth, and all about the various dark and odious things curses can do."

Staring at the curse books Kerry has gathered around her, I feel a shiver of premonition go down my back. There were such dark and terrible things in those books. Curses to break bones and strike people down with poison. Curses that turned crops into dust and sickened livestock. I can't imagine ever becoming the kind of person who wants to use magic like that; even in my darkest days of exile I couldn't wish revenge on the people I loved. It took me a while to realize that there isn't strength in that kind of revenge, because in the end when you do it you're still letting someone else rule your actions and emotions.

"There's far more to witchcraft than curses and dark sacrifice. I wish I'd been able to teach you all about it growing up." Kerry takes my hand and squeezes my fingers, the herbal scent of her wafting towards me as she leans forward in sympathy. "There's darkness to much of witchcraft, yes. I can't deny that. But witches also built these lands and set the spells that protected the werewolves who lived here for centuries. Witchcraft can heal a burn and regrow dying plants. It shows us glimpses of the future and helps us reach harmony. The only difference between the darkest spell and the lightest is the intentions of the witch who casts it."

Licking my lips, I squeeze her hand back and cautiously admit, "I'm not sure that I trust myself with much magic. Lifting the curse and re-forging the pack bonds is one thing. I can even accept that I'll need to cast magic in order to defeat Delphine and restore the Glass Pack's strength, especially now that I'm alpha. But using magic for convenience... isn't that just a slippery slope to using it for power? That would make me the same as Delphine."

Kerry looks deep into my eyes, her gaze bright and her voice fierce as she says, "You willneverbe like Delphine, my darling girl. I may not have known you for very long, but I know that much. Only the darkest heart kills those who love her the most just for power and glory."

Her strong, sure negation that there's anything dark inside me is a balm to my soul, especially after learning how my father feared me, and seeing how wary the pack was to accept me at first. Even now, I know that I'll find resistance—and that'safterI've done all I can to show them that I'm here to change things.

"What's the line, Aunt Kerry?" I ask her, because I feel she must have an answer, after so long spent in the caves imprisoning someone who was truly as dark as evil can be. "How will I know when I've gone too far?"

A long, silent moment passes. I can tell by Kerry's face that she's thinking deeply, and considering my questions completely. Anxiety settles in my stomach as I realize their answers may not come easily.

"I don't know that there is a line, because if there were one, it would be easy to justify going to the edge of it." She leans back and grabs one of the small books on the ground, a green-bound paperback I haven't paid much attention to previously when it was on my father's shelves. "In the journals of Alpha Beck Glass, he wrote about the long stretch of peace his pack enjoyed. His was one of the generations where a strong enough female werewolf came forward to break the curse—because, we think, Delphine's magic wasn't able to overcome a few every generation or so. He should have been content with the breaking of the curse and the prosperity his people enjoyed, but it wasn't enough for him.

"At every turn, he wanted more. Stronger warriors, more mate bonds, a border that inched towards federal land day by day." Kerry shakes her head, a shadowed expression crossing her face. "He doesn't write it plainly in his journal, but it's clear that he went to great lengths to secure thepeacehis pack enjoyed. Whether it was undermining his fellow alphas and recruiting their warriors to his side, or forcing young wolves to choose intendeds they didn't care for, he found ways to justify whatever he was doing. If there is a line, I don't think he would've said he crossed it. But I know that he did."

"How do you know that?" Brows drawn together, I admit, "Nothing you've said so far sounds so outlandish to me. Choosing the right mates, bringing in warriors from other packs—Roarke and I have already discussed doing as much now that we're leading the pack forward."

"I know he went too far because I know the story from the other side." She tosses the journal aside. "Some of the mate bonds he forced resulted in angry, abusive marriages. The women would come to the coven—this was when there were more witches in the foothills, and we hadn't all withdrawn to the caves. They'd ask for tokens to help them survive their situations. They weren't the only ones. His warriors came to the coven with bruises and fractures that even their werewolf strength wouldn't heal, because Beck had pushed them to such limits that their bodies couldn't keep up.

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