Page 83 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“Lostthe wolf?” My stomach squeezed. “Ronan Pallás?”

“Yeah. Like you don’t know.”

“I thought Alpha Floyd ordered the coven to get rid of him. Isn’t that the deal you made? The cursed grimoire for the life of his son?”

“Yeah.Youand my bitch wifesure ruined that, didn’tyou?” His voice was all over the place now. Was he losing control? I couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Don’t blame Maya. The only thing she’s guilty of is believing you weren’t the bag of horseshit I’ve always known you were.”

He ignored the insult. “That being said, you’re also the only one who can help me.”

“Help you, how?” I was a little surprised he was talking so much. Desmond hadn’t seemed like the monologuing type.

“Alpha Pallás might be inclined to overlook allowing his son to get away if I offer up the corpse of his worst enemy as a replacement.”

Like I didn’t see that one coming.

Bending down to scoop up a handful of dirt would be like firing the first shot in a gunfight, but this was as good a time as any to do it. Desmond was full of woe for himself and whatever power he’d been using appeared to have dimmed again—at least in his voice.

“Don’t move,” he said.

I froze. What the hell? Was the guy a mind reader or was I projecting my thoughts?

The answer was neither. Desmond wasn’t looking at me. He was staring into the overgrown alfalfa field to his right.

This was my opportunity, and I wasn’t about to squander it. I bent over, intending to grab a handful of earth, when I noticed that I’d already sunk into the ground up to my ankles.

Margaux’s voice echoed inside the walls of my head. “Don’t fight against the soil, fight with it.”

“Who’s out there?” Desmond called into the knee-high grass. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. He truly didn’t consider me a threat.

Good.

I didn’t chant, nor did I use a power word or a spell. I didn’t grab a magic-imbued blade or a potion or a charm. I didn’t call out to Cecil or Fennel for help.

Instead, I called to my element from a place buried so deep inside myself I hadn’t known it existed.

And it answered.

Chapter

Eighteen

It was my first lesson in earth magic.

“This is where we’re our strongest, Betty,” Mom said.

“In the middle of a smelly field?” At four years old, I naturally distrusted anything stinky.

Abuela Lulu chuckled. “Fragrant, not stinky.”

“Alfalfa is an earth witch’s ally,” Mom continued, tugging on one of the green, aromatic plants that surrounded us. It came up to her knees and my waist. “We share an element with this herb.”

“Used in spells, it can bring prosperity and good luck,” Abuela said. “It is especially generous with our kind, and the soil cradling it welcomes us.”

I halted and dug my heels in. “I’m scared.”

“That is as it should be,” Mom said. “To form a deep connection with anything, soil or person, you must show that you’re willing to be vulnerable to them.”

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