Page 7 of Cruel Moon
There is no freedom without theMathairs’blessing. No life outside the Court unless they decree it so. I will have their blessing and my sister.
And I will not fail.
Chapter Four
Bast O’Connor
Whispers of Stolen Power
Smoke clings to my nostrils as we file into Lila’s cottage at the edge of the village. Acrid. Bitter. A reminder of what we’ve lost.
As I duck through the low doorway, the rich aroma of dried herbs and simmering potions assaults my enhanced senses. It’s familiar. A second home. I grew up with Alice, Lila’s daughter. Lila and Meredith both taught us how to make medicines and brews after school every day.
For a moment, I’m transported back in time. I see myself as a gangly teenager, fumbling with mortar and pestle, while Alice giggles at my clumsy attempts. Meredith’s voice, warm and patient, guiding us through the intricacies of herbal lore. The memory hits me like a physical blow, and I have to brace myself against the doorframe.
“You okay, little brother?” Liam’s voice pulls me back. Concern etches his features.
I nod, not trusting my voice. Grief clogs my throat, threatens to choke me. Liam squeezes my shoulder as he passes. His touch anchors me to the present and I follow him and Gen into the main room.
The interior’s dim. Beeswax candles flicker, their warm glow a stark contrast to the ache in my chest. A fire crackles in the hearth, shadows dancing on rough-hewn walls. Every surface teems with jars, bottles, bundles of drying plants. The ceiling, a forest of hanging herbs. Lavender. Sage. Rosemary. Their scents mingle, a tapestry of memories.
We crowd in. The space feels smaller than I remember, or maybe it’s the weight of our loss making the walls close in. I lean against a weathered beam, bark rough under my palm. My eyes adjust slowly, wolf-sight sharpening the shadows.
A large iron cauldron bubbles in the corner fireplace. The scent wafts over—sweet, medicinal. It reminds me of long-ago summers, skinned knees and laughter.
Lila stands by the fire, stirring. Her movements are precise. Practiced. I wonder idly what she’s brewing. A potion for strength? For protection? We could use both.
I scan the faces around me, each a mirror of my own pain.
Liam and Gen, hands clasped tight. My brother’s jaw clenched, eyes haunted. I know he blames himself. Wishes he could have done more.
Aiden, our alpha. His presence is a steady calm for all the wolves of the pack. But even he looks shaken, the events of the past days etched in the lines around his eyes.
Lawrence, looking like he’s aged a decade in a day.
Alice, her face painted with a sorrow that mirrors my own.
And me? What do they see when they look at me? The angry wolf, itching for a fight? Or the grieving friend?
“What happened to Meredith’s magick?” Alice’s quiet voice breaks the uneasy silence. It trembles slightly, betraying her fear. “It should have returned to the coven after her bones were blessed and burned. Why wasn’t it there?”
The question hangs in the air, giving voice to the fear we’ve all been dancing around. My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin,sensing the tension in the room. Hackles raised. Ready for a threat we can’t see or smell.
Lawrence runs a hand through his hair, his face haggard. Defeated. “Someone took it. It’s the only explanation. Except the only people who would’ve been able to do that are with me, and my people wouldn’t have dared.”
The words fall like stones, heavy with implication. Betrayal. Theft. More loss.
“Could Oliver have taken it somehow?” Liam asks, voice tight. The bastard had already indirectly cost us our youngest brother and Meredith, a woman we considered family.
Gen leans into him. “My father is smart, but there’s no way he could’ve done it. He wasn’t anywhere near the basement. And he would’ve needed another witch. Meredith would never have given it to him.”
Lila shakes her head, her stirring never faltering. The rhythmic sound fills the room.Scrape. Swish. Scrape.“No witch, no matter how powerful, can simply steal another’s magick. Except male witches, and I trust that Lawrence and his coven wouldn’t go against Meredith’s wishes that way.”
“You’re correct. I never would’ve done that to her and none of my people would’ve either.”
“But you’re capable of doing it?” I growl, shoving off the beam. The wolf is too close to the surface, itching for another fight, for something tangible to lash out against. Anger is easier than grief. Simpler. “How?”
Lawrence’s eyes darken, mouth flattening into a hard line. But before he can speak, Alice steps forward. Her hand on my arm is like a shock to my system, instantly calming my restless beast.
