Page 2 of Pack Witch
“Rude.” I crinkled my nose at her. “You’d better have chocolate in that basket.”
“Chocolate birthday cake, supplies for your medicines, and whiskey to trade for your homemade gin, though you may need that last one more than I do.” She harrumphed. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you actually don’t look so good. You’re paler than usual. Except for the age spots.”
I lifted one of my hands, which did indeed have some shadowed spots, and made an appropriately rude gesture. She laughed, held up a fist, and pushed her way through the invisible web of magic I’d spent the last twenty-five years spinning around my home.
She was the only one who had my permission to do so. The web protected my privacy, keeping all but the strongest shifters out. Well, the strongest, and the occasional child who’d gotten lost over the years and stumbled through the look-away veil I’d woven.
It was almost impossible to hide from shifters, especially on their own packlands, but with enough small, gentle magic, it could be done. Good thing, too. Small magic was the only kind I could use without triggering devastating pain.
“You think I should use some magic on these age spots, instead of pack supplies?” I teased before I tucked my knife away and set down the walking stick. I held out my hands eagerly to take the basket, but she yanked it away.
“As if you would. I can’t even get you to wear a damned pair of jeans. You’re a spring chicken, Zinnia Star, even if you dress like you’re my age.” I glanced down at my calico summer dress. She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like there was anyone here to impress.
She grumbled a few more things about youth being wasted on the young—she was a few decades older than me, so I didn’t roll my eyes where she could see—and then plopped down on the fallen log I used as a bench.
Most wolf shifters were lean and muscular. Ida was plump and short, and I was almost overcome with the urge to hug her, as usual. Hug her or throttle her, as she lectured me about how much healthier I’d be if I came down from the mountain every once in a while.
“Not that you’ll bother to follow my advice. Why do I even try? Ah, well. I brought you your usual birthday lunch.” She began unpacking fried okra, potato scones, cornbread with honey and butter, and fresh greens. There was so much food, I began to get suspicious. When she withdrew not just a slice but an entire chocolate cake and a full bottle of Scotch, I groaned and sank down next to her.
“A bribe, hm? What do you want, Ida?” When she didn’t answer, I warned, “I’m not coming down from the mountain. You remember our agreement. If you’ve got someone who needs healing, bring them to my border.” She wasn’t allowed to escort anyone across the magical shield I’d woven over the years, but I made herbal remedies for her pack every year. I’d even come out of my seclusion a few times to help in a more direct way, with my healing magic.
She didn’t acknowledge my offer, just poured a small cup of whiskey for herself and one for me. “Speaking of borders, you should know your old packlands aren’t closed to you and your kind anymore.”
My kind.She meant shifters with witchcraft, though she never spoke of my power out loud. It had been illegal for many years for me even to exist, and for her pack to hide me.
She took a sip and went on. “You can leave Mountain, if you want. Go back home. See who might still be there.” Her soft words were like claws scraping my heart.
She didn’t mean to be cruel. She didn’t know. She was my closest friend, but I hadn’t shared anything of my old life with her or anyone.
“There’s no one there for me,” I finally managed. She made a sympathetic sound, and I straightened my shoulders. “Not that traveling alone across the country would be a good idea.”
“That’s true,” she said, her expression far too calm. Ida’s face was always moving. She was hiding something. “But staying putfor too long may be just as dangerous.” She stared at the sky as we ate, watching Brigid circle the valley. “We have a few shifters going that way, back toward your old home. They’re from what was the old Southern pack.”
“A group? How many?” Were they coming near my mountain?
“It was a dozen unmated shifters and their Alpha.” I blinked in surprise. Alphas almost never left their packlands, not for long. Ida smiled slightly. “Only three unmated ones now. The rest met their true mates here a few days back, at our full moon pack gathering.”
“I’m glad for them.” I held still, waiting.
“The Alpha is an old friend. I’d like you to meet him. Meet him, and maybe help him.”
I was having a hard time breathing now, but managed to ask, “He’s injured?”
“Not exactly.”
My heart was racing, though I didn’t know why. “Just him?”
“Well, him and the last two without mates. They’re practically children, though.” She muttered something aboutlittle shits, but I ignored it.
“What’s wrong with the Alpha?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Her eyes met mine at last, and hers were filled with a terrible knowledge. “He needs your help. His name is Julian.”
“No.” The word was a whip crack, and Brigid screamed out an echo of my denial above.
Her gaze hardened, but her voice was still soft as she replied, “You know our agreement. This Alpha is a friend of our pack. A relative of our Alpha. He needs help, or he’ll die.” The air went still, as if the world around us was holding its breath while I considered the cost of helping this man. “Will you at least meet him and see what you can do?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even breathe, the stabbing pain in my heart returning as it had on the mountain.
