Page 64 of Howling
A touch of worry stirs, and I lower the window, sniffing the air, searching for any scent that might clue us in on what’s wrong. The overly sweet stink of magic pollutes the air, active and old spells overlaying everything, and I shudder at the invasive feel of it brushing along my senses.
To use that much power, they’re either strong witches with magic to spare…or they’re covering up something.
Kitten barely slows when we hit the city limits, barreling through town at twice the normal speed limit. Quaint, colorful buildings and storefronts line both sides of the streets, and clean vehicles are parked out front—an image straight out of the fifties. The cozy picture should be inviting, luring customers into their shops, but it’s just a little too neat and tidy.
A few people walk the sidewalk, observing us, but none of them smile or even blink as they watch our progress. Their invasive stares raise the hair on the back of my neck. It’s like they’re already measuring how they plan to use different pieces of me for their potions after they hack me into bits.
A snarl curls my lips, and I refuse to lower my gaze.
I don’t trust them not to attack when I’m not looking.
Kitten pulls over in the middle of the town and parks across from the town square. Without hesitation, she reaches for her pack, then throws open the door and climbs out.
I quickly follow, silently cursing when she walks away without waiting for us. More and more people watch us from behind their curtains, and tensions rise at their unsmiling expressions.
Bellamy is so close to my kitten that he might as well be her shadow. I would be annoyed, except I can appreciate the way he bristles with menace. If anyone dares to approach her, he’ll take care of the threat.
Garth remains by my side, a steady rumble coming from his chest. He normally avoids leaving the house, his shiftunpredictable at the best of times. That he would willingly leave the car is very telling.
He’s expecting trouble.
Kitten marches across the road, not stopping until she’s standing in the middle of the town. With her hands on her hips, she slowly turns in a circle, eyes narrowed as she searches for any sign of Tyler. She lifts her nose into the air, stopping abruptly when we’re facing north. She crouches, then places her hand in the grass. The air ripples around her, and I swear the ground undulates under our feet.
It’s not exactly magic.
Whatever she’s doing has my beast pressing against the underside of my skin, desperate to answer her call, and I find myself stepping closer. Bellamy and Garth do the same, their eyes glowing with their beasts.
As much as I want to demand answers, I know better than to disturb whatever she’s doing. She’s throwing out so much power that the air crackles with static. It takes all my control to tear my eyes away from her and survey our surroundings for danger.
More than a few of the townspeople step out of their buildings, watching what she’s doing with suspicious eyes. I’m not sure if they’re responding to her call, or if they’re just curious. Garth’s lips pull back, revealing sharp fangs. I don’t have to look to know his claws are on full display.
The alpha has always been protective of us. He considers us his pack. Apparently, he has taken kitten under his wing as well. I should be annoyed that he didn’t even discuss it with me first, but I can’t really fault him for his decision. The same urge is pushing me hard.
She needs to be protected at any cost.
I’m distracted from my thoughts when Frankie shoots to her feet and begins marching off at a hurried pace, leaving usscrambling to catch up. Bellamy glares at anyone who thinks to approach, and I almost smirk at the way people cringe away.
Then I lose my smile when I glance back to see the mob following us. They might not be carrying torches and pitchforks, but I suspect it’s only because they didn’t have any nearby. The cloying scent of magic thickens in the air, and I allow my claws to tip my fingers at their aggression.
Sure, we came to their town, but we were fucking invited.
It’s only then that I notice something odd.
The only magic users are male—mages.
All the witches are gone.
Witches are naturally stronger, able to draw their powers directly from nature. Mages are different—while they can cast magic, they can’t draw directly from a source. They must rely on trinkets and cantrips, both of which are dangerous in their own way.
Witches rely on their magic to protect themselves, often using it as a deadly weapon. Thankfully, they can only draw so much magic before they physically burn out and need to recuperate. Mages don’t have that weakness. They rely on magic stored in amulets and physical weapons. It’s a lethal combination. They might have to work harder, but it means they’re often more inventive…and more vicious.
Only a rare few mages can harvest magic, but they’re usually driven mad, their bodies not built to funnel such power. Very few survive puberty and fewer yet live to adulthood.
Though kitten is leading us, more and more mages step out of nearby buildings, like they’re herding us somewhere. My beast snarls in my head, balking at being surrounded, and it’s a struggle to fight my paranoia.
Could Frankie have betrayed us?
I’ve been burned too many times in the past to dismiss it out of hand. Logic says she helped us escape the wolves, but what if she did it to claim us for herself?
