I realize with a thrill of fear and excitement that maybe this means she’s smart. That she knows what she’s doing. And that she can teach me how.
Suddenly, energy shimmers over the valley just ahead of me. Black smoke tilts and swirls from the air as if being blown away by the breeze, dissipating into nothing.
Like a mirage coming into being, a small cabin forms out of the space between two cliffs. A puff of chimney smoke curves up from a stone chimney, and a pile of cut logs sits against one wall in a perfect pyramid. An axe is planted in a nearby tree stump next to an old well.
As the magic lifts, a woman appears standing several yards away from the rustic cabin. Black smoke still curls from her fingertips, but her hands are at her sides—not raised in a threatening gesture.
She’s older than me. Late thirties or early forties, tall and willowy with pale red hair and vivid green eyes. Her face is white with shock, and her jaw hangs open.
“No.” Her voice is clear as a bell as it cuts through the valley. “This can’t be possible.”
15
Sable
The silence that falls over the valley after her declaration is deafening, especially in the wake of the violence, when her magic was zinging through the air and ripping up chunks of the ground. Not even a bird sings or an insect chirps. It’s so quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat and the breaths flowing in and out of my companions.
In wolf form, the silence is so amplified it’s almost painful.
Now that I have her attention and my point is made, I shift back to human. The moment I’m back on two feet, I put my hands out to my sides so she can see them clearly. The last thing I need is for her to imagine she sees black smoke coming from my fingertips and attack us again while my guard is down.
My heart pounds as I approach her. I keep my steps short and only close some of the distance between us—not so much that it will put her back on her guard, but enough so that we can easily see each other’s faces and hear each other speak. All four of my mates remain as wolves, gathering around me protectively but letting me take the lead. It’s a small thing, but it proves they trust my judgment.
Which is good, since I’m really questioning it right now.
The woman eyes me warily, and I flush, trying to ignore the fact that I lost my clothes in the shift and am now standing before a strange woman absolutely naked. I’ve only just started getting comfortable shifting back naked in front of my mates or other shifters, but this is different. Being naked in front of a stranger makes me feel vulnerable and bare. Especially a stranger who just tried to kill me, and one I need to somehow convince to help me.
“I promise you, your eyes aren't deceiving you,” I tell her, working to keep my voice steady. I keep my hands raised to show that I have no weapon and no intention to harm her. “It’s true. I’m half witch, half shifter. I only recently discovered the truth, when my witch side and wolf side manifested separately. Before that happened, I thought I was just an ordinary human. I had no knowledge of any of this for years. I wasn’t raised as a shifter or a witch. I was raised human and never told about what I really was.”
The woman doesn’t interrupt me, though her eyes narrow slightly as she watches and listens. I can tell she’s on edge, just like my men—all of whom basically radiate tension beside me. I don’t need to be in wolf form to read their minds on this. They don’t like being this close to a witch, and they don’t like the ever-present possibility that she might attack us again. I can’t really say I blame them for being suspicious, but I really hope none of them attack.
If they do, the witch will fight back. And she’ll probably win.
“I’m Sable,” I say when she remains silent. “What’s your name?”
She gives a little start, like she didn’t expect me to be so personal. Several emotions pass over her face, but since she’s a complete stranger, I can’t really read them all. Fear, distrust, hope, I don’t know. She seems to consider not answering me, her face set in a hard, suspicious glare. I’m already calculating how I’ll handle the situation if she refuses to speak to me, but then she finally opens her mouth.
“My name is Gwen.” Now that her tone isn’t laced with shock, I can tell that she has an accent. Like a light Georgia drawl, as if she spent time down south but didn’t necessarily grow up there.
I’m encouraged by the fact she answered after considering not doing so. Maybe this means I’ve made a little progress, despite the tension that still fills the air between us all. Since my mates are all still in wolf form, and I’m trying to build goodwill between me and the witch, I refrain from introducing them yet, or even acknowledging their presence. There will be time for that once I’ve diffused the danger of this situation—if I’m able manage that. For now, there’s no need to draw attention to the fact that there are wolves behind me who would love to rip out her throat.
“Gwen. It’s… it’s nice to meet you. I hope you’ll spare me a bit of your time,” I say quietly, feeling as if I’m navigating a minefield with every word. “We come in peace. We want no trouble, and I promise that we won’t harm you as long as we maintain a truce.”
The witch crosses her arms over her chest. She’s wearing practical clothes—a long-sleeved shirt with faded pants and heavy boots. None of it looks new or particularly elegant, but somehow, there’s
