“Um, I don’t know the particulars. Maybe it’s deeper in the journal, but I guess early on, spirit witches needed protectors that weren’t fellow witches,” I murmur, the air suddenly feeling thin, and I’m scared to look into Connor’s eyes. “So they sought out the strongest and bravest of humans and offered them amazing power in return for their guardianship. Those that agreed… became the first shifters. The wolves, created by my bloodline’s magic, are forever connected to the Volkov spirit witches and will feel compelled to protect them.” In a small voice, I postulate, “Maybe that’s why we took the name. Volkov means ‘wolf’ in Russian, so maybe it was a literal declaration of the bond between the wolves and these spirit witches.”
I steal a peek at Connor from under my lashes. He’s so still he’s barely breathing, and looks dazed, like he was hit in the back of the head with a bat. I gently squeeze our joined hands.
Donovan drops a heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder, while keeping his gaze focused on me, seeming to try to give Connor a chance to process privately, but also wanting him to know that he isn’t alone.
“Mildred said the wolves betrayed the spirit witches, and that’s what got them killed. How’s that possible?” Donovan asks and Connor growls. He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Wasn’t talking about you.”
A breath of a laugh escapes my lips.
“I don’t know,” I sigh, picking at a small tear in my jeans. “Maybe Agata was wrong. She did write thisbeforeshe died, and so far, premonition hasn’t been listed as a spirit witch ability.”
“Opposed to after she died?” Donovan quips with a raised brow.
“Hey! Felix broke a lamp. Anything is possible,” I chide with a challenging squint. “Speaking of, how did he do that exactly?”
He shrugs. “Beats me. Your aunt asked how long he’d been dead…”
“Turned,” Connor utters so quietly that he can barely be heard over Donovan talking.
“Huh? Is Felix turning into something?” I question, equal parts confused and concerned.
He gives a hard shake of his head, his shaggy, dark brown hair, sweeping across his brow. There’s a harsh flexing in his jaw from gritting his teeth. “The traitors. Wolves turned by Alphas.”
Donovan slowly nods, jumping between topics faster than I can. “They wouldn’t share blood.”
Clearing my throat, I raise a finger in the air. “Want to elaborate for the newbie?”
“Shifters aren’t just born,” Donovan says, taking over explanations.Does Connor have a personal word count he’s not allowed to exceed?“Humans can be turned by the bite of an Alpha.”
“Cool,” I chirp a little too loudly. Connor and Donovan give me looks, while some of the other students glance over their shoulders at us.Oops.My cheeks burn, and in a much quieter voice, I add, “I mean it’s just… um, neat to find out another myth is true. That’s all.”
“Uh huh,” Donovan mumbles, a smirk pulling at his full lips. “Any other revelations from… Agata? I’m guessing that’s the spirit witch.”
“Yeah, though in their times, she was also known as a High Priestess,” I murmur, running my finger once again along the pages of the journal. Whoever translated this had tight, cursive writing, and it’s difficult to read. “Since there were general spirit witches, and then there was the main, ruling congress of spirit witches-- I’m guessing, the title differentiated from the two.”
“Great. Don’t care,” he replies, pulling his hand from Connor’s shoulder, so he can cross his arms over his chest. “Anything else important in there?”
And that’s the end of Donovan caring about motivations.
I sigh and go back to skimming the pages, vowing to go back and read more thoroughly once I have time on my own.Maybe I should invite Kaleb to read it with me?
A warm glow flows through me at the idea of us huddled over the journal; him sharing his thoughts based on his far more comprehensive knowledge of the supernatural. I don’t even know what I don’t know, so I feel like I’m constantly one step behind. A smile skates across my mouth imagining him, the academic light in his eyes, as he explains the universe with a voice so deep it reminds me of rolling thunder right before a comforting rain.
The image starts to grow clearer. A library with the sounds of a gentle dizzle outside. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, and…
Damn it, focus! This is all yesterday’s fault,I mentally grumble, looking more carefully at the words on the page. Both of the guys look at me intently, unaware of my wandering mind.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I mutter, finding something else of interest. “It says to restore the priestess, we’ll need to combine the blood of a spirit wolf with the center of where her essence flows. Once that’s accomplished, find the other potential High Priestesses and have them do the same.”
“The fuck does that mean?” Donovan grunts, precisely vocalizing my thoughts. “Spirits don’t bleed.”
Connor shifts uncomfortable in his seat, his leg bumping into my shin. “Recently dead wolf?” he suggests, with a subtle growl to his soft voice.
“Well, that’s a big, fat nope,” I counter, squeezing his hand. “I don’t want to be one of these priestesses anyway. No way am I killing someone for it. All I want is to control my powers and not blow up the town. Is that too much to ask for?”
They both snicker, and Connor visibly relaxes. I want to hug him again, but I stay in my seat, not wanting to get called out by Coach Harris again.
“And ‘from where her essence flows’ sounds like weird virginal sacrifice bullshit or something,” Donovan adds, enhancing the creepy factor up several notches.
