She stops in front of me, grinning like a child hyped up on a year’s worth of sugar, and picks at her coat. “You like? You’ve inspired it with all that forest camping you’ve done. Gotta dress the part.” She flicks her braid over her shoulder, whipping Alec in the arm with it as she twists. “Sorry, bloodsucker, no hoodie representing you this time. I have a new favourite duo. Not really, ’cause I’m not allowed to have favourites, butanyway…Didn’t I tell you two to stay in the castle?” She scowls at Alec,before sliding in front of Harlow. “Although, it is lovely to see my favourite and only witch-vampire hybrid. How’s the fire, fire witch?”
Harlow bursts out laughing much to Mom’s horror, who’s hovering nearby, waiting for Freya’s chaos to settle so she can slide in and be the proper High Priestess for her guest. She’s yet to figure out that Freya isn’t really interested in ‘proper.’
“Freya.” She dips her head low, barely earning a flick of a finger as she’s too busy scanning the room.
“Wait, you vamps being here may actually work, but someone’s missing.” She pauses, gaze drilling into the far wall. “Ah, never mind, my mistake. We’re all here. Good.” She claps her hands together and twirls for the couch, dropping heavily onto it and spreading her palms across the cushions. “Here’s how this’ll go. Like a few weeks ago when I came by to explain the fate of our beautiful and powerful Harlow and her vampire dick—I mean, king—let now be your question-and-answer time. Go.”
Not waiting to be told twice, I bypass Mom who’s still working on inhaling since the First Witch entered our home, and rest on the coffee table’s edge. “Did you know my bio father is a shifter?”
“Sure did.” She holds up a hand to inspect her nails—a deep green that match the colour of leaves.
“Do you know who he is?”
“Sure do.”
“Will you tell me?” Anticipating, I lean closer.
“Sure won’t.”
Anticipation crumbles.
“You’ll learn soon,” she adds. “Not soon-soon, so don’t get your hopes up, but soon-ish. I won’t linger on this topic, so skip to your next.”
Huffing, I do what she demands, not wanting to lose my chance. “Why has the Darkness stopped affecting me? After the other day…”
She glances between her fingers. “You’re quite powerful, Carina Hargrove, nee Brooks. One, your body was adjusting, and admittingly, not well. Two, your shifter side makes it possible.”
“Told you,” Harlow mumbles.
“After all”—Freya lowers her hand to her lap—“Shifters are Light creatures, so you’re the perfect balance. Even more balanced than Harlow is.”
“And? So are witches.”
“That’s because of Hecate’s path. When we follow Her, we follow Light. But Sloane was correct in everything she told you. Magick itself requires balance and we’re capable of both. You and Harlow are examples of that.”
Sloane’s a murdering bitch, and yet she was correct. “Sloane as well. She still has elemental magick.”
Freya tips her head.
“But how are they Light creatures?” Jasper speaks up from the corner. “Hecate didn’t create them, and neither did the Celestials. They were just here.”
“Hm.” Freya picks at her nails. “Yeah, kinda.”
Mom coughs. “My grandmother had this book that spoke of rumoured realms. Creatures like fae and dragons exist in them. She theorized shifters came from one of them. Is this true?”
“Nope.” More nail picking.
“Freya,doyou know?”
She looks up long enough to roll her eyes. “Give me some credit. Obviously. In fact, better than even Hecate. They’re Light creatures because Light magick made them.” She pauses, pursing her lips, and then in one rushed breath, declares,“Imadethem.”
“Youmade them?” More than only I shout that.
Somehow, I doubt Ryder and the elders know the creatures they used to fight are their own creators.
“Why would you waste your magick?” Alec sneers in that snarky way of his.
“I was bored! It was before Hecate had me to raise the covens, and Earth had so few mortals. I figured a familiar may be nice. There was this wolf who frequently came around I one day made mortal so we can have a conversation. From there, I gifted her the ability to change back and forth at will. Eventually, we went our own ways, and she moved on to procreate, thus starting the race of shifters. So, yeah, they’re kinda our pets.” She pauses to waggle her brows at me. “Remember that the next time you’re the one bent over and?—”
