“What are you?” I challenged back.
She grinned and arched a brow. “I am ananaemantic, a soul seer and conjuror, and I am someone who expects an answer when I ask for it.”
Even though I’d never met a conjurer, I’d heard of women and men who could weave magic. In the supernatural world, kind tended to stick with kind, so the stories of witches and sorcery never seemed real to me. Until now. This woman was proof of existence.
The only way I was getting past this encounter was through it, so I told her what she wanted to know. “I’m a lycanthrope. I’ve been integrated with humans for the past three years, going to school here at the university.”
“I have seen your wolf, youngling. But there is more to you than fur and fangs.” She pursed her lips. “Like me, you have magic.”
“I don’t,” I denied. “My father is the shaman of his town, but he’s only a spirit talker for Brother Wolf.”
She half-smiled. “I think you are more than your father’s daughter.” She cut my cheek with her fingernail. I flinched as she brought her bloodied fingertip to her lips. Her tongue darted out as she closed her eyes, then her lips began to move, once again speaking words I couldn’t make out.
After a few seconds, she opened her eyes. They were no longer dark and swirly. Instead, they were marble white. Her words were almost robotic as she intoned, “You must let go of one nature if you are to live with two. Find the wise woman of the lake before the vernal equinox. If you fail, your death is the end… For you both. Your destiny is a fork in the road, but not one that you will walk alone. The song dog is your companion, your guide, and your anchor.” She dropped her hand from my face as her eyes turned back to black pearls. “I wish you luck, child. You’re going to need it.” She lifted her hand as if to strike me.
“Wait,” I choked out. I took another slogging step. “Don’t.”
Too late. She sliced through the air. Pain ricocheted through my flesh and bones as if I was being skinned, burned, and wrenched at every joint. I grabbed my head and dropped to the floor. The sound of the distant sirens was drowned out by my screams. The shop spun, and the old woman laughed. Her white orbs had turned back to inky black, and she clapped her hands as if giving me applause. I uncoiled from the fetal position, struggling in agony until I managed to roll onto my back.
Aurora the Soul Seer grinned. “Good night, Etta, and good passing.”
On that note, I passed out.
CHAPTERTWO
Etta – did someone get the license plate of the sanitation truck that hit me?
Idon’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I woke up, my whole body felt like a toothache. I blinked as the early morning sun hit my eyes.
“What did you do to me?” I asked as I moved to my side. I wasn’t sure where I was, only that I wasn’t in the shop anymore. Was I dead? If so, the afterlife was nothing more than a chunky-graveled lot surrounded by mountains of rotting garbage. The gagging odor churned my stomach. Ugh. My backpack was next to me. Sitting up, I brushed dust and pebbles from my hair. I had no idea where I was, but at least it wasn’t jail or a hospital. William would’ve found me at both.
What in the world had that crazy scary conjuror done to me? Nothing felt right. My arms and legs were bruised and battered, and my chest, back, and abdomen hurt as if I’d gone ten rounds with a prize fighter. I fought back the tears as I unzipped my bag and dug through it for my phone. It was seven forty-eight in the morning. The GPS on my phone put my location at the Blue Hill Sanitary Landfill, six miles from Warrensburg. Son of a bitch. She had literally thrown me away like trash.
“Oh, God,” I groaned as I got to my feet. “I’ve been dumped at the dump.” A loud engine rumbled nearby, and the sound of tires on gravel had me scrambling for cover. I snatched up my backpack and ducked behind a nearby shed to hide.
A white two-door, half-ton pickup pulled into the lot and parked. The driver’s face was shadowed by his shoulder-length hair. I stayed hidden behind the shed…Until I saw a man get out. He had on a chest-hugging, long-sleeve shirt that showed off his wide shoulders and narrow waist. His dark brown hair had grown since the last time I’d seen him. Even so, there was no mistaking Jolon “Jo Jo” Corman, a coyote shifter from Peculiar.
Jo Jo had been my first real friend outside of the pack, and we’d shared a kiss once that had knocked me for a loop. Nothing had come of it. What in the world was he doing here?
He reached into his truck, honked his horn, and shouted, “Etta!”
My heart skipped a beat when he said my name. He was here for me. How? Why?
“I’m over here.” My voice sounded squeaky and tight. I stumbled out from behind the shed and swallowed the knot in my throat. Was this a trick of the conjuror? Was I dreaming? I’d fantasized about seeing Jo Jo again but not like this. “Is it really you?”
He loped over to me, his eyes wide with relief. “It’s me.” I flinched when he reached out. His hands dropped to his sides, and his brows knitted as he examined me from a few feet away. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes and no,” I answered honestly. There was no denying my achy muscles and joints, but all my parts seemed to be working. I peered at the man before me, wary to meet his gaze. Could I trust this was Jo Jo and not a manufactured delusion? Was this simply a side effect of the magic the conjuror had used on me? I wanted to believe it was real, but why would he show up out of the blue now? “How are you here?”
“It’s a long story,” he told me. “But the short version is I got a tip from a psychic.”
“Sunny,” I stated. She was my stepmom’s best friend. The only human in Peculiar, and she had a psychic gift for seeing the future.
Jo Jo nodded. His green eyes were pinched with worry and, if I wasn’t mistaken, anger. “Sunny,” he confirmed as his gaze swept over the area. “Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops.”
* * *
Jo Jo – the night before….you can always count on Peculiar to keep it peculiar.
