“Thanks, Ember.”
“Things have been slow on your end?” she asks and I nod.
“Nothing major. Sage isn’t due for quite a while, so I mostly monitor her. Nothing’s required a healer as of late.”
“You know, I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to help the mortals too,” she whispers, for good reason.
While we might play nice with the humans, sell them goods, and have a friendly outward relationship, our gifts are reserved for coven and coven only.
Helping the mortals in the past has only gotten witches burned at the stake.
“I’ll find other ways to help the coven,” I say.
Ember shakes her head, her red hair and freckles shining against the candlelight. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just worry about you is all. You’ve been kind of absent since your birthday, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”
“Yeah, Ember. Everything is going to be fine.”
It’s late.
Extraordinarily late. But I can think of no better time to connect with the spirits of the afterlife than on a full moon.
I rock back and forth on the white, worn rocker on the back porch, staring at the swampy lake behind me.
Walter slides through his cat door and momentarily gets distracted by a lightning bug before coming to sit on my lap for pets. It seems like he’s in a loving mood this late at night.
“It’s so nice not having that stinky man in our home,”he says, a purr rumbling through his body as I stroke his fur. His body stills the moment we hear a motorcycle in the distance.“I spoke too soon. Here I thought we were going to have a lovely night together.”
“Not much longer, Walter.”
“I’ve only prayed to Hecate every night that he chokes, crashes his motorcycle, or gets shot by a hunter.”
“That’s dark, even for you.”
“A cat can dream.”
I don’t get up to unlock the door, if he’s smart enough, he’ll come around back. Which he does. His satchel is on his back as he rounds the wrap around porch.
Walter hisses, before jumping off my lap and going back inside.
“You’re up late,” he says.
“Here,” I say, holding out a drink for him.
He eyes me suspiciously, but takes it and sits on the rocking chair next to mine.
“Did you put something in this?”
“No, and trust me, it would make my life a hell of a lot easier if I could just kill you.”
He arches an eyebrow, but brings the glass to his lips, taking a heavy sip and sighing.
“What was that?” he says, pointing at the dilapidated structure by the lake.
“A gazebo, I think. Not sure what happened to it.”
Four days we haven’t spoken and now he’s asking me about my backyard.
“I have an idea,” I tell him, and he rests his head against the chair. He’s clearly exhausted after running around with his fellow wolves all night, but I feel it deep inside of me. This needs to happen tonight.
