“You meanmy shiftsegen,” Nana White said.
“Yours how?”
“He promised me my pick ofbearenartifacts if I got one of his other sons mated to Promised.”
The other woman laughed merrily at that. “B3 doesn’t have the authority.”
Nana White’s was quiet and mean. “Maybe he does.”
“That would be a nice loophole. Then you could use the thing without it trying to kill you.”
Nana White didn’t answer. Sage strained to hear, pressing her whole body against the door.
After a moment, Nana White said, “What are you doing here, Ethedra. Did you just come to heckle me?”
“I’ve got something for you.”
“About time. How strong is it?”
“This one’s a triple-batch, bitch. Guaranteed to make your bear all bitey.”
“Better be. The wolves are sniffing up my back door right now. Hehas to claim her this time.”
Sage backed away from the wall, shaking her head, a horrifying realization filling her mind.
“No,” she said to herself. “No. No.”
How witch-bitch had gotten inside the room wasn’t even important. Sage’s mind was stuck on what she’d overheard. Her hand shot to her left shoulder, where she would be bitten if she were ever claimed. A sick and sudden certainty filled her, making her blood boil.
Witch-bitch had to be talking about her, and about Conri. She’d met him at Mugshots and liked him good enough and they’d gone on a few dates. He was abearen, which Sage had thought would make it weird, but he was cool. Weeks ago, there’d been an incident. She and Conri had woken up in bed together the morning after a date, neither of them remembering how they’d got there or what they’d done. Sage had been alarmed at first, but Conri had been distraught, embarrassed, sincere, and apologetic. Eventually, they’d decided that they’d both been roofied on their date the night before—but now Sageknew that witch-bitch had drugged them and was trying to get Conri to claim Sage, even though he and Sage weren’t mates.
Inshiftenculture, there was no higher ritual than the claiming. Witch-bitch had some fucking nerve to mess with it.
Sage’s anger exploded. She bit back her rage and grabbed a thick strip of magic, pulling at it with all her strength and fury. The entire panel ripped away from the door with a tearing sound. Sage flung it away, yanked the door open, and ran in, care and stealth forgotten.
Nobody was inside the room.
Sage stopped short, panting, staring. There was another room inside this room, one with four brick walls and a flat red roof. It was smaller than the one in witch-bitch’s cave, but otherwise identical. Sage went around it and found the door on the far side. She pulled it open. Inside, there was a single chair, and that was all. Sage stared at it, head down, fury in her soul, knowing what she had to do. She sat. Her butt touched leather and the room spun like a carnival ride, then stopped. From outside the door, witch-bitch spoke, and now her voice was louder.
Liquid rage pooled in Sage’s brain, making her careless. She jumped out of the chair and yanked the door open, not surprised to see that it opened into the big-ass cave. Witch-bitch herself was only twenty feet away, staring at a woman who was floating in mid-air over one of the wells. The woman could have been witch-bitch’s twin, wearing a black hooded cloak over a long green dress. She saw Sage and instantly disappeared. Witch-bitch turned toward Sage, her expression livid.
“You,” Sage said, her voice low and tight. “You gave Conri something to make him claim me. Thank Rhen it didn’t work. I never thought even you would do something so awful.”
“Little Miss Perfect thinks she knows everything,” witch-bitch said, her face twisting in anger, “But she don’t know shit.”
Sage advanced, not sure what she meant to do, but not stopping. Sometimes, violence was all you had left. Witch-bitch muttered something under her breath, and Sage’s feet stuck to the floor mid-stride. Sage fell forward, righted herself quickly, then dragged her feet free, ripping at the magic with her will, determined to keep moving. Knowledge pulsed in her mind, spurring her on. Witch-bitch could control power, butso could Sage.
Feet free, she rushed witch-bitch, intending to pull that freaky fox skin off her and destroy it for good this time. She’d tried before, and last time, witch-bitch had knocked her flying with some sort of magic defense and Sage hadn’t understood what was happening, but this time she was ready.
Sage lunged, arms out. The magic exploded out of witch-bitch, in a crimson-colored stream. Sage leapt, shifting to a fox in mid-air, twisting inside her clothes, flinging them from her body in an expert movement that she’d never practiced anywhere but inside her own mind. Over witch-bitch she went, flipping and twisting until she landed on the other side of her, then she attacked from the back, rolling under the magic that was still bubbling out of witch-bitch. She darted in and bit at witch-bitch’s legs. Blood flew and the old lady cried out. Sage ripped through meat and gristle, growling wildly, until more magic doubled back on itself and surrounded her, grabbing at her.
Sage set her front paws and sprang straight up, working from inside the magic. She bit at it again until she burst through with a triumphant yip, grabbing mouthful of magic with a long tail. She rotated her neck, spinning the magic like a jump rope, whipping it into a frenzy. Inside the mutilated bubble of magic, witch-bitch cried out and turned, spinning, arms up, blood flying around her leg in a red arc on the bearskin carpet. She staggered back. Sage ripped and yanked until theswathe of magic separated completely, spinning her faster. She used momentum and swung the magic all the way around her body, leaping toward witch-bitch, until SMACK, the tail of magic smacked witch-bitch right in the face.
Sage spit the magic out, then leapt, coming in hard and fast. She hit witch-bitch in the chest with her paws, then grabbed the fox stole by the belly, pulling it away. YES! She had it. She planted her paws on witch-bitch’s chest, using her for leverage, then sprang away, the fox stole in her mouth, heading to the room she’d come from, her ears pointed back, ready to dodge or counter magic.
Witch-bitch spoke rapidly. “Heavy or light, move, take flight. To the door—you, you, you, you.”
With each ‘you,’ something big and heavy slid across the floor in front of Sage, blocking the door. Armoires, shelves, bells, even the big table slid wildly by. She jumped on it and ran across the top while it was moving. It slammed into an armoire like a car accident, sending Sage flying. She hit the wall with all four feet and bounded the other way.
