I watch her leave the table, the sense of helplessness in me getting worse by the second. I clean up the kitchen, but it does nothing to distract me, and once I’m done, I end up going up to Trina’s room to see how she is.
To my shock, she’s sitting on the bed, her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. I’m by her side in an instant, desperate to hold her and make the pain go away.
“Trina,” I choke out. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head, and I sit down in front of her, holding out my arms. It’s a relief when she shuffles forward and snuggles into my chest, my body rippling with pleasure just to hold her and ease her pain.
“Try not to think about it,” I say. “Just get some rest for now.”
“How can I not think about it?” she says. “People are dying, and my magic is so weak, I can’t even do what I came here to do!”
My heart sinks as I realize she’s ashamed of how little power she has and that we might be suffering through this for nothing.
Worse than nothing. We could all just die. Even Trina, from the way this is going.
I tighten my arms around her, refusing to contemplate that possibility. I rack my brain for a bit, trying to think of something to say that will cheer her up and not remind her of how hopeless our situation is.
“Why are tulips your favorite flower?” I ask.
Trina chuckles. “Why are you asking me this now?”
“Witch powers are nature-based,” I reply. “Or so I’ve heard. Maybe there’s a link.”
“Well, it’s no big mystery,” she says. “They were the first flowers I planted with my mother. We had a small cottage out of town until I was about ten—that’s when I moved to my aunt’s. My mother had a beautiful garden, but I remember the tulips, specifically.”
“What do you remember?” I ask, stroking her hair.
“I remember… the grass under my knees, and my hands in the soil. Tulips grow from a bulb, and they die and come back every year. My mom told me they illustrate the flow of life through all things.”
“Did she teach you magic? It sounds like she tried.”
Trina shakes her head. “Not directly. Or at least, not from what I remember. She talked a lot about harmony, balance, and how we will always have our path smoothed out for us if we work within these rhythms. She never talked about spells or curses.”
“Itisa curse that infects the pack,” I reply. “I haven’t really been clear enough on that. It manifests in a few different ways, but it’s a curse. It’s not biological.”
“Sadie can’t break it?”
“She did—for Rhys’s pack. Nothing has happened here, or with Shane’s pack.”
“Does that mean Shane also has wolves that are sick and dying?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. At the moment, it’s happening more rapidly with my people, but his pack is affected.”
Trina cuddles a bit closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “All of this, under my nose, the whole time,” she says softly. “I was just working my normal job, having a normal life, and meanwhile, wolves and witches were all around me. Not so long ago, I would have found it exciting.”
I chuckle a little. “Well, it has been, I’d say.”
“Yeah,” she laughs. “You’re not wrong.”
“Now that you have your memories back,” I begin carefully, “is there anything you can remember about your aunt’s magic?”
Trina shakes her head. “No. I have no idea what she did or how she did it. I know she had a great influence in town. People just obeyed her. Worshipped and adored her.”
“She must have done a good job of cloaking her powers, or the wolves would have killed her,” I say. “Witches were executed on sight until not long ago.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Trina replies. “Her magic was all about mind-fucking people. I think I was the only one who ever saw her true face.”
“Your mother was supposed to be more powerful than her?”
