Chapter 61: Chapter Sixty-One

Later that morning, I stepped onto Mom’s—Aunt Sarah’s—Mom’s front porch with its potted flowers and herbs.

Before I had the chance to knock on the door, she opened it, wearing a striped cotton nightgown and a knowing smile.

“It’s earlier than I thought,” I said, backing away and nearly tripping over the pots. “I can come back.”

“No, stay. How did I know you would find your way to me this morning?”

I grinned. “It's almost like you've known me all my life.”

She chuckled, stepping back to let me inside.

It was a far cry from the house we’d last lived in together, with no dark basement for me to lurk in and goblin my life away. It was much smaller, but homey, inviting, and the smells of so many potted herbs on the windowsills made me think of the hours I'd spent in the kitchen while she fixed dinner.

She always did the cooking, which…yeah, that was for the best. She always made my favorites like mac and cheese. Everything she made was instantly my favorite though.

“I was making coffee.” She walked past me, deeper into the house, and waved me toward her. “And I have caramel creamer. Do you want your usual bucket size?”

I threw back my head and laughed. “God, I love you.”

She chuckled, moving around the kitchen just like she did back home. “I love you too, moon chaser.”

Sighing with perfect contentment, I took a seat at the small, round table and admired the pretty cloth she'd spread on top.

Fingering the intricate lacework, I asked, “Did you make this?”

She looked over her shoulder and chuckled, shaking her head. “There were a lot of parts of me I had no choice but to hide from you, but believe me, being clever with my hands was never one of them. No, Penelope made that. She loves to crochet.”

Something inside me ached when she said it. I even touched a hand to my chest, where the pain flared up.

“How much of yourself did you have to hide from me?” I asked.

“Not much,” she said, but she didn’t look at me when she said it. “I'm still the same person I always was.”

“That's not completely true. I know you're you, but you're not my mom, the person who I always thought you were.”

Finally, she turned to face me. “I never loved you any less.”

“That wasn't an accusation, so please don't think it was. I know I should be able to wrap my head around all of this, and I know I don't have a lot of time to do it. And I'm trying. I really am. For some reason, this is all so troubling. It won't let me rest.”

“No one expects you to bounce back seconds after the sort of shock you've received.”

“But that's the thing. I feel like I have to, or else… I don't know. It's like I won't be prepared for what happens next. Does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.” She placed the coffeepot and creamer in front of me on a little doily, then pulled a pair of what looked like handmade mugs from hooks embedded in the wall over the sink. With a familiar little grin, she reached into a cabinet and pulled down a tin.

“We try to treat ourselves whenever possible,” she explained, opening the tin to reveal chocolate chip cookies. They were from her favorite bakery here in the city called Whisk & Whimsy. “I couldn't help myself the last time it was my turn to go out for supplies.”

Nothing in the world had ever tasted so good. When I closed my eyes, the brown sugar and chocolate dancing on my tongue, the aroma of coffee with caramel creamer swirling in the air, I could have sworn I was home.

“Good, isn't it?” Her voice was soft, full of understanding.

She knew what I was feeling because she had probably felt it herself.

“I was thinking…” I stared down into my coffee cup before taking a sip. “What if we stayed here? Like, forever?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want.” I took a sip then pushed the cup aside in favor of resting my chin on my palm. “I mean, part of me wants to be here with you and everybody else. I feel like I could have a home here. I want to be part of things, and I want to contribute. Everybody has a role here. Everybody knows who they are and what's expected of them, and that's what I want to have.”

She nodded slowly, lips pursed. I recognized that expression. She had plenty of opinions but didn't want to share them. She was going to force me to talk my way through it without her input, and it pissed me off to no end, the way it always had.

“Well?” I finally had to prompt. “What do you think?”

“I think you would be welcome here,” she said matter-of-factly. “You would always be welcome here. We’re your family, and I know I'm not the only one who’d love nothing more than to teach you our ways. I want you to learn about those who came before you, our history, everything.”

“I want that, too.”

Her smile faded, and with it the hope in my heart. “At the same time, you can't make a decision like this based on fear.”

“But it isn't.”

“Are you sure about that? Because in what you just said, the fear rang loud and clear. I know you too well, moon chaser. If you were to stay here, it would have to be because it's what your wolf is compelling you to do. Not because you don't want to see what else is out there in the world. I don't want you running away. As much as it's my instinct and my habit to protect you, I can't protect you from everything. If your destiny is elsewhere, you have to follow it.”

“How do I know?”

Her lips twitched as she raised her mug. “That's always the question, isn't it? And I hate to tell you, but being a witch or a wolf or even both doesn't grant complete clarity. You don't get all the answers. There's no sudden download of wisdom that comes with possessing magical blood.”

“But I've been having visions. Dreams.” I heaved a breath. “I don’t know what exactly they are.”

“Visions?” She lowered her mug with a thud. “And what happens in these visions?”

“Once I saw a crowd of women chanting around a fire, which I’m pretty sure was right outside.”

She didn't register surprise. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

“What else?”

“I saw things that scared me. Matings under the full moon, always under the full moon. Like Stride, who was killing the girl he was with. And…”

“Go on, please.”

“I'm pretty sure I saw myself facing off with Stride. I…sort of felt that it was a him-or-me sort of thing. Only one of us was going to make it out alive.”

She sat back in her chair and blew out a sigh. “So you got that from her, as well.”

“Got what?”

“Your mom. She used to have dreams. Visions. Whatever you want to call them.”

I leaned forward, my pulse racing, tingling down to my fingertips and toes. “What kind of dreams?”

“Sometimes, she would see things that hadn't happened yet. She warned me once that a big storm was coming, that we had to prepare for the heavy rains where we used to live. Mind you, there was no such thing forecasted, but she was insistent. So I spread the word, and we went along with her if only to humor her a little.”

Her mouth twisted in a smirk. “Wouldn't you know, just when she said it would, the rain started flowing. It didn't stop for days, and if we hadn't gone to the trouble of placing sandbags at our doors and reinforcing some of the weaker structures, we could have lost a lot of supplies and even people. She said she saw it all in a dream, right down to the flood that rushed down from the mountains.”

She stared into the past, smiling softly. “She was so kind. Thoughtful, generous. You have no idea how many times over the years I almost blurted out that you reminded me of her. Because you do, a great deal. She never hesitated to use the power she was given to help and protect others.”

Then, her smile faltered, while the memories poured from her like the flood waters she’d described. “There was one thing she would never tell me. And I asked so many times, especially once she found out you were coming. I asked how far into the future she was capable of seeing, and whether she had any idea what her own fate would be.

“See, she started getting sort of cryptic and cagey in those last few months. There were times when I almost felt like she was making preparations. Like she was going on a trip. She gave away some of her warmer clothes and boots during the summer, for instance. When I warned her she'd be able to fit back into them once the weather turned cooler, she made some offhand remark about how she wouldn't need them. When she said that, my blood ran cold...”

She wasn't the only one. I rubbed my arms to sweep away the goose bumps spreading over them.

“She knew she was going to die?” I asked softly.

“She never did tell me. Even if she didn't know whether she would live or not, she knew trouble was coming, and that she wouldn't be with us much longer.”

“And did she know it was because of me?”

A scowl, so rare for her, darkened her expression. “Don't you say that. Don't you put that on yourself. Nothing that happened to us was your fault. You brought none of it on. It was all Connolly's doing.”

Saying his name made her nose wrinkle. “He made his evil decisions before you were born. Even if your mother did have some way of seeing what was on the horizon, it didn't matter. All she cared about was bringing you into the world, and making sure you were safe once she did. Nothing else mattered.”

I played with my mug, now empty, careful not to look at her. What I was about to ask wasn’t easy to put into words, and I was afraid of how she might react.

“Did she ever…say anything about me? I mean, did she see my fate?” When she didn't react, I glanced up at her. “It's okay, you can tell me I'm being weird.”

She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I wasn't about to.”

“She did, didn't she? You can tell me. I want you to tell me. I want to know.”

Nothing else had ever mattered so much. I was ready to burst out of my skin, staring at her, willing her to speak before the tension killed me.

“She had some very definite ideas about who you would be and what you would do, yes.” Her brows drew together. “Do you really want to know?”

No. “Yes,” I made myself say.

She folded her hands on top of the table then took a deep breath. “Your mom knew it would take sacrifice to bring you into the world. She knew you were going to be special—and I don't mean the way every parent thinks their kid will be special. She knew you were different, and you are.”

“Different like being able to plow through a paperback in a day?” I didn’t mean to make this all into a big joke, but for once, I hoped the answer was a simple yes.

Mom continued like she hadn’t heard me. “She told me once, a few days before your birth, that you were going to bring the packs together once and for all.”

Gulp.

“And under your leadership, the packs would return to their former strength.”

Double gulp. “She saw that about me?”

“She did, and she was adamant. That was why it was so important that I take care of you. Not only because she loved you so much, but because you were predestined to bring everyone together, once and for all. I don't know if she knew how you were supposed to do that, only that you are.”

“Cool. No pressure,” I whispered.

How was I supposed to react? Was I supposed to feel a sense of calm certainty? A sense of my mother reaching through time to comfort and reassure me? Because that was nowhere near how I felt, and that was putting it mildly.

“I know it's a lot.” She reached out and rubbed my arm. “I didn't tell you to pressure you. I had the feeling she'd want you to know, though. Which is why I don't want to encourage you to stay here even though I want you to so I'd be able to keep an eye on you and know you're safe. But you can't hide yourself here with us. You have a greater destiny.”

“What if I don't want it?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Just like that, I sounded like a little girl again, sitting at the kitchen table with my mom while eating cookies, trying to solve the world's problems, which were only really my problems. But when you're a kid, that's how big they seem. Like the entire world is hinging on something as trivial as acne or needing braces or your best friend getting pissed at you because you started your period first.

“It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “All we can do is meet our destiny and do our best. And if we try to avoid it, it has a way of finding us anyway. Fate's kind of funny like that.”

Truer words were never spoken. Because no sooner had she said it than a single, high-pitched wail pierced the otherwise quiet morning.

I jumped, startled, while she almost leaped out of her chair.

“The alarm,” she said, rushing toward the front door. “The charmed borders surrounding our street have been breached.”

After swiping a knife from the counter, I followed, my breaths shuddering on the tension in the air, the anger and the bloodlust.

“It’s Stride.” I knew it for sure. The certainty rattled my bones together.

I ran out the door, ready to wake up Aimes, but from the porch, I saw he’d already flung open the door, pulling a shirt over his head as he looked in all directions for me.

Our eyes met across the street, and I knew he felt it, too.

War was here.