“That’s true,” Abel said. He spread his hands out on the desktop. “But it’s more than that. Much more.”
I glanced at my father, but he was lost to whatever he was seeing.
“A tether is the strength behind the wolf,” Abel said. “A feeling or a person or an idea that keeps us in touch with our human sides. It’s a song that calls us home when we’re shifted. It reminds us of where we come from. My tether is my pack. The people who count on me to keep them safe. To protect them from those who would do us harm. Do you understand?”
I nodded, though I didn’t really. I looked at Thomas. “What’s yours?”
“Pack.”
That surprised me. “Not Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth,” Thomas said with a sigh, sounding dreamy like he always did when he mentioned her. Or saw her. Or stood next to her. Or thought about her existence. “She’s… no. She’s more to me.”
“Who would have guessed,” Abel said dryly. Then, “Tethers aren’t just for wolves, Gordo. We’re called by the moon, and there is magic in that. Like there is magic in you.”
“From the earth.”
“Yes. From the earth.”
It hit me then, what he was trying to say. “I need a tether too?” It was an immensely terrible thought.
“Not yet,” Abel said, sitting forward. “And not for a long time. You’re young and just beginning. Your marks haven’t been completed. Until they are, you won’t require one. But one day you will.”
“I don’t want it to be just one person,” I said.
My father turned. He had a strange look on his face. “And why is that?”
“Because people leave,” I said honestly. “They move or they get sick or they die. If a wolf had a tether and it was a person and they died, what would happen to the wolf?”
The only response was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Then Abel chuckled, eyes crinkling kindly. “You are a fascinating creature. I’m so very happy to know you.”
“I DIDN’T know about tethers,” I told my father as we left the Bennett house. “For witches.”
“I know. There is a time and place for everything.”
“Is there other stuff you haven’t told me?”
He wouldn’t look at me. Some kids ran by us, laughing as they growled at each other. He sidestepped them deftly. “Yes. But you will learn, one day.”
I didn’t think that was fair, but I couldn’t say so to my father. Instead I said, “Who’s your tether? Is it Mom?”
He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun.
“HOW COULD you?” I heard her say, voice tight and harsh. “Why would you do this to me? To us?”
“I didn’t ask for this,” my father said. “I never asked for any of this. I didn’t know she would get—”
“I could tell her. I could tell everyone. What you are. What they are.”
“No one would believe you. And how would that look for you? They would think you’re crazy. And it would be used against you. You would never see Gordo again. I’d make sure of it.”
“I know you’ve done something to me,” my mother said. “I know you’ve messed with my mind. I know you’ve altered my memories. Maybe this isn’t real. Maybe none of this is real. It’s a dream, an awful dream from which I can’t awake. Please. Please, Robert. Please let me wake up.”
“Catherine, you’re—this is unnecessary. All of this is. She’ll leave. I promise. Until it’s done. You can’t go on like this. You just can’t. It’s killing you. It’s killing me.”
“Like you care,” she said harshly. “Like you give a damn about anything that isn’t her—”
“Lower your voice.”
“I won’t. I won’t be—”
“Catherine.”
The voices fell away as I pulled the comforter over my head.
“YOUR MOTHER isn’t feeling well,” Father said. “She’s resting.”
I stared at their closed bedroom door for a long time.
SHE SMILED at me. “I’m fine. Honey, of course I’m fine. How could anything be wrong when the sun is shining and the sky is blue? Let’s have a picnic. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Just you and me, Gordo. I’ll make little sandwiches with the crusts cut off. There’s potato salad and oatmeal cookies. We’ll take a blanket and watch the clouds. Gordo, it’ll be just you and me and I’ll be the happiest I’ve ever been.”
I thought she was lying.
“GET YOUR ass in gear!” Marty hollered at me from across the garage. “I don’t pay you nothing to have you just standing there with your dick hanging out. Move, Gordo. Move.”
“HOW DID you know?” I asked Thomas when I was twelve. It was a Sunday, and as was tradition, the pack had gathered for dinner. Tables had been set up behind the Bennett house. Lacy white cloths had been spread out over them. There were vases filled with wildflowers, green and blue and purple and orange. Abel was at the grill, smiling at the noise and bustle that rose around him. Children laughed. The adults smiled. Music played from a record player.
And Elizabeth was dancing. She looked beautiful. She wore a pretty summer dress, her fingertips streaked with paint. Most of the day she’d been in her studio, a place where only Thomas was allowed, and only when she invited him in. I didn’t understand her art, the slashes of color on canvas, but it was wild and vital and reminded me of running with wolves underneath a full moon.
But here she was now, swaying with the music, her dress flaring around her knees as she spun in a slow circle. Her arms were outstretched, her head tilted back and eyes closed. She looked peaceful and happy, and it caused a bittersweet pang in my chest.
“I knew from the moment I saw her,” Thomas said, eyes never leaving Elizabeth. “I knew because no one I’d ever met before had made me feel the way I did then. She’s the loveliest person I’ve ever seen, and even back then, I knew I was going to love her. I knew I was going to give her anything she could ever ask for.”
“Wow,” I breathed.
Thomas laughed. “Do you know what the first thing she said to me was?”
I shook my head.
“She told me to stop sniffing her.”
I gaped at him.
He shrugged easily. “I wasn’t very subtle.”
“You were smelling her?” I asked, aghast.
“I couldn’t help it. It was… do you know that moment right before a thunderstorm hits? The sky is black and gray, and everything feels electric? Your skin is humming and your hairs are standing on end?”
I nodded.
“That’s what she smelled like to me. Like an approaching storm.”
“Yeah,” I said, still unsure. “But—like, you were sniffing her.”
“You’ll learn,” Thomas told me. “One day. Maybe sooner than you might think. Oh, would you look at that. My brother approaches. What auspicious timing that is, given our discussion.”