“I know that,” she snapped as she rounded the counter. “I just said that. You need to listen.”
“Lady, I don’t know what the hell you—”
“Ohm,” she hummed. “Ohm. Ohmmmmm.” She coughed. “Yikes. That’s not the way to go about this.” She disappeared behind the counter as she bent over. I heard her opening and closing cabinet doors as she muttered to herself about blue, blue, blue. She laughed at one point as she set a crystal ball on the counter. “That’s just for show. Stop sneering.”
“I’m not.” I was.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. Have you ever been shot?”
“What?”
“Not yet. It’ll hurt when it happens. Believe me, I know. You’d do well to remember that.” She peeked her head above the counter, staring at me with those strange eyes. “You won’t die. Which is good.” Then she disappeared again.
“Are you going to shoot me?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly. Even if I was, I have a feeling none of my bullets would do the trick. Fresh out of silver, wouldn’t you know.”
“Witch,” I snarled.
“Well, yes,” she said. “But also a psychic. It’s on the sign. Aha.” She stood upright.
And there, in her hands, was an old wooden cup.
She shook it.
It rattled.
Like bones.
Like memory.
I’m doing what I have to.
Are you? Or are you doing what your anger has demanded of you? When you give in to it, when you let your wolf become mired in fury, you no longer have control.
The old witch by the sea.
The one Gordo had brought us to when we were after Richard Collins.
He’d spilled bones on the table.
“Theirs was a story of fathers and sons,” the woman said, and I felt like I was floating. “Yours, though. Yours is one of brothers. And yet you’ve paid for the sins of the fathers time and time again. When does it end?” She overturned the cup onto the counter. Bleach-white bones spilled out, scattering across the surface. “Death, though not for you. But someone who….”
“How did you—”
She smiled sadly. “You have lost much. Even if I didn’t know what I did, I could see that plain on your face. You carry the weight of the world upon you, and for what? What has it brought you? You’re very far from home.”
“If you know what I am, then you know what I can do.”
“Your threats don’t work on me, wolf. Keep that in mind before you open your mouth again.” She scooped up the bones in the cup and stared down at them. She cleared her throat and then spat into the cup, a large wad of green.
I grimaced.
She laughed. “Yes. It’s… unsanitary. But it does the job.” She placed her hand over the top of the cup and shook it again. She spilled the bones once more. They were wet with her saliva. “Huh. That’s unexpected.” She turned away from the counter and went to a shelf behind her. She grabbed a jar and unscrewed the lid, then poured a black powder into her palm. She turned back around, holding her hand out to me. “Snort this.”
“The hell you say.”
“It’ll help.”
“I’m not snorting that.”
She looked down at the powder, then back at me. “Why not?”
“I’m leaving.” I turned toward the door, wanting to get the hell out of this place.
She said, “He didn’t know. When he found you. He didn’t know what you were, what any of you were. Especially you, though. And the man with the roses and raven. But something in him, something deep and hidden, called through all that violet. It told him he was safe with you, that he no longer needed to run. He was tired of running. The silver chain around his neck was a noose. He was trapped. The false prophet had held him and tortured him. She broke him down until he was nothing but a pet. But then she made a mistake. She brought him to you, not knowing what he was to you. And those bonds were stronger than any hold she had over him.”
My claws dug into my palms. A drop of blood fell to the floor.
“Ah,” she said. “Now I have your attention.”
I turned back around.
She held out her hand. “Snort this.”
“No.”
She shrugged. “Okay.” She used her free hand and scooped up the bones again into the cup. She dumped the powder inside. “You really didn’t need to. I just wanted to see if you would. That probably would have been a bad idea. Might have even killed you.” She chuckled.
“Do you know him?”
Her smile faded. “No. But I don’t need to. I know him through you. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Carter. You think you carry armor to hide it, but those who know you can see right through it.”
My skin thrummed. “I never told you my name.”
She spilled the bones again. They were coated with the black powder. Against my better judgment, I took a step toward her as she stared down at them. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“What?”
“Don’t touch him,” she whispered. “Don’t touch him. Don’t. Touch. Him.” Her spine arched as her head snapped back. Her eyes were wide, the slim cords of her neck jutting out in sharp relief. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I thought she was having a seizure, but before I could reach for her, she collapsed, her hands flat on the counter, holding her up. She breathed heavily through her nose. “Shit.”
I felt cold, even though the room was overly warm. “Why did you say that?”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, it hurts. It hurt him. He was…. He had no other choice. He didn’t know what else to do. He… broke… through? He couldn’t stand the thought of….” She wiped her eyes. “You must be someone very special to have garnered such faith. How can you not see everything you are?”
I swallowed thickly. “I’m not—it’s not like that.”
“It is,” she said. She gestured toward the bones. “I’ve seen it. There are paths ahead for you, wolf. Roads that diverge. Which one will you take, I wonder? You’re slipping. It’s already begun. A wolf without a pack cannot survive. It will pull at you until you’re drowning. And yet you persist. Do you even know why?”
I looked away, unable to take her knowing gaze. “I’ve done it once before. I can do it again.”
“But why? Why have you chosen what you have? They believe in you. They know you. Why would you take this chance? You know better than that.”
Her words, though spoken softly, were barbed and cutting. I didn’t understand how she knew what she knew. It was impossible. My knees were weak, and I stumbled against the counter. The bones shifted, spilling black powder. My claws dug in, leaving long scratch marks on the counter. She made a startled noise and put her hands on top of mine. My gums itched, and I had to fight back a shift.
“You’re exhausted,” she said quietly. “Come. Rest your weary head. You’ll need it. The days ahead will be long, and you’ll find little relief.” She smiled quietly. “Not a king, though you act like one. I don’t know how you manage. You must be very brave. I’ve known men like you. My loves, my boys.”