Chapter Four
As Maeve showered, she turned her attention once more to Kiara’s plight. She’d tried so many times to find a better spell, but had failed. If she didn’t figure things out, it wouldn’t matter if she had Braden’s wolf-strength by her side or not.
Yet right now she felt a profound need to try again.
Something about her latest visit to Kiara, of seeing the fresh spell burns on her neck and the gaping wound, nagged at her.
As she worked the bar of French-milled soap into a lather, she got it. Kiara didn’t have long to live. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. She also knew that her death wasn’t imminent, as in Maeve had some time, just not a lot of it.
When she’d first found Kiara, she’d told Maeve of the other women in the cells. The torture would escalate then one night the women never returned. Burns on the neck definitely meant things were ramping up.
As she continued to soap up, she also recalled something Kiara had said several months ago. “I think Veyda runs a snuff shop.”
“Are you serious?”
“From everything I’ve pieced together, from rumors I’ve heard, the covens hold their rites in a room with two-way mirrors.”
“So, you think she offers torture for pleasure, and possibly murder, for a perverted clientele to observe.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Maeve wasn’t sure why the memory of this conversation came back to her right now. She turned toward the spray and rinsed off. As she did, however, another memory surfaced. But it hit her like a bolt of lightning piercing her head.
She turned away from the water and backed up to the side of the shower stall. She could hardly breathe. Her neck arched as she planted her hands against the tile for support.
The memory took her back to the killing room for her failed induction ceremony. She saw fire and smoke. She heard women screaming. The chanting of the witch choir had stopped and the women had raced for cover in all directions.
In the center of the room, the dark fog began to roll back. She recognized the two witches at the south end of what was a raised platform. But this time, she could also see that a woman was strapped down to the same altar-like platform.
A terrible fear moved through her. She didn’t want to see any more of this and a terrible high-pitched noise entered her mind. She began to scream. She held her hands over her ears, trying to get the sound to stop, but it wouldn’t.
“Maeve!”
She heard Braden’s voice through the din in her mind. The water stopped and she felt a towel surround her then big strong arms.
The shrill sound began to fade until it disappeared. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She started to sob and couldn’t stop. Still, his arms remained firm, a cocoon against the half-remembered memory.
She now had the image in her head of pale legs and ankles strapped to the table. But the dark fog continued to boil everywhere else.
She shook. Something terrible had happened that night, worse than her abduction or even her killing of the witches. What had they done to this poor woman?
It took her a long time to calm down. She didn’t know what she would have done if Braden hadn’t been holding her.
Braden slowly drew back but he didn’t release her completely, just enough to see her face. “What’s going on?”
“I’m remembering.” She gripped his arms. “Something else happened the night of my failed induction. I think it was horrific but I don’t want to remember it.” She sounded silly and foolish.
“You’re remembering because it’s safer now.”
She lifted her face to his. “How would you know that?”
“You’ve been through a painful, violent experience, something that happens often in Savage, in all of Five Bridges. I’ve had some therapy myself. We had several female wolves in my pack raped and murdered about three years ago. We eventually caught and killed the monster who did it. But I was the one who found their mutilated bodies. I’d blocked the memories until I could handle remembering.”
“Braden, I’m so sorry.”
He used his thumbs to wipe her cheeks. “And I’m sorry you went through so much right after your arrival here. You had no context for what you were going through and little support.”
She released a heavy sigh. “I think that’s why I go into the Graveyard. I was saved. I mean someone must have gotten me out of Veyda’s compound, taken me to safety. I’m giving back in the only way I know how.”
“You’re doing more good than you know. If everyone followed your example, we’d have paradise here in Five Bridges.”
“Braden, I have a strong premonition Kiara won’t live out the night.”
“Is this based on your witch senses? Or do you have some other reason for believing this?”
“Remember how I said she’d been burned?”
He nodded.
She told him about the two-way mirrors in the killing room. “The thing is, I think I was in the same room when I killed the witches. Braden, I’m scared.”
He pulled her close again and once more rubbed her back through the thick terry cloth. His shoulder was warm against her cheek and she didn’t hesitate to lean in and take the comfort she needed.
After a moment, he said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to shower, get dressed, then we’re going to start making plans to get your friend out. You and me. I’m thinking we should explore your witch powers more. You okay with that?”
She drew upright. “More than okay. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
~ ~ ~
When Maeve left, Braden hopped in the shower. His thoughts turned to a concern that had been building from the time he’d made love to her. They both might have agreed to a casual if very physical relationship, but his wolf instincts were pawing at him.
The questions arose: Did he really want to get this close to a witch?
He’d always hated Maeve’s kind until he’d moved to Elegance after his wife died. Since then, he’d gotten to know dozens of witches like Maeve who didn’t practice what the community called the dark arts. Before Five Bridges, they were good people, like himself, who’d been living their lives with all kinds of goals and purpose. Then the alter serum had thrown a grenade into what they’d treasured most: Their human lives.
His view had slowly changed over the past eighteen months. He’d become more accepting. He understood extremely well how the dark covens had almost as much control over Elegance as the cartels did.
When he’d first begun his investigation into Laura’s death, he’d found it nearly impossible to find anyone to interview. Literally. The places he needed to go, the leads he would get, were often hidden behind spells he couldn’t circumvent. They were similar to the one Maeve used to provide extensive security for her growing facility.
In time, bull-headedness had gotten him answers and built him a network of contacts. He’d learned a few simple warlock-tricks that helped him recognize then bypass weaker protection spells. He often ended up with a headache after hours of searching, especially those nights when he’d already put in a full eight-hour shift with the Border Patrol.
He’d become acclimated to the culture of witches, warlocks and wizards. He’d learned the latter were rare and even more difficult to locate than a powerful witch. Warlocks who reached the level of wizard generally were into empire-building. A couple he knew worked hard to build good things for Elegance. One had established a large rehab clinic for flame drug addiction. Another had taken over a chain of mini-marts and hired security to make them safe for ordinary people to use. As a Border Patrol officer, Braden knew how many drug-related crimes like muggings and break-ins, afflicted each of the territories of Five Bridges. As bad as it was in the U.S., it was a hundred times worse in his world.
As he toweled off then got dressed, he mulled all these things over. Yes, he’d come to an understanding that not all witches or warlocks were bad. But his wolf didn’t like being in a community where a person could be manipulated at any given moment.
His wolf senses told him Maeve was in a place of transition and maybe he could help her through it.
He’d lived long enough in Five Bridges to know that those few, with extraordinary power, grew in specific stages. The night she’d gone berserk with her killing power and during which time she’d destroyed two dark coven witches, she’d tapped into her potential. Right now, especially with her memory returning, he suspected she was on the verge of learning just how much natural ability she had and what she could do with it.
But a new time had arrived in her life and whatever latency she’d experienced needed to change, especially if they hoped to save Kiara.
Fully dressed, and his hair towel-dried and combed back, he made his way to the living room. He could see she was distressed, since she sat forward on the couch, elbows on knees, head in hands. Sheba was stretched out on Maeve’s upper back facing Braden, her sharp cat eyes, green like his own, fixed on him.
He didn’t want to distress the cat so he chose to address Maeve with telepathy. I’m here, but I don’t want to startle you, not with your muse on your shoulders. You okay?
I’m fine. My head hurts a little.
You’re growing into your powers. It takes some getting used to.
Sheba jumped down onto the cushion next to her and moved in close. She put a black paw on Maeve’s leg, very possessive and supportive then looked at Braden. Her expression seemed to say, ‘Help out, would you?’
When he rounded the coffee table, Maeve met his gaze. He then assessed the table. “Think I can sit on this?”
“Yes. It’s sturdy enough even though you’re the size of a small truck.”
He chuckled. He then pushed the table back just enough so he could sit directly in front of her. He gently tugged at her forearms.
When she responded by sitting up, he took her hands in his. “You’ve needed Kiara’s counsel these past few weeks, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “I just need her safe. She’s my best friend. She’s hurting and I haven’t been able to do anything for her.”
“That’s not entirely true. You found her when no one else could have. But I’m not thinking about Kiara. What I mean is, you’ve needed a witch guide for what you’re going through right now.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Let me ask you this, what do you think happened in the shower, when the memories started to return?”
She rolled her eyes. “Duh. I started remembering.”
“I think it’s more serious than that. Or perhaps, more profound might be the better expression here.”
At that, her brows drew together in a tight pinch and her attention became more focused. “What do you mean?”
“Maeve, you may not understand this, but you’re an exceptional force here in Five Bridges.”
She laughed. “Hardly. Or do you mean because of the rescues?”
He shook his head. “The night you killed the witches, what do you think actually happened?”
“I’ve told you. I went berserk.”
“But why did you go berserk and how did you manage to take down two powerful women who had a helluva lot more experience than you?”
She looked away from him slightly. He could see she was thinking. “Mostly, I’ve worked hard to put that night behind me. I think I got really upset by what was happening and whatever witch abilities I’d been developing got away from me. I figured that was why I couldn’t recall all that happened that night.”
“Maeve.” She looked up at him.
Braden released her hands but placed them on her arms just below her shoulders. “You’ve reached a crossroads. Kiara’s plight may have prompted what’s happening to you or maybe even my appearance in your life. The cause doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you begin to focus on who you are as an Elegance witch with Alpha-mate capacity. Can you do that?”
“It’s hard to do something I don’t understand.”
He tried another tack. “What if I told you this is the only way we’ll be able to free Kiara.”
“You mean, if I rise to some new level here?”
“Exactly. My gut tells me it’s the way forward. Only this isn’t going to be fun for you. My guess is that you’ll need to connect with what caused you to freak out that night. In other words, you need to explore your killing power. But I’m here. I can help you. I might even be able to anchor you while you cross this bridge.”
“I suppose ‘bridge’ is fitting.” She attempted a smile but it was replaced quickly with another tight frown.
He nodded slowly, his hands still on her arms.
She sighed. “If you’re set on this, if you truly think this is what I need to do, then I think we should go into my spellroom.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she added quickly, “It’s not just for spells. I…I sometimes live down there. I feel safe in my burrow and, pun intended, very grounded.”
His hands slid away from her arms as he glanced around. He knew they had to be at least twelve feet belowground as it was. “Are you saying you have a second space even deeper in the earth than these rooms?”
“I do.”
Something inside his wolf trembled. He took one of her hands this time and held it firmly. He stared into her eyes and felt the alpha-mate call once more. His response was part sexual, that couldn’t be helped. But another part seemed to come from so deep in his soul, he couldn’t fathom what was happening.
She leaned forward. “I’m feeling it, too. I don’t know what this is, but I’m guessing it’s more wolf than witch.”
He dipped his chin. “It is, but it’s new to me as well.”
“Wait, you didn’t experience this with Laura?”
“We were already married and once we arrived in Five Bridges, within a matter of days we were bonded. There was no beginning in that sense. So, I honestly can’t say for sure what we experienced.”
“But Braden, I can’t be your mate. That much I know. I have no interest in leaving Elegance. What I do here really matters. I like you well enough. I think you’re a good, honorable man. But…you’re a wolf.” She wrinkled her nose.
He laughed, grateful she’d broken the moment. “I’m not crazy about your kind either.”
She chuckled and rose to her feet. Sheba, who had been curled up beside her, slowly gained her four paws then stretched.
The moment Maeve started to move, Sheba dropped to the floor and padded beside her.
Braden, wolf that he was, repressed an instinct to growl at the feline. Cats had claws. He had no reason to suppose Sheba would hesitate to use hers. He walked well behind the witch and her muse.
To the left of the fireplace was another small hallway like the one in the bedroom that led to the bathroom. Maeve reached up and hit a light switch on the inside wall.
Once in the relatively small, dark space, he saw another stone spiral staircase heading down, just as she had said. Again, his wolf trembled within his chest. Whatever was going to happen down there wouldn’t be simple.
He slowed his steps and watched her red hair disappear. The light flickered. He swore he felt a hand on his chest.
Suddenly, his wife’s voice was in his head, She’ll be good for you, Braden. Give her a chance. Open that stubborn heart of yours.
~ ~ ~
Maeve wished she hadn’t come down the stairs. The light had gone out for a few seconds, but now it was back on. She didn’t want Braden, or any man in her burrow.
It was a small space compared to her home above.
As Braden descended the stairs then drew close, she could feel his nerves as much as her own. She looked up at him. “I don’t know what you have to be bugged about.”
He glanced at her, almost startled. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He finally opened it again and said, “Oh, not much.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced around like he expected something to jump from the shadows.
She chuckled softly. “At least I’m not alone.”
Braden shook his head in a rapid flick. “No, you’re not.” He turned to face her. “All right, let’s get on with this. We’ve got a good witch to save.”
“That we do.”
Braden's determination had an effect and her heart finally settled down. “So, what am I supposed to do? I mean, if I were a young wolf, what advice would you give me?”
He pivoted toward her worktable and the shelving opposite laden with dozens of glass jars. Sheba leaped up onto the table and sat down facing the shelves, tail twitching.
He chuckled. “You might want to pay attention to your muse. Looks like she already has an idea.” Without thinking, he drew near the table and settled his hand on Sheba’s head, then proceeded to pet her. Repeatedly.
When Maeve didn’t approach the table, Braden looked back at her. “What?”
She pointed to her cat. “Sheba never lets anyone do that. I mean, never. She’s not really a pet. Wait, is she purring for you? What the hell?”
Maeve stared at Sheba then at Braden. Of all the things that could have distressed her, this one sent a warning shot straight through her soul. Events pressed on her now and were forcing her down a path she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. Braden was a wolf. Sheba should have torn him to shreds.
She slapped her hand on the old wood table. “This isn’t right.”
“What isn’t?” His eyes widened.
“You’re a wolf. Why isn’t she scratching your eyes out?”
“She likes me.”
“Cut the crap. You know what I’m talking about.”
His amused expression dimmed. “I do. We’re both concerned about what’s going on.”
“Like fate is pushing us hard and I don't like it. I won't be a mate to an alpha wolf.”
“And I have no interest in pairing up with a witch. So, we're agreed on that.”
Sheba chose that moment to look back at her. Was it possible the cat was frowning? Though scowling was a more appropriate word-choice.
Sheba released a hoarse meow as if to say, ‘Get over yourself’.
Braden added, “And in case you’d like to know, I’ve got my deceased wife telling me to give you a chance and Sheba here appears to have already accepted me and you’re pissed.”
“Your wife said what? But I don’t want you to give me a chance.” She waved a hand between them. “I don’t want what’s going on here. I mean the sex was amazing, but it was just sex. Please don’t get any ideas.” She felt uneasy in a way she didn’t understand.
Her thoughts flew back to being in the shower and having part of her memory return of the night she’d killed the witches. A terrible sensation fell on her, and she wished more than anything she could have kept the memories repressed. Something lived there, something having to do with Veyda that she never wanted to know.
But what did Braden have to do with her memories of that night? Why were they surging forward now? He had to be right about what was happening, but the whole thing frightened her.
She rubbed her forehead.
“Maeve, listen to me. As I said before, you’re in a time of transition. I can’t explain it. I’ve just see it a few dozen times. I can tell you one thing. There’s no use trying to get everything worked out in your head right now. Not gonna happen. Try to relax and go with the flow even if it means something strange like your cat purring at a wolf’s touch.”
She felt like she was swimming in a deep, dark ocean and waves kept crashing over her. She would barely catch her breath, then another one would hit. She wasn’t mistaken, though. All this had started when she’d brought Braden out of the Graveyard.
She moved close to the workbench, then stepped around Braden to stare at her shelves of herbs. She’d worked a long time on her collection, though more by instinct than a result of study or teaching.
She felt foolish as though she should have been doing a hundred other things all these months in preparation for this moment.
She held her hand out to Braden. “I need your support.”
He took her hand readily. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t say, exactly, because I don’t know.” She shifted in his direction. “But I’ve got to go back to that night. Something is there that can help me get Kiara out of her cell. Whatever it was that I accessed, the power that not only freed me from my own captivity but which ended the lives of some evil witches, will be what we need.
“I think that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me as well. And even the sudden return of a portion of my memory, though it hurt as bad as it did, tells me this is the path.”
He nodded. “You’ve got courage, Maeve.” His lips curved slightly. “As much as any female wolf I’ve ever seen. You can do this.”
She felt like little streaks of lightning kept firing up her nerves. “I know I need to remember. It’s on me now. I just never wanted to.”
He drew close. “Lock forearms with me. I’ll support you all the way.”
It meant a lot to have him so close.
She met his gaze, the beautiful green of his eyes. He bore an expression that seemed so noble to her, very wolf-like, and something inside her heart began to crack open. Maybe it was the physical contact, or the recent sex, or the fact that he was so present with her, but she suddenly realized she was in trouble with this man.
Great.
She gave herself a shake and turned to the matter at hand.
She drew in a deep breath and for the first time since that terrible night, she began to roll back the veil.
At first, the familiar pain streaked through her head, sharp cuts that almost made her turn back. She pressed on anyway and let her mind move past the agonizing darts. Eventually, they disappeared.
She focused on what she could remember clearly which was the witch choir running for shelter.
This time, she shifted her focus away from the women and instead turned her attention to the room. She didn’t consider anything else, just the room. She saw the mirrors Kiara had referred to and knew they were exactly as she’d thought. When Maeve had been in this room, her back had been to the mirrors the entire time. Maeve had little doubt they were intended for viewing, but she had no idea what or who was behind them. She could only deal with what she’d actually seen and where she’d been.
As she explored the memory, she could feel Veyda’s presence behind her and off to the left, but not far. Veyda’s emotions flowed over Maeve. Fury was one of them that her ceremony had been disrupted. But there was also a sense of shock and an inability to move.
Had Maeve done that to her? Immobilized the powerful witch?
What had occurred had happened quickly, in great swathes of dark energy. But they’d come from her, not Veyda.
Maeve had somehow tapped into her killing power, but perhaps not in the way her captor had hoped. There was a strong smell as well, but it wasn’t bad. It seemed almost neutral as though the herbal-based potion she’d been given was mild by comparison. She even detected mint, of all things.
Sheba meowed.
Mint.
Was mint the key? Sheba thought so.
Maeve remembered turning around, her hand spasming with power. She’d swept a shower of golden sparks behind her, where she sensed Veyda stood. She’d wanted to destroy the woman who had brought her to the torture room. But no one was there. Even the sense of Veyda had disappeared.
But the mirror was there. Maeve could now recall that she’d shouted her rage. With another broad, powerful arc of her arm, she’d released more of the golden, destructive energy. All the mirrors had shattered. She could recall the breaking of more glass, then the strong smell of whisky. She’d destroyed a bar within the mirrored rooms.
She saw padded benches and red velvet covered winged chairs. Mirrors had lined the back wall. These had shattered as well.
As she turned back into the room, the familiar dark fog was in the very center of the space covering the large, central platform, though the victim’s scarred and wounded legs were now visible.
She ignored the woman for the present and instead felt compelled to explore the area where the witch choir had performed. At this point, the women were all gone.
She moved in the direction of the tiered seats where the choir had chanted. But she wasn’t walking. Instead, she levitated toward a doorway to her right.
She could see a hallway and more movement. She heard the sounds of gunfire behind her. She held her arm aloft and kept the power flowing. She felt a series of thuds, bullets, maybe, dropping to the wood floor.
She’d been invincible.
“I’m in the air.” She spoke aloud to Braden and brought his face into view. “I can levitate, or at least I did that night.”
That’s when she realized he looked stunned.
She glanced down at their joined arms. Her left one was glowing. She jerked away from him. “Oh, God, have I hurt you?”
He immediately grabbed her shoulders. “No. You haven’t. Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze to his eyes.
“I’m okay. Just startled, that’s all. You were … glowing.”
“I was?” Her mouth was suddenly very dry. She nodded briskly. “I need some water.”
He released her once more and she crossed to the small fridge and took out a bottle. She guzzled.
He turned toward her. “What did you see? Did you remember?”
“Almost everything this time. Mostly, my rage. I was so angry with what was happening. Kiara was right. Behind the mirrors was a viewing room. People watched the torture and the killings for pleasure. No doubt they paid a fortune for the opportunity.”
She told him everything including the fog and the sacrificial victim in the center of the space, Veyda’s presence and the dead witches. “I’m guessing Veyda had created the mist, though I don’t know why.”
She leaned her hip against the sink. She was deeply troubled. She’d always wished she could levitate. Most of the people in Five Bridges couldn’t, yet the memory was very clear on this point. She could levitate.
He moved close. “Every instinct I possess, Maeve, tells me you did exactly what you’ve remembered. You’re a woman of exceptional power. And that’s part of the reason you could be an alpha-wolf’s mate.”
She scoffed. “Lucky me.”
He sighed then scowled.
“What? Now you’re going to be mad at me because I’m not thrilled I could hook up with a powerful wolf like you?”
“It’s not that.”
“What then because I don’t need your attitude.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. What you’re reacting to is my frustration that you’re so new to our world. A year-and-a-half is nothing.”
“If that’s all it is.”
“I’m frustrated because you don’t know enough at this point to be able to cope well. And it didn’t help that the one person who was guiding you ended up caught by that witch-from hell.”
Once more, she rubbed her forehead. Her gaze shifted to the glass canisters of herbs. “I remembered smelling mint, lots of it.”
“Mint?”
“Yes, the air was full of it.”
Sheba meowed once more, another sign mint would be important.
Maeve moved toward her and Sheba immediately lifted up to sit on her haunches.
Maeve picked her up and not being a big cat, she held her against her shoulder like she would a newborn. Sheba had always given her great comfort.
She crossed to the jars and with one hand pulled the dried mint off the shelf. She settled it on the wood counter in front of her then waved Braden forward. “Come pop this for me.”
Braden moved in and eased the metal clamp back. Without thinking, she handed Sheba to him. Braden took the cat and as she’d done, he held her against his own shoulder.
Maeve reached for the canister then turned to stare at first Braden then her cat. “Dammit, she’s purring again.”
Even Braden looked a little startled as he craned his neck to look down at the cat. “I never liked cats before and definitely not since I’ve lived in Savage. But this cat is growing on me.”
Maeve smiled and some of the tension left her body. She even dragged in a deep breath. “It’s simple. She likes you.” Unfortunately, Maeve could relate. She liked the wolf, too. She always had.
She reverted her attention to the mint and picked up the small jar with both hands. She didn’t know what to expect.
She took slow, deep breaths. Through Kiara’s training, she focused exclusively on the herb and let each of its properties speak to her.
Within her mind, a list began to assemble, aspects of the herb, how it would interact with her alter witchness, then to what other elements it was most strongly attracted.
Maeve had found that for her own particular alter witch identity, she’d been able to apportion each herb, fungus, mineral, botanical or desiccated animal matter into one of four categories: Fire, water, pressure, or wind. Once an item had its place, she was better able to align it with like or opposing items and create the effect she needed.
She’d originally assigned mint to the water group. Yet, right now, because it had played a part in the release of her killing power, she wasn’t surprised that mint leaned toward fire. Yet at the same time, it seemed to also belong with both pressure and wind.
She set the jar down and let this information work its way through her entire system. She’d learned this from Kiara as well, that when inspecting anything that could be used in a spell, she had to let the substance move through her body completely.
She took a moment to prepare a soft suede pouch. She added the dried mint flakes, then closed it carefully. She ran a leather tie through the top of the flap then draped it around her neck. She could sniff the herb as often as she wanted.
Mint had been one of the first properties she’d analyzed. Perhaps because it had been early in what little training she’d received, she hadn’t assessed it clearly enough. She wasn’t sure. But as she closed her eyes, she spread her hands wide then paid close attention to all the responses in her body. Her breathing felt labored, her left hand tingled and warmed up, her legs lost any sense of weight at all, and her mind grew intently focused.
She kept all of these things in the forefront, and just like that she rose into the air. She opened her eyes and faced Braden. He still held Sheba and he was smiling and nodding.
She didn’t let go of what she felt right now, the complete absence of gravity. She took the next few minutes to practice what was the most amazing experience she’d ever known. She could levitate.
Now for forward movement.
“How do I fly?”
Braden frowned slightly. “It’s been a long time since I even thought about it. I’m trying to remember back to when I first acquired the ability. I know I slammed into a few walls and trees when I was first learning.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “It’s a matter of the will. Focus on your destination then see yourself moving there. Like all the way to the opposite wall, near the writing desk.”
She was able, though with some difficulty, to pivot midair and face the desk. She forced herself to calm down then focused on the far wall. As she did, her body simply began to move. Smooth and seamless.
She made the short trip back and forth a few times then sped up. “I can’t believe this, Braden. And all because I smelled some mint.”
“I can’t say I understand why the scent of anything would ignite your abilities. But I think I’d recommend you keep mint with you at all times.” Sheba pushed away from him slightly and he set her back on the worktable.
She glanced at the stone stairs then headed to the bottom step. She began her ascent, but took it slow. She made it easily all the way to the top, then descended. Thinking it might make for the best practice possible, she went up and down at least a dozen times then increased her speed once more.
When she was navigating the stairs without incident, Braden called out, “I can’t believe you can do that? I would have hit the wall, lost my flight completely then tumbled to the bottom.”
She rushed over to Braden and grabbed him up in a big hug. She even used levitation to hold herself in place.
He returned the favor and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re doing great.”
Sheba meowed her approval.
“Thank you for this.” She couldn’t seem to let go. If nothing else, he’d brought her this gift. She’d have more options now, if things went south whether during her rescues in the desert or at Veyda’s prison. She’d be able to shoot straight up into the night sky and make her escape.
She realized how much she’d lived in fear of getting caught again, by Veyda or anyone else. Rightfully so, given all that had happened to her within two weeks of her arrival in Five Bridges.
When she drew back, she dropped slowly to the stone floor and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. She lifted the pouch of mint to her nose.
She repeated the earlier process of smelling the herb and letting it work its magic through her system. This time, she focused on her left hand. Her recent recollection of her rage-filled attack on all the witches, made it clear she’d used her left hand to release the destructive energy, her witch’s killing power.
She lifted her hand again and held it out.
Sheba meowed once more.
When Maeve turned around to look at her, Sheba stared at her for a moment, leaped from the table then disappeared up the stairwell.
She glanced at Braden. “Maybe you should stand away from me for whatever is about to happen. Although, I might need you to anchor me for this.”
Braden moved to position himself just behind her left shoulder, then settled his hand on her waist. Stupid tears sprang to her eyes. She’d been alone for a long time. It was strange and wonderful to have the kind of support he was providing.
Frank had been that way.
She strove to remind herself that Braden was a wolf hunting down the witches who had killed his wife. She knew him by now, the level of his stubbornness. The man had nothing to offer anyone. He’d even left his pack to pursue justice. He wouldn’t rest until he settled the score once and for all.
But for half a second, she wished it was otherwise.