Page 19 of The Worst Mate Ever

She helped me back to my room and, as she instructed, I drank more water. By the third glass, the burning in my throat eased. I sat the glass down on the bedside table and crawled beneath the covers, but my mind raced with the visions and kept me awake.

I couldn’t help but wonder who it is that Minerva seems to be trying to make way for. They had kept their words so cryptic, even in my vision. Purposely, I’m sure. They couldn’t risk a seer like me having a vision of their plans. I had a strong feeling, however, that whoever it was, it’s the being I felt inside the crypt in the first vision.

As I went over the third vision, I focused more on Tristan’s need for revenge. I also focused on knowing what Minerva was aiming for when she sent the rogues after us with their tainted claws. She needed more dark witches. They were falling short on their numbers and, for whatever reason, they needed more.

I thought more about that last vision, my brows furrowing as Minerva’s gaze into nothingness and her promise of soon came to mind. What was soon? What was it that she knew?

The words my mother had spoken to me earlier today kept echoing in my thoughts, their meaning slowly sinking in. How it was suspicious they began their movements around the time that my mate had appeared. I began to worry that maybe my mother had a point.

A soft knock at my door interrupted me, and then Mom poked her head inside.

“Sorry, Sweetie. I just wanted to check in on you one more time and make sure you are feeling better.”

I chuckled and sat up in my bed. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mom, but I’m glad you came. There is more I can tell you now.”

Swiftly, she entered my room and shut the door behind her. As soon as she reached my bed and took a seat, I divulged what I knew to her.

“They mentioned needing the hybrids alive. They didn’t say why, but I have a feeling it has to do with the part of the vision The Fates aren’t allowing me to share with you. They also mentioned that dark witches are needing replaced. The witch I saw before was named Hathor and it seems that she must have died between now and when the rogues attacked. Tristan’s burns were still fresh in that vision.”

“Hathor?” Mom gasped. “Are you sure about that name?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Minerva said it herself.”

“It’s all tied together,” she said to herself. I could sense her horror at the realization even as I didn’t understand it myself.

“What?”

“Do you remember the reports from Montana? The witches there had been having issues with the native wolf pack there. Then, they reported a dark witch had been behind the friction between the two groups all along. That witch had been Hathor, and she wasn’t just any dark witch, Brady. She had once been worshipped as a goddess by humans. She and her husband Amun. They both had been old even as they had been worshiped. They were ancients.”

“Two ancient dark witches?” I asked.

Mom shook her head. “No, Amun wasn’t a witch. He was a shifter, a special kind of shifter that no longer exists. He was a phoenix, a creature of fire and ash.” Mom frowned and looked at me. “What was Minerva trying to convince them to help her with?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but the burning of my throat told me that it would be no use. I shook my head instead. “They didn’t say, but I think it has something to do with what I can’t tell you.”

Mom sighed and nodded. “Then, The Fates will reveal the full truth through you when the time is right. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

I shook my head again, feeling a sense of frustration. “No, nothing more, except that your earlier suspicions might be leaning in the right direction.”

She got up from my bed and was about to leave, but then she turned towards me, wearing a frown. “What do you mean?”

I looked back at her and allowed her to see my fear. “I fear Tristan’s quest for revenge might trap Madie. She could be in grave danger.”

Chapter Nine

Madilyn

I made my way down to the breakfast table just as Alma sat out the platters of potatoes and eggs and warmed tortillas. She smiled brightly at me as I stepped through the doorway and gestured to me to have a seat.

“You’re the first one here, so you get the choice of the best sausages. I’ll be right back with them.” She patted my head before rushing back to the kitchen to retrieve the mentioned meat and sat the large plate in front of me.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked, while sticking a fork into the best-looking sausage I could find.

Alma chuckled, setting down two pitchers—one of milk, the other of juice—alongside an array of cups. “Edwardo had a few errands to run early this morning. Alicia and her husband won’t be joining us for breakfast; she has an appointment with the old crones. And little Diego, well, he’s already off to school. They have a big test today, you know.” Her voice carried a note of pride, a testament to the close-knit fabric of their daily lives.

“And Roberto?” I probed, glancing towards the staircase, half-expecting his imminent arrival.

“Ah, Roberto will be down shortly. You know how he is, probably trying to make himself look presentable. That boy takes longer to get ready than anyone I know!” Alma’s laughter filled the room, a warm, enveloping sound that seemed to soften the edges of the morning.

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