Page 2 of Protected By the Wolf

“Have you told your family?”

I looked at her in shock. “No!” Then I remembered the conversation I had with my mom a year ago. “Well, I tried telling Mom, but she didn’t believe me. She thinks I’ve just gone cuckoo.”

“Maybe you should tell them sooner rather than later.”

I shook my head. “It’s better if my family didn’t know for now. I mean, you’re the first I’ve met who even understands what I’m going through. Well, you and Charli, that is, but that’s not saying much because Charli’s a ghost.” My hands flew to my face. “I can’t believe I just said all that out loud. None of this should be real!”

Lilian gave me a sympathetic look. “It’s very real, sweetheart, and you are most definitely a witch. I’m sorry you’re finding out like this. I won’t tell your family, but you need to find a way to tell them yourself.”

“Not yet.” My emotions were all over the place. I remembered the first time an object moved in front of me. I was eight. Luckily, I was by myself, but when the object moved again, I ran straight out of the room. I’d always been a flighty one, but after that day, I ran as fast as I could, just wanting to get away from whatever was happening. It was my fight or flight reflex, and flight won, because as soon as something moved, or whatever I wanted appeared in my hand—like a coffee or tickets to a concert that was sold out—I’d drop what I was doing and flee. I couldn’t face what was happening to me. Normal people didn’t just have unscientific things happen to them on a regular basis. It just didn’t happen . . . right?

Millie had taken to calling my way of life ‘the Lira Factor.’ I didn’t want to burden my sister with what was happening, because I was so scared she would think I was crazy just like Mom did. It was safer to keep all this under the radar, and I soon found the best way to do that was to live up to the name Millie gave me. Thus began my legacy of never staying in one place for very long—and with it, not being reliable.

Lillian stood and walked back to her desk, and I suddenly realized I was being a burden. I stood up and grabbed my bag. “Thank you, Lillian. Please don’t tell Millie. I’ll give her a call. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lillian turned and looked at me closely, then nodded. “Alright. If you need any help, let me know.”

I could tell she wanted to say more, but thankfully she didn’t. I had enough to sort out.

I arrived home, or what had been my home away from home for the past year, and threw my suitcase on the front table. I felt Charli before I heard her.

“I don’t like it when you whoosh through me,” I said to the empty air.

Charli laughed as she appeared in front of me. “How else will I get you used to the supernatural? You hang out with me to practice your mediating and breathing exercises, but you still act like I don’t exist. You sit in the library reading journals from your ancestors, but I’m right here. Why don’t you learn your family history from me?”

“Because I’m in a bad dream. One I can’t seem to wake up from.”

“And yet, you’re talking to a ghost,” she pointed out.

I groaned, opened up my suitcase, and took out Charli’s journal. “I started this one last night.”

“Ah, when I first became a witch.”

“It seemed like you had a lot of help in figuring out who you were.”

“And a lot of comfort in the matter because I grew up with the knowledge of my ancestry. And there’s no need to grumble—you have me. I also know a nice young witch about your age to introduce you to.”

“I’m not ready to meet another witch.” Though, I guess I did find out today that Lillian was one too. But that wasn’t intentional. Intentional meetups were not on my list of things to do.

“It’s been a whole year, Lira. You must meet others like you to start accepting who you are.”

“And what if I just want to learn what you have right here? I could live out my life alone and secluded with no one to question me, ever.”

Charli glowered at me and vanished, probably off to sulk in the library and find the most boring book for me to read. I really should treat her better. If not for her, I’d still be completely lost.

Sighing, I looked around the room, still amazed I got to live here. This house had sat abandoned since Charli passed away. I only learned about it when a letter from Grandma had appeared on my desk one morning. The house was located in Placer Town, on the coast of California. A quick Google search showed a church surrounded by acres of trees, with a small town about a twenty minute walk away.

I hadn’t even told Millie about this house yet because it was my secret place. The one place I felt safe from everyone. When I first visited, the house was buried in overgrown bushes and vines, but over the past year, I had cleared away a lot of the debris and could now see the road as well as the facade of the house. Three teams had come to deep clean the inside over the course of a week, including the old furniture that had been draped in white cloth.

It was here I met Charli. My great-great-grandmother. If what Charli said was true, I was a witch. The first in many generations. Charli said that, with practice, I would soon be able to make potions, create illusions, and even hold fire in my hand.

When I first walked onto this property, I instantly felt like I belonged here. That this was home. I’d never had that feeling before. Not on the other properties Mom and Dad owned, not even the one I grew up in with Millie. There was no doubt in my mind I belonged here. So I started coming up with a plan to tell my parents I wasn’t going to sell their art anymore. Instead, I was going to get a job in Placer Town, settle into this house, and live my own life.

But a few days in, I found the library. This led me to finding books about my family, dating back many generations. In truth, the books had found me. They came flying off the shelf, and as I tried to dodge them, they landed right in my hands. As if someone placed them there. I was so spooked I ran right out of the library and straight to my room, where I cowered under the covers for the rest of the day and night.

It was only when my stomach started grumbling that I ventured to the kitchen to grab a snack. That’s when I screamed, because sitting at the table looking straight at me was an old woman with white hair and dark eyes. She resembled a picture of a lady my grandmother had shown me once—my great-great-grandmother. And I’d found out she was, in fact, just that.

I remembered that moment vividly, seeing how Charli was now sitting across from me again. She’d made herself comfortable in the chair by the fire, and I situated myself in the chair next to her.

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