Page 5 of Protected By the Wolf

“As best as can be. Charli upped the dosage on a concoction she made a few months ago to help quell my visions during the day.”

“That’s good.”

I looked at Lillian as she turned to her desk and picked up a bunch of books on Dad’s life. She was already walking out of her office when I said, “Lillian?”

“Yes?” She turned to look at me with a small smile on her face.

After our last conversation, something about Lillian had been whirling around in my mind. “How are you so calm with what is going on with me?”

“I’ve been where you are.”

“What does that mean?”

Lillian gave a deep sigh and looked at her watch. “We have some time before the doors open. I can tell you my story.”

“I’d love that.” Finally, someone who wasn’t a ghost.

She sat down on the sofa that was next to her desk, placed the books on the side table, and patted the seat next to her. I walked over and sat beside her.

“I was once a young witch, too, going through the same troubles you are now. My mom told me many years later when I was an adult that her goal was to shelter me from the stress that was put on witches as they grew and came into their power. She would teach me some magic here and there, but mostly she shied away from it, because she wanted me to have a normal life—or as normal as it could get. But when I zapped a plant on my teacher’s desk one day and it grew to be three times its normal size, that definitely turned heads.” Lillian’s eyes shone at the memory. “I was about eight at the time.”

“That’s when weird things started happening to me too,” I said.

Lillian nodded. “Grandmother kept to traditions and was beyond upset Mom wasn’t taking charge with my lessons. She took me from my mother one summer and tried to make me come into my powers, but for some reason, it just wouldn’t come. I could do simple tricks, like make the kitchen appliances bake me a cake, or turn the hair of the girl who lived next door pink, but not mind read. And mind reading or intentions reading was what my family was most powerful at. So, to not have that . . .” She took a deep breath. “Well, it was like a death sentence. My mom eventually got me back, though. And just to be clear, my grandmother didn’t hurt me, not physically at least. She was just impatient, but she was like that with all kids. She blamed Mom for cocooning me from the witch society and said that at eight, it was almost too late for me to learn.”

“I’m sorry, Lillian.”

She nodded. “Mom asked me when I turned nine if I wanted to learn how to be a witch. By that time, I was so intrigued from the stories grandmother had told me that I said yes. We would practice once a day after school—detecting auras, listening to a person’s emotions, seeing their intentions. Mom and Grandmother were very good at it. We would sit on the sidewalk, and Mom would describe each person walking by—good, bad, confused, witch, human, shifter. You’d be surprised how many supernaturals are intermingled with humans. The humans have no idea.”

I felt my eyes get big. Lillian reached over and squeezed my hand. “And yet, we have cohabited together for eons. Don’t you think that says something about the paranormal society?”

I released a breath. Maybe there wasn’t as much to be scared about as I’d thought. This world was still all so new, but there was hope I could accept the witch I was one day. Swallowing all the churning emotions down, I reflected, “It seems you were able to grasp your gift after all.”

Lillian nodded. “I did, but I was never as strong as Mom or Grandmother. Doubt had settled into my thoughts after the time I’d spent with Grandmother, and it made itself at home inside me. I’ve never been able to let that doubt go. It’s clouded everything I should be capable of achieving.”

She was quiet for a moment, and it was as if she withdrew into herself, reliving a memory. Eventually, she said softly, “I haven’t shared that story with anyone in a very long time. Miti might have been the last person I shared it with.”

“Who’s Miti?”

“A very old friend.” She gave my hand another squeeze. “I just wanted you to know I understand the hardship you are going through.”

Her story was so sad, and yet, here she was, sitting in front of me in charge of a gallery all by herself. She was a strong woman, someone who accepted who she was. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “Do you still do witchy things?”

She started laughing, and I didn’t know what to do except sit there and wait for her to finish. “Oh, Lira! I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Witchy things?” She laughed again. “I don’t practice anymore, haven’t in a long time, and I’m happy running my gallery. You want to know what I think, though?”

“What’s that?”

“We were meant to meet. You needed an art gallery, and I had one, but more importantly, you needed me.”

This time I squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Lillian, for supporting me.”

She gave me a warm smile. “Ask me any questions you have. Charli will probably know the answer better, but I will answer the best I can.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Giving her hand another squeeze, I looked around the shop, noting the time. “Well, we should probably open up shop.”

“That we should. Why don’t you sit here for a bit while I’ll go open the doors.”

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes as Lillian left, absorbing what she had shared. Knowing she was also a witch made me feel calmer. The thought of Charli wanting to introduce me to another witch my own age flashed through my mind. Maybe the idea wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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