Page 13 of Moonlit Bonds

“It’s just Kieran here needing my help.”

“Kieran?” Suddenly she’s there, robe pulled tight around her, pushing the door wider open. “Hi, baby.”

“I’m really in a hurry, Mom. I’m sorry.” I lean against the storm door still holding it open.

“You always are,” she says, reaching out to pinch my cheek. “I’m happy to see you though.”

Her words are heavy. I’ve not made it out here enough. I lean in and gave her a one-armed bear hug, squeezing her tightly. “I’ll be back soon and we can have lunch or something together. I really need dad’s help right now.”

“Really?” Mom beams at me. Maybe it’s because I’m finally trying to stitch up a wound that has long plagued our family, and asking for help is a first step. Maybe it’s the lunch offer. More than likely it’s a combination of everything, but her smile is sunlight after a storm and loosens a bit of the knot in my chest. “Well, that is what sons should always do. Go you two. Be safe.” She gives dad a peck on the cheek, and I head back to my truck with him close behind me.

For the first ten minutes, we drive in silence.

Dad clears his throat. “Thanks for reaching out and asking for my help. It…it means a lot to me.”

“I couldn’t think of anyone else who might understand my situation.” I take a deep breath before launching into the explanation. “It’s about the woman I met?—”

“Ah ha, girl problems?”

I shake my head, tightening my hands on the steering wheel. “No, pack problems. The elders don’t like her because she’s a witch.”

“Well, don’t let them do what they did to me.” He stares straight ahead, his slightly open expression shuttering at the mention of the council.

I wait to see if he’ll say more, and just when I’m about to give up, he heaves a big sigh. “Back when your mom and I got together, we were two fools in love. She, of course, was from a magical line of witches and I was from the pack, in line to be a contender for Alpha.”

“Yeah, and they ousted you because they didn’t agree with wolves and witches being together.”

“Nope,” he corrects. “That is probably the rumor all these years. But no, your mom had a vision, a vision of our pack and the neighboring pack reigniting our blood feud.”

It feels so similar to what’s happening now.

“She’d told me,” he continues. “And I’d been foolish enough to inform the elders. You’d have thought I’d cursed us. So, they ousted us off of pack land, made sure the pack knew I was a traitor. And that’s when we built the cabin. You boys were small, and raised outside of the pack ways until your aunt made peace to bring you both into the fold, but that didn’t include us.”

Everything I thought was true is nothing but a lie. It spins around me in a hurricane of bullshit I have to fight through. I’d thought Dad not being around had something to do with his not wanting to be a part of the family, but really it was about his having to make a living outside of pack ways…and off of the pack lands.

“That’s why you could only send us cards?”

“Yep.” He nods. “The elders haven’t allowed me back on the lands since your mom’s visions turned out to be true. People fear what they don’t understand, and if you are doing this for some woman, I’m guessing that she is quite special, even if the pack doesn’t agree.”

“More than special.” I clear my throat. It will be my job to ensure the pack understands that having Seraphina there will be a boon to keep us all safe, a benefit to the pack’s survival.Therewill always be prejudices. Hopefully, with time and the right gentle guidance, they will see.

We have to find her, first.

My fear continues to grow as we pull up to the parking area where Seraphina had been earlier. Dad and I hop out of the truck and I direct him toward her car.

Dad’s tracking skills came in handy as we move out of the parking lot and through the neighboring woods, catching not only broken branches and wolf tracks, but also something else. Suddenly he stops.

“Did you two bond, son?” He shifts his nose into the wind, when I don’t smell a thing.

This isn’t something I want to talk about and my lips press together.

“There’s candy apples on the wind,” Dad then says.

“Candy apples?” Growing up, that is how mom had always likened her magic, to the sweet scent of sugar, cooking. Something cloying and soft.

“Go grab your truck and drive like hell. The candy apples are going to take us right to your witch.”

My witch? I’m relieved and apprehensive. What if I don’t arrive in time?

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