Page 31 of Bewicched

“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t get two-year-old Declan out of my head.

He braced an arm against the window frame. “My aunt took me in. She said Alexander had fallen from a cliff and that my mother had died of a broken heart.” He glanced over his shoulder, pinning me with a stare. “Yes, I know how that sounds, but to a little kid it makes complete sense.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I don’t remember. Not any of it.”

“That’s completely normal, especially at that age and with such a traumatic event. A lot of my clients have stories like that locked inside them.” I got up to make him tea and then heard the derision in his echoedclientsfrom across the room.

“Hey,” I said, marching back, tea forgotten, “I’m sorry you have issues with magic, my type in particular, but I’m not going to accept your contempt while I’m trying to help. For free, I might add. These are my gifts and this is how I support myself. I’m sorry you have a problem with that, but there’s the door. You should go back to doing what you do to supportyourself.”

I pushed him toward the door, but he didn’t move. When his eyes met mine, I saw they’d gone wolf gold. A chill ran down my spine. It was instinctual.

“I’d love to be able to slam the door in your face, but I need the ventilation.”

He turned and strode from the studio.

14

Let the Apologies Begin

The sealant was already getting tacky, damn it. I wanted a nice, uniform layer, not clumps—shake it off. It was always the same, though. They eventually showed their true colors. A good night’s sleep didn’t earn trust. And two things could be true at once. I could mourn for baby Declan and still want to kick grown Declan’s ass.

Needing out of my own head, I pulled my phone from my pocket so I could stream loud music through the studio’s speakers. It was then I realized the call was still connected. I had tapped on the little green rectangle to open the app and disconnect when I heard something.

“I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say and I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t disconnect either.

Bang. I jumped, almost dropping the brush before I realized he was hammering in boards.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed to know until you told me. Made me see us as we were. Showed me what my life could have been. Instead, my parents were murdered and I was taken in by my aunt. My aunt only knew some of the story and I’ve been trying to fill in the rest ever since.

“We didn’t know I was a wolf. It came as quite a shock when I was eleven and shifted for the first time. We were camping. I loved to camp.” He let out a gust of breath. “No mystery as to why, I guess. I was keeping my poor Aunt Sarah awake, tossing and turning. My arms and legs were killing me. I’d been going through a growth spurt and the pains were often unbearable. We thought that’s what was happening. She’d just turned on a lantern to get me a couple of pain relievers when I watched my arms sprout fur. I was in a nightmare. I had to be. There was a flash of pain and then my eyesight was crystal clear and the scents.” He paused while the banging continued.

“Unwashed bodies, mold starting in the tent corner, my aunt’s shampoo and the coppery scent of her period, burning wood from the fire we’d doused, the pollen of blooming flowers, the rotting decay of a dead squirrel. It all hit at once and I panicked. I wanted to escape the nightmare and ended up tearing up the tent while my aunt stared wide-eyed at me, horror and fear written all over her.

“I ran then. Just ran and kept going, crashing through the woods, avoiding campsites where people might see me. I knew it was a dream—was almost positive—but I didn’t want to chance anyone seeing me. It was like if they saw me, it would be true.

“When I got tired, I realized I had no idea where I was, other than miles and miles away from our campsite. I finally turned around and followed the scents of broken branches and freshly turned soil, hunting for my aunt’s scent.

“It was near dawn when I made it back. The tent was gone, though some shreds of nylon clung to the grass. I was so tired, but I followed her scent back to where we’d parked before backpacking in. She was sleeping in the car, doors locked, but she hadn’t left me.

“My paws rested on the door as I looked in and then I was standing there naked, freezing and embarrassed. I knocked on the window and she jolted awake. It took a moment for the fear to leave her eyes and that was hard, but she unlocked the door and reached in back for my pack so I could get dressed.”

He was silent then, placing boards, hammering, but not talking. Maybe he was waiting to see if I spoke, but I was pretty sure he was just thinking, so I let him.

“Full moon tonight,” he finally said. “I’ve been summoned and that Alpha’s itching for a fight. That’s the problem with being a dominant. They feel it and the more aggressive or insecure ones take it as a challenge. Immortality isn’t really an issue when I have to deal with this shit all the time.”

“So you lay low,” I said.

He let out a gust of breath as though he’d been waiting to see if I’d speak. “Yeah. I move around a lot, either living where there are no packs or moving out before the full moon.”

“Why didn’t you do that this time?” I walked around the tentacle to start on the back side.

“I was planning on it. Even packed up my truck and headed out of town. Instead, I ended up parked in front of this place. I don’t know why. I just don’t want to run this time.”

We were both quiet while we considered the reasons for that.

“Are you worried about tonight? The pack?” I had seen Logan’s eyes, felt his intent. He wanted to destroy Declan.

“Worried? Not really. I’ve been dealing with this since my first shift. They hunt me down to challenge me. When I was young, I didn’t know how to fight with restraint. It was all so new, and I was terrified. I left dead bodies on the ground. More than I’d care to think about.” He paused. “I just want to be left the fuck alone to my woodworking and occasional midnight runs.”

---