Page 22 of Witch's Wolf

The pressure behind my eyes is overwhelming. I’m not going to cry. I’m not. Damn it, I’ll push all this down just like I did when Grams told me that they were gone. Push it down, put it into a very dark, very forgotten corner of my mind and never look again.

“No,” she says, so soft it’s almost a whisper. “I am not.”

Helena rises from her seat and walks around the desk. She stops in front of me and then places a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder. I swipe at the one stray tear that breaks free of my mental damn and compose myself.

“Fine, say you’re right. What now?” I ask, locking the door on the emotions that I don’t want to feel.

Helena is quiet for a moment. Giving me time or figuring out what to say, either way I’m glad for the momentary reprieve. Who knows what the next words she says will be? What kind of nuke will she be launching into my quiet, well-established life, leaving all I thought I knew a blasted wasteland?

“Your powers, your abilities as a witch, they’re very real,” she says, speaking at last. “You need to understand them, learn to control them, if you want to survive.”

I let out a shaky laugh. Helena leans back against the desk. I force myself to meet her steady gaze with one of my own.

“A whole lot to unpack there,” I mutter, but her words keep echoing in my head.They’re alive.“Alright. Let’s start simply. What’s it like? Being a witch, I mean. You said if I want to survive, so it’s dangerous? How?”

“It can be,” she nods. “More dangerous to others. You need to learn control, Erica. Without it, you could hurt people without meaning to.”

“How? Like what? I… yeah. What am I looking out for?”

“You’ll find you can move things with your mind. That includes people. If someone gets on your nerves...” She trails off, letting the implication hang.

I swallow hard, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick.

“I see,” I say, musing on her words. “What if I don’t want any of this? What if I don’t use these... powers? Can I just ignore them?”

Helena’s smile is faint but knowing.

“You most certainly can,” she says, crossing the room to stand in front of me. Her gaze pins me in place, calm but unrelenting. “You’ve been doing it all your life, haven’t you?”

The words hit hard. I’m caught off guard by the simple truth of them.

Yeah,” I murmur, “I guess.”

“There you have it, then.” She sounds casual, but her eyes are locked on mine. “But your powers aren’t going to stay dormant forever. You were born a witch. It’s only a matter of time before they awaken. When they do, you’ll have a choice to make.”

Her words leave no room for argument, and the cold knot in my stomach twists. I want to protest, to argue, to push this whole mess away, but deep down, I know she’s right. As much as I’ve hidden it away and ignored it, I have felt flashes of something. Whispers of a force just out of reach. Looking at it now, it scares the hell out of me.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

Helena squeezes my shoulder, firm but not unkind.

“Start here,” she says. “Start now.”

“This will make Sam run like hell from me,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them, raw and unfiltered. They’re not meant for Helena, but they hang in the air, forcing me to follow them up. “He won’t date me because I’m human. Add ‘witch’ into the mix, and it’s a total disaster.”

Helena studies me, her gaze sharp but not unkind.

“I do understand. Samuel’s fear reminds me of his grandfather’s,” she says, her faint smile is bitter. “It wasn’t always that way. It crept in when he found out I’d taken an interest in witchcraft. Suddenly, he wouldn’t kiss me and the next thing I knew, he wouldn’t even touch me. He would lecture me about the dangers of the power I was trying to understand. I don’t think he once believed I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s a word for a guy like that, loser. He let fear get the best of him,” I snap, her words hitting so hard I can’t stop the quick retort.

Helena’s smile fades, replaced by a calm seriousness.

“Samuel is confused,” she says, gentler than before. “Help him see the truth. Who knows? Maybe that truth will destroy his fears and open the door to you.”

I frown, crossing my arms. I’ve always been more a skeptic than an optimist and I can’t see why Sam would be different than his grandfather. It’s not like we’ve been getting along anyway. This is just another nail in the coffin of what might have been.

“Isn’t that what you tried to do with his grandfather? Did it work for you?”

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