Page 71 of Fated Exile

Hopping off the tree, I land on the soft, pine-needle covered ground and fasten my belt back around my waist. "How exactly does the magic work, and what does it do? I'm still not sure that I'm clear on that part."

"It takes two hundred steps worth of energy and stores them for later use." She passes the branch over to me, stepping quickly on an invisible path through the crowded forest floor. "When the charm is done, you'll be able to store a one inch piece of the wood somewhere on you, and take it out when you need it. Just chew the bark and the energy of the hemlock tree will draw you two hundred steps in a single instant."

I blink. "It doesn't sound like the sort of thing that would kill a powerful and immortal wolf-witch hybrid."

Kerry snorts. "It's not for killing, but for saving. Specifically, savingyourskin. Spells like these are deceptively simple, but are often the only thing between a witch and certain death."

She's quiet for several minutes, until I think we aren't going to talk again until we're back at the house and working on the spell. Then her voice pierces the silence, nearly startling me.

"When Delphine escaped and killed my coven-sisters, I saved my hide with a chameleon spell." She grimaces, mouth turning downward, eyes fixed on a spot just ahead of her. "It was supposed to be for a prank. A silly game we were playing to pass the time while we kept Delphine locked away for eternity. We all took turns camouflaging ourselves against the cavern wall, then waited for the right moment to jump out and spook our sisters. I used it to hide from Delphine."

I clear my throat. "That was smart, then. She would've killed you if she'd seen you."

"She killed Raya instead." Though Kerry's voice is clear and succinct, I can sense the dark waters of grief beneath her words, barely hidden under the surface. "I bought myself some extra time, but it cost me a dear friend's life."

I don't know what to say. Thankfully it doesn't seem that Ihaveto say anything. We spend the rest of the journey to home in silence, and I clutch the fresh green bough of the evergreen tree, my palm growing sticky with its bleeding sap.

* * *

Thankfully the guys are off on an errand when I get home. Cat says Niall went with Roarke and Kieran to speak to some pack members about their concerns, while Lance, Finn, and Bastian are off on patrol, double-checking the area near the Mating Circle where a vamp turned up last night. That gives me breathing room to perform the spell with Kerry.

First, though, I round on Cat, glad for this moment alone with her without a man to be found. "Really? You slept withhim?" I raise a brow at her, and she gazes up at the ceiling, acting unconvincingly nonchalant. "I mean, c'mon, Cat. I know he was the closest man your age around, butNiall?"

"You're not still mad at him, are you?" She furrows her brows, a whine sliding into her voice. "I mean, he apologized for everything. And it's not like he hasn't been helpful. He's risked his skin more than once for you."

"Yes, but—but—" I search for a sane objection and can only come up with, "It's gross!"

Kerry glances back and forth between us and wisely chooses to make herself scarce. "I'll be up in the office when you're ready."

I wait for her footsteps to fade before I sputter out, "I mean, he's like a father to me!"

"And I'm a mother to you," she says, blinking. "Though I was under the impression that you thought of Niall more like an uncle."

An uncle, a father figure, a traitor who helped throw me from my childhood home. I try to summon the white-hot anger I once felt at him, poking my own fragile inner self with the memories of his pickup truck, my tears rolling down, little girl fear in my voice as I begged him to turn around and bring me home.

Real pain slides into my chest, and the quiet in the air changes from something humorous to something charged, almost feral. Cat wrings her hands together worriedly as I slide my eyes up to her and quietly say, "I just didn't think you could ever feel for someone who—who put me in the state that you found me in, alone and half-dead with nowhere to turn to."

She winces at this memory. Her voice is even quieter than mine as she says, "I can end it, Lilah."

"Good. Do that, then."

"But." Her voice tugs me back before I can turn my back on her, selfishly ignore her happiness, and stomp up the stairs without a care in the world. "Before I do. You should know—he didn't just walk away. Niall, he... he was the one who found out you'd moved in with me, and he dropped off the letters and packages from your father."

I turn on her, my heart heavy lead inside my chest. "I burned those letters." Staring into her eyes, I skip back over the words she just said and add, "What packages?"

Cat winces, and I feel a little like the world is sliding around beneath my feet. "I never gave them to you. They were mostly trinkets and baubles. Things a little girl would want. By the time they started coming, you weren't a little girl anymore."

"And the letters?"

"I figured if they had anything worthy to say in them, you'd let me know, and tell me you wanted to go visit him." She squares her shoulders, facing off against me, open honesty in her face. "Honestly, I didn't mean to keep anything from you. And I didn't even know that some of the packages were from Niall, too, until he told me last night. I was... well, I was going to go through my storage container back in San Diego, see if I could rustle them back up again. Niall said one of the lockets belonged to your birth mother."

I feel the air rush from my lungs at this, and hear myself inhale sharply, pain flowing through my chest. No—the pain is coming from my hand, where I'm gripping the freshly cut evergreen bough, so thin and flexible in my hand, its pointed bits of bark digging into my skin.

Suddenly Cat looks different to my eyes, and I'm not sure how to reconcile this new version of her with the woman I thought I knew for so long. She was always the one parental figure in my life who never let me down, never lied to me, and kept me strong. I can't deny that's who she is—the stubborn set to her jaw and steadiness to her gaze, waiting for me to tell her off, tells me she's still that woman. But I never thought I'd feel the sharp twinge of disappointment in my chest, smaller than what my father made me feel, but there all the same.

"I'm sorry, Lilah," she says, licking her lips and casting her eyes downward. "I really thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought—well, I figured that if you changed your mind about wanting contact with him, I'd give the gifts to you, and if you didn't, better you not know about them. I didn't think any of them were meaningful. I wouldn't have hid them if I did."

"I understand." I make myself relax my grip in the evergreen bough, telling myself that the letters, which were few in number, couldn't have made up for all the pain and bitterness between me and my father. Even though that history has grown more complex with each telling, the exile papered over with love as well as fear, my rejection part protection and part pain. "I just—it's a lot to take in, Cat."

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