Page 43 of The Lone Wolf Café
“Yes.” Mabel let out a long, low sigh. “I’m assuming you haven’t heard her story?”
I shook my head.
“Juniper’s mother, Aster, was killed during a full moon frenzy years ago. Near Halloween. Juniper survived the attack and escaped, but was clawed across the face in the process.”
I winced. I couldn’t begin to imagine how painful Juniper’s injury was when it first happened. Even now, ten years later, the deep gouges and pink scar tissue were difficult to look at.
It pained me. And it made me sick. Not only for Juniper’s suffering, but for the horrifying reality that in the wrong place at the wrong time, I could do the same thing.
“She didn’t turn?” I asked. Werewolves were capable of spreading their shifting abilities through their saliva. Growing up, I’d heard horror stories how frenzied werewolves would lose control and turn entire towns. It was the main reason why humans had persecuted werewolves throughout history.
“No,” Mabel replied. “The werewolf didn’t bite her – just slashed her with its claws. She lost a lot of blood, though. It took several of our best apothecaries to save her. Unfortunately, there’s only so much we witches can do for scar tissue. But considering how bad those gouges were when fresh, it’s amazing how much she’s healed.”
I swallowed hard, saliva pooling in my mouth. The horror and guilt were more intense than ever, and if I didn’t get my nausea under control, I might vomit right at Mabel’s feet.
“She’s a remarkable High Priestess,” Mabel continued, gazing fondly back at the meeting room. “And despite everyone’s protests, she’s right. Canceling the Halloween festivities is the best way to keep all of us safe.”
“The part I don’t understand…” I interjected. My nausea had subsided, and like usual, I was itching to ask questions. “...is why the witches of Wisteria Grove just don’t try and talk to the werewolves? During the daytime, when they’re in their human forms. Can’t the werewolves just leave and go somewhere more remote during the full moon?”
Mabel frowned, and I could tell there was a long, complicated answer to that question.
“The thing is… relations between Wisteria Grove and the local werewolf pack have never been good,” Mabel sighed. “And that goes back hundreds of years. The truth is, the werewolves were here first, and they’re fiercely protective of their territory. Evenif they were willing to talk to us, they’d never agree to leave, even for just one night. It would make them vulnerable to another pack claiming their territory, which is especially likely to happen on a full moon. Always having land disputes, those werewolves.” Mabel frowned in disdain. “Such a feral bunch.”
I nodded, the lump returning to my throat. I was suddenly grateful my werewolf pack lived on such a remote island and never had to deal with such conflict.
A loud, sharp whistle, followed by a shout from what sounded like Juniper, echoed from the meeting room. Mabel and I winced at the sound, and the chaotic rumble of bickering voices ceased a few seconds later.
“Well…” Mabel stepped into the center of the hallway, her hands shoved into her dress pockets. “I guess we should head back inside.”
I nodded. “I agree. I’m curious what the coven will decide on.”
Mabel scoffed. “Oh, deep down, they all agree with Juniper. Having festivities on Halloween night is too dangerous with the werewolf frenzy. They’re all just frustrated about it. Witches are stubborn.”
I chuckled. I guess that’s one thing witches and werewolves have in common.
Mabel offered me a hand, and I took it as she pulled me to my feet.
“So, what is left of the meeting?” I asked. “Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?”
“Not tonight. But what’s left of the meeting is the reason we need to head back,” Mabel continued with a smile on her face as we walked back toward the meeting room. “Esbats always conclude with food and drink. And I’m starving.”
My stomach growled in agreement, and I chuckled.
“So am I. Let’s go.”
I arrived back at my bare yet no longer filthy cottage several hours later, once the sun sank below the sky and the temperature dropped enough to make my skin prickle. And once I caught a glimpse of my meager groceries on the worn counter, I was extra grateful to have eaten a hearty meal at the esbat. I didn’t think I could stomach another dinner of nothing but potato chips.
Maybe I should buy a hot plate,I pondered to myself as I hovered over my dilapidated kitchen. I studied the sink – one of the few parts of the kitchen that wasn’t falling apart. The metal was dirt-stained and cloudy, but intact, and I flipped the handle with my fingers crossed.
To my surprise, after a few seconds of sputtering and gurgling, clear water began flowing out of the tap.
I cheered at my small victory.I guess the pipes still work.
I stepped in front of one of the windows, on the side of the cottage that bordered Rowena’s home, and cracked open the glass pane. Even with Aria’s superior dust-cleaning skills, the cottage was still a bit stuffy, and I needed to let in some air without making the place too cold.
The little mouse elemental had disappeared, so I was alone for the night. I pondered where she was and what she was doing as I settled against the wall with my blanket, pillow, and book. I adjusted one of my faerie fire lanterns so it gave off enough light for me to read, and I basked in its warm blue glow as I thumbed through the pages of the Wiccan mythology book.
Once again, I relished my peace, quiet, and independence as I lost track of time, immersed in detailed descriptions of the moon cycles and illustrations of Wiccan altars. I noticed they all weretopped with either a pentagram or a moon goddess statue, and I thought back to Juniper re-arranging the altar offerings in the meeting room.
