Page 93 of The Lone Wolf Café
Finally, the sounds of vines twisting up the side of the house ceased, and Rowena took a seat next to me on the couch.
“We need to talk,” she stated flatly.
Oh gods. My stomach dropped.She’s upset.
“I’m so sorry,” I sputtered, my apology pouring out like a burst pipe. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was just worried. I didn’t want you to hurt Juniper. I didn’t–”
“Nettie. Calm down. I’m not upset.”
“You’re not?”
“No. But we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Your witch powers.”
“Mywhat?”
I shot Rowena a quizzical look. But then I studied her face, the way she stared at me with the intensity of the burning sun, and I realized she truly wasn’t upset.
She was shocked. In disbelief. In awe.
“Rowena,” I frowned. “We’ve talked about this. I don’t have witch powers. At least, not any I’m aware of.”
“Nettie,” Rowena scoffed, nearly rolling her eyes. “You foolish wolf. What you just did… thoseareyour witch powers.”
“They… they are?”
“Yes.” The fiery intensity in Rowena’s eyes grew brighter, and she leaned in close, as if she were about to let me in on a deep, dark secret.
“You’re an empath, Nettie. One of the rarest and most powerful witches of them all.”
Chapter Twenty
“An empath?”
My mind was on fire with questions, all flickering around in my skull, leaving me with a burning forehead and an aching stomach. This whole time, I’d been pondering my mysterious witch heritage, questioning if it was real. I even daydreamed about what sort of ethereal powers would eventually burst from within me.
I had imagined myself wielding fire. Water. Ice. Maybe even plants, like Rowena did. Or maybe I had one of the rarer, more subtle powers, such as healing, enchanting, or divination.
But an empath? My ability to perceive others emotions was something I’d always assumed was an odd quirk of being a magical creature. It was always so subtle, such an innate part of my being, I had never questioned it.
Once again, I found myself asking how I could’ve been so stupid.
“Yes. Well, technically, it’s calledclairsentience, but most witches use the term ‘empath’,” Rowena explained. She took my hands in hers as we sat next to each other on the couch. They were cold, like they always were. I had no idea how Rowena managed to survive in Maine when her extremities seemed unable to regulate themselves.
“You said it’s one of the rarest witch abilities?”
I didn’t recall seeing it mentioned in my books. There were plenty of sections on elemental magic, enchantment work, and even for predicting the future – which I had always thought was the coolest power. If empath witches were mentioned anywhere, it had been too brief for me to pay much attention.
“Even rarer than divination witches,” Rowena replied, her icy hands still clasped in mine. “There hasn’t been an empath inWisteria Grove in my lifetime. In fact, I don’t know if there haseverbeen one here. There are probably only a handful in the entire state of Maine.”
“Wow.” Maybe that was why there was so little mention of them in my books. “But you said it was one of the most powerful witch abilities of all? That doesn’t seem right. Feeling if others are happy or sad, or calming down someone who is upset, doesn’t seem all that impressive.”
“Empaths come into their power later than other witches,” Rowena explained. “Something about how our brains mature. You’ve only been able to do subtle things until now, but once you start honing your power? You’ll be able to read minds. Project your thoughts into someone else’s head. Even command them to do your bidding.”
I recoiled, looking visibly disgusted. “That’s horrible.”
