Page 16 of The Witch's Werewolf
Kindly, Alma points out a loose stepping stone on the path that I narrowly avoid.
“I can understand that,” I say. “I guess I’m an anomaly for leaving New York to come here.”
“I guess we’re both anomalies,” she replies.
I decide that I like Alma.
“Alma, would you like to come over and teach me a protection spell sometime? My grandmother taught me one, but I’m convinced it didn’t work. I’d like to know what you use. I’ll make you dinner in exchange.”
“You’re not teasing me, are you?”
“No. I’m legitimately worried that I might have accidentally done a love spell instead of a protection spell last night before my date, because it did not work at all.”
She snorts. “Love spells are next level. No way you did that by accident. Why? Who did you make fall in love with you?”
“The opposite,” I tell her. “I think I accidentally made myself fall for someone really, really bad. Well, maybe not bad-bad. But just, uh, not exactly human.”
Alma is quiet for a long time as we trek through the woods. The dark is settling in, and the night noises are picking up. I love the woods at night when the moon is full and the sky is cloudless, the shadows casting a ghostly glow to the white birch trees.
“Sure. I can help you with a protection spell. I use a few different modes. Salt and herbs, of course. White candles and incantations. Then there’s a really cool simmer pot that makes white fog, just like in a cheesy horror movie.”
Alma quickly lists off several more spell modes, and I’m compelled to ask.
“Why do you do so many, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Alma lets out a big sigh. “Once upon a time, I fell in love with someone not quite human, too.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear tonight. “Oh. I see.”
“Yeah. When the vamp killed my family, it made me a little trigger-happy. Or wooden-stake happy, if you know what I mean. I got him, in the end. But it didn’t satisfy. I still really fucking hate vampires. But I live here. I can’t go around killing vamps that just want to live peaceably with witches and normies, now can I? So I do protection spells to keep them all at a distance. I don’t have to stab them all in the heart, but we can avoid each other.”
That is…a lot.
“I don’t blame you. And I’m really sorry for what happened to your family.”
“Thanks,” she says. “You take after your grandma. She’s the only older witch who doesn’t tease me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I’m trying to decide how I wish we’d connected sooner, without sounding completely cringey, when Alma gasps sharply and stumbles backwards.
“What is it?” I ask.
But she doesn’t answer. She’s hyperventilating with her eyes fixed on something above us.
I follow her gaze, and a chill runs down my spine.
A tall, male silhouette—blacker than a black hole—looms in the trees above us.
“Oh my goddess, what is it?” I whisper, starting to tremble.
Alma doesn’t answer, only shakes her head back and forth.
From the trees, the shadow man hisses, “I warned you to stay inside.”
Timber? No, it can’t be Timber. It’s not as big, and it’s too trim.
It’s someone else.
