Wild is the Witch (20)
Sarah is waiting for me at the bottom, and she almost laughs when she sees me. “What happened to you? Your face is the shade of my favorite marinara.”
“Mom happened.”
“Ah,” she says. “Here, take this. It’ll have you feeling better in no time.” She hands me a blackberry scone that’s still warm from the oven, then gives me a hug.
“Those smell amazing,” Mom says, reaching the bottom of the stairs and smoothing a hand over my hair.
“I saved you one.”
“Make it two?” Mom asks, then pulls me into a hug. “I’ll miss you, baby girl.”
“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll check in when I can, but I’m not sure how reliable cell reception will be. I’ll call you on Wednesday if I can’t before then.”
“Sounds good,” Mom says, handing me my jacket. “You’ve always been more at home in the trees than you ever were in the confines of a house. If anyone can bring back our owl, it’s you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“No magic and no talk of witches. That’s all you have to remember.”
“I know,” I say, shifting the pack on my shoulders. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Mom says, taking my hand in hers. She gives it a quick squeeze and smiles. “Have a little fun.”
I know she means it innocently enough, but after our conversation upstairs, I can’t help the incredulous look I give her. She seems to put the two together, and her expression morphs into one of alarm. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Like what?” Sarah asks.
“I’m going now.” I walk out the door before Mom has a chance to answer.
***
It’s starting to rain again. I pull my hood over my head and make sure my rain protector is covering my whole pack. I turn around to see if Mom or Sarah have come outside, but the yard is empty. A rabbit dashes out from the shrubs and into the woods, and I quickly slip into the cottage where all our herbs are kept.
The bundle of wormwood and safflower that was meant for Pike’s curse is waiting for me untouched, and I take it along with some sticks for kindling. I pull some calamus root from a jar to help strengthen the binding spell, then I put it all safely in my pack.
I don’t anticipate needing it, since my goal is to bring the owl back to the refuge and deal with the curse here. But I’m not comfortable unless I have a backup plan, and I’ll be ready to unbind the curse in the mountains if that’s what it comes to.
I turn off the light and shut the door to the cottage, then take the trail to the refuge. The fenced woods where the wolves spend most of their time comes into view, and I let myself in and call for Winter. Seconds later, she’s bounding toward me, circling my legs when she reaches me.
“I’m going away for a few days,” I tell her, running my fingers through her fur. “Take care of Mom while I’m gone, and I’ll try to take care of everything else.”
I’m giving myself three days to try to handle this on my own, and if I can’t, I’ll get help. The Witches’ Council stations Solars in parks wherever there are amplifiers to maintain and preserve their habitats, and my greatest hope is that I find the owl before they do. But if the worst happens and the owl is injured, at least there will be someone within a few hours who can offer assistance.
Winter pushes her head into the outside of my thigh, and I give her several more pets before letting myself out through the gate. She runs to the fence and shoves her snout through it, watching me as I walk away, and the image of her makes my heart ache.
How easily this could all be taken away.
I don’t know how I feel about Cassandra being stationed nearby, knowing she might get involved if I can’t handle this on my own. She was on the council for Amy’s trial, and when the verdict was read, she insisted she be the one to rid Amy of her ability to perceive magic.
Maybe she couldn’t bear what she’d done and asked to be reassigned. Or maybe it was simply procedural. Either way, something about her presence in the Olympics makes this feel more dire, more urgent, as if she could show up at any moment and take away my magic, too.
I know it’s selfish, worrying so much about my magic when there are other things at stake. But losing the thing I love more than anything else in the world would be devastating.
I take a deep breath and push the thoughts aside for now. That’s an absolute worst-case scenario, and I’m not there yet. Not even close.
Pike and I arrive at the office at the same time, and I can’t help it when a laugh tumbles out of my mouth. He’s not particularly tall, he’s thin, and his backpack looks as if a family of five could live comfortably inside it.
“Your backpack is bigger than you are. How are you even standing upright?” I ask, shaking my head at how ridiculous he looks.
“It’s called being prepared, Gray.”
Before I can stop him, Pike snatches my pack from my shoulders, pulls off the rain protector, and opens it up, inspecting the contents inside. I have no idea where Mom stashed the condom, and I desperately claw at my pack in his hands.
“If we run into trouble, what will you save us with? Your pound of KIND bars?” he asks, holding the pack above his head as I grab for it.
I shove him aside and pull it from his grasp, closing the top and securing it over my shoulders once more. “Staying nourished is a critical part of survival,” I say, thanking everything that is good that Pike didn’t see the condom. “And KIND bars last a long time.”