White Witch Magic (Kentucky Haints #2) Page 12

  “I can’t cure him out in the woods,” Dr. Winston said. “I need to keep him here.”

  “You could have asked.” Kendrick turned his fierce gaze on Dr. Winston. “Instead of forcibly taking him.”

  “She had a spell on Lorena.” Deacon pointed at Neala. “She was gonna kill her, just ‘cause my damn fool cousin came over here when I told him not to. You was gonna try to kill us all. I did what I had to do.”

  “I made some foolish choices.” Neala glanced at Lorena. “I was desperate to save Dafydd and my thoughts were unclear. My first foolish choice was letting Lorena talk me into bringing him here. But what’s done is done, and now I must make better choices. Do not harm them. Do not attack their family. They’re trying to save Dafydd, that is the truth. I swear it on all that I am and ever will be.”

  Kendrick stepped toward them. “And what if they do not save him?”

  Lorena held her breath again.

  Neala bowed her head. She spoke in a whisper. “They must save him.”

  Lorena ached for her, despite everything; again, she tried to imagine Deacon in the same situation, tried to imagine what she’d do and how far she’d go.

  “If you really want peace,” Kendrick said, “if you really do not mean to harm them, then let her go.”

  Neala lifted her head.

  Deacon shrugged. “I don’t care where the hell she goes, I’ll cut her loose.”

  Neala turned to him, eyes wide. Deacon pulled a knife from his pocket and stepped toward her.

  He cut the tape around her wrists, then shoved the knife back in his pocket. “Go on.” He waved her off. “Get the hell out of here.”

  Neala didn’t move. She looked at Kendrick, then at the house. “I can’t leave Dafydd. I need to be with him.”

  Deacon groaned.

  Neala turned to Kendrick. “I will speak to the others, but I must come back. I can’t leave him alone.”

  Kendrick shook his head. “Another foolish choice, Neala.”

  “I want to be with him when he gets well.” She paused. “Or at his side when he dies. I must be.”

  “If he dies, they will kill you next.”

  “We won’t.” Lorena held up a hand. “If we were going to kill either of them, we would have done it by now, don’t you think?”

  Kendrick’s black eyes glittered. “I do not trust a Lycan’s witch.”

  “You trusted me when I gave you the potion.” Lorena tried not to sound accusing, but she was exasperated.

  “I will return,” Neala said to Lorena. “I will speak to the others and convince them they must not attack you. I will speak to them about future peace. You will allow me back in the house when I return, to be with him?”

  Deacon shouldered his rifle. “I sure as hell ain’t giving you run of my house. You make one wrong move, you try anything, and I’ll put a bullet in both of you, that clear?”

  Neala pressed her lips together. “Every time you’ve threatened me with it, it’s been clear.”

  She walked across the grass to Kendrick. His presence remained furious and dangerous. Neala stopped at his side and touched his arm. With a growl, he turned and stalked toward the trees.

  They didn’t go back inside until the two disappeared into the woods.

  In the kitchen, Deacon fixed Lorena with a dark look. “She ain’t the only one making foolish choices.”

  Lorena ignored him and addressed Dr. Winston. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. I have books to go through. Hopefully, we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

  Dr. Winston went back to Dafydd, and Lorena plopped the books on the island counter in the kitchen and started flipping pages. Exhaustion had finally overwhelmed her and her mind wouldn’t focus. She kept nodding off as she listlessly scanned the handwritten pages.

  She made coffee, but it didn’t help.

  “Go get some shut eye.” Deacon rested a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t keep going without rest. You ain’t a Lycan.”

  “You’re mad at me right now.” She sat hunched over. “I don’t blame you.”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m mad at this whole damn situation, but it ain’t just anger. I’m afraid, and that ain’t easy for me to admit. This whole thing could go south if he dies. I ain’t keen on saving him, I’m sorry to tell you that, but I don’t know what they’re gonna do if we don’t.”

  “Neala forced me to try to save him, but now—” she turned a page “—I feel like it’s a challenge. And you’re right, if we don’t save him, who knows what they’ll do. But if we do save him…we could really start talking about peace.”

  “I suppose it would be something, for my kids to grow up here without having to look over their shoulders. To have a son who didn’t have to go tromping around the woods hunting them damn things down.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Your kids?”

  His blue eyes shone. A smile touched his lips. “Well, I was hoping to have a few someday.”

  She had never imagined she’d have kids, never planned for it or even dreamed about it. Now, here she was. But, they had to survive this first, and she would definitely like to bring any hypothetical children into a world where Wolvites didn’t menace their existence day and night.

  She sat up straight and stretched. Deacon engulfed her shoulders with his big hands and rubbed harder.

  “I should rest.” She blinked a few times.

  Deacon’s hands suddenly fell still and tight on her shoulders. He stared out the kitchen window.

  “She’s back,” he said.

  Lorena stood up and they walked to the back door. They grabbed their guns on the way. Neala crossed the yard toward the house, alone.

  Deacon eased the screen door open as she reached the back steps. She stared up at them.

  “They will not harm you or your family,” she said. “We will wait and see what happens with Dafydd.” She walked up the steps, fists clenched, eyes bright. “You must save him. You can’t let him die.”

  “But if he does,” Lorena said. “What will happen?”

  Neala stopped at the top. “We must try to prevent that from happening.”

  Lorena sighed. “You have to help me, then. We have to find the cure that saved them before. Do you think any of the witches amongst you would know it?”

  “If we knew it, we would have used it by now. It was lost, or forgotten. Maybe the older witches, but they’re not here. They’re in villages much farther south. It would take days to get to them.”

  “We got cars,” Deacon said. “We don’t live in the dark ages, just ‘cause you bunch do.”

  Neala scowled. “There are no roads to our villages. If there were, you would have wiped us all out by now. We stay in the past to keep hidden from you.”

  Deacon bristled. “You could have grown up in the modern world, you know. This is your home, not them damn woods.”

  “This is not my home. You are not my family. And I am not going to justify my life to you, filthy Lycan.”

  Lorena was too tired to deal with this. “Enough. We’ll look through the books and see what potions we can find, come on.”

  “You need to wash yourself.” Deacon stepped back as Neala entered. He looked her over with his nose wrinkled. “I’m not gonna have both you and that shaggy bastard stinking up my house at the same time. You gonna stay here, you get your ass in the shower. Otherwise, you sit out on the lawn.”

  Neala gritted her teeth. “You stink as well.”

  “I don’t see how you can smell anything over their constant reek.” He looked at Lorena. “We gotta keep a watch on her, though. Will you sit in the bathroom with her while she washes up?”

  Lorena rubbed the bridge of her nose and nodded. “I doubt I can sleep anyway, no matter how tired I am.”

  “Soon as she’s clean, you can rest, I’ll keep an eye on her. Keep your gun with you, in case she tries anything.”

  Neala pushed past them. “I’m going to see him.” She took off in
to the house.

  Deacon lurched after her, but Lorena grabbed his arm. “Dr. Winston has a gun too. She’s not going to try anything, that would be stupid. She wouldn’t risk her mate’s life.”

  “She ain’t gonna tromp around my house like she owns the place. I’ll let Clem out to chase her around.”

  Lorena had a long day ahead of her, in so many ways.

  * * * *

  After Neala saw Dafydd was all right, Lorena coaxed her into the bathroom and locked the door. Lorena sat on the closed toilet lid with a book open across her thighs, and averted her gaze as Neala undressed.

  “I’m only washing because I want to,” she informed Lorena. “I’m not taking a shower, though. We don’t shower in the forest.”

  Lorena looked up. Neala stood with her arms over her breasts.

  “You can take a bath.” Lorena shrugged. “Do you want me to run one for you? Do you know how?”

  Neala huffed over to the tub. She closed the drain and turned the water on.

  “Oh, yeah.” Lorena looked back down at the book. “You did a pretty convincing modern human impression, didn’t you?”

  Neala knelt next to the tub. “I also spent the first eleven years of my life in this world. I’m not stupid.”

  Lorena kept her mouth shut and flipped through the pages as Neala filled the tub. She resented being forced to babysit her. Deacon owed her one.

  The hot water warmed the room and made Lorena even sleepier.

  Neala settled into the tub and sat still, her knees drawn up. She peered disdainfully at the shelf of shampoos and gels next to her. “I can’t use any of this.” The water had already turned murky from the dirt on her body. “They’re full of chemicals and unnatural things.”

  “What do you use out in the forest?”

  “We make our own soap and cleansers. If you were a better witch, you would know how to do such things.”

  “You sound like Hazel. She won’t let me borrow her potion books. They’re probably much older and more advanced than these ones.”

  “I hate that woman.” Neala sniffed. “She’s so cruel and meddling, and always has to have her way. I hated her the entire time I was living here with Jack, and I hated her as a child. She scared me. I wish I could show her just how powerful I am. Slap that superior smile off her smug wrinkled face.”

  “I don’t like her either, she’s been trying to twist my arm since the day I met her. It drives her crazy I won’t bend to her will. Deacon thinks I’m being unreasonable and rude. She has him wrapped around her finger, just like everyone else.” Lorena considered if she should say anything else, but her brain was in a fog and she couldn’t stop her tongue. “There’s something I haven’t told anyone, a suspicion I have.” Neala probably wasn’t the best person to tell, but what could she do about it? “I think she doses her husband with a love potion, and she’s been doing it for a long time, maybe their entire marriage. Like you did to Jack.”

  Neala narrowed her eyes. “Their entire marriage? That would be strenuous. I slipped it to Jack every day in his coffee. The spell might last two or three days without a fresh dose, but no longer. She would have to be constantly making and administering it.”

  “I’m sure she has the tenacity.” Lorena set the book aside. “Stay here a moment.” She got up.

  Neala raised her eyebrows, but stayed put.

  Lorena slipped out of the bathroom, across the hallway to the bedroom, and hurried back after she retrieved what she wanted. She quietly shut the bathroom door behind her.

  She held up the little brown bottle she’d snatched from the table at the cookout. “Can you tell a love potion when you smell it?”

  Lorena had sniffed it, but there was only a faint flowery odor. That made sense, it needed to be mostly odorless to feed it to someone unaware. Tasteless too, though she had no intention of drinking it to find out.

  Neala eyed the bottle. “Yes.”

  Lorena twisted the top off and pulled the dropper out. She held it out to Neala. “Can you tell me if this is what a love potion smells like?”

  Neala took it and brought it to her nose. She sniffed.

  Lorena sat back down. “I can smell something, like flowers.”

  “Jasmine.” Neala held the dropper away from her face. “That’s the main component of a love potion, yes.”

  “I knew it.” Lorena slapped her hand on her thigh.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Where do you think?” Lorena leaned over and took the dropper from her. “I told you she was tenacious enough.”

  “Despicable.” Neala sat back against the tub. “What an abhorrent woman.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Such potions are considered immoral amongst us. A respectable witch would never use such manipulation. It is forbidden and will get you spurned from the community.”

  Lorena gaped at her. “You used it on Jack.”

  Neala tilted her chin up. “I was given permission—from Abernathy—for our cause. I don’t regret using it on him. He’s a murderer and an animal.”

  Her hypocrisy—and lack of self-awareness—was astounding; also, once again, her positive tone about Abernathy was suspiciously forced.

  Lorena set the bottle aside with the book. “You know, no matter how much you want to deny it, they’re still your family. You have their blood. How can you do something like that to them?”

  Neala stretched her legs out in the water. “They are not my family. My family is in the forest. My family are the ones they kill.” She spat over the side of the tub. “They are not my blood.”

  Yet, she spat at things she hated just like her brother.

  “Didn’t you ever miss them? When you were carried off you just automatically forgot about them?”

  She gazed at Lorena. “I was afraid, at first. I wanted to go home. I tried to escape, several times. But they were kind to me. They took care of me, and in time, they taught me how to be a true witch. They taught me things I never would have come to understand if I grew up in this town, amongst Lycans. I grew to love them.”

  Did Neala know what “Stockholm Syndrome” meant? Or had she not learned that before she was taken into the woods?

  “I feel sorry for you.” Neala splashed water up her arms and rubbed the dirt from her skin. “That you ended up here, that this is what you chose to embrace. You’ll never learn to be a real witch, no matter how many books you read. You were better off being a scientist.”

  “I love Deacon and I love this town. I can see both sides of the argument.”

  “Deacon and his kind are killers. Do you see that?” She stopped washing and her expression darkened. “They come into the forest and shoot down innocent Wolvites, Wolvites who are just hunting for food. They shoot them down in cold blood, they shoot them when they’re trying to rest in the caves, they shoot them when they try to run and hide. And you ask why we come into the town and attack people?”

  “The Lycans didn’t know the truth.” Lorena rubbed her tired eyes. “They thought Wolvites were feral. They didn’t know they had human forms, or intelligence. The Wolvites never let them know the truth, until it was revealed by accident.”

  “And though they know the truth now, Deacon still wants to kill Dafydd. He wants to kill me.”

  Lorena lowered her hands. “It’s hard to shake dogma you’ve had driven into you your entire life. You can understand that better than anyone, surely.”

  Neala resumed washing. She didn’t touch any of the bottles.

  Lorena took a deep breath. Time to change the subject.

  “What’s it like, out in the woods? In your villages? Will you tell me about your society?”

  At first, Neala didn’t speak. Attempting to get any information out of her might be in vain.

  “We live in harmony,” Neala finally said, her voice stilted. “The Wolvites hunt and keep us safe. The witches maintain homes and order. We cook, and govern, and raise the children. We ensure the health of everyone.
We practice our witchcraft and become more and more powerful as we age. We nurse and try to save those Wolvites who are wounded by the murderous humans and Lycans.”

  “How many villages exist?” Lorena leaned forward and folded her arms on her knees.

  “Not as many as once did. The wilderness is shrinking. So is the Wolvite population.”

  “I take it you don’t have any modern technology?”

  “We have a few things. The Wolvites steal from humans.” She smirked. “You kind of owe it to us, anyway.”

  “What sort of things do they steal?”

  “Tools, food, provisions.” She rubbed her legs. “It’s much easier to start a fire with matches. Sometimes your food is easier to prepare, or more plentiful than scavenging for our own, especially in winter. We steal your weapons too, but it’s more and more dangerous these days to go raiding.”

  “If we had peace, we could set up an exchange of goods. It would benefit you.”

  Neala lowered her head, so her damp hair hung around her face. “We have our own ways. We respect the land, we revere nature in all forms. We mark the passage of seasons and give back to the earth. You would also corrupt our ways. You would call us savages and try to domesticate us.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. We just want the killing to end, on both sides.”

  Neala looked up. “The Wolvites are dying out. There are fewer children each year. We’ve seen what your benevolent hand has given us.”

  Lorena drummed her fingers against her knee. “Can Wolvites only have children with other Wolvites? Or do they mate with witches, as well?”

  Neala pursed her lips. “There are far less Wolvite females than males. The females are fiercer and thus killed more often—by you, in fights with others—but Wolvites come from Wolvites only. Wolvites can have children with witches, but it happens rarely, and it’s even more rare to have a successful pregnancy and birth. Many babies die in the womb or soon after. Those that grow up are often unhealthy and either can’t shift or shift and are never able to turn back.”

  Lorena’s mind went into science mode. “I’m guessing it’s a genetic issue. Wolvites are much closer to animals than Lycans are. It would be difficult to crossbreed them with humans.” She had other, more intimate questions, but it was probably best not to ask those.