Page 17 of Witchblood

“What can we do with this stuff?” She held up a handful of the plants we’d been pruning.

“Once it dries you can use it for all sorts of things. Fresh has other uses. It’s all about knowing what you need from each plant and how to mix it. Simple is the best place to start. Teas and tinctures. You’re probably familiar with lavender oil and chamomile tea.”

“I like chamomile tea,” Korissa said.

“There was this amazing blend I used to make. Nothing like that sweet tea that people love so much. I like to taste my tea, mull over the flavors.” I closed my eyes, remembering the scent of it, the flavor on my tongue and how it used to settle my nerves. “I always had stuff drying. But in Texas, there’s not a lot of rain. So I’d pin bunches on clothes lines.” I opened my eyes to find Korissa had stopped moving and was looking past me. I turned to follow her gaze.

A werewolf lingered not fifty yards away, making no attempt to hide himself. The fact that he was in wolf form was the first indication that something was wrong. Liam’s statement about a meeting didn’t seem to indicate they’d be running as wolves, and it was still daylight. Likely we were far enough away from most of civilization for it not to matter, but most packs didn’t let their wolves just run free whenever. They really couldn’t be mistaken for dogs in broad daylight. They were just too big.

“Don’t run,” I said quietly.

She gripped my arm. “You’re hurt. You can’t run.”

“I’m fine. If he comes at us, I’ll distract him while you get your dad, okay? Maybe he’s just out for a stroll.” While all the dominant wolves were in a meeting, and I happened to be outside with Liam’s very vulnerable human daughter. Right.

She gulped and nodded. “Toby’s new.”

“You recognize him?” So he was one of Liam’s wolves.

She ran her finger down her nose, indicating the white stripe the wolf had in his dusky-tan fur. “Toby is the only one I know with that marking.” She paused, glanced back the way toward the house and then at Toby. “His change wasn’t right.”

I stiffened at those words. A new wolf would often hesitate to attack me because even new, it could sense the omega presence. But if he was new and not quite right in the head…

“Not right, how?”

The wolf crept closer. I gripped the garden shears and put Korissa behind me. There was no way I could run. Even moving around as much as I was made my leg ache, and the hint of a headache marched across my brow from the bright sunlight, echoes of the concussion. The wolf was twice my size, I’d only have one shot if it rushed us, but I would die before I let him hurt Korissa.

“More wolf,” she whispered. It happened sometimes. The human got lost in the change, leaving only the animal. Except that unlike normal wolves, a werewolf with the wolf in charge was a destructive thing. It didn’t care about home, pack, or food. It only cared about chaos. It would attack anything it deemed a threat to its dominance. Usually such wolves were put down fairly quickly, though I’d heard that sometimes they recovered.

His ears weren’t flattened back. Odd as usually that was the first sign of aggression. But he stalked through the lavender, keeping low enough that we could only barely see him above the growth. I could smell Korissa’s fear. Probably had a healthy mix of my own fear scenting the air. Coming outside had been a bad idea. But I had thought that Liam’s pack would be under his control.

“Stop,” I told the wolf. His ears flattened. “Fuck.”

Korissa clung to me, her face buried in the back of my neck, breathing labored. Even if I took the attack she’d never get away unharmed. I should have noticed the wolf sooner. Normally I did, since the fire of its aggression should have heated up the spells on my left arm. Why hadn’t they? All of them were healing or defense, nothing to attack others, as that went into areas of alchemy that often led down to slippery paths of darkness. The journals I’d read from previous alchemists often ended abruptly when they’d delved into the sort of magic that could injure the living, even in self-defense. I only knew one self-defense type spell, but had tied it into my healing to mitigate the cause and effect. It was something I used very rarely and there was no way it was going to help against a raving wolf.

I frowned at the wolf, then at my left arm only partially visible in the T-shirt. Had someone done something to my spells? The bramble looked okay, and that was the core of the defense spell. Still, it was odd that I’d felt nothing in warning. I raised the shears as it got closer and the wolf growled.

“Stop,” I said again.

The wolf snarled at the shears, but didn’t get closer. He stood less than five feet away, legs hidden in the overgrowth. He could jump the distance and rip out my throat before I could react. I’d seen that a time or two, never a pleasant memory, and one of the reasons that I stayed away from pack hunts. This wolf seemed more agitated by the shears I held than our presence. I lowered the shears slowly, ready to lift them again if he leapt. I’d wound him if he did. Kill him if I could, before he hurt Korissa.

The wolf watched the shears drop to my side and his ears went up, head tilting, more with curiosity than fierce fangs. His demeanor was almost dog-like and off. After a minute of both of us at an impasse, me not letting go of the shears and him not coming closer, he dropped down to his belly, almost vanishing completely in a row of lavender.

“I hope you’re not squashing the plants,” I berated the wolf, relieved that we didn’t seem to be a source of food for it at the moment. Maybe Liam or Dylan would happen along and take the wolf off somewhere he wouldn’t hurt people.

“He’s not attacking?” Korissa whispered the question.

“Nope. Seems to just be laying in the flowers. Not sure what he’s waiting for. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want him to think he can chase you.”

“Okay,” she agreed. I went back to work, keeping one eye on the wolf and barely able to move with Korissa clinging to me. But the sun felt good on my skin, and I let the familiar smells sooth the edges of my worry. It wasn’t until Korissa let out a strangled‘meep’sound that I realized the wolf had inched itself close enough to touch the foot of my outstretched injured leg. I stared at him for a minute, fearing he’d bite me. But he pressed his nose to the bare skin at my ankle above my sock and below the sweats. His tongue flashed out to deliver a quick lick.

“You better not be deciding I’m tasty enough to be food. I promise to give you the worst indigestion ever,” I said. More likely he was sensing my omega presence and trying to understand it. How he reacted would indicate just howwronghis transition had been.

He let out a little whine and rolled over, squashing a half-dozen lavender bunches. I stared at him. He stared back. Almost a puppy-like grin on his face while his tongue lolled out. What the hell? I hadn’t even stretched out my senses and he was acting like a cat wallowing in catnip.

“I thought you said he was wrong?” I asked Korissa. She’d pulled away to watch him too.

“He is. Not even dad can get him to stay human, and he attacks some of the other pack members if they come near him in wolf form. He’s not supposed to be at the house. Someone should have been watching him.”