Page 43 of Witchblood

“Wish?”

“Remember the fairy godmother helped Cinderella go to the ball? She gave her a dress and a car to get there? Tinker Bell gave Peter Pan the ability to fly. We want to wish like that, only we want to wish for a way out of this house.”

“Mama doesn’t wake up anymore,” Nicky told me solemnly. “The monsters downstairs ate her.”

I nodded and swallowed back bile. “Let’s not think about that, Nicky. Close your eyes with me and let’s think about a way out. It can be a door to the outside, or even a door to the bakery. We can go there and get cookies. We just need to get out first.”

“M’kay,” Nicky said. He shut his eyes really tight, and his little fingers dug into my sides. I closed my eyes and thought of Robin. He came and went from our trailer to Underhill without a door most days. Sometimes if he was being flashy he’d open a cupboard door and walk through. I knew it was a rare gift among the fae to open doors. Mostly because it wasn’t really their power. Underhill liked Robin. I saw that time and again every time I planted a garden and he blessed it. Wild things could happen. Plants that didn’t normally grow in the human world sometimes popped up. Robin often took control of them, and the plants would vanish back to the ether from which they came.

It was to Robin to whom I wished. We didn’t keep a tally of favors. Robin might have at first, but the time had worn us down. The many little gifts I gave him became the norm, when to others of his kind they would make him beholden to me. There was enough give and take on both sides that I thought we were even. I was willing to owe him if necessary. A thousand years of serving the puck didn’t seem all that bad an option when faced with probable rape and death. I could see buying a lot of chocolate bars in my future if we made it through this.

I thought hard of Robin. The smell of him, the feel of his fur, or the rare occasion when he wrapped his thin arms around me, much like Nicky was doing right this minute. The sound of his voice, and timber of his purr. He was home to me. Had been for years. I let my mind open up to memories of us, all while whispering, “Please open a door to home.”

Nicky whispered about cookies and seeing his mom again. The moment narrowed into thought, the feel of his weight on me, and the smell of blood, but it all began to fade. Almost like falling asleep. One minute everything was vivid and defined, the next fuzz invaded my thoughts and pulled me toward oblivion. I didn’t want to dream of being free, so I struggled with the heaviness of my limbs and the crashing weight of exhaustion.

In the end, the world vanished from around me more like a door was shut in my face than having one opened. At least the darkness soothed away the last of the aches and fears.

Chapter 20

Idreamt ofApaand my mother. Of course it was a dream because there was no possible way I could have remembered being the baby that was swaddled up in my mother’s arms. My current self seemed to be looking on from the side of the room, seeing them all, instead of from that baby’s point of view.Apa’s living room looked the same as it always had. Barren and sparsely furnished as it was used for pack meetings. When the occasional fight broke out, he lost less furniture.

He also was unchanged. Looking young, early twenties, more like a college kid than the most powerful werewolf in the country. He wasn’t large, likely close to Liam’s size if they stood side by side. The Volkov was a bit more muscular, though the added strength was very smooth and unnoticeable if he smiled your way.

His hair was a sweep of wheat blond left long enough to fall around his eyes. No one would look at him and think ugly. He was handsome enough, but only just slightly more so than average. He wasn’t movie star beautiful, or the kind of man who could stop a room with his looks. No, his presence is what made people hesitate. The weight of him could smother anyone with all the subtlety of concrete when he was in a sour mood. His clear, pale gray eyes, looked calm, focused on the child several feet away.

My mother rocked and soothed me, all while I fussed and wiggled. Then I leapt from her grasp, shifted into a tiny baby fox, and made to dart across the room. OnlyApacaught me.

“I see what you mean,”Apatold her. He struggled with the squirming fox but held tight. “An infant should not have the ability to shift, and even if he could, his fox is far more advanced than his human side…”

“My mama used to tell me stories,” my mother said. She had been young when she had me. Seventeen, I think. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Her skin so delicate, features dainty and feminine. Her hair styled up in a black bun with ringlets of curls around it. Her clothes were worn, tattered, and too large, but the bag full of baby supplies at her feet were brand new. “Tales of mythical creatures in her grandparents’ time. None of them will answer my calls now, even if they are alive. My mother passed a dozen years ago. I’m not sure who else to call.”

“What about the baby’s father?”Apaasked. He held me firmly in his arms, but carefully stroked my fur. His eyes drooped and his shoulders slumped. I stopped wiggling and seemed to settle into place in his arms, with my nose pressed to his chest above his heart.

“Dead. Killed in a car wreck before I even knew I was pregnant. Haven’t been able to track any of his family down either. Heard they came from Nevada somewhere. The people on the reservations won’t answer questions and the few non-Native Americans who work around the reservations don’t know anything.”

Apasnorted. “That’s always the case. The baby will be toosomethingelse for everyone. Too Native, too black, too Japanese, too whatever.” He let out a long sigh and gave in to some unseen pull, collapsing into the chair behind him. “He’switchblood.”

Omega. I could hearApa’sunspoken thought in my head just as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

“I hear that a lot, but don’t know what it means. No one in my family has ever been a witch. Is it because he can change,” my mother asked. She didn’t try to take me away from him, but did reach out to stroke my back. “Never seen a fox so bright red outside a kid’s book.”

“Witchbloodjust means magic in the blood. Usually there is fae somewhere in the family line. The term came from the Christian revolution like much of the rest of the Western world’s beliefs. There could have been a fae ten generations ago in your family line and the taint in the blood just showing up now could be a coincidence. Or you might have a dozen relatives with little powers that they brush off as good intuition or luck. It doesn’t always manifest as shape-shifting, and to do so this young is unheard of.”Apasat transfixed, staring at me, running his palm down my back, eyes shut as though he was about to fall asleep. The stroke of his hand down my spine was slow and made me sleepy just watching it. Almost like I could feel it. “If the baby’s father had a drop of fae in his blood as well, that might explain the intensity of the power now.”

My mother flushed. “I didn’t know much about him. Just that he was handsome. Like one of those Native American men from the romance book covers. We were only together a couple days. Just some fun was all it was supposed to be. We both came from families with obligations. He mentioned a grandfather, but I can’t find him. We didn’t talk much…”

“If you give me the little information you know, I’ll have someone do some research and see if they can find out more about him. Perhaps more of this is from his line than yours. I don’t know of any creature that is born with the ability to shift other than fae. And the Native Americans and fae never really did mix. More a difference of belief than anything else. Fae are offended by the spirits the Native Americans hold sacred.”

“He sees things I don’t,” my mother said. “I’m sure of it. He stares off at nothing all the time. Babies don’t do that.”

Apashrugged. “Since he already has the ability to shift he could have other abilities. He could be seeing spirits or auras or just have really good vision and be examining the dust flying through the air.”

“My daddy had a friend who referred me here. Said you knew a lot about his kind. Shifters and the like. I won’t tell no one.” My mother burst from her seat and paced the room. “Would never put Sebastian in harm’s way. It’s just so hard to keep him hidden. I never know when he’ll shift. And he doesn’t act like a normal baby. Doesn’t cry for food or play with toys. He just rocks and looks around the room like he’s seeing people I don’t. People ask questions and I don’t know how to explain. I’ve had so many people give me sympathy and tell me that I should have him tested for autism as soon as possible.”

“He’s not sick,”Apaagreed, “just not average. I can find a place for the two of you to stay. Close to the pack.”Apaoffered. “Guide him as best I can. Wolves aren’t born. They are made. We’ve never had a child survive the change.”

My mother looked down at me with a sad expression. “I can’t stay. I have to help my daddy with his shop. He doesn’t have anyone else. We’re barely making it…” She trailed off still staring at me. “I can try to send money to help with his care if you’d be willing to look after him. I’m thinking you’d probably know better how to raise a boy who can change into a fox.”

Apaopened his eyes, his face was still neutral, calm, but something in him tensed. “You want to leave him with me?”