Page 11 of Witch’s Wolf (Bound by the Howl #2)

11

ERICA

H elena smiles and then snaps her fingers. A metallic clang echoes through the hall. I whip around, my pulse jumping as I watch the iron gate lowering, sealing us inside. The finality of it is like a punch to my gut. There’s no going back now.

She leads us down a long hall and into an office that I remember from my last time here. The air is heavy with a mix of must and old paper. Shelves are piled with books, tomes really, and scrolls. There are strange mementos scattered with apparent reckless abandon.

She sits down behind an ancient looking desk piled high on either side with papers. She gestures for me to take the seat in front of her. I set the box next to the desk then sit.

“How are you?” Helena asks, her tone deceptively casual.

I bark out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I cross my arms.

“Oh, you know, not so great. It’s not every day you find out you’re a witch.”

She arches an eyebrow, her smile tightening.

“I knew it,” she mutters, almost to herself, before shaking her head with an abrupt spasm, as if shaking off some unseen frustration. “I knew you were a witch. Tell me,” she says, gesturing to the box, her fingers curling like she’s about to conjure something out of thin air, “what will I find in there?”

Dread coils in me. The thing looks harmless enough, but it feels like it’s watching me, waiting for me to mess up.

“Honestly? I don’t have a clue what they are or what they mean,” I say flatly and kneel before the box with stiff movements and start extracting the books. “We figured out last night that I’m the only one who can open these.”

Helena leans closer, her sharp gaze flicking between me and the box like she’s dissecting my every move.

“Interesting...”

The word sends a shiver down my spine, but I push it aside. Holding my breath both to avoid more dust and to hide my anxiety. When I touch the books, they illuminate with the now familiar pinkish light. The glow crawls over my skin like a whisper, tingling through my fingertips.

I set them on the desk, then set the brown one aside. Taking the white one, I flip it open. Its pages are soft but heavy, as though they hold more than ink and paper. Turning to page three, I point at the list of names.

“According to this, I’m part of a witch bloodline,” I say, the words strange in my mouth, like I’m talking about someone else. I glance at her, then back at the page. “My mother left me these before she and my father died. Plane crash. Nineteen ninety-nine.”

Helena hums, a low sound that prickles the back of my neck.

“Died, you say...?” She narrows her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Yeah,” I whisper. My throat tightens as I trace the lines with my finger to keep my hands steady. “I don’t remember much. I was only seven.”

She exhales sharply, her gaze flicking up to meet mine, sharp and searching.

“Right,” she says, drawing out the word like she’s testing its weight. “Do you have any other family?”

“Not that I know of,” I say, shrugging and trying to sound indifferent, but the question hits onto something I’ve tried not to think about. “Why?”

“Let me share some facts with you about witches, Erica,” she says, shifting into a cool, businesslike attitude in sharp contrast to the subject and words. “When we cast a spell on someone or something, that spell is broken the moment we die. Yet someone has put a spell on your future. I’ve tried to look into it, tried everything, and I’ve come up with nothing. No trace, no threads to follow.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, sharp as a blade. She searches my face for something, but I have no clue what she’s implying.

“And?” I ask.

“I am a witch of considerable power, Erica, but this spell resists my abilities…” she trails off, letting the rest of the thought hang unspoken.

I shake my head in confusion. I look at the book, hoping maybe some wisdom will jump out at me since she clearly thinks I should understand this without her having to spell it out, but I’ve got nothing.

“And?” I repeat, giving up on figuring out her meaning.

“It’s simple, Erica. You’ve been lied to.”

“Lied to about what?”

“Your mother, your father, one, the other, or maybe both who cast that spell on you are very much alive.”

I freeze, her words crashing like ice water. Alive. My breath catches, and my body stiffens, trying to protect me from the absurdity.

“What?” The word bursts out, high and disbelieving. My brow shoots up and I stare at her. “Alive? What the hell are you talking about? My grandparents identified their bodies! They buried them, Helena. I was there. I watched as they lowered them into the ground.”

“They buried someone, yes,” she says without flinching. Her tone is steady but unyielding. “But it wasn’t your parents.”

Her words hang in the air like a thunderclap. Something in me cracks. A memory, a fear, a hope I never wanted to admit I carried. My heart is pounding so loudly I can’t think straight. I raise my hands, palms out, like I can physically stop this madness from taking root.

“Hold on a minute,” I say, my voice shaking. “Are you saying my parents faked their deaths ? And my grandparents—” The thought feels too big, too ridiculous to even finish. “Are you saying they were in on it? What for? Why? What could they possibly gain from doing something like that?”

“I’m sorry,” Helena’s voice softens, and for the first time, her sharp gaze falters, dipping briefly to the floor. “I don’t have all the answers. What I can tell you is that a spell this powerful must have been cast by someone close to you. Blood-close. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Sense?” I snort. “What in the name of all that’s holy about any of this makes sense?”

Helena’s smile is small and tight. She sits silent, letting me work my way through her revelations.

“There is—” she begins after a while.

“You’re wrong,” I cut her off. “This is… it’s impossible. How could they be alive and… and…”

The pressure behind my eyes is overwhelming. I’m not going to cry. I’m not. Damn it, I’ll push all this down just like I did when Grams told me that they were gone. Push it down, put it into a very dark, very forgotten corner of my mind and never look again.

“No,” she says, so soft it’s almost a whisper. “I am not.”

Helena rises from her seat and walks around the desk. She stops in front of me and then places a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder. I swipe at the one stray tear that breaks free of my mental damn and compose myself.

“Fine, say you’re right. What now?” I ask, locking the door on the emotions that I don’t want to feel.

Helena is quiet for a moment. Giving me time or figuring out what to say, either way I’m glad for the momentary reprieve. Who knows what the next words she says will be? What kind of nuke will she be launching into my quiet, well-established life, leaving all I thought I knew a blasted wasteland?

“Your powers, your abilities as a witch, they’re very real,” she says, speaking at last. “You need to understand them, learn to control them, if you want to survive.”

I let out a shaky laugh. Helena leans back against the desk. I force myself to meet her steady gaze with one of my own.

“A whole lot to unpack there,” I mutter, but her words keep echoing in my head. They’re alive. “Alright. Let’s start simply. What’s it like? Being a witch, I mean. You said if I want to survive, so it’s dangerous? How?”

“It can be,” she nods. “More dangerous to others. You need to learn control, Erica. Without it, you could hurt people without meaning to.”

“How? Like what? I… yeah. What am I looking out for?”

“You’ll find you can move things with your mind. That includes people. If someone gets on your nerves...” She trails off, letting the implication hang.

I swallow hard, the air in the room suddenly feeling too thick.

“I see,” I say, musing on her words. “What if I don’t want any of this? What if I don’t use these... powers? Can I just ignore them?”

Helena’s smile is faint but knowing.

“You most certainly can,” she says, crossing the room to stand in front of me. Her gaze pins me in place, calm but unrelenting. “You’ve been doing it all your life, haven’t you?”

The words hit hard. I’m caught off guard by the simple truth of them.

Yeah,” I murmur, “I guess.”

“There you have it, then.” She sounds casual, but her eyes are locked on mine. “But your powers aren’t going to stay dormant forever. You were born a witch. It’s only a matter of time before they awaken. When they do, you’ll have a choice to make.”

Her words leave no room for argument, and the cold knot in my stomach twists. I want to protest, to argue, to push this whole mess away, but deep down, I know she’s right. As much as I’ve hidden it away and ignored it, I have felt flashes of something. Whispers of a force just out of reach. Looking at it now, it scares the hell out of me.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

Helena squeezes my shoulder, firm but not unkind.

“Start here,” she says. “Start now.”

“This will make Sam run like hell from me,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them, raw and unfiltered. They’re not meant for Helena, but they hang in the air, forcing me to follow them up. “He won’t date me because I’m human. Add ‘witch’ into the mix, and it’s a total disaster.”

Helena studies me, her gaze sharp but not unkind.

“I do understand. Samuel’s fear reminds me of his grandfather’s,” she says, her faint smile is bitter. “It wasn’t always that way. It crept in when he found out I’d taken an interest in witchcraft. Suddenly, he wouldn’t kiss me and the next thing I knew, he wouldn’t even touch me. He would lecture me about the dangers of the power I was trying to understand. I don’t think he once believed I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s a word for a guy like that, loser. He let fear get the best of him,” I snap, her words hitting so hard I can’t stop the quick retort.

Helena’s smile fades, replaced by a calm seriousness.

“Samuel is confused,” she says, gentler than before. “Help him see the truth. Who knows? Maybe that truth will destroy his fears and open the door to you.”

I frown, crossing my arms. I’ve always been more a skeptic than an optimist and I can’t see why Sam would be different than his grandfather. It’s not like we’ve been getting along anyway. This is just another nail in the coffin of what might have been.

“Isn’t that what you tried to do with his grandfather? Did it work for you?”

Helena doesn’t flinch.

“Yes, I tried. I wanted Edward to see what he’d be missing if he walked away. Your situation is different.”

“Different how?” I ask.

“Edward had the weight of his entire pack against us. They told him I’d hurt him. They were afraid. Of me, of my power. But you? Sam’s brother is with a human. There’s no one trying to poison him against you. This fear of his? It’s his and his alone. That’s why you stand a chance.”

I nod slowly, her words sinking in even as they twist something deeper inside me. A chance. It feels so fragile. So impossible. I glance at the door, desperate for an escape before my emotions get the better of me.

“I should get going,” I say, voice tight. “Thanks for the advice, Helena. You’ve been... helpful.”

“Anytime, dear,” she says with a smile, but her eyes hold a weight that feels like a mirror to my own. “Anytime.”

I turn away, my steps slow and measured as I head for the door. The moment it clicks shut behind me, the weight I’ve been holding back crashes in, bringing uncertainty and confusion. Old, familiar companions that they are, they dig their claws in and drag me down.

I can’t escape my circling thoughts. I’m not who I thought I was. Not human. Not ordinary. And now I have to factor that into everything .

I pause in the middle of the hallway, pressing my hand to the cool stone wall to steady myself. Sam. His face flashes in my mind, his scowl, his unreadable eyes. Will he ever look at me the same? No. He’ll turn and walk away. Run, just like I said.

I force myself to move, step after step, as though I can outrun the confusion gnawing at my insides. I don’t know my next step. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. All I know is that I’m not the person I’ve been pretending to be.

And I have no idea how to face what’s coming next.