This ward is unfamiliar, and the layout is vastly different from the witches’ ward. All is quiet, but I can feel eyes staring at me through their various hiding places. Curtains are pulled to the side ever so slightly, and children peer around trees, their curiosity too much for them not to check out the oddity. Noise suddenly emanates from farther down the street, startling me and making me pause. A group of male shifters is responsible for the ruckus, drinking to the point where they’re all having a good time, laughing and oblivious to ward rules.
Maybe their rules are different from ours?
If witches drink, it is at their own risk. Alcohol, especially the raw type found in Cardia, only decreases our powers.
“Keep moving, witch,” the shifter orders. Those partying see us walking up the street and stop and stare. They can smell I’m not one of theirs, their noses leading as they detect my distinctive scent.
I quick-step to keep pace with the shifter, and only a block later, he leads me to a house that sits separate from the others. It’s on a large block of land with a shed out the back. The entire property is surrounded by lush, green grass, which is entirely different from our ward.
We come to a stop and another shifter comes into view. He’s shirtless, leaning over the engine of a car. Cars aren’t used in Cardia. This is the first one I’ve ever seen and I doubt it works. The shifter’s muscles move beautifully in time with every action, his skin sun-kissed. I watch while he uses a rag to rub grease off some part of the machinery and then to clean his hands.
Finally, he turns and eyes us both.
“Why are you in my territory, witch?” he asks, his voice deep but calm and steady. He has to be the alpha of the pack.
“I’m in trouble.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “What business is that of mine?”
“I needed to escape, and I know the wolves can help.”
“You just assume we can help? That we want to help?”
I’m not deterred. Wolf shifters carry an arrogance around with them wherever they go. It’s ingrained behavior. They are confident, arrogant, and often to others, it would be deemed rude. I know better. Or should I say, I was told better.
“We’ve helped each other for thousands of years. Now is no different.”
He drops the cloth on the car and meets me head-on. “Now is vastly different. Cardia is a new world and nothing like the one where our allegiance was formed.”
“The queen is after me.”
This gets his attention.
He pauses, lost in thought.
“Why is the queen after you?” I watch his thumb tap on his thigh.
“She believes I am a threat to her.”
“And are you?”
“Maybe.”
He considers me a moment, knowing I’m not divulging everything. “Are you the one from the prophecy?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightens, his thumb twitch becoming more aggressive. “So, it’s all true?” He asks the question more to himself. “With as much destruction as it will bring, it will also give us hope. Her reign will be no more.”
“Maybe.” I can’t be certain if that is how things are going to unfold. I’m a novice at this.
He steps forward until we are toe-to-toe. Wearing a frown, he sniffs around my face. He recoils immediately, wearing a scowl. His hands enclose on my face, lifting it to meet his. His sky-blue eyes are rimmed with red as he studies me closely.
“Who was the last to touch you?”
I swallow hard under his scrutiny. Lying to a werewolf is not acceptable. Especially while standing in their ward.
“An angel.”
“No, a woman. Tell me of her,” he demands, practically growling.
“The queen,” I reply, remembering feeling her hand on my back.
“No, I know her scent, it is not her. Another?” he insists.
“My sister. She and I walked together. She held my hand.”
His eyes lock on my hand, then they seem lost in a world I don’t understand. When he looks past me to the other shifter and nods, I wonder what his interest is in my sister’s scent.
“What’s your name?” he asks, now back to business.
“Talia.”
“Well, Talia, I welcome you to our ward.”
Chapter Six
The night’s festivities are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. A bonfire blazes in a field, its orange and golden embers drifting in the breeze like tiny stars. Those of the werewolf ward dance jovially around the fire, a mere strip of cloth barely covering their bodies.
John, the alpha, sits close to me, but not close enough that we are touching. Every now and then he casts a sideward glance my way. His mouth opens slightly as if to say something, but then he turns away with a slight shake of his head.
The ward is hospitable, offering me something to drink. Although I politely say no, the shifters turn their noses up in disgust. Drinking and being merry is a part of what they do. Every day is a celebration. But to a witch, our abilities weaken when we drink, and I am in no position right now to have any of my power diminished.