Undying: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (Crystal Lake Pack Book 2) Page 7

  Addie bit back the childish urge to say you can’t forbid shit, old man, but her mother held no such qualms. Sarah said, “She is my daughter, and this is what she wants. I am not a part of this pack. You cannot tell me what to do, just like you could not tell me twenty years ago.”

  “Don’t you want to defeat Clay?” Addie asked, trying to sound as nice as she could. It was hard, when all she wanted to do was bite his head off in a way that was most unladylike and wolfish.

  “I do, but it seems to me that he is gone. If he never comes back, you will taint yourself further with this magic pointlessly,” Henry said, shaking his head.

  Taint herself further? Well, the old man had another thing coming. While her mother looked like she was trying to keep her cool, Addie shot back, “How can I be tainted with something that’s already a part of me? Magic is in my blood. No one here can change it. And if it can be used to fight Clay—because a crazy man like that doesn’t just run and leave things unfinished—why not?”

  “You are a wolf, Adeline,” Henry said. “You are not a warlock—”

  “Females are witches,” Sarah cut in, “males are warlocks.”

  “Er, yes, but that doesn’t change my opinion on this matter. If you continue to do this, I will have no choice but to call a meeting and discuss it with Forest. Unlike you, he listens to his elders.”

  That Caitlin chick had said Forest respected her, so Addie wasn’t sure whether or not he would agree with Henry. And he was a little busy dealing with the bodies, so she didn’t think he’d have the patience to deal with Henry right now. Then again, who ever had enough patience to handle Henry? No one she knew.

  Henry did not wait for any response. He spun on his feet, agile for an old man, and left, having never moved from the door in the first place. The door unceremoniously slammed behind him, echoing through the house, so loud Addie could feel it in her bones.

  “Well,” Sarah muttered, “at least he’s gone. Hopefully we don’t have any more interruptions for a while.”

  Addie strained a smile. With her luck, they’d be interrupted again in five seconds.

  Chapter Nine

  Addie did her best to listen to her mother drone on and on about magic, because it was interesting. She’d only recently discovered magic’s existence in the world, so it held that shiny and new property all shiny and new things had. But, even though magic was cool and she might’ve daydreamed about being Harry Potter or Sabrina, she could only listen to her mother talk about its history for a little while before becoming bored out of her mind.

  She didn’t need a history lesson. She wasn’t reading from the textbooks. What Addie needed were more like…guidelines. A how-to magic book. Magic for dummies.

  Suddenly her mother trailed off, changing topics, “Addie, are you even listening? Your eyes glazed over. I can tell you’re not.”

  Addie blinked, suddenly back in the conversation. They sat in the living room, her mother situated on the couch, while Addie had moved to sprawl out on the floor. The carpet was shag, and so freaking soft. She was running her hands through it, wondering why it ever went out of style—and then back in style. Style was weird. Things always had a habit of making the rounds…

  Oh, right. Her mother had talked to her.

  Propping herself on her elbows, Addie looked at her mother. “I’m listening. Trying to. It’s just…so boring. Can’t you tell me how dad cast spells?” She didn’t need to know where magic came from, or how it was used, or who governed all the magic-users. Fun facts to know, she supposed, but useless to her in the fight against Clay.

  Plus, her mother wasn’t going to stay here. They didn’t have all the time in the world to dally.

  “Addie, if you’re going to use magic, you have to respect it.”

  She groaned. She’d already used magic, and she respected it just fine. A lot more than she did Henry, at least—although that wasn’t a hard figure to beat. “I promise,” she said, “I’ll pray to it every day before bed.” A bit too snippy, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Sarah narrowed her gaze. “I see Maze has already rubbed off on you.”

  A laugh wiggled its way through her, bursting through her lips. The mere thought of Maze rubbing off on her was hilarious. No, Mom, she wanted to say, I’ve always been a little shit. Just don’t feel like hiding it anymore.

  Same with swearing. She’d sworn in her head countless of times before, hardly ever spoke a single curse aloud, but now? The more and more she said them, the more she found she liked the words. Sometimes there were expressions, emotions, one could only portray by using a slew of swearwords, and sometimes they were necessary to use in plain everyday conversation.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just impatient,” Addie whined. “I just want all the secrets to the universe in an hour. Is it too much to ask?” She smiled, laying back down, staring at the textured ceiling.

  “Not at all, honey. In fact, the secrets to the universe are given out weekly at our Monday meetings,” Sarah shot back, able to use sarcasm quite well. Who knew? Addie certainly didn’t, though she did let out another laugh. “I’m trying to tell you all I know about it. Everything your father ever told me. When I was younger, I was curious. To know magic, he told me, you have to know where it comes from.”

  Addie nodded to herself, serious as she whispered, “I know where it comes from.” She moved her hands to her chest, holding her palms above her heart. “Here.” A Disney movie line if she ever heard one.

  “Oh, you—I’d get annoyed with you, but you’re right,” Sarah spoke with an exhale. “You must’ve been listening to me a little, then, and not totally lost daydreaming about your guys.”

  Did her mother think her a shameless hussy? She could go for hours at a time not thinking about any of her future mates…except now, of course, because her mother had brought them up.

  “Back to magic,” Sarah said, “everyone is capable of it, but most have their hearts and their minds closed off. Theoretically, every human could wake up and suddenly cast spells, but it takes a lot more from them, and they’re, well, you know. Human. They don’t believe in what they can’t see. But for witches and warlocks, casting any sort of spell is much easier. The high warlocks can cast spells as easy as they can breathe, I’m sure.”

  So…in addition to being the jerk that left them, her father was also an all-powerful warlock. Good to know. If Addie ever came across him, she’d be sure not to challenge him to a spell-flinging contest.

  “Magic does not travel through genetics, but the predisposition to it does. Your shifter side, we both assumed, would be dominant. We never imagined you would display the powers of both. You are, to put it lightly, the first of your kind.”

  “Ooh, I’m so special,” Addie mused. “Please, mother, call me a snowflake from now on. I find myself far too special to be called otherwise.” Okay, so that was heavily and almost ridiculously laced with sarcasm. Maybe Maze did rub off on her after all.

  Sarah gave her an unimpressed look. “Your father is the high warlock of power. He can cast any spell and have it be ten times more powerful than the same spell done by another warlock who’d been practicing the same spell for his entire life. Your magic must be the same, if what you told me is true. To break a death priest’s spell, any of his spells, you’d either have to be a death priest yourself or the high warlock of death.”

  “Or another high warlock,” Addie chimed in. Magic, from what her mother had said before, when she was daydreaming about the shag carpet, was all about balance. The high warlocks balanced each other out.

  Nodding once, her mother went on, “Which leads me to believe you’re either really powerful, just like your father, or…” Her voice trailed off, her expression clouding over. Her hazel eyes darkened, lips thinning into a line. Her next words were ominous, “Or Clay wanted you to think you got away.”

  Addie would be a liar if she said the thought had never crossed her mind before. “Another reason I want to
be ready,” she whispered. If Clay had let them go, if this was all a ruse of epic proportions, she had to be prepared for him. She would not let him in her mind again, not let him control Jack or Landon—or anyone in the pack. If she was the only one who could defend against such magical attacks, she had no choice. She would fight.

  Her mother sighed. “Addie, I really hate that you want to put yourself in danger for the pack. I understand it, I know where you’re coming from, but above it all, I am your mother. I left this pack for you and your father. You are my daughter, and until the day I die, I will worry about you, whether you’re fighting death priests or pledging yourself to the pack. I never want to see you put yourself in harm’s way.”

  Such motherly sentiment. Such kind, sincere words, words that felt profound in the air, words that made Addie’s heart feel heavy in her chest. Nothing she could say in reply would make her mother feel better. There was nothing she could do, short of leaving with her right now. And that was something she couldn’t do.

  She had responsibilities here. Shifters who relied on her. Addie would not let them down, not while she had fight left in her.

  When Addie didn’t say anything—because what could she say?—Sarah went on, “I know the first spells are always the hardest. Your father said when he was younger, he could not even make a pencil levitate. By the time he was ten, he could easily lift a car off the ground. You’ve already casted a few times. It should start to get easier for you.”

  Addie nodded once. The one where she’d broken Clay’s hold over Jack, the one where she’d gone inside herself and met her wolf while still awake, and of course who could forget the levitating book that got her into this mess to begin with? She had at least three spells, whatever they were, under her belt.

  Although, she did bleed from her nose while trying to get out of the cabin. Maybe she’d hit the ground running a bit too fast, tried to take on more than she could chew; a mouthful of hot sauce when she only should’ve taken a single drop.

  “For your father, I think, spells were always about focus,” Sarah said. “Your father always had to calm himself down before casting. Whatever emotion he felt only distracted him, made his spells less likely to hit their mark, and less powerful. It sounds like yours is—”

  Addie had to sit up at this. “The opposite,” she muttered, meeting her mother’s stare.

  Her father had to be focused, while she had to let her emotions run wild. If she hadn’t gotten so upset at that stupid C-minus, that book never would’ve floated. If her fright hadn’t nearly swallowed her, she never would’ve tried to break the spell of control Clay had over Jack. Her emotions were all over the charts when she was in that murder cabin—what would’ve been bad for her father had helped her.

  She didn’t know what to think of it.

  “If that’s the case,” her mother went on, “it will be hard for you to practice, because you’ll also have to call forth whatever emotion makes it easier for you.”

  Yes, Addie could agree with that, but she also could’ve said her father’s way of casting was a handicap. Who could be calm in the middle of a fight? Who didn’t let their heart rate climb? She would never be able to face down Clay and be calm and focused while doing it. Her emotions would be wild, she’d want revenge. Certainly, her way of casting would make things easier for her in the thick of it.

  She watched her mother get to her feet, moving to the bookcase beside the mantle, sliding out a thin hardback with her finger. Sarah moved to the floor, sitting across from Addie on the shag carpet, setting the book between them.

  “Your first spell,” Sarah spoke, tapping the cover of the book—some crime thriller with bright colors— “that we are aware of, was lifting a book and flinging it so hard you knocked your professor out. You can’t think of anything that happened to you before that might’ve taken place because of magic?”

  She thought hard. Anything crazy would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb; she wouldn’t have forgotten it. “No, the textbook was the first,” Addie said.

  “I cannot believe I shrugged you off when you said the book floated,” her mother muttered, unhappy with herself. “I should’ve put two and two together. I should’ve anticipated something with you, considering how powerful your father is. I just thought…I thought you were a shifter, for your whole life. I thought it was impossible.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I would’ve laughed at me too, if I were you. I mean, a month ago I had no idea any of this stuff existed. If you would’ve shifted into a wolf in front of me, I probably would’ve had a heart attack.”

  Her mother smiled. “Now, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and try to make this book float.” There was a pause before she added, “And please don’t direct it toward my head. Shifters don’t believe in hospitals. The last thing I need is a concussion while I’m out here.”

  Addie laughed, and as the laugh tapered off, she said, “I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

  Chapter Ten

  Happy memories flashed inside Addie’s head. Her mother giving her the first—and only—standing ovation she’d ever gotten for the solo in the choir class every eighth grader had to take. Her thirteenth birthday, when her mother had gotten her a cake with Wonder Woman on it, because girls could be just as kickass as boys. Memories that made her smile, that made her heart soar with warm, unbridled joy.

  Truly, she’d had a good life, lies aside. Her mother had given her everything; she was like her best friend, her confidant, her advisor. Sarah was everything to her. If she didn’t have her, if her mother was someone else…Addie would hate it.

  If someone offered her all the money in the world, Addie wouldn’t trade any aspect of her life. It’d been full, even without her father’s presence. She didn’t need a father in her life; Sarah was all she needed.

  But, clearly, whatever happiness and contentment she felt about her life was not enough, for when she peeked open an eyelid, she found the book hadn’t moved from the shag carpet. Not even a millimeter.

  “Did it move at all?” Addie asked, hoping maybe it jiggled a bit. She was drowning herself in happy memories like she was face-to-face with a Death Eater. All this sappiness was hard to keep up, too. Her normal mental state, apparently, wasn’t happy, with how much work it took to get there.

  Sarah shook her head, her blonde hair sticking out of her bandana, swaying along with the movement. “Not even a little jiggle,” she said sadly. “What were you thinking of?”

  A shrug was all she could come up with. When it wasn’t enough to sate her mother’s curiosity, she said, “Happy thoughts. Birthdays and stuff.”

  “And stuff,” Sarah echoed, sounding unimpressed. “Right. No wonder you didn’t move it. This time, why don’t you think of one specific thing, one memory—maybe when you made the top ten in high school? How did it feel? Focus on what went through your head then. Try to pretend you’re back there, reliving it.”

  Addie held back from rolling her eyes. Did she feel proud when she found out she narrowly missed the valedictorian position? No. She felt annoyed. If she would’ve taken AP physics and not just advanced physics…

  No, she wasn’t going to think of that. Another memory would have to suffice, but what? If feeling content, happy wasn’t enough, what was? She closed her eyes again.

  Addie had a thought then, what she could focus on, but she wasn’t sure if it was something she should be focusing on while her mother was three feet away. A more recent event, something that had stirred multiple feelings inside of her, an encounter she could not get out of her mind—mostly because she hadn’t expected it to happen at all.

  Her encounter with Landon upstairs.

  The way he’d touched her so softly, gently, sweeping his hands around her side, thumbs trailing along the skin of her hips. His breath, hot on her face, feeling his forehead against hers, nose beside hers. The brushing of their lips, so close and yet so far. Blood pumping, heart racing. The shock she felt over how easy it was to feel close
to Landon. Landon, the asshole. Landon, the jerk.

  Landon.

  All Addie’s thoughts went to the wolf, remembering how it felt to be pressed against him, how good her own body felt to feel the arousal that grew in him, just from their nearness. Running her hands along him, feeling his strong arms, his wide shoulders, every part of him hard, in all definitions of the word.

  While she focused on the feeling Landon gave her, Addie pictured the book sitting between her and her mother. It was a good thing she was decently good at multitasking, otherwise this entire thing would be a waste of time.

  Landon. The book. Landon. The book.

  Her mind went back and forth, tuning out all else. Addie hardly heard her mother say “It’s floating. Keep going.” She was too lost in her thoughts.

  A rush of memories swept through her, taking away the Landon in the bedroom and plopping the injured, whimpering wolf stuck in a cage in his place. The excited feelings she felt morphed, darkening as she remembered what it was like to watch Clay make Landon spin in a circle and ram his head against the bars so hard he passed out. The helplessness, the anger.

  How dare Clay toy with Landon like that. The anger was all consuming, all powerful and unstoppable. It swept through her like a furious storm, a hurricane of memories. If her eyes were open, she’d see red. Anger, in its purest and rawest form, almost animalistic. Landon was hers, and she swore she would never let Clay hurt any of her mates like that again. She would do anything to stop him, anything to end his death magic once and for all…

  “Addie,” her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, “Addie, stop!”

  She instantly opened her eyes, noting the worry in her mother’s tone, and saw just what had her so worked up. The book in between them sat on the shag carpet no longer. It was, in fact, lodged right above their heads, in the ceiling, nestled in the drywall as if it had always been there.