Misty
It’s early afternoon when I finally leave our cabin in search of Cole. Aviva–who stayed up all night hunting, and then the entire morning caring for Lexa–is asleep on the couch with both babies at the moment.
The tension in the village is palpable as I walk through the village square, which is quiet… borderline empty. A few people mill around going about their chores, but the square isn’t filled with conversation, children playing, or food being cooked and shared.
It’s a bright, sunny day, which is being wasted. I sigh heavily and hike the bag I packed with a few sandwiches and treats for Cole over my shoulder and lower my head as I pass a group of men then turn toward the healer’s cottage.
In the few days we’ve been in Silverhide, I haven’t had a chance to meet the pack's healer–some witch sent down from Moonrise a few weeks ago to serve in his pack. That’s the norm across Eastonia. Witches trained in Moonrise spread out, taking up residence in packs from Veiled Valley, through the Roguelands, and even as far as Tarsian.
But there haven’t been witches in the Deadlands for a long time, and according to Ryan, this is a huge deal… a shining declaration that the Deadlands stand with Ryatt, Ella, and their leadership.
In my head, the healer’s an old, gnarled woman who smells like herbs and whose age-bent frame is swallowed by her thick, intricate witch's robes.
But I’m sure as hell not expecting the lithe, tall, drop-dead gorgeous witch whose giggles slice through the air and cut out the second I slide through the door, her dark brown eyes narrowing on mine as she steps away from my mate.
Cole’s bent over a counter full of jars and herbs, writing notes, like usual. Using the new pens I bought him, the new notebook…while she, the so far unnamed witch, leans against the counter just a few inches too close for comfort.
I’m immediately put out by the surprised, and disappointed, look on her face.
Cole, however, beams at me. “Misty,” he breathes, giving me a real, genuine smile.
My heart shudders. This is the four-hundredth time I’ve seen that smile. Yes, I count them. No, I can’t stop and doubt I’ll ever stop counting those smiles because I worked so hard to get us here–to happiness, to safety. To a life we desperately wanted and deserved.
I did not go to war, watch my grandparents die, and settle into a mundane suburban life to have a witch I don’t know wrinkle her nose at me because I interrupted a moment she thought she was having with my mate.
I’ll scratch her eyes out.
I narrow my eyes at her before quickly fixing my expression and meeting Cole’s gaze, shaking my bag of goodies. “I thought you’d be hungry.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He steps toward me smelling of chamomile and pepper corns–an odd mix of scents compared to the astringent, sharp scent of the sterile scrubs I’m used to him wearing. “How are Misty and Lexa?”
“They’re fine. They’re both asleep. I left Addy with them.” I cut myself off and sigh, feeling a little unsure if that was the best decision. “If he gets sick… I’m sure he’ll be fine, right?”
The witch, who I'd been purposefully ignoring, clears her throat. “He won’t get sick. He’s not from a tribal pack. He’s stronger.”
I blink and lean to look at her over Cole’s arm.
“Misty,” Cole says with a hint of a bite in his voice that immediately makes me feel a little better about my quick judgment of the woman, “this is Kyra.”
Kyra smiles at me. I don’t smile back. “You must be his wife.”
“I am,” I reply, straightening up as Cole takes the bag of food and sets it on the counter. I love Cole dearly, and he’s as sharp and intelligent as they come… but he’s still a man. I’m sure when it comes to other men, he’s a great judge of character, but he’s useless when it comes to women.
I noticed that about him when we integrated ourselves to the culture at the hospital in Crescent Falls, which serves all the packs. His colleagues are from different packs, bending the knee to different Alphas. Being the wife and mate of a physician, I’ve gone to the garden parties and fundraisers for the hospital, of course. I’ve met the other mates, the other wives, the girlfriends.
There’s a few I love…and more I can’t stand, and Cole doesn’t get why.
It’s because women just know, okay? I’m not sure how else to explain it, other than one look at Kyra has my hackles raising and my powers simmering closer to the surface than they have in months.
“You shouldn’t be worried about your son getting sick. He won’t.”
“If it’s contagious, then he likely will,” I counter, glancing at Cole as he turns to face us, leaning his leg against the counter as he bites into a sandwich.
“It is something to consider,” Cole tells Kyra.
“I don’t need to consider it at all,” she says brightly, shrugging. “Cole and I canvassed the village this morning. Those who are sick are from Endova and/or refugees from Navvan, not anyone from Ryan’s pack–”
“Everyone here is part of Silverhide,” I interrupt, my voice clipped.
She purses her lips, tucking a strand of raven black hair behind her ear. “I meant that those who are sick came here from other places originally. The Navvan refugees who assimilated… they’re sick. Everyone else is fine and will be fine.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, but I can feel Cole watching me with marked curiosity as I take a ginger step toward Kyra. I hate that I have to look up into her eyes, and she gets to look down at me in return, but so be it. She hasn’t given me a reason to like her yet, and talking shit about Ryan’s pack members isn’t helping her case. I think Cole is catching on.
He raises a hand to begin to diffuse the situation, but I barrel forward. “Do you have a problem with people from the Deadlands? Those born here, in the tribes?”
“Of course not,” she scoffs. “But you have to understand they’re not like us.”
I raise my brows. “Us? You’re a witch, if you’ve forgotten. If anyone is not like us, it’s you.”
“Misty,” Cole says under his breath, but I ignore him.
“You’re a scholar aren’t you, Princess?” Kyra says hotly, crossing her arms beneath her… unfortunately ample breasts. “You should know that the people of the Deadlands are an entirely different kind of wolf than you, therefore, genetically predisposed to sickness like this–”
“There’s absolutely no correlation–”
“All right,” Cole breathes, grabbing my shoulder and swiftly whirling me toward the door. “Let’s take a walk. I haven’t seen you all day.”
A growl works its way up my throat as I snatch the bag of food off the counter before Kyra can get her hands on it and allow Cole to lead me out of the cottage, but I’m worked up, itching to shift or use my powers.
He can definitely tell.
“What was that about?” he asks, his hand dropping from my shoulder to my arm while I stomp back across the village square with him at my side.
“Did you not hear her?”
“Of course, I did,” he says under his breath. “I don’t agree with how she said it, but she’s right.”
I grind to a stop. “She’s right?”
He sighs and turns to me, sunlight catching in his hair. “This is part of the reason I needed to come here, Misty. You know that. You know that people like Aviva are different–a different kind of wolf. Her people have been secluded and separated from the rest of us for centuries, and now we’re commingling in droves. If this… virus is only affecting those from the Deadlands, it’s something we’re immune to, which means Addy will be fine.”
“She said he was stronger,” I growl.
“There are better ways to word it, I know. I didn’t like that, either.”
“Well I don’t like her.”
He purses his lips. “She’s not that bad. She’s strange, definitely, but talented in apothecary style healing.”
I want to say I don’t care. I don’t care about herbs, potions, or tonics. I care about the way her eyes were bright and shining as she stared at my mate, leaning close to him, and then went dark as night and deadly the second she saw me walk through the door.
I’ve never considered myself a jealous person, but I am territorial, if what I went through to save Cole’s life is any indication of that.
But, maybe I am being a little uptight.
“I’m tired,” I admit, and it’s true.
“You didn’t sleep well,” he confirms with a sigh. “I know. That’s what you should do today, while you have help with Addy. There’s so much help with kids here, it’s amazing, honestly, the community–”
I’m barely following his words. My heart is beating fast, my powers still trying to claw to the surface, and for whatever reason, memories I’d tried to bury work in tandem with those powers, fighting for dominance.
Something doesn’t feel right, and I hate it. Something feels a whole lot like it did when I was cloistered away in that Goddess forsaken fortress in the middle of the desert, trying to figure out if Cole was mine… or if he still belonged to that fuckhead Richard.
When we reach our cabin again, Cole has effectively calmed me down enough I can pretend I’m fine, which I do, shoving the bag of food in his hands and resisting the urge to tell him never to go near that witch again.
But it’s not my place. He’s here to learn, and she’s the pack’s healer.
But I will be telling Ryan and Aviva about what she said, just for good measure.
Aviva’s still asleep with Lexa when Cole leaves. Addy’s just waking up, which is great timing, so I scoop him into my arms and check Lexa’s temperature by laying my hand over her forehead. Still hot, but not as bad as this morning. Cole was sure she’d be able to burn this off on her own, and I’m praying that’s the case.
But Aviva’s looking pale now.
I nurse Addy for a few minutes then settle him in his chest carrier and stalk back into the village, looking for my brother.
Ryan’s at the forge with Andrew, who gives me a tight nod in hello and goes back to work as Ryan turns me toward the door. “You shouldn’t bring Addy in here, it’s too hot–”
“Aviva’s running a fever now, but she’s asleep. I think you should take them home and take care of them.”
He chews his lower lip. “Shit.”
“Right,” I grumble, following his gaze across the sleepy village to the pastures and the hills beyond.
“Everyone’s ill,” he says under his breath. “Most of the guys are okay, but the women–”
“Your bitch of a healer said only the tribal people are getting sick because wolves like us–from Crescent Falls–are stronger.”
Ryan looks down at me. “What?”
I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed by my simmering powers and uncertainty. “Look, just–just take care of Aviva, please? She’s so pale, and I need to–I want to use my healing powers on her, but I’ll need help with both babies, okay? Can you step away from your Alpha duties for the afternoon?”
“I’m sure the healer has this handled–”
“I don’t trust her, Ryan. Something’s off.” I barely recognize my own voice. It’s been months since I’ve let myself lean into this intuition I know I inherited from Grandma–that little voice in my mind screaming to keep my head on a swivel.
I wonder if she’ll send me visions tonight. I haven’t had a vision in ages.
I hope she does.
Ryan searches my face. “Misty, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I growl under my breath. “But I need to do something. My powers are begging me to do something. Please.”