54

I squint at the crows and recall her words, casting a glance at Meadow, not entirely sure what she means about birds and ears and certain we never once mentioned her around these damned birds. I think she’s maybe a little bit insane, or else she’s making she knows more than she does.

“So, if you know why we’re here, then I guess we shouldn’t beat around the bush and ask if you will help.” It feels kind of rude to just invade her territory and blurt it out, but it’s put me completely off kilter having her seem to know who we are and so smug about it. She’s not exactly welcoming and so far, she seems to like indirect answers and word play. It doesn’t really signal a friendly soul.

“It’s getting late.” She points out, ignoring my question completely, in fact acting like I haven’t spoken, and instead looks to the sky with a sigh. I still can’t make out anything about her features other than she seems to have a youthfulness to her. It’s hard to put a finger on it, more than seeing her hand, but I get the vibes she is not that much older than Sierra physically. Mid-thirties at most. I’ve heard all about witches using anti-aging seduction, masking appearances to lure, and means to pull in innocents to trust them…or was that sirens? I forget. The books down under the house have so many supernatural species and I don’t recall which sometimes, or what ones we should never be drawn in by. Either way, her presence is giving me the heeby jeebies.

“Not to be rude but, we are aware, and we don’t like being out after dark, so if you could, you know, get to the point. You know who we are, what we want and hence…. we really need an answer.” Carmen comes right out with it in that haughty bitchy tone of hers, no warmth, only dry boredom and superiority, and for once it doesn’t annoy me. I mean its rude as hell, and I admire her total lack of fear around this witch, but she does have a point. I don’t want to be standing out here like this for the rest of the night. This witch has no concept of how dangerous it could be for us, or the fact, we do still need sleep and food before dawn.

“The jilted lover…. So full of anger and attitude. It’s like you’re a very full sponge, who has soaked up all the toxins in the world. A little squeeze and it all comes squirting out in the most unattractive way.” She chuckles, that same girly, yet not young, sound that washes over us and the crow seems to cackle in response along with her. An evil vibrating noise that grates on my nerves. I swear it laughs at us. It’s that same little window tapping asshole from earlier and I mentally add her devious mini sidekick to my kill list should this turn bloody.

Carmen on the other hand falls silent and glares at her with a great level of mistrust, eyes gleaming orange in the dark, full on hostility leaching out from every pore, given she does seem to know a hell of a lot. I’m certain we never said anything of the sort near her birds at all about carmen being Colton’s ex or my being the reason he left her.

“How do you know so much about us, and don’t say your birds hears us. Because that’s bullshit as we haven’t said a thing about her love life since we got here!” Meadow is the one with the hostile tone now, biting in, full on mama bear mode initiated as she steps in front of me and seems to grow taller. I can feel her unease and suspicion all around me, tainting the air and feeding my worry. She doesn’t like this witch and she certainly doesn’t think we’re safe with her.

“Did I say it was these specific birds? You’ve come far my wee pets; you look like you need somewhere to sit and maybe a hot drink to calm that unwise rise of attitude. Know who you’re talking to and learn when to be silent!” The tone loses that almost friendly air and that superior edge and biting tone change the atmosphere completely. It’s an icy statement that makes Carmen sound like an amateur in terms of scolding and there’s a hint of power and superiority that can only come from someone knowing their skillset trumps yours. She slides back her hood as she steps fully out from her space, releasing her raven to fly back to his perch, the rising moon glowing somehow brighter at her command and we’re faced with a woman who looks no older than her late twenties at most.

She’s pretty in a wholesome sort of a way visually, yet shrouded in maturity, underlying darkness, and wisdom, that gives her an older presence. Not outstanding, unearthly, stunning beauty, but she has definite attractiveness and a natural unmade up face with zero lines or wrinkles. She’s seductive, yet somehow looks pure, untainted by the world and has a fire in her eyes that suggests she’s a warrior at heart. She has a likeability, a sense of calm and control that makes you feel like you need this woman to tell you what to do next. A born queen, under her dark robes and almost Celtic style, flowing layers of longs skirts, boho attire, which has a mix of era’s in one outfit. She looks exactly how I thought a witch should look, if she was eternally young and beautiful.

Not bad at all for a three-thousand-year-old who has probably seen and interacted in more wars than we can imagine. It’s not her looks that pull you completely in though, it’s her aura. There’s an atmosphere around her, of great power, crackling energy, pure clear oxygen fizzing up the tempo, and the steady unruffled gaze as she locks eyes on me completely throw me off. Dark, almond shaped almost catlike eyes that have a hint of exotic beauty about them. Deep and endless and way darker than Colton’s brown eyes. She’s terrifying. Like the kind of woman who would kiss you on the lips before driving a steak right through your heart and smiling sweetly as she did so. She’s utterly intimidating.

“Look, we’re sorry. It’s been a long journey and a lot of stress. We don’t mean to be rude; we just weren’t sure if we could trust you. Or if you are her…Leyanne Cruden! You still haven’t confirmed!” I try for the smoothing over and calming things approach, my mediation skills as Luna, but she throws her head back and laughs heartily. Like she just heard the funniest joke of the year and isn’t shy about expressing her amusement.

“You come looking for me and yet I’m the one that’s not to be trusted, oh pet…. You really are a bit backwards. Who else would I be?” It’s a chuckle, as she regains composure, wipes a tear form the corner of her eye and shakes her robes around her to rearrange them back to neatness. I’m starting to think this one is a bit insane.

“Truth be told, you can’t trust me… you can’t really trust anyone. Everyone has a line that they’ll cross for the right persuasions, even my kind. No one is every truly trustworthy, even your sisters here.” She smirks, rolling her r’s in her sing song accent, hearty scots, and walks a step forward to close the gap between us and it takes all my will power not to step away. She’s suffocating with just a foot forward, that energy eating me alive and I realize it’s my ability to feel others that’s causing it. I can sense, taste, feel, her brimming power and incomparable amounts of magic within her possession. Like she carries a constant death fence of electricity around her at all times. It makes Sierra seem human in comparison.

I want to venomously defend my Meadow and maybe even Carmen too, but sense tells me to be quiet and ignore her insults concerning my being able to trust my pack sisters. This witch seems to like word play, and maybe mind games, and I definitely do not trust her. I have never met anyone like her before.

“I would die for her. So you can eat that and choke on it, Chica.” Meadow loses her cool, spitting venom, obviously offended enough to not stay quiet as her pride is bruised and I grasp her hand to quiet her, and groan at her words. Flinching inwardly that this witch just told us to heed her and here Meds is, poking the bear.

“Want to prove it? I mean, I’m willing, and we do have a nice quiet night for it.” Leyanne chuckles again, that hearty, brash, mocking laugh, throwing back her cloak over her shoulders to reveal a sculpted upper bodice of her dress, sort of romantic and flouncy around the neckline, with jewelry that give her a completely earth momma vibe that’s not entirely weird. I kind of dig it but it’s definitely something that would stand out in the human world, unless sit was some sort of cottage gore convention. Even without the huge black cloak with an extra pointed long tail on her hood. The girl likes to look the part of what she is, I guess.

“Are we wasting our time? Should we just leave?” I blurt out in frustration at how this is going and step in front of Meadow again, reinforcing my position as leader, hoping to god we can just turn and go and find another way if this isn’t it. My mate is back there, he needs me to figure this out, and I don’t want to waste hours of my life on someone pointless who just wants to spur my girls into fighting.

“So quick to give in, wee one. Not much Luna quality in that. Do I scare you? Are you intimidated?” She whispers it in a mock tone, smug and winking as a smile haunts her full lips. No sense of her being rattled by us at all and I wonder just how powerful she is to stand up to three glaring femmes and not give an actual crap about consequences. She turns her back on us, throwing us a gleeful look over her shoulder and gestures with a tilt of her head. “Follow me, if you’re brave enough, and I guess you’ll see if I was worth the journey. Don’t dawdle…. it’s dark, you know?” She sniggers with her last sarcastic words, and seems to sway off with a steady walk, looking like she owns this land and is walking a red carpet, rather than a dirty sandy scrub with nothing around.

She doesn’t wait on any kind of response at all, so sure of herself and our need of her, and walks off into the darkening wood to seemingly disappear. We hesitate, all three standing firm and throwing glances to one another, expressions ashen, faces pale, before Meadow shoves me forward to follow.