Chapter 4

Four

I chose the Hillgate Pioneer Cemetery because it's on the outskirts of town. Because it's surrounded by old growth trees and then semi-abandoned pastures. And because three generations of Mathis witches are buried here. My great-great-grandmother, her two daughters, and a second cousin were all laid to rest here over a hundred years ago.

And that's why any ritual requiring hallowed ground leads me back here.

It helps that I have the key to the gate.

I locked it behind me. Wolves don't need to take the road.

It's started to rain, but the hood of the cloak I'm wearing keeps the worst of it away as I make my way up the long path from the tiny parking lot.

The mausoleum was added at the top of the hill approximately seventy-five years after the last body was interred. A spooky showpiece to watch over the dead.

I have the key for this too, and when I unlock it and throw the heavy doors open, everything is just as I left it the night before.

Throwing the hood back, I catalog the space one more time.

Preparation is nine-tenths of any binding spell, and with four new participants for this ritual… I needed a little extra time.

Tall candles line the single room space, evidence of their prior use in the long trails of dripping wax down their sides.

Tonight's moon might be rare, but it's not the only celestial event I've used these grounds for. And my mother and mother's mother used it for decades before I had even considered setting foot inside it.

I pulled a flame from the air, split it, and sent it to every wick of those tall white pillars. Electricity had never found its way to Hillgate, and for good reason.

As I set my bag down on the ground in front of the stone altar my great-grandmother had carved, a tiny shiver courses through me. And then thunder cracks the sky. Lightning flashes outside a moment later.

The clouds are rolling in, and by the time the moon is at its zenith, it will not be visible from anywhere in the small town. But like any faith. I don't need to see her to know she's there. I only need to believe to call upon her magic.

On either side of the altar, I've placed two enormous pumpkins. A silly aesthetic choice, but one that gives me a little thrill as I pat the hard flesh and hear the hollow thunk inside.

The witches in my old coven were too fixated on superficial rules, and fully ripe gourds like these… using them in anything other than fertility rituals was out of the question. But the idea I want to give birth to tonight, has nothing to do with children.

These also hold candles, the wax of two nights' burning run down their sides in long drips.

I grab another, smaller flame from the air and with a snap of my fingers, send it to light these.

It's a showy, basic spell that most witches learn before they're ten. And it's always been one of my favorites.

A simple joy.

The jars and ingredients I need are already in place, save for the two items I need from living beings.

A sharp howl breaks through the silence of the night and I flinch. As soon as my muscles relax, I let out a sigh.

Even though I hoped they were coming… you never really know with supernatural beasties.

The first to arrive is a wolf with deep black fur and the barest hint of a brindle to his undercoat. He looks at me with intelligent eyes before scanning his surroundings.

If I was a betting woman, I'd put all of my money on this wolf being Joshua.

He's here, checking the safety for the others.

The pack hierarchy might not be exactly what those books he accused me of reading too many of would have you believe, but it was clear from my observations, that he's not only in charge, but he's also the most cautious—illicit meetings with horny witches aside. The one least likely to let the others run into danger… if he can stop them.

So I take the chance.

"Good evening, Joshua. Blessed Samhain."

He looks up at me again, eyes clear but still cautious. And then… he smiles.

A single bark over his shoulder, and the other three wolves come in. They're each similar in color—as most werewolf packs tend to be. The mimicry is a marker that they belong. But one is smaller than the rest, no doubt Chase, who is smaller in his human form. And I would guess the differences in the others based on their behavior. Johnny is at the back, not shy, but somehow more cautious than the others, and Thomas… he rushes right past Joshua and begins smelling everything.

Including me.

I manage not to laugh as his nose hits the back of my hand, and instead give him a scratch behind his ear.

It may have won me a friend for life.

I check the time. It's a little early, but there's no reason to delay.

Moving to the altar, I grab the scissors and turn back to them slowly—never a good idea to startle a werewolf.

Holding up the antique, silver cutting tools, I make sure they all see them. "I'm going to take some of your fur."

I wait for one of them to back away, or leave, or make a noise to let me know they aren't actually okay with it.

When no one does, I take a step forward. Again, treating them like they are easily spooked deer, not wolves who could so easily kill me.

But they aren't going to hurt me. Even if they didn't need me, my observations have made that much plainly clear.

They sit on their haunches in an uneven semi circle in front of me. A patient and deadly audience. A beautiful one.

I go to the one closest to me, furthest on the left.

The cloak pooling around me as I squat down, I meet this one's eyes. I was right.

"Thank you, Thomas."

His ears twitch in recognition as I snip the small bit of fur. I imagine he'd like to ask me how I know.

The eyes aren't exactly the windows to the soul, but they definitely show more than most people care to look for.

The next wolf's eyes are wide, deep brown, and curious. "Happy Halloween, Johnny."

His fur snipped, it mixes with the strands from Thomas.

The next wolf knocks his nose against my chin as I rough up the fur on his chest too. I have to smile as I narrow my eyes at him. I snip the fur, and then bop him on the nose with my fingers. "Be nice, Chase."

The sound that filters from behind his teeth is a laugh—or as close as he can get with his wolfy larynx.

And then, all that's left is Joshua.

He lifts his head, giving me access to both his chest… and his throat.

I don't snip his fur right away.

I take a moment to stroke him, to bury my fingers in his coat, and squeeze, just a little.

He looks me in the eye, and smiles, bearing all of his teeth.

I snip the last bit of hair I need, but before I stand fully again, I gently turn him back to me. His dark eyes hold a memory and I smile at the one it sparks for me as well.

With one last look, I stand, but only far enough that I can lean forward and place a kiss to the soft fur on his forehead.

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll get you all back to walking on two legs."

I walk back to the altar, turning my back on them as I gather the rest of the ingredients for the spell.

Layering the hair at the bottom of the chalice, I pour honey over top to keep the rest of it from sticking out of the mix. Five other items go in as well. And then the last… the most risky.

Wolves aren't as affected by blood, but they still feel the primal tug.

Taking the cleaned knife from the white cloth at the edge of the bottles and vials, I close my hand around the blade and whisper dark words.

All it takes is a squeeze and a tug, and more than enough blood pours from my clenched hand into the chalice.

Someone whimpers behind me.

"Sorry. It's the only way I can take the spirits from you. Otherwise they'd be set loose to roam free."

I whisper healing words to the green candle set a little apart from the others and pass my hand over the flame.

Bright and burning, the magic seals the cut on my hand, and I turn my focus back to the chalice and its contents.

Stirring them all together in the honey that serves as an offering to the spirits, I whisper my intentions—an invitation—over the contents.

Everything is ready…

I don't need to do this part, but I still hope to get them to agree to the third part of the spell…

It takes nothing more than a twist and each of the clasps at the left side of my chest slip free. With a wiggle of my shoulders, the soft fabric slides down my skin.

I hear them shift behind me and I slide the remains of the spell to the side, so that all that is left at the center of the altar is the black cloth with its ancient symbols. And the two black candles on its furthest corners to help with the binding.

When I turn back to the wolves, they're closer.

Four pairs of eyes watch me warily.

"The sacrifices your bodies have made for the moon and her children have come to an end. Hand them over to my keeping, and I will care for them. The moon will not see these actions as a betrayal. She will still grant you her favors."

I snap my fingers, and the flame on one of the black candles splits and flies to my open palm.

Thomas snuffles a laugh.

Flame in my hand, I pause, looking at them one more time. "Last chance to tell me to fuck off, boys."

The wolves turn to each other, and then three of them let out a little yip. The fourth… Joshua, looks me directly in the eyes, and nods his wolfy head with a gruff bark.

One final inhale, and I drop the flame into the chalice.

It ignites in a flash of blue flame, and a chorus of sharp howls splits the night.