Chapter 65

I was curledup on the sofa reading a book about the women in Pablo Picasso's life and their influence on his works. The door opened, and Bredon entered with Sig right behind him.

"Has anyone been by?" Bredon's tone was demanding.

I sat up, sensing his unrest. "No. Talia and I had lunch."

"Tell me every word that you exchanged with Dagmar. Even if you were not directly involved in the discussion, I need to know."

I repositioned my body so my back was against the corner of the sofa. I pulled my knees close to my chest as I attempted to organize my memories.

"If you do not recall a name, then a description will do," Sig stated.

"Okay." I combed my hair back from my face. "I had taken a seat in a chair that had no padding. Mrs. Singridson took the other available chair to my left, and we chatted." I frowned as I tried to recall the subjects. "The usual subjects were introduced. How was I settling in? She mentioned that I might find it boring here. She also said you liked smart women."

"Then what?" Bredon prompted impatiently.

"Dagmar and Mrs. Keene joined us. Two servants carried over a settee for them and placed it across from us." I shrugged. "Again, same blah-blah, settling in. Then Dagmar wanted me to know that our mating had dashed Anton's plan to tie you with a high-ranking daughter in France."

Sig's chuckle was harsh. "He tried multiple times."

"Then there was talk about the female's duty to give her mate children. I didn't tell them how outdated that thinking was." I paused to consider Dagmar's worry that I would share her concerns.

"Go on."

"I got the impression that Anton and his mate were having issues conceiving." I sighed. "That is a huge deal to a woman. I can't imagine that it is much different for a Lycan. Unable to get pregnant puts all kinds of stress on a relationship."

"And what did you do?" Bredon asked slowly.

"What…"

The look he gave me said that I couldn't lie.

"I…I…"

"Sage, this is important." His voice had gone low and rumbly. "Very important."

"I could feel her unease. She wants to have a child. She is afraid of what will happen if she doesn't conceive," I explained.

"How do you know that?" His gaze challenged me.

"Sometimes, I just...know," I began slowly. "Sometimes, I know things after I touch an object or another." I shrugged and felt my cheeks heat. "It doesn't happen all the time," I added weakly.

"Know things…?" Bredon asked slowly.

"It happens sometimes," I rushed to tell him. "There were such long gaps between times that I thought the…uhm, talent had gone away." Talking about this made me feel deeply vulnerable and out of control.

"A Touch Sensitive," Sig noted. "Does it help in your line of work?"

I shook my head. "Rarely. A few times, I knew something would sell, but I can't rely on it."

"What happened with Dagmar?" Bredon would not let up.

"Our hands touched, and I heard this pounding." My hands moved to shield my ears. "It was loud. I was the only one hearing it." I dropped my hands. "She didn't want me to tell you about the problems conceiving." I wet my dry lips. "Then…I saw her holding a baby in a blue blanket." I glanced at my mate, who was watching me stone-faced. "It's like a photo pops into my head."

"You told her about what you saw." Bredon frowned.

"I felt her pain. I wanted to…help." My mistake in judgment was apparent if Bredon and Sig had been informed.

"Why have you never mentioned this…this talent?" Bredon's attention turned to Sig. "What did you call it?"

"She's a Touch Sensitive. There are tales that my Birth Pack had of a Seer who could glean information by touching objects."

"I wanted to tell you…but before I left, it seemed like there was some new drama every other day. Nothing had happened for a long time, so I pushed it out of my head." I tucked my hair behind my ear. "In Florida, things were going so well. I didn't know how to bring it up. After the whole changing thing…I wasn't sure if I could still do it. I needed to figure out how much was from my new abilities and how much was from the gift." I pulled my knees tighter to my chest.

"You should have told me." Flashes of pain showed in Bredon's gaze.

I swallowed loudly as tears choked me. "I've only told one other person." I dropped my forehead to my knees to hide my tears.

"That did not go well, I take it," Sig prompted.

I sniffed loudly and wiped my tears as I raised my head. "I told my mother once. I wanted to stop worrying about how we would make the rent payment. I knew that she was going to sell two paintings." I recalled as the memory flashed in my head. "I thought she would be relieved. Instead, she beat me." I gripped my forearm. "She broke…she broke my arm." I hung my head in shame. "She was out of control. She kept calling me a liar and telling me to stop trying to outshine her." I took in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. "She didn't speak to me for three weeks when the paintings sold. I don't think she ever forgave me for being right."

"I would not have done that, Sage." Bredon sat beside me and gently wiped my tears. "Some people, like your mother, don't understand things that make us different. They fear it."

"I wanted to tell you." I threw myself into his arms.

"I know." He rocked me as I cried.

"You all fear witches?" The lights were now on in our living room.

Talia had joined us before dinner, angry that she had "missed the drama."

"This is not a joke. Anton was ranting," Sig told her.

Talia let out a snort and turned her attention to me. "Define what you mean by the word."

I felt put on the spot by her command. "I guess…I mean somebody who can wield magic. They have the power to know things or see the future through cards, tea leaves…or what I can do."

"Technically, that doesn't make you a witch." She pointed her finger at my mate to stop Bredon from speaking. "I've researched this because, out in the world, I found that the word had many meanings."

"Go on," Sig told her, sounding interested.

"Currently, those who follow Wicca can refer to themselves as witches. Many do not have any magic. Then we have the Practitioners, who are born with magic. I consider them to be true witches. They cast spells and create potions. The magic is passed down through generations. Oddly, it is not female-centric. Males can be Practitioners."

I had a limited knowledge of Wicca. One of the girls on my dorm floor had been a believer. I thought her beliefs aligned well with her hippie flower child ways.

Talia continued, explaining, "Anton and many members of this Pack use the term to include anyone with magic or gifts. Miriam is knowledgeable about herbs, but Anton refers to her as a witch." She made a "tsk" sound. "Throughout the ages, being labeled a witch meant either a banishment or death. We were taught to fear those who had gifts."

"Using fear and prejudice has kept many on their thrones," Sig added.

"You don't carry the Lady's Mark," Bredon announced. "I would have seen it."

I felt my cheeks heat and wished I didn't blush so easily.

"Those are chosen by The Lady and are considered assets to a Pack," Talia said.

"They are revered," Bredon told me.

"Then Anton's beliefs seem ill-formed because if I had a Mark, he would consider me valuable and celebrate." I frowned.

"Let me point that out. Mark or no, the news that you have this gift or any other gift will not be well received," Bredon cautioned.

"What's going to happen?" Talia asked the dreaded question.

"Anton isn't going to let this go," Sig said, his gaze darkening.

"Let's pray that part of his response was his surprise at learning of his impending fatherhood." Bredon ran his fingers through his hair.

"He could use this to attack you," Sig said.

"It would be an attack on us all," Talia pointed out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think." I was upset that my actions had caused so much chaos.

"You did something kind for Dagmar." Talia smiled sweetly. "Let's be honest. Not many are kind to her without ulterior motives."

I appreciated that she was trying to make me feel better, but it didn't change what could happen. "I hate that my actions are causing this…upset."

"Sage," Bredon's expression was gentle, "Anton hatches these little plots against me from time to time. Sadly, we have become used to it."

My attempt at a smile was weak.