Page 42 of In the Light of the Moon
“Well, one,” she lifted a spindly finger, “we don’t know that. Like I just told you, packs have their own rules. To them, her death may have been completely justified. Two,” she lifted another finger, “it is not my place to disclose the identities of shifters. Though wolf shifters are family-oriented and generally have the protection of their pack to back them up, shifters as a whole donottake kindly to those who reveal their nature without their consent. It is a risk to their safety. And I love you, but I have already revealed enough.”
My back curved, shrinking into myself. Guilt flamed on my cheeks. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
She patted my bare foot, “That’s all right, sweetheart. I know this is all new and exciting information. The good news is, with your powers unfurling and growing these past weeks, you should be more open to what has been hidden before. With that should come the ability to detect supernatural creatures. Wolf shiftershave a distinctly earthy smell. Some I find neutral enough, some just smell like wet dog.”
I snorted, “And how kindly do they take to you telling them that? Because I know you have.”
She waved her hand and reached over to pick up her mug again, “Oh, they chuckle or bare their teeth, but what else are they going to do? Shifters are naturally hesitant around witches.”
I heaved a big sigh. Of course, something else she’d held from me in the name of waiting for the right time to dispense the information. “And why is that, oh wise witch?”
“Well, some of us have the power to influence their shifts. Not to mention that we’re some of the few non-shifters that can see through their human forms.”
“Okay, I suppose you aren’t going to tell me how to influence shifts right now,” her raised brow confirmed as much, “so, is there anything else you can tell me? That might help me help Kara?”
She huffed. “Well, I’ll reiterate that your powers are growing. I can sense it. So, The Book will become more of a reference to you. Humans can learn witchcraft, utilizing the recipes and spells in tomes such as The Book and sometimes even develop their own powers. However, you and I are born witches. You have your own innate power, such as understanding the language of fungi, speaking with ghosts?—”
“So, anything to do with death.” It was comical, really. Maybe that was why I’d been entranced by horror movies from such a young age.
“Don’t interrupt me sweetheart. I told you. There are multiple stages in the life cycle. There is bringing life, there is nurturing it, there is resting, and there is reaping. If we’re being reductive. You touch the tomato plant, trying to make it grow, but you are focusing on the wrong thing.”
“Well, they just shrivel and die when I concentrate too much!”
Granna rolled her eyes, “Yes, the reaping comes more easily since it’s the final stage. But I believe you’ll be able to toe the line of rest, ofharvest. Especially as you hone your powers.”
I narrowed my eyes, “Harvest? Like get the fruit to ripen?”
“Yes, Sylvie. Took you long enough.”
I sputtered, “Wha—I’msorrythat I didn’t realize that my powers would differ so much from yours! You could have just told me!”
“Well, it is better when you are already feeling it. If I’d told you the first day you arrived that you would be able to do these things, you’d just grow anxious or incredibly frustrated when it didn’t happen right away. Am I wrong?”
“Okay,fine.That’s possible.”
“Now, why don’t you go practice toeing that line. I’m willing to sacrifice the tomato plants for your training,” Granna began to stand from the sofa, apparently done with giving me the earth-shattering lesson for now.
I picked up my laptop to make sure that my work from this morning was saved as she began to walk back into the rest of the house. My witch story was pulled up right where I left it, which made another question bubble up. Before she got too far, I hollered, “Wait! Granna. Are there other witches in town, too?”
Granna stopped her advance toward the kitchen, probably, and turned to lean on the doorframe, “Well, yes, we’re not the only ones. But some don’t realize they have any sort of inclination toward witchcraft. Some enjoy practicing alone, such as myself.”
But maybe that meant I didn’t have to be a novice on my own. “I know you won’t out any shifters to me,” I raised my palms hastily, “and I don’t want you to! But, it would be nice to learn alongside other witches that aren’t, you know, experts like you.”
Her face softened, “Oh, sweetheart, I know this is a lot of information. But you’re doing exceptionally well.”
Her tone made me feel like a child, which made me both comforted and embarrassed. “Even still. Maybe it’d be nice to have some sisters. Or a coven!”
She shrugged nonchalantly, but the corner of her mouth tilted upward in a smirk, “Well, why don’t you ask your seer friend?” My mind blanked out, racing to figure out who she was talking about. But, really, who else could she mean besides Josie? When I continued to gape, Granna chuckled, “Why do you think you were such fast friends? And why she barely comes over here? That girl uses fear to try to keep her visions at bay. I can smell it on her. Maybe it’s time you help her accept what she is.”
I just have a hunch…I feel like we should…Could Josie’s offhanded remarks not be so offhanded at all? She did seem genuinely trepidatious when it came to all things involving witchcraft, but there were also moments her curiosity got in the way of her own fear.
“Granna, I think you’ve fried my brain today,” I groused into my hands. Was this the reason Josie was able to deduce the meaning of the Tower so accurately? I’d thought it was luck and her being able to use the context of the illustration. But, maybe not.
“Well, sweetheart, I think you’ll be able to find your footing. What else would you do?” And with that, Granna left me to pick up the pieces and reconstruct my view of the world around me. Shifters, ghosts, my own powers, and a best friend that could apparently peer into the future.
I stood, and instead of following my grandmother into the house, I left through the screen door. The purple and yellow mosaic tiles that led to the garden were ice-cold under my feet, but no chill ran up my legs. The unevenness felt like a massage, and once again, I focused on the pull within my body.
The caged trellises that housed the tomato plants stood straight and tall against the side of the house. With Granna’s care throughout all seasons, the tomatoes were still thriving, producing plump and juicy fruits every day. How she managed to keep her home garden and business running at the same time for so many years was beyond me. Managing this alone seemed like a full-time job.
