“Chocolate cake, he says. Like I would eat his chocolate cake.” Polina huffed over her cauldron, stirring like a madwoman, the human way. She could have used magic instead of elbow grease to do the job, but the latter was more therapeutic. Therapy was exactly what she needed. Only an unbalanced mind would still be thinking about the human.
“Are you still fussing about that man Logan?” her owl familiar, Hildegard, asked. The bird sat on one of the many carved wooden perches that adorned their home, watching Polina’s flurry of activity with curiosity. “It’s been almost a month since the wedding. I’d think you’d be over it by now.”
Polina straightened, placing one hand on her hip. “It’s confounding, Hildegard. The man approaches me in a crowded reception hall, obviously attracted to me.”
Hildegard rolled her eyes.
“Don’t make that face. I know when a male is attracted to me, especially a human male. He was the spitting image of Pepe Le Pew with his tongue hanging out. I could see the outline of his heart throbbing through the wall of his chest.”
The owl laughed. “All right. All right. He was attracted to you. What happened next?”
“He crossed the room and entered my personal space with the familiarity of a friend—”
“He should think of you as a friend after how you saved him from the water witch. Not to mention the other reason.” She lowered her voice to a whisper on the last.
“Regardless, he approached me, and I thought, sure, he’s human, no better than a dog, but even a dog might be a welcome diversion from the strange human wedding formalities. Do you know there is a thing called the Chicken Dance?”
Hildegard shook her head. “Do they dance with poultry?”
Polina inhaled deeply. “No. Heavy drinking and flailing of arms. Very disconcerting.”
“So, you thought you would tolerate some mild entertainment by the human.”
“Indeed. He was with that werewolf friend of Grateful’s. What’s his name again?”
“Silas. Silas Flynn.”
“Ah, yes. The detective. They were together and as we’ve had little experience with werewolves in Smuggler’s Notch, I thought the conversation might be enlightening. But no sooner were they in my company as the wolf wandered off, leaving me with the human, who immediately accused me of supernatural elitism.”
“How did you respond?”
“Honestly, of course. I suggested that although witches were the more powerful species, I respected humans for their many accomplishments over the centuries and had met quite a few reputable members of his race. I even admitted that his company was rather enjoyable at times.”
Hildegard snorted. “Why on earth would he take offense?”
“By your tone, I assume you’re being facetious.”
“I’m simply suggesting that your comments may have been a bit heavy handed.”
Polina grunted.
“What was all that about the chocolate cake?”
“He told me to go bake my own.”
Hildegard inhaled sharply and then broke into a fit of laughter. “A sharp tongue on that one. Does he know what an insult that is to a witch?”
“He knew exactly what he was saying,” Polina said. “That’s why it was so infuriating. The man was a ghost in Grateful’s attic for months. He’s annoyingly knowledgeable about all things witch.”
“And he can cook.” Hildegard raised the arched feathers that served as her eyebrows skyward, her massive yellow eyes twinkling. “I see the problem here. You like Logan, more than you want to admit.”
“Humph,” Polina said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Polina stirred her cauldron absently. “Although, there is something about the man. He knows I can destroy him with a wink of my eye but still he challenges me with his sharp wit. Plus, he’s a medium. He receives messages from the human heaven, a thing no witch can ever do. A creature with such a tenuous existence should be timid, but he charges into the world, flags flying. The way he helped Grateful was nothing short of selfless.”
“So you do like him.”
Polina’s stirring strokes became violent. “Pshaw. Even if my attraction to him was authentic and not a side effect of the incident—”
“Rare if it were…”
“Even if it weren’t, there’s a reason humans and supernaturals don’t mix. It’s a recipe for disaster. I’ve been down that road before. I know how it ends.”
“Ronin? He’s long dead, my lady. Perhaps it’s time you let him go?”
Angrily, Polina twisted the knob to turn the burner off under the cauldron and slapped the wooden spoon on the counter. Potion sprayed across the granite. Snatching a mug from the cupboard, she poured herself a cup of the brew.
“I’ve had to let Ronin go, Hildie. He’s dead. Dead, because that’s what humans do. They die.”
“I am sorry to dredge up the past,” Hildegard said contritely.
“It’s all right.” Polina waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a good reminder. I have no business having feelings for a human.” She sipped the concoction in her cup. “It’s not real. It’s soul magic. Nothing more.”
Hildie’s deep sigh filled the kitchen. “What’s in the cauldron, my lady?”
Polina shook her head.
Hildegard crossed the small space to the grimoire open on the counter. The book was covered in solid gold and inscribed with the title Elemental Alchemy. “Queen Mary’s brew. Essence of peace lily and lavender. This elixir calms the mind and eases strong emotions,” Hildie read.
Polina shrugged. “It’s either this or vodka, and I can’t do magic drunk.”
“Aye,” Hildegard said softly.
Polina drained the mug and slammed the empty on the stone counter. “Sun is setting. Time to get to work.”
“As you wish.”
Polina hastened into the bedroom to a large looking glass inside a crafted pewter stand, what they called a cheval mirror in furniture catalogs. Only this particular piece of furniture held an important secret. Without pause, Polina walked directly into the center of the glass. The mirrored silver accommodated her body, flowing in a ripple across her skin before allowing her access to her sanctuary.
At the heart of Aurorean House, the large Tudor mansion she called home, Polina’s seat of concentrated power was a multifaceted silver structure—the room of reflections. The mirrored walls shifted around her, their interlocking geometric formation constantly changing to meet her needs. With Hildegard on her shoulder, she crossed to the center of the living metal gem to a giant, table-height stretch of silver—a lucubratus—a magic mirror she used to monitor her realm.
Polina wasn’t just a witch; she was a Hecate, a sorceress of the dead. A Hecate’s duty was to police the supernatural. The mirror was enchanted to show her possible futures, anyone or anything with malicious intent within her realm. Her job was to predict and prevent evil deeds from occurring. In Smuggler’s Notch, Polina was judge, jury, and executioner. Supernaturals who evaded or ignored her intervention were sentenced to her hellmouth, the small mountain cemetery behind her home that served as a supernatural prison after dark.
In a loud, clear voice, she passed one hand over the silver and said, “Reveal.” The mirror melted to the consistency of liquid mercury, bubbling to a three-dimensional peak before settling into a reflective pool of molten metal. She leaned over it, her reflection dulling, replaced by the vision she was meant to see.
At the base of her mountain was a human campsite. The silver depicted a man Polina had never seen before walking toward the trail opposite her property. This was to be expected. The enchantment surrounding Silver Sparrow Mountain not only made it effectively invisible to humans but produced a sense of dread that steered any who wandered too close toward the human trail. It was the natural alternative to the base of her dark forest.
“Surprise, surprise,” she said as the silver continued its revelation. At the head of the trail, the man stripped off his clothes and bent over, limbs twisting in an agonizing display of metamorphosis. A moment later, a humungous wolf stood in the man’s place. Werewolf.
The wolf looked hungry and clearly had a mind of its own separate from its human counterpart. Instead of continuing down the trail or running into the forest, it turned around and headed for the human camp. Interacting with humans in supernatural form was forbidden. Injuring a human was a sentenceable offense. When the mirror showed the wolf attacking a human family in their tent, Polina had to take action.
“Time to go,” Polina said.
“There might be more tonight,” Hildegard replied, nodding at the silver.
“Later. The sun has already set. If this wolf is in camp, he’s shifting now.” She grabbed her wand from the side of the lucubratus and hurried for the door. “I don’t think he means to injure anyone, but my understanding is that shifted wolves are extremely impulsive. An ounce of redirection is in order.”
“After you, my lady.”
The problem with using a lucubratus to see the future was the magic mirror often left out important details. In this case, it was the rain. As Polina made her way down her mountain to the human camp, thunder rumbled overhead, lightning tore across the sky, and rain sheeted, soaking her fitted yellow dress and leather slippers.
At the boundary of Silver Sparrow, she circled her wand above her head, dropping a hoop of purple magic down her body. By the time she set foot in the human camp, she was dressed in the brown uniform of a Smuggler’s Notch State Park ranger, wide-brimmed hat and all. Not a moment too soon. Man shifted into beast across the campsite from her. She concealed her wand along the inside of her forearm and hurried to the head of the trail.
The red wolf was enormous, not the natural variety. Its lion-sized head came mid-chest, and its shoulders were wider than hers. Amber eyes zeroed in on Polina, and leathery nostrils twitched with the effort of a good sniff of air and rain.
Through the sheet of water running off the brim of her hat, Polina met the werewolf’s stare. Its claws sank into the mud, ears twitching, teeth bared.
“Easy, fella. I’m here to help.” Polina showed the wolf her wand and made her eyes glow gold to reveal her identity. Although she suspected her scent was enough of a clue, it never hurt to show a supernatural what they were up against. In response, the wolf stopped and whined like a chastened dog.
“Now, if you promise to be a good werewolf, I have a place for you, safe from these nasty humans. Plenty of rabbits and deer to keep you busy for the night. Would you like that?”
The red wolf made a high-pitched sound of consent.
“Very well. Follow me.” She walked toward Sparrow Mountain, the wolf heeling to her side. Glancing toward the campsite, she was relieved the humans were snug inside their tents and campers due to the rain. No eyes. No ears.
The wolf cried as they broke the foggy barrier that was her enchantment. Mist hung permanently at the mountain’s base, and Sparrow Mountain appeared out of nowhere like a page in a giant pop-up book. The mountain cut through the illusion in a headache-inducing act of magic. The wolf hesitated, the protective wards no doubt making his skin crawl. He paced the border.
“Keep walking. You’ll feel better in a hundred yards or so.”
The wolf refused. It crouched and growled, baring its teeth. Fine. She’d hoped to do this the easy way, but she was nothing if not adaptable. Drawing her wand, she positioned herself behind the wolf and sent a shower of sparks toward its tail, an attempt to scare the beast deeper into her realm. The plan backfired. The wolf spun and leapt, jaws snapping. She avoided the teeth, but one massive red paw tore through her shoulder. With a blast of magic, she sent the wolf tumbling.
“Fuck! Bastard, I’m trying to help you.” Polina pressed a hand into the bloody wound. A few more sparks and she drove the beast farther up the mountain, the wolf snarling and snapping all the way. Thankfully, they were far enough into her realm to be hidden from human view.
With a few jogging steps, she caught up to the wolf, who seemed less agitated now that he was beyond the enchanted border. Polina’s brown uniform glittered gold, then faded away, replaced by the yellow dress and slippers. She raised her wand and pointed it toward the mountain.
“Go on,” she said. “Stay away from humans. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
The wolf bowed his head slightly, then turned to advance into the trees.
Hildegard hooted overhead. “I believe we have our realm’s first werewolf.”
Polina smiled at the owl. “Well, I’m not going to suggest that wolf stay after tonight.” She was soaking wet and couldn’t wait to get home. “He must have a pack somewhere. Don’t they usually belong to packs? Let’s hope he’s just passing through. My enchantment should keep him safely away from the humans for the night.”
Hildegard bobbed her head. “You’re a good witch.”
Polina was about to say thank you when a man’s scream ripped through the night.