Maura was so infuriated she could slaughter the entire Pack. She felt the precise moment her sister perished, and the blood-bound cloaking spell, wrought from newborn blood, was broken. Now, of all times, when she had finally fallen pregnant. Her immaculately crafted and laborious plan was hanging by a thread, and she could not allow it to unravel.
She hustled to gather everything the witch had requested and slipped a sleeping draught into the Alpha's wine; he had become far too wild and she could barely stand to be near him. He prowled the night seeking the comfort of bars and lay with any woman or female that would have him, prompting her to drug him.
Once prepared, she awaited nightfall, for the Alpha to succumb to sleep, then sprinted to the witch’s abode. She hammered on the wooden door with force, prompting the witch to open it in protest.
“Haven’t I told you to disguise your visits?!” The witch yanked the faux Luna inside by her arm and slammed the door shut.
“My life is in ruins, a fire witch has dissolved the cloaking spell and slain my sister. The Alpha loathes me and beds other women, and you expect subtlety from me, you cursed hag.”
Maura seized the witch's throat with both hands and squeezed. The witch managed to grasp her rune, and through immense effort, cast a transmutation spell, turning Maura into a crow - but not a mindless beast. She continued her assault, pecking furiously at the witch’s head.
The only solution was to reverse the spell and, by then, Maura had calmed and ceased her attack on the witch.
“I'm desperate, I need help, or else you know what…”
“Alright, alright, did you bring what I asked?”
“Here it all is.” She handed over a wriggling sack to the witch, something alive was clearly within.
“Good, now wait.”
The witch scattered a handful of foul-smelling powder over an old broom.
“Sit up straight on this.”
Maura had heard tales of witches flying on brooms but had never believed them. She eyed the misshapen object warily.
“Hurry up, we must do this and return before sunrise!” the witch chided.
Maura settled on the floating broom, and they ascended, soaring through an opening roof. They flew for a time until landing on a mountain and entering a forest, where they found two large, parallel stones creating a portal's sides. The witch extended her arm, rune in hand, pulling Maura’s wrist with her. The passage sucked at her hand, transporting them through.
Upon arrival at the stone circle’s plateau, Merheia was alerted and headed there too, emerging from the portal at a distance from the other two. She concealed herself behind a shrub to observe the hapless witch’s endeavors. It was futile; only sorcerers could harness that site’s power.
She recognized the Luna and knew that if she was there, the companion must be a blood witch who might achieve something, but not with Merheia present. Merheia wouldn't let any of the vile crone's work come to fruition. She waited, seeing the witch's attempt and laughed; the offspring's blood couldn't alter the scent.
However, when the witch prepared to mix her own blood into the concoction, Merheia was alarmed and, with a gesture, severed the knife. Still, the old witch did not yield, reaching for a glass shard, yet Merheia thwarted her again. Finally, the witch's own teeth provided the blood, though Merheia directed it askew, preventing it from touching the crucial spot.
“What is happening, why isn’t your blood landing in the right place?” Maura inquired.
“I think this place rejects this kind of witchcraft.”
“Or perhaps it's you who’s unwilling to do it?”
“No, it's not me. I've done everything, even torn flesh with my teeth, but the blood won't land there.”
“Listen here, you damned witch, I’ll report you to the council if you don't finish this.”
“Fine, fine.”
The witch tried again, and Merheia realized she was being blackmailed, concealing some grave misdeed. Seeking to uncover it, Merheia assisted, but the blood that completed the spell wasn’t the witch’s but switched with that of the sacrificed weasel.
The two hastily departed, and the sorceress reversed their workings and followed them through the portal. She trailed the broom to the witch’s house before contentedly returning to her cabin. She couldn't help noticing their proximity to the La Cruz residence, now but ashes. That would have to wait; for the moment, she’d return to her cabin and cleanse herself of their stench.
*
Dawn broke, and June, accompanied by Catleia, returned to the Alpha's residence through the back entrance. Rude awaited them and tenderly wrapped June in a bathrobe. Catleia had left hers there and donned it by herself, giving the two their moment. She entered unnoticed.
Rude spoke to June, trying to soften the prior day’s tension.
“Sorry about yesterday. I was overwhelmed, and I was worried about my mom.”
“No need for apologies or justifications; I’m well-aware of men's behavior. But if it's redemption you seek, start with a decent breakfast.”
“Alright. This is our house, and I am not a man; I am a werewolf, nothing like what you’re used to. Do you want to shower first?”
“No, I’d rather eat first and don't call me smelly again.”
“Can’t you give it a rest? I’m attempting to make amends; could you at least cooperate?” he nearly shouted, pulling away to prepare breakfast.
“I don’t trust those I don’t know, especially not men or males.” She responded, dropping her gaze and seating herself at a counter stool.
“Fancy pancakes?”
“Yes.”
He moved swiftly about the kitchen, making coffee, juice, pancakes, toast, and scrambled eggs.
“Why so much food?”
“For myself as well, of course.” Catleia interjected, freshly showered entering the kitchen. “I’ve missed these scrambled eggs. It's been ages since I've had much of anything, really.”
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