Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,41
more potions. The baby in the back room begins to cry, and the woman who I believe is Maggie marches toward its crib. I duck when she passes by the window. I can’t make a mistake this time around. I refuse to seek protection from the forest again, especially after the turmoil Ben and I went through.
For most of the evening, nothing significant occurs. My legs cramp from the position I’m in: half-standing, half-squatting. Lavenia and the others care for Ulric and Daciana, and then they retire for the evening, finally catching up on sleep. I need to do the same, though I can’t quite shake the feeling that I need to stick around. What will happen once Ulric and Daciana wake up? Where the hell is Alaric?
A soft whimper shakes me from my thoughts. I glance to my right, where two mutts are staring at me questioningly, as if they suspect my presence here is wrong. I just really, really hope they don’t start barking. I don’t know if I can escape these witches again. Besides, one of them might turn me into a toad, which is far worse than being a werewolf.
“Nice doggy,” I whisper, as I reach out and scratch its head. It pants loudly, and the way its tongue droops out of its mouth gives the appearance it’s smiling. Luckily for me, neither one of them decides to alert Lavenia or the others that I’m here. As a matter of fact, they lie down beside me for the next few hours, as I silently watch the uneventful happenings in Lavenia’s cottage from the shadows.
Apparently, I doze off; one of the mutts decides it’s my alarm clock by licking my face. I shove it away, allowing myself time to wake fully. There’s a commotion inside the cottage, and I nearly topple over trying to raise myself to stare through the window. Ulric and Daciana are awake, thank goodness, but their faces are showing signs they aren’t happy about something, maybe even fearful. What is Lavenia saying to them?
Positioning my head so my ear is nearly pressed against the windowpane, I attempt to listen in on their conversation.
“What are ye saying?” Ulric asks. As I peek through the window, I notice his spine straightens, and all of his attention is focused on Lavenia.
“I am saying ye are transforming into werewolves,” Lavenia states. I nearly gasp aloud. It’s begun. “However,” she continues, “I can lessen this blow by formulating another curse, a cure to alleviate thy suffering.”
A werewolf cure? She knows, I guess, considering she’s the one who started the mess we’re in now.
“If thou think I am going to be cursed yet again—” Daciana starts.
“This second curse will ease thy troubles of becoming a creature of the night,” says Lavenia. “I can give ye powers beyond thy imaginings. The choice, nonetheless, is up to ye.”
There’s a long pause in the conversation, and my hearts skips several beats. That is, until Ulric speaks again.
“What of my brother? Is he infected with this blight, as well?”
Lavenia responds, “Nay, he is not. It seems the wolf did not choose him.”
What wolf is she talking about? Her, or one of her apprentices? Do they know there’s more than one?
“These powers thou speak of,” Daciana begins, “what are they?”
Lavenia drags a chair to the center of the room and sits, making herself comfortable. “The spell I will place on ye, should ye so choose to go forward with the enchantment, is only just that—a spell. The powers ye will receive from this spell are not mine to give ye; they are given by the Old Gods. They decide what ye should be blessed with, not I.”
I jerk my head back. So this is where our powers originated. It’s not an actual cure, but something that will make living as a monster more bearable.
Daciana says, “What thou speak of is witchcraft and punishable, by law, with death. If any person should find out—”
Lavenia cuts her off. “Then I suggest ye keep thy mouth closed, for thy own good. Aye, death is the punishment, should ye be found out. If, however, ye keep quiet, ye shall be immortal—powerful—with abilities that defy logic. Very shortly, ye will be protectors of the forest, enemies to the moon and man, and eternally living in a world where death cannot touch ye. I would say that is a small price to pay for what ye are about to endure.”
“Does Alaric know this?” Ulric asks.
“Nay, he does not, and it