consider. It would be the kind of coven that took over a damn city and most of the country when she had a bad day or a good idea.
I had to swallow a smile at the thought, and focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t think too much about what Rocko was doing to Silas without my stomach turning over and panic making the magic start to boil out of control. So I focused on what I could control, and fetched the knitting needles that had stabbed Henry’s ass just the night before.
Deirdre gave me a sideways look as I started knitting, but I held my ground. “A binding. I can make a binding.”
“Will he expect it?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. I wove my intent and fury into each stitch, every simple loop and twist. I would bind Rocko from doing harm to anyone. I would bind him to the earth so he couldn’t flee, so the wolves could do their own experiment on whether a sorcerer could survive having his throat torn out.
I just hoped that by that point, I was well out of the splatter zone.
“Rocko never thought much of... female things,” I said under my breath. I held up the knitting. “He never paid attention to it, he just thought it was cute I had a hobby. So I wasn’t bored between his... visits.”
“He sounds like a real prick,” she said. “I’m going to enjoy watching him die.”
I set my jaw but I agreed with her all the way to my bones. “What else do we need to do?”
“A witchy Molotov cocktail, if you will,” she said as she started mixing herbs and plants from the jars and bundles over her workbench. “A freezing spell, instant paralysis. What kind of defenses does a sorcerer typically use?”
I racked my brain for every detail I could provide, which wasn’t much. Rocko used me for his experiments and spells to power his work, but had seldom explained what he did. She kept asking questions and I answered what I could, and all the while I knitted and she mixed up small bottles of strange liquids. The companionship was refreshing. It finally felt like I wasn’t entirely on my own, fighting off more powerful forces as they closed in around me. I had Henry, and I had a pack.
It felt so strange to know that there were others who would stand next to me. Who would take risks with me. Even if it was mostly to save Silas, it still meant a lot. It felt a teensy bit less nerve-racking. Not enough that my knees didn’t wobble, but still. Baby steps.
As soon as Deirdre had a six-pack of her witch’s brew, she strode into the living room where Miles led a conference of the rest of the pack. I followed and debated where to sit, though it didn’t take long for Henry to find me and drag me into his lap. I kept knitting, not caring if anyone judged me, and fed more and more magic into the yarn. Binding, restraining, punishing, anchoring. Tying Rocko’s hands so he couldn’t harm anyone else. Keeping him in one spot so he couldn’t flee justice. All of it worked through me and into the yarn, and even though the magic seethed like a displeased ocean god just outside my reach, I had somewhere to direct it.
One of the men I’d met only in passing, named Todd and looking a great deal too much like Miles for it to be anything but a family resemblance, pointed at a map and issued orders. They had teams in place around the empty lot and searching the nearby area so they could figure out how Rocko would arrive. When Todd paused to draw breath, I cleared my throat. “He won’t approach on foot.”
All eyes turned on me and I wanted to shrink back into Henry. What if they all hated me for getting Silas caught? What if they just wanted me to shut up and hide in the corner while they went about their tough, capable business?
Henry rested his chin on my shoulder and asked gently, “Why not?”
“It’s too... mundane.” My cheeks heated and my hands stilled on the knitting, since I couldn’t concentrate on the magic while also shuddering from memories of the sorcerer. “He can open rifts in the air and just…transport. He’ll step through from nothingness and just appear. He likes the drama of it.”
“Fucking unbelievable,” Todd said. “Seriously? He can do that