A RETELLING OF PRACTICAL MAGIC.
A 300-year-old family curse. A teenage witch with a broken heart. And a lone wolf determined to solve a missing person's case.
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For three hundred years, a witch family has endured a curse: any man an Owens girl d...
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"A werewolf?" I echo, letting my aunt's accusation sink in.
I've never met a wolf before.
Vampires? Uh, yeah. They inhabit every big city to stalk their food without drawing attention.
Merfolk? The marina crawls with them.
Faeries? There are a few changelings that attend my school but they have no clue what they are yet.
But werewolves?
They usually run in packs and stick to the woods. I've heard rumors of their whereabouts in Eastwood (a thick forest over two-hundred miles away). And since they don't like humans, they avoid the public like it's the plague. They're not exactly an open community to other creatures of the night, either.
Wolves don't like anyone, period.
A chill racks my ribs as Grant's exotic eyes reappear in my mind. One green; one blue.
"How did you know what he was?"
Oops, wrong question. My aunt makes a face.
"Are you still so hot for the wolf that you've forgotten your favorite aunt is psychic?"
I wince. "Favorite is a bit of a stretch."
"You probably would've felt it too if you weren't so dead set against magic. You're psychic, Silver. Even more powerful than me."
"I know," I mutter. "You remind me at least once a day."
"Anyways, I don't want you helping him tomorrow. I want you and Ginger to stay as far away as possible from that dog—and any other dog that shows up. They usually travel in numbers."
"Why do you think he enrolled at my school? What could that mean?" I ask, my heartbeat rising with thrill. But my aunt remains quiet, lost in thought. "You've never met a werewolf either, have you?"
My aunt shrugs. "It's rare for them to emerge from the wood. And to see one completely alone like that? So weird. I got the feeling that he's hiding from his pack." She shudders. "But I mean it, Silver. Stay away from him. No matter how cute he is or how many times he asks you to pet his weenie dog."
"Okay, first: ew, Aunt Bridgett. And second: just what exactly are you afraid is going to happen here?"
She laughs. "That you'll end up barefoot and pregnant with a furbaby on your hip, trapped in the woods as some Alpha's mate for the rest of your life."
"Wow, sorry I asked." I roll my eyes. "And don't be ridiculous. Thanks to you and Aunty Fran, I'm more of a kitten girl anyway."
We both chuckle.
During a red light, Jovi crescendos at the It's My Life chorus. Aunt Bridgett bobs her head to the rhythm, mouthing the lyrics as she digs around the front seat for her cigarettes. The only issue is that this car is compact. It's an apple red Nissan Juke and she's practically on top of me as she hunts for her cigarette case like a fiend.
