Distorted Affliction

Chapter Twenty Two

Wyoming seemed to be much windier than Montana, though the temperature seemed to be fairly equal. When we pulled into the rest area in Sheridan, I was more than excited to climb out of the car and stretch my legs. Vanessa pulled the silver Honda in next to us, and when the rest of the coven emerged, it seemed as though I wasn't the only one who needed to walk around for a bit.

Ophelia and Opal bundled Silas up in a blanket and shuffled him inside to the bathroom, and while I wanted to follow my son wherever they took him, I understood that I would be more in the way than anything in the small bathroom. I had to give them credit, they had done a fantastic job of taking care of him this far, I couldn't foresee them failing at a diaper change at this point. Vanessa stepped away to call the coven to let them know we had made it to our rendezvous location, and Cyrene scrounged quarters together from the Honda and headed off towards the vending machines.

"You look cold," Sin noted, watching me pull the strings on my truck stop hoodie tighter around my face. The sun was starting to set, and as it departed, so did whatever warmth it brought.

"You look..." I paused, glancing at him with his coat pulled on, though I knew it was only for show. "Entirely unbothered by something as mundane as the weather."

I relished the smile he offered me, though I could still clearly see the stress marring his face under the mask of humor he wore. Glancing around for what felt like the hundredth time since we stopped, I noticed a small Toyota pickup truck pulling in close by, a short red haired woman climbing out of the driver's seat. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, her face lighting up when her gaze landed on us.

Vanessa appeared from the front of the travel center, fixing the other coven members with a soft smile as she sauntered over. Sin and I kept our distance while they chatted for a moment, and then we all loaded back into our respective vehicles and pulled out of the travel center, following the pickup truck away from the interstate and the city. She led us further from the main highways, turning down a dirt road surrounded by the thinning trees and what seemed to be endless forest.

There were no other houses out here, no neighbors to the coven for miles, and that left me feeling a little more at ease about leaving my son with them. When we finally pulled up the long driveway to a wooden cabin-style home, flowers of every color springing forth from the foundation regardless of the cold weather, the tension in my stomach eased a bit. I noticed several other women were busy chopping wood along the side of the house, picking herbs from a garden a little further down, or building a fire in the large stone pit.

It was the epitome of what humans would imagine a coven to be. As we climbed from the car, most of the women stopped working to come greet us, brilliant smiles lighting up their worn features. Sin was a little more hesitant to step out, unsure of the response awaiting him. Though our coven had taken to the concept of working with Mouri under our circumstances, it was still incredibly frowned upon in the witch community. It was seen as taboo, though if they thought Sin's presence was wrong, they'd lose sleep knowing we were asking them to house our son.

The short, red haired woman who met us in town introduced herself to us as Armina Dupree, coven leader.

"This is Amelie," she said, gesturing to an older looking woman who could have been twice my age with silver hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to look straight through me. Her face was set in a scowl, though she was giving us a small, toothless smile. "Clover, Nina, and Leona are taking care of the bonfire tonight. We're excited you guys could make it for our full moon feast. Kerrigan and her daughter Dahlia are working on supper, we hope you haven't eaten yet."

Their coven were the Moon Thread Sisters, though it seemed only Kerrigan and Dahlia were related by blood. Kerrigan was a beautiful woman with soft green eyes and light blonde hair who carried her small frame as if she held all of the power of life itself. Dahlia looked like she had been her mother's clone, and even at eight years old she seemed very aware of the world.