I don't make the rules

535 18 1
                                    

The cozy cafe buzzed with an unusual warmth that day. The pack, particularly the children, had shown a remarkable shift in their behavior towards me. Decked out in their playful pointy hats, the kids approached me, beaming with curiosity. They wanted my signature on their hats, but I decided to give them a little extra magic.

With a flick of my finger, I made their hats change color in sync with their emotions. It was a joy watching them scurry about, attempting to summon anger or happiness to influence the hat's hue.

The coffee place, once hesitant to serve me, had grown more accommodating, recognizing that I had started to earn the pack's trust. Even the kids asked about my magical abilities, and the girls seemed particularly interested in my ethereal, wispy style.

Amidst this new atmosphere, I found myself engrossed in an ancient spell book, sipping my coffee, and allowing the kids to enjoy their mood-shifting hats. However, my peaceful moment was interrupted when I noticed the beta, Nathaniel, sliding into the seat across from me.

I barely moved my eyes from the pages but lifted an inquisitive brow as I asked, "What can I help you with?"

His hesitancy was evident as he posed the question that had evidently been nagging at him. "The witch mentioned the 'worst bloodline.' What exactly does that mean?"

I sighed and set the ancient spell book aside, focusing on Nathaniel. "The 'worst bloodline' is essentially a reference to the Shaw lineage," I explained. "My family is considered a joke within the magical community, known for being...eccentric, and well, to put it bluntly, crazy lunatics."

My eyes drifted off, revisiting painful memories. "I got into a prestigious magical school, but even there, I was often ridiculed and bullied because of my last name. I worked relentlessly, completed my education, and eventually landed the position I hold now."

"Oh" he responds confused. "What did they do to earn those...titles your family?"

I shrugged, my expression growing pensive. "Well, it's a mix of family traditions and, honestly, just an air of weird shit even for the witches."

"They've been known to brew experimental potions that often result in peculiar side effects, and our family gatherings have been called chaotic, to say the least. My great-uncle once turned himself into a tree for an entire week, just to see if he could. So, it's not surprising that we have a reputation for being, as the witch said, the 'worst bloodline.'" I finish.

I couldn't help but smile faintly. "It ain't much but it's honest work and our unconventional ways made us special in our own ways."

Nathaniel seemed perplexed as he observed me, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "You're not like any witch I've met, though" he began, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his point. "It's all hands with you."

I glanced at him, bemused. "What are you trying to say? That I'm 'witching' wrong?" I asked with a hint of curiosity.

Nathaniel scratched his head and explained, "Well, not wrong, per se, but most witches, you know, they mutter something like 'taco my tacos, give me a bunch of nachos,' and then poof!" He made an exaggerated hand gesture, mimicking an explosion. "Nacho tacos"

I shrugged, offering some insight into my unconventional approach. "I wasn't taught to do it that way. I suppose it's the 'normal' method, but that never worked for me."

With a flick of my hand, I conjured a plate of tacos and nachos, setting them in front of Nathaniel. He looked down, his eyes lighting up, and took a chip, crunching it contentedly.

"See? I told you," he mumbled through a mouthful of nacho.

Nathaniel looked thoughtful as he continued to munch. "Do you know anyone who does it like you?" he inquired, his question muffled by another chip.

I furrowed my brows, thinking for a moment, then shook my head. "Nah, just me."

He leaned back in his chair, his expression tense. "You should look into that," he advised. "These days, you just never know."

I arched an eyebrow at his cryptic words. "Also, the alpha wanted to speak with us again," Nathaniel added, his stress clearly showing.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "So what? Does he want free therapy or something?" I quipped.

The beta merely shrugged, resigned. "I think we'll need the therapy."

"Never a boring day," I sighed, reaching over and grabbing another nacho.

A tiny voice piped up from a nearby table, and we both turned to see one of the young pack members. "Can I have a magic nacho, please?" the child asked innocently.

Nathaniel grinned and gestured to the plate. "Have at it, kid."

We left the café and headed to Sebastian's home, where we gathered in the living room to discuss the ongoing situation with the alpha. He informed us about the concerns from other packs, who were angry that the Lunar Syndicate hadn't suffered any attacks and were starting to question if we were behind the recent supernatural occurrences.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I explained the origins of the barrier spell. "Truly, the spell isn't special. Ironically enough, I came up with it when my Nonna used to mess up the mashed potatoes when I went to school. No one was going to mess with my food, so I put the barrier around them. I'd come back, and they were still there. This was the first time I used it on a large scale."

The alpha informed us about Bloodmoon, another powerful pack, sending troops our way the previous day. The beta couldn't believe the situation. "Witches and now war? What's the damage?"

"None," the alpha replied, locking eyes with me. "They weren't able to access our territory. A purple wall stopped them. It doesn't set the premise for war but definitely a rivalry."

I blurted out, "Well, I'll be damned," before quickly apologizing to maintain professionalism. "The barrier isn't actually as complicated as it seems."

Sebastian mumbled, "It looked pretty complicated to me."

"I made the whole thing up in an attempt to keep my Nonna away from my food back home," I cringed, sharing my origin story. "I've never done it on such a large scale."

The alpha was still wary. "How much energy are you putting into it?"

The beta looked confused, but I answered firmly, "The answer to your question is none. Once it's up, it's up, and only I can take it down."

The alpha furrowed his eyebrows, studying me. "Are you sure? This is a very large pack. How isn't this affecting you?"

"Magic has never taken a toll on me," I replied honestly. "It's part of me."

Alpha Sebastian, looking concerned, added, "Lilian, I really want to believe that. From my experience, even the witch who killed my father, Sybil, was drained when she killed my father."

I couldn't help but sound a bit salty as I retorted, "I guess you have an argument. But I had her ass on the mat faster than diarrhea on Mexican night."

Nathaniel chimed in from the side, "Yeah, I've gotta agree, alpha." He seemed to enjoy teasing our alpha. Sebastian shot him a glare, and I couldn't help but blurt out, "Someone's jelly."

Nathaniel seemed to take it as if I was suggesting the alpha was jealous because we were becoming good friends and, as a result, he was spending less time with him. Little did he know that the gorgeous man in front of me was, by all means, my man. Whether he knew it or not, he was mine.

Sebastian blinked at my unexpected comment and raised an eyebrow. I realized how my words could be misinterpreted, and my cheeks flushed as I quickly clarified, "I mean... um, I was talking about the barrier, not, you know, your personal life or anything."

Nathaniel chuckled, clearly amused by the situation. Sebastian cleared his throat and changed the topic, "Well, Lilian, I hope you're right about the barrier, and it doesn't affect you in any negative way."

"It doesn't" I say proudly.

A Witch's HowlWhere stories live. Discover now