The Loup Garou of New Orleans

5

Sylvie

"My father? You knew my father?" I asked cautiously. Johnny modded and ran a hand through his mane of hair. "I did, very well actually. Your father was a dear friend and trusted liaison to our pack." He rumbled. Being this close to him made it hard to focus on his words. My body was warm and tingly, my breathing heavy. "He was?" I asked. Johnny nodded and reached towards me. He cradled my cheek on a big rough palm, then rugged me closer to his body. I was trembling, both inside and out. My blood was on fire. "Your father was one of the most powerful warlocks I've ever met catin, Magique flowed through his blood, just as it does yours." Johnny said and moved the hand on my cheek to the back of my neck. I panted, my blood was boiling. "But Mama-" I was cut off by a sigh. "Your momma is a good woman, and I don't mean to speak ill of her. But she never understood. She never gave your father a chance. She forbid him to practice his craft. When a warlock or witch gives up on Magique, they get sick Sylvie. Their bodies have Magique in their blood. Ignoring that is comparable to refusing to eat." He explained. I swallowed thickly. "Will.... will that happen to me?" I asked nervously. My father died of some undiagnosed illness. It wasn't pretty, and I was terrified that the same thing would happen to me if what Johnny said was true. "Yes." He stated bluntly. I slapped my hands over my mouth, and at the same time, the dim lightbulb in the back of Boudreaux's glowed bright before shattering. I screamed and turned away from it. Johnny didn't flinch. He simply rigged me into his arms and let me hide in his massive chest. A sniffle broke free, then hiccuping sobs tore from my body. Deep, long-stifled cries. Of loss, pain, of regret, of guilt. All of it came pouring out. Johnny never balked, he just lifted me into his arms and let me pour my soul out.