Mated By Fate by Christa Wick

Chapter Five

Certain she wouldn't getany sleep, Lana began unpacking with the duffel bag. Once she agreed to leave with them, Seth had given her only thirty minutes to gather up a few clothes and any keepsakes she cherished. Lucky for him, her salary at the school only managed to keep her fed with a low-rent roof over her head for the year. She'd been able to bring all of her clothes and her only true keepsake—a silver-framed picture of her and Hannah.

Esme stood just inside the doorway watching. "Do you mind if I help?"

Lana looked over her shoulder at the woman, hoping her eyes countered the indifferent lift of her shoulders. She had a million questions she wanted to ask if she could only figure out how to start and what topics might be off-limits.

Grabbing some hangers from the closet, Esme opened the suitcase. "You know, if you're curious about anything…"

Lana chewed at her lip, uncertain which question to start with. Ignoring Seth and Denver's repeated warnings, Esme had already fed her a little information on the drive. Lana knew they were in a remote area some ninety minutes out of the small city where her tiny apartment and job were located. The "clan," as they called their community, owned the surrounding land under various names. But she didn't know in which direction and at what speed they had left the city.

Beyond that, she knew the clan consisted of subunits called packs, each numbering anywhere from a handful of wolf shifters to a couple dozen and headed by a pack leader like Seth. Years past, packs would have been almost exclusively composed of close blood relatives and their mates, but the people Esme referred to as Hunters were close to achieving a complete genocide. Only a dozen clans remained and any shifter daring to leave the safety of the clan would be easy prey to the Hunters.

Her stomach did a sick backflip at the thought of so many people ruthlessly murdered.

Pulling a pair of slacks from the duffel, she handed them to Esme. "Are there other…humans living with this clan?"

A wry smile shaped Esme's lips at Lana's hesitation.

"Depends on what you think of as 'human.'" Putting the slacks on the hanger, she walked over to the closet and hung them. "From my reading, it has been generations since a latent lived among shifters. They are basically just legends now. But, in terms of non-shifters, there is me, my mother, Camille, and a healer named Gordon who looks as old as Moses and is twice as slow. Most shifters think of healers as humans…few seem to feel the same way about witches. House elves would be closer to their thinking."

Hearing a thread of pain weaving through Esme's words, Lana tried to steer her toward different thoughts.

"Healers aren't witches?"

Esme's mouth puckered at the question. "A healer can manipulate magic, he just can't generate it on his own like witches do. And his ratio of magic to spell effect is terribly inefficient. He also cannot read witch script."

A bubble of laughter from Lana floated across the room. "Every answer you give me just leads to more questions. Like what is witch script and are healers always male?"

"Always male," Esme agreed. "And I'll show you witch script tomorrow. I'm curious if you can read it."

Lana offered a wary headshake before opening the suitcase. Reaching inside, she unwrapped a thick sweater from around a silver picture frame. Both women in the photograph had pure black hair. Frail from childhood, Hannah was the smaller of the sisters despite being three years older than Lana. They had their arms around each other, their heads turned toward the camera, their glossy lips puckered in a playful kiss directed at the friend snapping the photo.

Lana placed the frame on the nightstand and looked over her shoulder. "So your mom is a…uh..."

"Witch?" Esme laughed before nodding. "Yes. My family has served the clan for untold centuries."

Returning to the bed, she gestured at the picture. "You and Hannah?"

Clearing her throat, Lana looked away. "Yeah, the summer before she was murdered."

"About the frame," Esme scratched along her chin for a second before she pinched at her lower lip and continued. "You have to be careful with silver around the pack."

Lana's head swiveled. "You mean that silver bullet mumbo-jumbo is true?"

"Not exactly." The suitcase and duffel empty, Esme settled on the edge of the mattress. "Silver is a conduit for magic. That means it can store magic, and it can magnify magic's potency. It's dangerous to the pack in my hands because I'm a very well-trained witch. So if, in anger, I chucked a silver tea tray at Denver's head…"

Looking as if she'd contemplated the act more than once, a grin erupted across Esme's face before her expression quickly sobered. "Anyway, as a latent, there's a certain magic inherent in you, even if it's unschooled."

Lana started to protest, but Esme cut her short. "No one ever called you a jinx growing up?"

Lana didn't answer.

"You didn't have a talent for finding things people lost?"

"Anyone can figure—"

"And you didn't always know exactly before someone you cared about or really disliked showed up or called?" Esme studied Lana for a few seconds before grinning again. "Hot damn, three out of three! Maybe I should book a flight for Vegas."

Picking up the suitcase and duffel, Lana turned away and placed them in the closet. She felt her cheeks heat up, the witch almost as good as Seth at making her feel self-conscious. Leaning against the closet doorframe, she watched Esme put fresh linen cases on the pillows.

"I sort of shut that kind of stuff off after Hannah died." Suddenly cold, she wrapped her arms around her chest. "The week before she was murdered, I had a feeling of dread, leaden…suffocating."

Esme stopped dressing the bed and stared at Lana. "You've had it again since then."

Lana nodded. "It started a few days ago. I didn't recognize the sensations until you said Hannah's name at the apartment."

Crossing the room, Esme gently took Lana's hands and held them. "That's why you came with us."

Blinking, Lana felt a small trickle of tears. Freeing one hand, she wiped them away. "I was going to run a few errands this afternoon after I started a load of laundry, but the sensation grew unbearably heavy. I locked myself in my apartment until it stopped about ten minutes before I ran into Seth."

"I think that confirms there was a Hunter nearby," Esme confirmed. "That's why Seth and Denver were at your building. As a latent, you would have sensed whatever charms the Hunter was using to locate you and his intent on what to do once he found you. That dread stopped because of your affinity for Seth's totem, which is unusu—"

A loud knock at the front of the house interrupted Esme. Her nose twitched and she released Lana's hand.

"Denver?" Lana asked.

Esme nodded.

"I'm really sorry you have to deal with him on my account."

"That's my problem, not yours." Heading toward the hallway, Esme stopped. Reaching up, she pinched her bottom lip again, her gaze studying Lana's face. "That question you weren't ready to ask—the answer is yes. I can suppress your latent nature and teach you how to do it yourself. Until they learn new techniques, Hunters won't recognize you for what you are or be able to cast for you. Problem is, they seem to always be learning….experimenting. What I teach you tomorrow might be obsolete the day after."

Hands curled around her upper arms, Lana tried to pull herself together. It wasn't the Hunters she'd been thinking about hiding from. She'd bet good money that finding her with Seth's pack would be reason enough to rip her apart, whether or not they could tell that she was a latent. She stopped chewing at her lip and met Esme's gaze. "What about Seth?"

"He already knows what you are." When that only earned her a scowl, Esme smiled sadly. "Yeah, it'll work on him. If you still drive him crazy, it won't be because you're a latent."

Lana's cheeks heated. She hoped the witch couldn't actually read minds. Lana had enough experience to know that a man like Seth, virile and beyond handsome, wouldn't look at her on the street, in a restaurant or anywhere else. His reaction wasn't an aesthetic attraction to her. She needed to prove it to him and to her own foolish heart before she started believing he really did like her.

She met Esme's gaze just as the knock at the front door repeated, harder and more insistent. Sticking her head into the hallway, Esme shouted.

"Down, boy!" Glancing back at Lana, she winked. "He seriously hates that. Try to get some sleep, and I'm straight across the hall if you need anything."

Esme left, closing the door behind her.