Chapter 1
Daria was running as fast as she could. Her lungs were burning and there was an ache in her side, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She knew they would probably catch up to her soon. They were werewolves. If they couldn’t catch up to her in human form, they would just shift and be upon her in no time at all. Her only chance was to make it to the river. If she could just get there, she could jump in and then they couldn’t use their heightened sense of smell to track her. Her legs were aching and she thought she would collapse but just then as she came out of the woods she saw the river below her. That was all she needed to give her a burst of energy. She charged down the grassy hill towards the river. She was just feet away from it when she felt a hand come down on her shoulder. He probably didn’t mean to knock her down. He just wanted to stop her. But the force of his hand and her forward momentum threw her down onto the ground where her head hit something hard and everything went black.
Daria woke up with a start. The same old nightmare. She sighed and got out of bed. She walked over to the small window in her bedroom. It was just getting light out. She looked down onto the garden in the back of the main house. She thought she had accepted her lot in life or at least that’s what she told herself. She shook her head. She might have accepted her lot in life, but she didn’t understand any of it. Why was she even living in the main pack house? She wasn’t a werewolf. She had never heard her wolf in her head. Her wolf did not emerge on her 18th birthday and she had never found a mate, not that she was looking for one.
Daria wasn’t a werewolf, but both her father and her brother were. Her father was Beta to this pack’s Alpha. And her brother was quickly making his way up the hierarchy of the pack. The house where Daria lived was known as the River of No Return Pack House. The pack had adopted the name of the dense wilderness as its own. The pack house was all that she had known for the last 16 years of her life. Before that she had lived in a cabin several miles from the main pack house with her father, mother, and brother. She hadn’t been back there since she was four years old. That was when her mother left and her father packed her and her brother up and brought them here.
Daria’s reminiscing was interrupted by a scratching at her bedroom door. She had let her cat out earlier and assumed he had done his hunting for the day and was back, but when she opened the door she saw Poppy the kitchen maid standing there. Daria glanced at the two men standing on either side of her door. They just stood their staring straight ahead like statues. Daria quickly grabbed Poppy’s hand and pulled her into the room and shut the door.
“Oh, I’m so glad you stopped in for a visit. I was brooding and now you’re here to cheer me up!” Daria laughed and pulled Poppy over to the bed. Poppy was a tiny little thing. They were both almost 21, but Poppy looked so much younger. She was barely 5 feet tall to Daria’s 5 feet 8 inches. She had auburn hair and green eyes like many of the pack members. Looking at Poppy it was not hard to guess that the pack had originated in Scotland.
“I can’t stay long. I got my chores done early and cook said I could take a short break. The kitchen is buzzing. In fact, the whole pack house is buzzing.” Daria just stared at her and said nothing, enjoying how Poppy squirmed and looked like she could just burst with the news.
Poppy was Daria’s only friend. Most of the pack were polite to her and would make casual conversation with her, but the ever-present bodyguards were a deterrent to anything more than that. Poppy had been assigned to bring Daria her meals after the previous kitchen maid found her mate and moved away. Daria had been at the pack house 5 years by then and was very lonely. Poppy was still only 10 years old and in school, but all the pack members, especially the orphans like Poppy, were assigned tasks to help with work around the pack house. The very first day they became fast friends. Poppy tripped on the rug as she came into the room and a teacup fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. Poppy was so upset, convinced that she would be punished. Daria told her, “No you won’t. You tell them I dropped it and I’ll swear to it if anyone asks me.”
Poppy was also a werewolf. Her wolf emerged on her 18th birthday. Daria had tried to be happy for her, but she feared Poppy would find her mate right away and then Daria would be left here alone. But that still hadn’t happened. Daria resolved that when it did she would be happy for Poppy. Finding a mate might mean she’d have to leave this pack, but she’d never have to work as a kitchen maid again.
Poppy stood up impatiently and put her hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you going to ask? Aren’t you the least bit interested in the news?” Daria laughed. “Yes, I am actually. So, tell me!”
Poppy plopped back down on the bed. “A wizard is coming to visit. And rumor has it that he’s coming to see you!” Daria was dumbfounded for just a minute and then a very old memory came back to her of a time when her mother brought a wizard to visit her. Daria shook her head. It could not be the same one. That had been 16 years ago.
“Well, I am somewhat underwhelmed by your reaction, friend. Aren’t you excited? A visit by a wizard! I’ve never heard of such a thing. Wizards coming to werewolf pack houses? I’ve never even heard of a witch coming to a pack house.” Daria looked down quickly. Poppy grabbed her arm and shook it. “Well?”
“But what does he want?” Daria didn’t mean to say that out aloud. She was still a bit lost in her memories.
“I was hoping you could tell me. You really don’t know why he’s come to see you?” Poppy asked, bewildered by her friend’s lack of excitement.
“No, not a clue.” Daria cursed inwardly. That was the first lie she had ever told Poppy and she didn’t like it and couldn’t let it stand. “No, that’s not exactly true. I think it has something to do with my mother.” Poppy’s eyes got wide. Over the years they had shared every detail of their past histories, except for one. Daria refused to talk about her mother. Poppy had tried to get some info from the kitchen gossips, but nobody would talk about her.
“This isn’t the first time a wizard has been here. My mother brought one to see me when I was 4 years old. Maybe it’s the same one.” Daria tried to remember the wizard’s name, but it just wouldn’t come to her.
“Why would she do something like that?” Poppy was clearly intrigued and horrified at the same time. “Did the Alpha know?’
Daria shook her head. “No. He found out afterwards as did my father.”
Daria thought back to that visit. She knew the wizard had come to test her, to see if she had any witch powers. All she remembered after he left was her mother’s anger, her mother staring down at her and saying, “Nothing. You’re not a witch. You’re not a werewolf. You’re nothing but a waste of 5 years of my life.” And then her mother went upstairs, came back down in a few minutes with a suitcase, and walked out the door without saying a word of goodbye and that was the last Daria ever saw of her.
Poppy rubbed Daria’s arm. She could tell that talking about her mother upset her. But she couldn’t help asking, “Do you remember her at all? What she looked like?”
Daria smiled sadly. “I have a picture of her hidden in my sock drawer, if you want to see for yourself.” Poppy’s eyes were as big as saucers. She never imagined Daria had a picture of her. She walked timidly over to the bureau and pulled open the second drawer and rummaged around and there she found a tiny picture frame.
“Oh Daria, she was beautiful!” exclaimed Poppy as she looked at the photo. “It says Malfa. Was that her name?” Daria nodded. She watched as Poppy studied the photo. Daria remembered how her mother’s shiny black hair cascaded in waves down her back and how her brown eyes could darken to black when she was angry. She had a curvy figure and the dress she was wearing in the photo seemed designed to highlight her ample bosom and tiny waist. Daria had often looked at the photo longingly wishing that the woman had been as beautiful inside as she was outside.
“She was a witch, Poppy. A very wicked one.”
