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“Well, now that we’ve managed to discredit the whole escaped wolf theory and ruled out werewolves thanks to the lunar cycle, what’s our next move?” Steve asked, frustration evident in his voice. “After that junkie asshole attacked you and trashed this place, we’re left working with the basics.”
“You don’t need technology to break a case, Steve,” Maya said sagely. “You just need a passion for the truth.”
“And the freaky,” he muttered. “I mean, just look at the Wall of Weird.”
“I’m relieved he didn’t destroy that,” Maya admitted softly. “That’s years of research.”
Angelo leaned his back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Maya cleared her throat. “You have a date with Beverly tonight, right?”
“Yep,” Steve replied, his glee obvious. “You and Justin finally going out?”
“Justin and I are only friends and colleagues,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“He wants your V-Card.”
“Steve!” She cried out, horrified.
Angelo blinked, turning his head towards the door, surprised by this revelation.
“Just get out of here before I chop off something Beverly will miss,” Maya grumbled.
Steve chuckled. “See you tomorrow.” With that, he emerged from the doorway, rummaging through his bag and not noticing Angelo as he continued in the opposite direction.
Angelo watched him go, wondering what Maya saw in the guy, before shaking his head and pushing away from the wall. He entered the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”
Maya turned from the window. “Dad’s got a big meeting and won’t know if I’m not home.”
“I thought he calls you at the house?” Angelo closed the door and leaned back against it.
She grinned evilly. “I programmed the home phone to forward all incoming calls to my mobile.”
Angelo chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart.”
“So, what brings you to the Chronicle?” Maya asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“My aunt in Grandville is sick, and my mother has gone to visit for a couple of days... so I don’t want to spend more time at home than necessary.” Angelo wasn’t sure why he was being so truthful with her as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. “I was thinking we could spend this evening going over the bestiary and other books I got, which might help us figure out what your little wolf is.”
She smiled, nodding. “That would be great.”
“What do you do if it’s a Skinwalker, though?” Angelo asked curiously. “It’s not like the other stories you write about in the Chronicle.”
“I know,” Maya nodded thoughtfully. “It all depends on the truth, I suppose.”
As Angelo got up to serve himself another slice of pizza, Maya watched him, reflecting on how his presence in her house had gradually become less strange. She realized she had judged everyone in the coven before truly getting to know them, and now she felt a twinge of guilt. With Dawson and Jason, she had been defensive, hurt by their past actions. But Harper, Angelo, and Sam? She had been unfairly biased against them, never giving them a chance to prove themselves.
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Angelo, oblivious to her thoughts, returned to the sofa and sat next to her, chewing on his pizza. He glanced at the book she held. “These are the options I’ve narrowed down after seeing the video, checking the lunar schedule, and considering all other factors.” He took another bite and propped his feet on the coffee table. “We can work through them one by one by process of elimination.”
Maya glanced at the list. “You really put a lot of thought into these. I never even considered half of them—and I think about the weird a lot.”
“You don’t have a bestiary,” Angelo shrugged. “It’s the only magical thing about my family that my father wasn’t an asshole about.” He looked at her, blue eyes serious. “I don’t usually take it out of my home. It’s really ancient, really large, and heavy as hell.”
“So, other than having a gift with healing and herbs, the Stiles are the bestiarians of the coven,” Maya mused. “You’re all sorts of useful, aren’t you?”
“And you just thought I was only part of the coven because of my good looks,” he smirked.
She chuckled, shaking her head. A few months ago, she might have agreed. “I’m sure they didn’t hurt your chances.”
He paused, staring at her before laughing and shaking his head.
Maya returned her attention to the list:
Skinwalker
Some sort of “pagan god” like Fenrir
Spirit Animal
Familiar
“What’s the difference between a Spirit Animal, a Familiar, and a Skinwalker?” Maya asked, not afraid to seek clarity.
“Well, a Skinwalker is someone who can turn themselves into an animal, a Familiar is an animal controlled by a witch, and a Spirit Animal...well, that’s more Native American shamanism than Euro-American witchcraft. But remember, the Kawauchi Indians used to live here,” Angelo said, surprising Maya with his knowledge from history class that she herself had forgotten. “Some say a Spirit Animal is the spirit you most resemble, and it usually only manifests to give wisdom or protect the shaman. But I’ve been reading, and there are theories that the strongest shamans could take the forms of their Spirit Animals through some sort of astral projection.”
“Whoa,” Maya blinked, clearly impressed.
Angelo nodded, his expression serious.
Her gaze lowered to the list once more. “About Fenrir...you don’t really think pagan gods exist, do you?”
“A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed witches existed,” he reminded her.
“Right. Great point,” she breathed, feeling a little uneasy at this new possibility.
Angelo cleared his throat, staring at the options before his baby blues rose to meet her greens. “Has Clarissa approached you lately about binding the coven?”
She sighed, holding his gaze. “Yeah.”
“And?” Angelo leaned back against the sofa, turning more towards her.
“I’m not sure,” Maya admitted, a little annoyed she was even contemplating it. “We almost didn’t survive the last attack—Sam’s hands are still scarred and will probably always be a little scarred no matter how much healing magic is used—and that wasn’t even the handiwork of the Witch-Hunters.” She turned more towards him as well, their feet touching. “It means that other than the Witch-Hunters, we have someone else we need to be careful of.”
Angelo nodded, clearly having thought about this himself.
Maya’s gaze drifted to the page of her book, feeling a little resentful that Austen hadn’t contacted her. But how was he supposed to know what had happened to her? He had his own life and crisis to deal with. Still, his absence meant she had to deal with Clarissa Jackson again, as Mrs. Woods refused to teach any of the other kids without parental permission. Maya didn’t want to deal with Clarissa; she just didn’t take to her.
She felt deceived. She had done serious magic—group magic—and no one was acting as if they had some sort of addiction to her. Just look at Angelo. Out of all the members of the coven, she’d done the most magic with him, and yet he was showing no signs of being desperate for physical or magical contact. It made her feel as if maybe Austen had lied to her, but she couldn’t find a reason for him to do so.
What would he get out of keeping her from becoming a part of a coven? The question gnawed at Maya, filling her with a sense of unease. She knew the power and safety that came with being part of a bonded group, yet something held her back.
“What if we did it?” Angelo’s voice cut through her thoughts, voicing the question that had been on her mind. “What if we bound the coven?”
Maya bit her bottom lip, staring at him, unsure how to answer. The weight of his words settled between them like a tangible presence.