Chapter 63

MISTY

“Excuse me?” I asked.

Yamika’s gaze locked onto me. She smiled, her incisors as pointed as a feline’s fangs. “Kiralah’s grimoire. I know you have it in your possession,” she stated.

She leaned forward, a palpable energy radiating from her, something ancient humming through her veins. I had to resist the urge to lean back. I shook my head and couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.

“As her descendant, are you saying the Nightshades still exist?” Lloyd asked, his voice sharp.

“No, they died,” she clarified.

“Then you’re the last witch left?” Lloyd pressed.

“Of the McBain line? Yes.”

“Someone had to survive for you to be born…”

She shrugged. “Obviously.”

“How would you know it has anything to do with me?” Lloyd asked, taking a seat beside me.

“The instructions mention that a new alpha king will appear once the Sayelle-Moreau bloodline is eradicated. And that is you. I’m sure you understand this is a family heirloom, and you have no right to keep it.”

“How did you even know that? I haven’t been crowned, and Axel has been dead for exactly one week…”

She threw her hand up in the air and rolled her eyes. “I’m a witch…”

Lloyd stared at her for several long moments. “You say you’re a witch, but your scent says otherwise. Why don’t you start by telling us exactly what you are?”

Yamika’s smile faded into a snarl, annoyance flashing in her eyes. Lloyd moved my chair closer to his, but the time for mistrust and hatred between witches and werewolves had to end. This was going nowhere.

“Why don’t we start over?” I suggested. “And let’s be honest—I have the grimoire, but the pages are blank.”

Lloyd’s head snapped to me, but I ignored it, going with my gut.

“Yes, only a witch can read a grimoire,” Yamika informed.

“I know, and I was one for a short time. How do you explain that?” I pressed.

“I can’t. I don’t have all the answers.” Yamika shrugged, but I had a feeling she was lying and knew much more than she pretended.

“You’re lying. Instructions? Passed down? I don’t believe you,” Lloyd said coldly.

She exhaled, then studied Lloyd. “Kiralah wasn’t just a witch—she was a seer. She left instructions, which were passed down over the years. Whoever remains of the McBain bloodline must retrieve her grimoire. That’s me. I’m not making this up.”

“What are you?” Lloyd asked, his hands firmly planted on the table. Tanner sat up straighter, ready to spring into action.

Yamika’s posture stiffened. “What do you mean?” she asked defensively.

“I know what witches smell like,” Lloyd said, eyes fixed on her. “I remember Kiralah’s scent distinctly, and you are not related. If you are her descendant, then something’s off. Your smell isn’t right.”

Her eyes narrowed, flashing with anger. “I could tear you apart before you even think about shifting—and you’d deserve it after killing my—” She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to reveal.

“Your?” Lloyd asked, his body tense and coiled like a spring.

“Ancestor,” she covered up quickly.

Lloyd growled, his dominance filling the room, and even Yamika grimaced. The temperature seemed to drop, as though the aircon went into overdrive, and Yamika’s head shot up and she looked around, a frown forming.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore…” She relented, and her face began to change. The transformation was slow but unmistakable.

Her features elongated, becoming more feline with each passing second. Her eyes stretched, their shape narrowing into sleek slits, and the green in her irises deepened into a vivid, almost luminescent hue.

Fine whiskers sprouted along her cheeks while dark, velvety fur spread across her skin. Her nose flattened and widened, merging seamlessly into a broad, predatory muzzle.

Within moments, her face had fully transformed—not into an ordinary cat, but something far more fearsome, like a sleek black panther.

The sheer size of her new form exuded raw power, a lethal grace that seemed to radiate danger with every breath she took.

“Fuck me,” Tanner said under his breath.

In mere seconds, her form melted back into that of a human, the transformation as seamless as it was swift—her wide smile showing her predatory teeth.

“I am a familiar,” she announced, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “Kiralah’s familiar, to be precise.”

I stared at her, stunned. The word hung in the air—I knew the term—a familiar was featured in ~Sabrina~. But after discovering that witches were real, this revelation felt like the next inevitable, yet still shocking, step.

“A familiar…” I muttered, more to myself than to her. The idea that she wasn’t just another witch but a creature bound to one—an extension of Kiralah herself—hit me hard. “So, you’re not human at all?”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile never fading. “Not entirely. My duty didn’t end when she passed—it only began.”

I swallowed hard, trying to wrap my head around it all—a familiar bound to a powerful witch, still living. She must be ancient, as old as Lloyd, if not older. The implications were staggering.

“What do you plan to do with the grimoire?” Lloyd asked, his voice steady but probing. “You already have powers of your own and don’t seem to need a spell book. And I can’t shake the feeling that you know more about what happened back then than you’re letting on.”

Yamika shrugged. “It should be laid to rest in the McBain crypt.”

My thoughts raced. “Can you change your appearance?” I asked, eyes narrowing.

Yamika grinned, her gaze locking onto mine. As I watched, her features began to shift again—this time, into the wrinkled face of an old crone.

My breath caught. “It was ~you~,” I whispered, disbelief spreading through me. “You healed my mother that day at the Monolith. But whose essence did you put inside me?”

Yamika tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. “A bit of both. You got lucky.”

“Explain,” Lloyd growled, his patience wearing thin. He leaned forward, his voice a dangerous whisper. “And I suggest you start at the beginning before I forget myself.”

“The beginning?” she echoed, arching an eyebrow. “That could take a while—and I’m not exactly impressed with your hospitality.”

Tanner leaned forward, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Care for some milk? In a saucer, maybe?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Feisty, aren’t you? Coffee will do.”

Tanner stood, shooting her a glare before walking out and leaving the door ajar. The room sank into tense silence. Her words echoed in my mind—was it really possible I had some of her essence in me?

My stomach twisted as I glanced at Lloyd, horror creeping in. Had I passed that essence onto him? Was it still in his blood, lingering?

Lloyd squeezed my hand, as if sensing my thoughts. ~“Let’s wait till we hear the full story,”~ he said calmly.

~“I don’t like her,”~ Cammy growled.

“You have a very strange aura permeating in and out of the palace—you know that, right?” Yamika rolled her shoulders as though she was uncomfortable.

“What are you talking about?” Lloyd asked.

Tanner returned, sliding a tray to the center of the table. “Help yourself,” he said, his voice clipped.

I had to stifle a giggle when I noticed the oversized milk jug, nearly as big as the coffee pot—and it wasn’t milk. It smelled rich, like cream.

“Ooh, cream? Delightful,” Yamika purred while helping herself. She gave it a perfunctory stir and sipped it delicately before her eyes met Lloyd’s. “The beginning, you say? Let’s start before you were cursed, and believe me, the curse is the only reason you’re alive. I know you killed Kiralah…”

“She cursed him, and I think Lloyd suffered enough,” I retorted, outraged at her insinuation.

“If I weren’t cursed, I would have died with my pack,” Lloyd observed, and my face fell. He was right. His entire pack was wiped out. “But,” he continued, “she never defended herself, even though she was powerful. Why?” Lloyd asked.

“Because she couldn’t.” Taking another sip of coffee, Yamika licked her lips before speaking again. “Get comfortable. This isn’t a short story.

“The Monolith Nightshades were already in turmoil long before Finn entered the equation. Half the coven believed they should move aggressively against the werewolves to stop the hunting sprees, while the other half urged caution,” she began.

“I bet ~you~ weren’t preaching caution,” I interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“I had no say as a familiar. But Kiralah—she was different. She was kind-hearted and never wanted to harm anyone,” Yamika said, her voice softening momentarily.

“Except for Lloyd,” Tanner cut in sourly.

Lloyd shot Tanner a look that silenced him before turning his attention back to Yamika. “Go on,” he urged.

“Lyra, the coven mother, was captured by the palace, and that’s when the divide grew deeper,” Yamika continued, her voice thick with memory. “Some wanted to save her, and some didn’t.

“After much internal conflict, Bella—next in line to lead—was sent to negotiate with Finn. None of us knew that your father had challenged Finn for the crown. Bella’s arrival played perfectly into Finn’s hands.”

She paused, the weight of the past hanging heavily in the air. “Finn promised to release Lyra if the witches agreed to help him. And so, after much arguing and debating, an ambush was planned.”

A brief silence fell over the room as Yamika stared into the distance, lost in her memories. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the skeleton we’d found belonged to Lyra.

The Sayelle-Moreau monarchy had always played dirty, and Axel had been no different. A bitter sense of satisfaction filled me, knowing he was dead.

“After the ambush, Finn demanded a protector—someone to safeguard the Sayelle-Moreau bloodline for eternity, promising the coven freedom from persecution, but that never happened. Instead, he’d already planned to wipe out every witch he could find.”

“And he chose me,” Lloyd muttered under his breath.

“Yes. Bella ordered Kiralah to craft the curse. But Kiralah had a vision that night—she knew no matter which path she took, it would end in her death. So, she prepared a vessel…”

“That’s why she couldn’t defend herself,” Lloyd stated.

“Correct.”

“What type of a vessel?” I asked, confused.

“Yamika was the vessel,” Lloyd guessed.

“Correct again. Do you think you’ve suffered? I’ve waited centuries to fulfill my duty, wandering this world, relying on fragments of information and instincts.” Her voice dropped into a growl.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “Did your essence make me Lloyd’s mate? Or were there…others?” The words felt heavy, a sharp pain twisting in my chest.

Lloyd’s hand shot up to my chin, turning me to face him, his eyes fierce. “You are my mate. There is no doubt about that,” he said with a fierceness that almost made me believe it. But I still needed to hear it from Yamika.

“Kiralah told me to stay close to the Monolith the year of your birth,” Yamika explained, her tone more reflective now. “Of course, I didn’t know exactly who or when, so I spent an entire year waiting and bored out of my mind. She said I would know when the time came to bestow the gift.”

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I might not have been born without their essence. My mother would likely have miscarried like all the others.

What if Chelsea’s mom had wandered past the Monolith? Would ~she~ have been Lloyd’s mate?

“Were you just tired of waiting and chose my mom?” I asked, my voice filled with resentment, but unable to tear myself away from the story.

Yamika chuckled, a low, almost knowing sound. “I can see where your mind is going. Would you have survived without mine and Kiralah’s essence? It’s hard to say…but I was drawn to your mother. I believe I made the right choice.”

“Then why didn’t you reveal yourself when I uncovered the pentagram? Why let me struggle? And, for that matter, why not tell me how to break the curse sooner? We could’ve saved countless lives,” I snapped, indignation rising inside me.

Lloyd chimed in, his voice calm but probing. “What if I hadn’t found the grimoire?”

Yamika’s expression softened, but her words were resolute. “My instructions didn’t cover every possibility. Kiralah believed some things were meant to unfold in their natural order.”

I read the curse Kiralah had performed. The meaning was clear. Lloyd had been right; the curse had an out, but why was it not visible from the start? Why make it so hard?

I shot to my feet, fury boiling over. “Natural order? What she did to Lloyd wasn’t part of any ‘natural order,’” I spat. “And why wasn’t the curse visible when I could finally read the grimoire?”

Lloyd tried to pull me onto his lap, his hands gentle as if to calm me, but I pushed him away, too angry to be soothed. “Answer me!”

Yamika’s eyes flickered with a glimmer of remorse. “Kiralah feared it might fall into the wrong hands. She ensured the curse would only be revealed as a confirmation, not a guide.”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “And that’s why I must have the grimoire. The curse tainted everything Kiralah stood for, and once I have it, I will erase it from existence.”