Of Frost & Cinder (Old Version)

Between A Witch and A Werewolf

Chapter Fourteen

Pete slides me a paper mug of hot coffee and I wrap my fingers around the warmth. His face is so concerned that I don't have the heart to tell him that my appetite has been evaporated. I suppose that's a side effect of throwing up a bucket of goo.

"Would you quit looking at me like that?" I say as he takes the seat at the table, opposite me.

He frowns, "I'm not looking at you in any particular way."

"Yes you are." I grumble. "Like I've got the black plague or something."

He sighs, "I'm just worried, okay? I just watched you throw up melted asphalt, and I have no idea how to help you."

"I'm fine now," I nod, internally surveying my body for any strange aches or stings. Surprisingly, I don't feel horrible. I had had a severe cold sweat when I was under, but now, there's nothing. If anything, I feel strong again.

"What was that...stuff?"

"I have no idea, Pete. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. It tasted...like—"

"Iron?" Olivian takes hold of the chair diagonal to me, ripping it out from the table and plopping down into the seat.

"Where'd you get it?" Olivian cuts. Her voice is hard, impatient, matching the way she has her arms snaked together. She and Beck have just come from behind a shelf of books in the back of the library. They were back there for a solid fifteen minutes, and though they were too far away to hear much more than a muffle, I can tell by the way her mouth is pursed and eyebrows are crinkled that they were fighting. About what is the question.

She scoffs, obviously annoyed with my lack of response. She repeats, "Where'd you get the spell?"

I shrug, "I found it."

There's no way in hell I'm selling out her little brother. I practically owe him my life for sneaking the spell to me against his sister's wishes.

"I'm sure," she groans. "Alright, let's talk about the fact that you can't seem to understand the concept of 'giving someone your word'."

"Leave her alone, Ollie," Beck grumbles. He's behind me, leaning up against the librarian's office with his hands stuffed in his pockets. If Olivian were more accommodating, I'd crack a joke about his brooding scowl.

"No, I want to hear it." She stretches her closed hand out, her pointer finger stretched out from her fist like a one. "Why is it that, when I asked you to leave him out of this, the first thing you did was drive to his work and recruit him to do exactly the opposite?"

Despite the thousand variations of insults currently pumping through my head, I don't say anything and look back down to the cup in my hands. I can feel the temperature rising in my blood, and the longer I keep my eyes on her dark glare, the more it begins to boil.

"Seriously? Did you puke out your tongue?"

"Beck," I say through clenched teeth. "Get her out of my face."

I feel his focus shift on me, confirming that he heard my demand with his super sonic wolf ears, but he doesn't move from his spot against the office door.

Is he afraid of her magic? I wonder, and then it hits me...the blood oath. Loyalty is probably some unspoken promise, but how deep does it run? If anything, this makes the need to scratch the itch under my skin more intense.

"How'd you get the spell?" She repeats, and when I look up, she has that same finger pointing at Pete's chest, as if intentionally baiting me by digging her nail into his blue sweater.