Veiled Spirits

“You might want to clean up first,” Bishop informs me. “You have blood splatter on your face, your arms are covered in it, and your gray shirt is now red. You can’t go out with Izzy looking like that.”

Glancing down, I see that he’s right. My arms are painted with drying rust-colored blood, and my shirt is stained with the same substance. Even my pants are splattered with it, but my shiny black derby shoes are relatively clean. A quick check of my watch shows that I’m already late. “I don’t have time to change, Bishop.”

Bishop mutters something under his breath about me being a psychotic wolf before mumbling a spell. I’d be offended if it weren’t the truth. My skin tingles where his magic brushes against me. I close my eyes at the unnerving sensation. When I don’t feel his magic anymore, I open my eyes to see that I’m completely clean.

“You need a portal too?” Bishop asks while continuing to inventory one of his crates.

I nod at him. “Yes.”

Bishop whispers another spell before a portal to Isabel opens. I check to make sure no one is waiting to ambush me before stepping through.

“Thank you,” I tell him. Bishop portaled me straight to Hawthorne Grove’s downtown, which saved me thirty minutes of driving each way. We’re across the street from Anya’s Apothecary. The shop is on one end of the main street, so there aren’t as many people milling about in front of it.

“I would say no problem, but this whole afternoon has been a problem. If you or Izzy need anything, just let me know.” Bishop gives me a distracted wave before turning back to the warehouse and shutting the portal.

My fingers drum a steady beat on my thigh as I regard the shop. It’s a whitewashed brick building with a greenery-filled sign hanging out front. The sign matches the dark green awning. A variety of bottles and plants fill the shop windows. I can’t see Isabel from where I’m standing. While she goes by Izzy, the nickname doesn’t seem to fit my mate. Isabel matches her much better.

I’m surprised to realize I’m nervous. I haven’t been nervous since I was a child. The memories try to flee their boxes in my mind, but I slam the lid shut on them before they can. Nothing good comes from remembering that which is best forgotten.

Smoothing my hand over my light gray button-down shirt, I make my way across the street to the shop. When I pull open the door to the apothecary, I’m hit with the overwhelming scent of medicinal herbs. I can barely smell the berry and sunshine scent of my mate.

Isabel glances up when I walk in. She’s standing behind the counter with an old woman. The woman is much shorter than her and has her white hair twisted up. The old woman’s brown eyes twinkle when she sees me, which is odd, as I’ve never met her before.

A shy smile crosses Isabel’s pink lips when she sees that it’s me. “I’ll be right over, Cain. Just give me one minute.”

I dip my chin in answer and take the time to study my mate. Her tongue darts out as she focuses on something. Isabel’s blonde hair with purple and blue ends falls into her face as she glances down at the thick book she’s writing in. She bats the wavy strands away with an impatient hand.

When she’s done writing, Isabel turns to the old woman. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to skedaddle early, Anya? I can stay later to help if you need.”

Anya huffs. “Go on your date, dearie. Be a young woman for once. Have fun. Make bad decisions. Live a little.”

Isabel snorts and grins at Anya. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to be safe and make good decisions?”

“You’re too responsible for your age, so no.” Anya’s brown eyes fill with sadness as she considers Isabel. I wonder if Anya knows what Isabel can’t or won’t tell us.

“Me, responsible? I think you have the wrong girl, Anya. I’ve turned in at least three assignments late this week, my mom still cooks my meals, and I’ve converted six of my fellow students today alone to lives of debauchery.” Isabel grins at Anya as she talks. The sadness in the old woman’s eyes lifts at Isabel’s teasing. It’s impressive how well my mate uses humor to ward off any serious conversations.

Anya shakes her head at Isabel and shoos her away. Isabel holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I’m going!”

When Isabel walks around the counter, I take in her light purple dress dotted with small white flowers that’s so different from anything I’ve seen her wear. The A-line dress has cap sleeves and flows around her pale thighs. It accentuates her narrow waist and flared hips. A grin wants to break out across my face at the sight of her white high-tops with the dress. It seems very Isabel to pair sneakers with a dress.

“What?” Isabel questions as she notices me staring. “I got something on my dress, didn’t I?” She groans as she looks down, trying to find what I’m looking at.

“You don’t have anything on it, angel. I was just surprised by the dress. I haven’t seen you in one before. You look beautiful.”

Isabel blushes at my compliment, her cheeks turning an enticing shade of pink. I wonder what else I could do to make her flush like that. My dick perks up at my thoughts, and I will it to go down before I tent my pants.

“Oh. Well, you always dress up, so I wanted to be at least a little dressy. I wasn’t sure if we were going somewhere super fancy or something.” Isabel fidgets with her dress as she talks, and I find her nervousness endearing.

I do dress up more than my peers. One of my fathers instilled in me the importance of first impressions. He always told me that dressing sharply is essential to being taken seriously and earning respect. While I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a T-shirt and jeans, I can’t shake the feeling of being underdressed when I leave the house dressed like that.

“We’re not going anywhere fancy. Thank you for going out with me this afternoon instead of yesterday. I got caught up unexpectedly.” I don’t elaborate on what held me up. She doesn’t need to know all the gritty details of our less-than-legal businesses.

“No worries, quiet boy.” My lips twitch again at her nickname for me. I haven’t been a boy in a long time, but I don’t mind her endearment. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to take you to meet some of the pack.” I offer her my hand. Her storm cloud gray eyes bounce between mine briefly before she places her hand in mine. Isabel’s hand is so small compared to mine. I have the urge to wrap her up to keep her safe from the world. I highly doubt she’d let me do that, otherwise I would.

“That’s an intense first date, dude.” Isabel worries her lip between her teeth, and I resist the urge to pull it free with my thumb. While she’s visibly nervous, she still follows me out of the shop. Her trust in me makes me puff up in pride.