The Gamma's Dark Witch

39 - The Truth

(Cameron)

“Did Jackson find anything?” Nisha asked as we were on our way.

“They’ve been looking into dark witches and…” I felt her stare on me.

“I told you I wasn’t a dark witch.” Her voice was clipped. “If you would have seen Kevari or Soleil alone, would you have assumed they were dark or light witches?” she asked. I could tell she thought about this for a while.

“I, uh....” I would have probably assumed they were light witches.

“But you saw my shadows, the essence of darkness itself, and you throw up a blanket accusation on all of us?” She was openly glaring at me now. “But you don’t accuse us all of being light witches when you see Soleil’s power?” she asked and shook her head. “It seemed like you were, you are, looking for reasons to dislike us.”

F.uck, she wasn’t wrong. But I sensed her power, we all did, from the moment we met them.

“We.. we knew you were powerful, that you all held a great power that we didn’t understand,” I tried to explain, but it sounded hollow, even to myself.

“And is power bad?” she shot back.

“No,” I answered too quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. “So just power, unlike yours is wrong?” she clarified.

“What do you mean?” She glared sideways at me. Her silvery eyes alight against her ebony skin.

I wished I could say her snapping at me was out of nowhere, but if I was honest with myself I should have expected this earlier. I was withholding information, I knew I wasn't handling things as best as I could. I just hoped that she didn't see it and that I could just carry on without having to address anything besides what we were cooking for dinner.

Or how best you should put her to sleep. Try your tongue next time - Axel almost purred.

I shoved him away but the thought had my stomach tightened with desire.

“You respect power, your rankings amongst wolves.” She waved a slender hand at me. “You seem to even worship it at points.” She threw her hands up. “But another kind of power, you recoil from."

She was right again. Why did she have to be right?

Why?” she demanded.

“I was unfamiliar-”

“Prejudice,” she cut in.

“Yes,” I admitted, surprising myself.

She took a deep breath, her eyes widening. “Why?” she asked, sounding less accusatory and more curious.

“Personally, with our pack, we have a history of dark magic used against us." I sighed, trying to put it into words. "Not just with us and recent events, it stems back to our near history. Jackson’s grandfather had dealings with a few witches, which is why our dungeons are now protected by magic. Jackson’s great aunt, who never met her, was found dead. Drained pretty much outside the packlands, it pointed back to a witch but-”

“But no concrete evidence,” Nisha cut in.

I shook my head once, going on, “She was young, and I don’t think his grandfather was ever the same after.” I shrugged. "From early on, from my training..." I trailed off hoping she would drop it so I wouldn't have to face the truth in her words.

(Nisha)

“Again, these are dark witches. I told you I’m not. It’s like you want to dislike me.”

His jaw clenched, and I knew I was right.

“Why?” I asked; my voice wavered, but I kept my gaze level.

“I- uh.” He ran a hand through his hair, and it made his arm bulge under his shirt. It only made me madder. Why was I getting so distracted by the literal arm of someone who was about to spew a sonnet of why he hated my kind, hated me?

“Go on.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“You’re pathetic,” I seethed, unsure of where this anger was taking hold from.

He swallowed but didn’t deny it. Something like hurt flashed across his face, and I didn’t feel guilty, I actually felt a bit good because it seemed like he might actually be accepting my words. For once.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” he asked, his voice gruff and hollow.

“No,” I said, and we walked in silence. Both of us simmering.

Cameron walked ahead of me, and I swear I could feel his sour mood. His silence was grating more than his words were.

We made a quick camp, and despite the weariness and the ache in my back and shoulders, my mind stayed away. But I let it drift to beautiful things. Fragments of memories and pieces of dreams that would never come to pass. In those moments between sleep and wake, I wished I could live where everything was possible. Where everything was real.

The next morning, he packed up. He informed me of where we were heading and asked if I wanted to come... As if I had a choice. We were literally back walking through the middle of the forest. The road was close, sometimes close enough we could hear a truck or a loud horn, sometimes so far it seemed like we were the only two people in this world.

I followed him quietly, but the silence was different. It was heavy and sharp, and I could feel it radiating off of him so much that it was affecting my mood despite the brilliant warmth and greenery around us.

He motioned to a rock face when the sun was only barely setting behind the trees.

“This should be the last night we have to stay out. After this stop, we should be close enough to, uh, civilization so we can rent a car and continue faster.”

I nodded. “Thanks,” I said.

He started to set aside the cooking utensils, and I went about shrugging off my pack and rubbing my shoulders.

“I’m going to find water,” I announced softly and grabbed our canteens. Honestly, the silence was deafening, and with every step away from him, I felt lighter. I couldn’t describe the weight that was hanging over us, but I knew it was coming from him.

When I returned almost an hour later, he didn’t say anything. He just took his canteen from me and warmed his hands around the fire he made outside the shallow cave.

We ate in silence, and after I cleaned up, we started to undo our bed rolls and put them on either side of the overhang. It was more spacious than the first one we stayed in; we could stand up fully, and it was more of a small cave than anything. His silence was heavy and muggy, and I felt like I would suffocate if I had to endure one second longer.

“Will you stop?” I snapped.

“What?”

“Your silence. It’s very loud.”

He stilled, bunching his brows. “What?”

“Don’t pretend.”

I didn’t know exactly what I meant, but I knew that he knew what he was doing. Gods, have I ever been this petty before? I never had a reason to be, and I knew I had a point, even if this kind of argument I didn’t back down from, that I finally took a stand in felt foreign to me.

He sighed as it sank in. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“I apologize if my company hasn’t been up to standard,” I said, my voice harsh to hide the hurt behind what I was implying. I didn’t want him to admit what I always knew in the back of my mind. That he disliked being around me.

“I’m fine with silence,” I went on. “Actually, I bask in it; it's what I’m used to, and I think if I had a choice, I would still prefer my own solitude to most I’ve met. But your silence is loud recently, and I demand to know why.” I crossed my arms and jutted my chin; not entirely sure how arguments like these went, so I would go with instinct. And my instinct was to be annoyed and frustrated.

“Be sour or whatever it is, but stop projecting them on me.”

“Prejecting them?” he repeated; he stood to his full height, and I stilled. Not from fear, but f*****g gods, I wanted to climb this man. “I feel everything you’re feeling. I know of your uncertainty, your fears, your apprehension, and your confusion. It weighs on me, but I bear it because I know what I feel is not even a whisper of what you must be going through.”

“Don’t pretend like you can read me. You don’t know me.”

“Does anyone?” he growled.

I stilled, taking a step back. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Did anyone truly know me? Know all the parts of me besides the ones I was willing to share.

“I didn’t mean that.” He ran a hand through his dark blonde hair.

“You did,” I said, my voice soft.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” I snapped. He raised a brow, and I looked away in defiance, knowing he was right.

“I’ll try to think quieter then,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was projecting my own feelings. But you do it in actions, too. I try to keep my own suffering to myself.”

“You do, it’s just..”

“What?” I demanded. “Are you some sort of seer? Do you have some heightened werewolf power that can read my mind or sense my emotions?” As those words came out, I inhaled; I didn’t actually think of that as a possibility.

“No.” He shook his head.

“I don’t understand you, Cameron. I’ll keep my emotions to myself.”

“You can’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I am capable of,” I almost shouted. My shadows started to swirl as if to protect me.

“You cannot hide your emotions from me.” His fists clenched, and his voice rose to match my own.

“Why?” I demanded.

“You’re my f.ucking mate.”