Chapter 140

Third Person

The night breeze is cold and chilly. The area around Logan and Emily's house is quiet and is free from outside eyes. Well, except for the eyes of the infamous Madame Wanda. She quietly stands in front of the beach house with the werewolf escort standing behind her.

She wrapped her red shell around her shoulders, keeping it close to her body. Her eyes narrow at the white home, an unsettling feeling slowly forming inside of her body. She takes a look around at the nearby area, trying to see or sense if there is any unwelcome energy or spirits who wish to have their way with the people inside of the home.

Her golden jewelry quietly clicks against each other when she takes the step towards the front door of the home. With every step that she takes, the bigger and more tense, the energy feels inside of her chest. It is almost hard for her to breathe, the weight of responsibility and what fate has chosen for the people inside of the home beginning to weigh her down.

She slows her walk, her black sandals, kicking a few stray rocks to the side. The werewolf escort stops behind her, his hand rusting on the gun that is attached to his hip. Madame Wanda turns to look at him, her glare meeting his face just as their eyes eat. She tilts her head to the side, looking him up and down with an unimpressed look on her face.

The werewolf soldier's eyes are a vibrant green color. They glow in the middle of the night, cutting through the darkness. Madame Wanda finds it to be oddly striking, a good sign for him and his life. She knows that after this, he will receive many good things in life, everything that is deserved of a loyal and strong soldier.

Nothing, though. Instead, Madame Wanda turns back towards the house and slowly inches towards it, the clattering of her metal jewelry filling in the silence of the night.

She looks down at her dark red dress, the golden accents and thread woven into the fabric in the shape of vines and leaves. The gold shimmers under the moonlight, acting as if it belongs under the heavenly body. The witch takes the sight of the vacation home, instantly knowing that this is not the real home of the couple that she is here to help.

She would've rather done her readings with them in their own safe space, but she realizes that the severity of the situation outweighs her preference of location. Madame Wanda squeezes the strap of the bag that rests next to her body, the satchel gently bouncing off of her head as she walks.

Before Madame Wanda can reach the door, it opens up, a tall and muscular man, looking down at her with a look of surprise and relief flashing across his face. She remains in the doorway, the light from above casting shadows along her face. She stares up at the man and tilts her head to the side, taking in his appearance.

“Logan,” she breathes his name out as if she has known him for his entire life. The energy of the spirits takes over her body, pushing her towards the door. “My name is Madame Wanda. Daniel told me that you will be needing my assistance…here I am. May I come in?”

When the man doesn't respond, the witch cannot help but laugh. It is an old witches laugh, one reminiscence of the images that somebody would watch in a movie. She shakes her head and moves her gray hair out of her face, her silver nose ring now reflecting the lights from the porch.

“I can ensure you that I will bring you no harm. I am here of my own Goodwill and I wish to help and aid you in your crisis,” she smiles at him. She can sense his hesitancy, though. The way he holds himself back from believing in magic. “I know that you are hesitant. Your mother wishes for you to know that she agrees with the method.”

“My mother?” Logan asks, slight bewilderment flickering across his facial expression. “She has been dead for years now, how do you know what it is that she approves of?”

“the spirits and I are close,” Madame Wanda responds in a tone. She watches as Logan steps to the side, slowly entering the home. “the spirits and fate are on your side. I wish to see it come into fruition.”

Madame Wanda does not need help navigating the home. She quickly finds herself where a pregnant woman sits, Emily, and greets her with a smile and nod of her head. Emily nods back and her eyes licked to Wanda as she immediately settles into the seat across from her at the dining room table.

“Please, give us some privacy. It is best for me to deal with Emily on my own,” the witch informs the man. Before Logan can respond, Emily gives him a knowing smile and watches as he walks away. “Tell me, dear, when did you start feeling the magic inside of you?”

“The magic? How did you know about that?” Emily asks, surprise that the witch could know such a thing, something so private.

“I know everything,” Madame Wanda smiles, her white teeth flashing at the woman before her. “life and I are combined the one entity. We wish to see you succeed instead of failing. Your wolf has been asleep for almost twenty years now, correct?”

“Yes,” Emily responds.

She watches as the older witch slowly set up the table. She places a notebook in front of her, placing a black, purple, red, and blue candle to the side. On the other side of the notebook, she placed a small vial of sand and salts. It is a wild site to see, one that is so foreign to the woman with the dormant wolf.

“Do not be afraid,” Madame Wanda speaks as she brings out a porcelain tea kettle as well as two cups. She places tea leaves just to the side. “everything will be okay. You have a guardian angel, looking out for you, dear, and she has ensured that you will be safe throughout this process.”

“Will I?” Emily awkwardly laughs. Madame Wanda simply smiles in response, their eyes meeting. “A guardian angel sure would've been nice a long time ago.”

“she has been with you ever since she has left this earth,” the witch informs the woman. “she wishes nothing but the best for you. Your mother has been with you every step of the way.”

“My mother…” Emily's voice trails off. The witch simply nods in response. “She's been with me?”

“Yes,” the elderly woman nods.

She pulls out a deck of tarot cards, spreading them out across the table. The golden tops to the cards reflect the light from above. The lights flicker and dim, offering them some privacy. With one snap of her fingers, the candles from around them suddenly ignite, providing them with a soft hue of light.

“I must know if you are ready for this. You must be accepting an open of the results that will come out of tonight. Do you understand that fate and your mother are looking out for you? Will you accept the plan that they have set out for you?”

“Yes,” Emily nods.

“Then let us begin.”