“With that said, can I see the painting?” Blenda requested, her hand stretched out toward Shane, in a beckoning pose.
Shane looked at Peter, wondering if he should go ahead to fulfill the woman’s request. Even though his Alpha had agreed to a temporary affiliation with the ancients, he would only answer to his alpha, one he could trust.
“Go ahead, Shane. Give it to her. I am curious as to what she could find in the picture. But a heads up, we already searched the picture for bugs, and there were none. So I doubt you will find anything there, ancient.” Peter surmised.
Blenda cocked her head to the side, and smirked. “Who said anything about bugs? Are bugs the only spying tools you know of, alpha? Aren’t they human equipment? As a supernatural being, I had expected much more. And for the record, my name is Blenda.”
Peter ‘s eyes dilated in shock when he understood what Blenda was talking about.
“You don’t mean…?”
“Yes man. That’s exactly what my mum meant.” Yodah said, speaking up for the first time that the meeting started.
Of course! Peter screamed within himself. This must be the reason why he and his elders hadn’t found any bug or anything wrong with the picture. Why hadn’t his mind went there? Why hadn’t his eyes been opened once again to his brother’s cunniness? Why was he so blind?
But of course he knew the answer. It was because of the fear of his secret being exposed. The fear had kept him from scrutinizing properly what his brother had been all about, what had kept him from thinking well. He had let the fear cripple him, cripple his thoughts and then his decisions. He was a failure. His brother has really messed up with him.
If not, how could he not have thought of the magic option; the black magic. They had banned the activities of witches in the pack, pushing them to stay in their communities rather than socializing with them, but it seems his brother had continued to patronize them.
Well, why not? Arnold had utilized their services during the war, the last seven years. Peter wondered the price his brother had to pay for that. To the best of his knowledge, witches rarely asked for money as their method of payment. It was usually in kind. A terrible kind of kind, especially the black witches like Leonarya.
Blenda seeing the aha moment on Peter’s face, smiled softly. It was good that the man was beginning to see. That was the first way to get yourself rid from the shackles of ignorance and darkness.
She turned swiftly then to Freya, when she saw that Shane was now walking toward her with the painting.
“Can you chant a uncloaking spell?” She asked.
Freya nodded. “But he has to keep the painting afar off, maybe in the middle where there is no one, since we don’t know what type of magic was use to seal the magic spy.”
Of course Shane heard that. So, he stepped back a bit and dropped the painting in the middle of the hall, right on the floor.
Freya stood up then, and walked toward it. She turned to Lucille after a moment as if on impulse.
“Do you know any spells? From your form, you are part mage and werewolf? Am I right?”
“Yes.” Lucille replied, also standing up. “Do you need my help?” she asked, ignoring the gasps that had spread around the hall at the knowledge that she was part werewolf and mage. She knew that they must be wondering why and how her mother had given birth to such hybrids. Well, she was curious too.
“yes I do. Do you know any spells? Have you practiced any?” Freya inquired, her lips turning up in a pout, when Lucille shook her head in negatives.
“What is the matter, Freya? Why do you need her help?” Sheila asked, standing up then.
“Well, we don’t know what manner or the intensity of black magic used to cloak the spy. To be on the safe side, we have to create a strong shield around the painting, so that whatever comes out of it won’t be able to escape and report what is going on here.” Freya answered.
Sheila nodded her head, and came forward, knowing that she was about to confirm the notion that she was part mage to her pack, but that wasn’t the most of her concern. She just wanted to find her daughter, and would do anything to get a headstart on that journey.
“I will cast the barrier, even though I have been in a coma for the past eighteen years. I believe I still have a strong grasp on my magic.” She said, beginning to wave her hands in intricate patterns like she was playing with strands or threads.
As she did, she muttered unintelligible words, which was lost on the audience, except to Freya who was advanced in the act of magic and of course the ancients.
As Sheila continued, a huge ball enveloped the painting, and caused it to gravitate up, such that it hung on the air, right in the middle of the large ball, that extended its reach to an extent. When Sheila was done, she signalled Freya to go ahead.
Freya stepped forward then.
“Anoigo anoigo…”
There was no reaction, yet she smirked, turning aside to look at Yodah who shrugged.
“It’s a strong one then.” She muttered, as she stretched her fingers on each other, and began to chant a melodious song-at least it sounded melodious to the non magical, but to those with magical residues, including Anthony, they knew it was a chant of war, a battle cry that was aiming to unravel the spy within the portrait.