Fangs and Fur- Beta Read Along
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 by LA Magill. All distribution rights reserved for the exclusive use of Wicked Women LLC.
Dili arrived at the pond an hour before sunset. She waited impatiently for her familiar and the vampire, snacking intermittently for something to do rather than because she was hungry. She stared moodily off into the woods, scanning the shadows for any sign of them.
When they finally arrived, she heard a polite mewl coming from behind her. She jumped to her feet, sucking the honey off her fingers, and turned around to see Toad sitting several paces away, Hadrian lurking behind him.
Her familiar sat squarely, with his tail curled around his front paws. Green eyes wide with contrition stared up at her. Toad blinked at her, and mewled again plaintively.
“He apologizes for any distress he caused you,” Hadrian translated. “And so do I.”
Dili kept her gaze firmly on Toad as she crouched down, stretching a hand out to him. He leapt forward and butted his head against her knuckles, purring loudly. She scratched behind his ear in his favorite spot.
“You didn’t scare me. I was only worried about you,” she said.
Toad let out a happy sigh and pressed his head into her fingers harder. He closed his eyes in pure bliss.
As much as Dili wanted to enjoy the moment, though, Toad seemed perfectly well, which meant she could focus on her concerns about Jasmine.
“Hadrian,” she began without looking up. “By any chance, are there any other paranormals following you?”
There was a long pause, during which Toad cracked one eye open, peering between the witch and the vampire.
“What happened?” Hadrian asked instead of answering. “Toad says you only use that tone of voice when you suspect something’s wrong.”
The witch still didn’t look up at the vampire. “Well…” She stopped scratching behind Toad’s ears. “I ran into Jasmine Henderson this afternoon. She never brought the eggs.”
Dili didn’t need mental communication or Hadrian’s translation to see that Toad understood. One second he practically lay in her hand; the next he stood within a foot of her face, alert eyes locked with hers, tail thrashing low.
“I know it is quite unlike her,” Dili said. “I hoped you might investigate for me. Discreetly, of course.”
Toad blinked at her, then glanced up at Hadrian. A moment passed in tense silence as the two of them locked eyes.
A tinge of guilt washed over Dili watching her familiar defer to the vampire’s authority. So did a pang of jealousy, but she allowed that feeling to linger just for one moment. She would have to get used to sharing Toad, and bottling up that envy now would only hurt them all later on.
Toad brought his gaze back to hers before the witch could turn green. Confidence glowed in his eyes. The black cat burbled, then he rubbed against her leg, lifted his tail high, and trotted off into the darkness.
“He said he’ll go to the Herderson house and sniff around. He’ll be back as soon as he’s found something.”
Dili cleared her throat, then nodded in acknowledgement. She hadn’t intended to be alone with the vampire again. It offered him far too many opportunities to test her boundaries. She stood—her legs were cramping anyway—crossed her arms over her chest, and avoided the vampire’s eye contact. Though she was curious about Toad’s mania, the less they talked, the better for her.
Predictably, the vampire was uninterested in remaining quiet.
“How long have you been here?” Hadrian asked.
“Pardon?” she asked back.
“These woods. How long have you been here?”
Dili glanced sideways at him, searching for the question she worried he was really asking. Hadrian appraised her side-eye.
“There are signs everywhere of a green witch, but you’ve blasted me with lightning only a fire witch can tame. So, you’re not the first witch who lived here, are you, Dili?” He gave her a small smile.
She thanked the forgotten divines that the vampire had given her the perfect explanation.
“I’ve been here less than a hundred fifty years. I don’t know who was here before, but they left me a lot to work with,” she said.
She’d told him the truth. She had taken over the homestead that had been so broken down precisely because the garden had thrived. It hadn’t had the range of biodiversity Dili could cultivate, but the soil had been rich and the plants healthy.
“So, you are a fire witch?” Hadrian confirmed.
Dili offered him her own small smile, but said nothing.
Hadrian cocked his head at her. “Why would a fire witch want to live here, surrounded by trees? I thought your type always flocked toward lava.”
She heard a longing in his voice that she felt was far too personal, but she did not know what secrets lurked behind his curiosity. Either way, she didn’t want him to figure out anymore than he’d guessed at.
“It is home,” she said simply.
Hadrian’s breath hitched. Dili looked up at his expression and saw loneliness cut through the glimmer in his eyes.
“How long since you left yours?” she asked.
“Since I was turned,” he said.
Dili couldn’t keep herself from turning toward him, both amazed and a bit scared.
“You’ve never settled? Not once in your paranormal life?”
Hadrian paused, then turned to face her, too. He shook his head.
Dili’s jaw dropped. “But… How? You’re a vampire.”
Hadrian stared at her, mute.
“You crave blood in every way; you cannot deny it. It is your nature.”
“So I’ve been told,” he said dryly.
“You know what I meant,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You need family just as you need to eat. You will never stop yearning for what was taken from you.”
Dili thought a hint of bitterness crossed his green eyes, then a mask of indifference covered his face. He shrugged, the movement deliberately nonchalant.
It broke her heart. Despite his profound lack of manners, invasive habits, and insufferable ego,—and her own bias—empathy warmed through her.
Before she could reach out to Hadrian, he jerked his head east so quickly his long hair fanned out behind him. The sun’s dying light cast a weak golden sheen on those gorgeous locks, but Dili hardly noticed such beauty. The tension cording up his neck and tightening his jaw made her mouth go dry.
“Is it—”
“Toad found a strange scent in Jasmine’s room. He’s tracking it into the woods.”
“Is she safe?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Hadrian stared off into the twilight. “She’s not there.”
Dili fisted her hands in the skirt of her dress. “You can catch up to him, can’t you?”
Hadrian’s frown deepened, but he nodded.
“Please go with Toad. He may need help, depending on what he finds,” she said.
The vampire turned to her with eyes so dark they almost looked black. She couldn’t look away.
“I will help you find the Henderson girl, and I will do everything in my power to return her home unharmed. You have my word, Vulcanalecta.”
The vampire lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her skin in a chaste kiss before she realized he’d taken her arm. She gasped at the icy sensation, then blinked at the empty space where the vampire had just been standing.
Dili gaped after a trail of shuddering branches and shaking leaves marking both Hadrian’s speed and direction.
She clutched her hand to her chest. The chill of his lips had already vanished, but the visceral memory of how soft his lips had been, how pink they’d looked against her skin, how his fingers almost held onto hers—
The witch bit down on her tongue, hard. The jolt of pain snapped her out of it.
There was no use in rushing after the vampire unless she wanted to be lost and hunched over her knees in five minutes. Nor was there any point in wondering what name he’d called her. She hadn’t recognized it, and didn’t remember the sounds after the surprise of his solemn promise.
So, she squatted down and searched for a bare patch of dirt amidst the verdant undergrowth and the leaf litter. Soggy leaf mold, decomposed from the fall and frozen over through winter, covered the forest floor everywhere she looked. Where there wasn’t a thorny berry bush, she’d come across sprawling mycelium or thick moss. The fading light didn’t help, either.
She finally found a bit of brown at the base of a tree with a few large exposed roots. Some animal, likely a bear, had been scratching at the tree and scraped off the duff around the base of the trunk. There was just enough dirt for the witch to fit.
Dili took a deep breath and held it as she knelt on the forest floor. A bit of moisture dampened the fabric of her dress under her shins. She spread her hands into the dirt on either side of her, rubbing her palms against the uneven textures. Twigs and bits of bark pricked at her fingers, and clumps of sodden earth rolled with her pressure. Then, she let her breath go and sank the tips of her fingers into the ground.
The gentle touch immersed the witch in a sea of life vaster than the walking world. Soil teeming with organisms, nutrients, and information stretched beyond her imagination, to the surface plants and fungi of every size, shape and color, to the buried pressures and treasures in the rocky records of time. She touched history and magic and life all at once, and she closed her eyes and asked:
“Help me, please.”
There was no answer, but on her next inhale, Dili took in even more air than before. She held the oxygen in for as long as she could. When the need for fresh air became unbearable, she let the stale breath back out as slowly as her lungs could tolerate. Every second she could muster would make a difference.
Dili shuddered and gasped as the forest creaked around her. She opened her eyes to see a slow wave rippling out through the lowest branches of the trees. Leaves turned and bark bent so that the trees pointed the way due east.
Dili smiled. Before she got up, Dili used one hand to rummage through her right pocket. She withdrew five acorns that had a fine sheen along the shell, with pronounced spikes along the scaly cupules. They looked none the worse for wear after rattling around in her pocket for all those millennia. Picking her other hand up, she placed the ancient seeds in the five small holes left behind by her fingertips. Only then did Dili stand. The witch brushed off her dress as the earth swallowed up the acorns, both full of gratitude for the gifts of the other.
Next chapter on Friday, October 24.