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He whistled for Bonanza and used the horse to climb to his feet, then backtracked to the jagged remains of his clothes. From experience, he knew his shirt was ripped up, but the wolf’s hipswere smaller than his. He put on his jeans and shoes and jogged toward his house.
What had called his wolf off the hunt? And could he bottle it and take it with him everywhere?
He looked up at the old house in the moonlight. It was the original structure on this land from a hundred years ago. It had three stories with whimsical gables and columns out front, aping the fancier brick Victorian houses up north. His favorite part was the two-story turret on one corner of the house. An eccentric billionaire had built his perfect retreat in the woods, complete with defensive positions.
Finally, he relaxed. He couldn’t fix his pack and couldn’t change humanity, but he could go home, and he would not take that for granted. He went to his outbuilding to stable Bonanza and then made for the front door.
When he stepped inside, he sighed in relief.
The brush of his shin against a thin piece of twine was the only warning he had before a cascade of water doused him from above. He took a second step, and some sticky substance followed the water. He thrashed away and into a rope that pulled down a stack of his good pots and pans, sending them clamoring to the floor.
He spun around and hit the lights. The moment the switch flipped, the little chandelier in the foyer went flying toward him. He shouted, dove, and slid over the floor. It was slicked with some kind of soap. Feathers piled on the chandelier rained over him, sticking to the goo already covering him. He slammed into the foot of the stairs and looked up just in time to see every shoe he owned hurtling right toward him. He ducked into the fetal position and braced as they stomped on him.
His blood went cold. They were not falling down the stairs. They were running down the stairs.
On their own.
Witches.
His idiot cousins fought with them and now they’d defiled his one safe place on earth.
He prodded his beast, which was strangely silent.You gonna do something about this?
The beast watched from within him. It felt strangely happy and even hopeful.
Disgusted, he bear-crawled away from the stairs and the marauding shoe army. He crouched near the banister and tried to get the goo and feathers off his face. It was on his lips, and he realized the sticky stuff was molasses.
He tried to collect himself, bracing for the real attack. This had been humiliating, but he was unharmed. There were many more lethal weapons in this house.
He was distracted by the shoes now dancing in the foyer, splashing soap, molasses, and feathers everywhere.
He started to snicker. And then he started to laugh. And then he laughed so hard he had to sit down to catch his breath.
“You won’t be laughing for long!” a woman’s voice called out from nowhere and everywhere.
He ducked instinctively, bracing for his wolf to shift, but the beast was totally content for the first time in its life. What was happening?
“What do you want?” he shouted.
“What do I want? What do you want?”
So far, he only heard one voice, but he knew witches were never alone. They had to have at least thirteen to do any real magic. He shuddered. There were thirteen women in his house. Maybe he should stop enjoying this and start worrying about his safety.
A creak sounded from deeper in the house, and he grinned. She was throwing her voice with some kind of magic, but shewas on his turf. That creak was the last board of the wood floor before the kitchen tiles at the back of the house.
He snuck down the hall and tapped one of the wall panels. It slid open noiselessly. The kitchen had three entrances, one through the dining room and another through a door in the back hallway where he’d heard the witch. This hidden door led to his pantry. He took a chance they hadn’t found it yet.
He slipped through the shelves of dried goods and let himself into the kitchen.
His eyes flew around the immense room and zeroed in on a woman standing with her back to him in the doorway to the dining room. She was tall with a wild mane of blonde hair and curves for days.
He glanced to his left and saw the light switch. The last time he’d flipped a switch, he ended up tarred and feathered, but she seemed to be waiting for him to enter the dining room, so hopefully this switch wasn’t booby-trapped. He turned on the light.
She spun around, hands outstretched. “Not gonna happen.”
The butcher-block table in the center of the room went flying toward him. Hastily, he stepped into the pantry and slammed the door before it could knock him off his feet. He heard her running past the pantry toward the back of the house. He ran for the secret entrance to meet her there.
He tried to keep an eye out for her compatriots, but his wolf spoke up for the first time, sending him the scent of one person.
