Page 46 of A Wolf for Winter

It nagged at him, so teasingly faint—he’d smelled it before yet couldn’t place it.

Growling, Allen pried the splinter loose, but he didn’t flick it away. He pulled his handkerchief free and carefully folded the tiny piece of wood inside. The Hawthornes might not know much about this arcane piece of magic, but he was willing to bet that a certain hedge witch with a rowan broomstick did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“You’re leaving?” Boar slammed his hand against the front door, keeping it shut.

Allen didn’t like it either, not when every instinct screamed at him not to let Lilac—them, he corrected himself—out of his sight. But he couldn’t sit around here and simply wait for their adversary to plant another ill-wish where a Hawthorne would eventually find it. Where Lilac could find it.

He looked pointedly at Boar’s hand on the door. With his shifter strength, Allen could rip it open if he really wanted to, but that undoubtedly would’ve upset the Hall, and it had washed the breakfast dishes for him. “I’m coming back.”

“But after this morning, that ill-wish—”

“Whoever planted it isn’t stupid enough to try harming you again today, not after two attempts have already been thwarted.”

“Barely thwarted.”

“Let go of the door, Boar.”

He didn’t. Instead he speared Allen with a look that was half intimidation, half plea. “The girls still need you. They . . . they feel safer with you than they do with me.”

A pang of sympathy pulsed in Allen’s heart. Though Boar had a few years on him, he had more in common with a young second lieutenant assigned to a platoon of seasoned veterans. He had theory to guide him, not actual experience. Boar wanted—needed—help, yet he was still too proud to ask for it. At least in so many words. He hadn’t even told his elders what was happening at the Hall, preferring to handle it himself. Allen didn’t judge or blame him. He knew what it was like, that need to prove yourself.

“Then look at this as an opportunity to change their minds.” Allen gave the inside of Boar’s elbow a cheap shot, buckling the joint and relieving the pressure on the door. He opened it before the witch could muscle it closed again. “Stick together, stay inside. Don’t even go outside for firewood. I’m going to see Zofia and see if I can extend the wards. I’ll be back, Boar.”

His calm instruction seemed to soothe the witch, and Boar nodded once before stepping back to let Allen leave.

He took the Roots’ delivery truck into town, trundling down the main street slowly. With the winter solstice quickly approaching, and more festivities to look forward to at Hawthorne Hall, everyone was out and about. Shopping, mostly, but also decorating their storefronts and houses with garlands and wreaths, attending parties, and celebrating yuletide with events hosted by the local library. Annesley Valley’s main exports were handcrafted furniture, root beer, and wool, and everywhere these products could be seen in shop windows or lashed on top of vehicles or being carted down the streets.

Allen would’ve enjoyed the sights better had he not been so impatient to get to the little hospital on the south side of town. And with the truck missing a door, there was no point in turning on the heater, and the cold was making him even more irritable.

He kept his emotions in check when he entered the hospital and followed Kalina’s directions to Zofia’s room. She’d texted him the room number earlier, and his cell phone was pinging presently to tell him she wouldn’t be there when he arrived—she’d stepped out to get something to eat at the cafeteria.

Trepidation crept up from his stomach where he had subdued it, giving speed to his stride. Zofia’s room was open, and shadows moved across the floor and swept along the hall. Was it a nurse or a housekeeper? Allen hurried, wishing he had his trusty sidearm that the Coalition had confiscated.

He was only three steps away when a yowl sounded from inside the room.

Allen charged, rounding the corner to find Hobbles on his mistress’s stomach, except the cat no longer resembled a cat. It was six times its normal size and made of shadowy wisps that blew in an unseen wind. His yellow eyes were now orbs of blue flame, his teeth and claws like crackling electricity. The silver collar with its blue bauble blazed with power.

And at the foot of the bed was a hulking figure in a trench coat, hood drawn low to shield his face. Whatever magic spell he’d been in the middle of casting sucked back into his hands, interrupted by the shadow cat. He held his arm to his chest where Hobbles had scratched him, his teeth bared as he snarled at the cat.

His wolf roared, but Allen shouted, “Hey!”

The hooded figure’s head snapped towards him, but all Allen saw of his face was a strong jaw and clean-shaven chin.

“Allen?” Kalina’s worried voice sounded at the end of the hall. “Is that you?”

With Allen blocking the door and Hobbles the shadow cat ready to spring, the hooded figure bolted for the windows. Allen lunged after him, vaguely registering the aroma of plain soap before that grassy scent he recognized from the woods obliterated his senses. Bluish-green magic like English ivy vines manifested from the man’s hands, and the thick windows shattered as easily as frost.

The hooded figure dove into the night. Allen leapt into the window frame, bits of glass biting into his palms as he steadied himself to give chase, then the alarms on Zofia’s monitors pealed like the trumpets of an elementary school band during a Fourth of July parade.

Growling, he turned away from the figure running down the street to his friend.

The shadowy wisps that composed the frightening feline’s body condensed into the orange and white patches of the cat he knew as Hobbles. The not-cat gave Allen a plaintive meow before the old beast padded onto his mistress’s chest to touch her cheek with his paw. Kalina burst into the room a second later, looked wildly from the cat to Allen, then hissed, “Hide the cat!”

Allen didn’t want to touch Hobbles, for that cat was most definitely not a cat, but alerted by the panic in Kalina’s voice, he stuffed the beast into his coat. Hobbles didn’t like that one bit, but Allen clamped his arms over the cat, willing him to stay still.

A set of nurses rushed in behind Kalina, one shouting, “What happened?” while the other immediately got to work assessing Zofia’s vitals.