Page 67 of A Wolf for Winter

Allen fumbled with the plates to mask her outburst.

“Careful, Allen,” Boar warned from the stove. “Don’t give her any more reason to bite your head off.”

“You mean other than simply existing?”

Rose snickered.

Lilac started rattling the silverware and hissed at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if I told you sooner, you three would’ve changed your behavioral patterns and that would’ve alerted him—”

“You were using us as bait?” Lilac gave his arm a vicious pinch.

He snapped his teeth at her. “You were already bait the minute you left the manor. I simply wasn’t rectifying that.”

“Allen,” she seethed.

“I’m trying to tell you to be careful,” he growled. “To be prepared for anything tonight, okay? I’m going to find those charms in the snow, and with any luck, they’ll have Prue’s accomplice’s scent on them and I can find him before he can do anything else.”

“When you get back I’m going to throttle you.” She elbowed him and whipped around, stomping off with rolls of napkins and a fistful of silverware.

Allen shut the cupboard and returned to the table with a handful of plates.

“Never knew setting the table could be such an antagonistic affair,” Boar commented dryly, shooting a glare at his sister.

“I’d offer to kiss and make up with her,” Allen suggested, “if I wasn’t afraid she’d bite my lip off in the process.”

Lilac glowered at him as Boar and Rose laughed. Then she promptly ignored them all, straightening her spine and fiddling with the glass flute Rose passed her. She didn’t take a sip of the liquid snack, though she seriously looked ready to down the whole thing. Instead, she told Boar to put the kettle on and pulled a few vials from the drawstring purse on her wrist to make her own tea blend.

Rose poured an entire mug’s worth of mimosa for herself. “Allen?” she asked, wiggling the bottle.

“Just coffee, thanks.”

“One Irish coffee, coming right up.”

“Rose, the man just woke up.” Boar hurled a dishrag at his sister. “Stop trying to get him drunk.”

“But it’s cold out there,” she protested.

“That’s what the food’s for.” He slid a breakfast/brunch/elevenses sandwich in front of Allen.

It was a no-frills hearty colossus of fried egg, sausage patty, and pepperjack cheese on a chewy everything bagel. Allen’s stomach snarled. Boar set another plate with an identical sandwich in front of each of his sisters and himself. Like the mimosa, Lilac didn’t partake, even though he heard her stomach protest at its delicious scent.

Allen wolfed his breakfast down in four, maybe five bites, chased it all down with a mug of black coffee, then leaned over and helped himself to Lilac’s sandwich. The witch let out a flabbergasted cry—all for show—but it was already down his gullet. Rose and Boar just stared at him, whether at his gusto or audacity, he couldn’t be sure, so he pretended nothing was amiss and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Thank you. Um, bye.”

He vanished out the back door before anyone could stop him.

Spirits above, the snow came up to his knees. He high-stepped around to the front of the house, seeking the tramped path that led from the front entryway and down the drive to the village road. If he had been a better caretaker, he would’ve plowed all this, but he had been rather busy of late. He wondered how the petite house elf usually managed.

The opal on his pink finger twinkled brightly enough to rival the snowflakes bustling on the ever-present wind. He was lucky that the sun was a murky orb behind a swath of gray sky, otherwise the reflection off this virgin snow would be blinding. As he trudged, he split his attention between his nose and the ring, debating whether or not he should extend the wards again.

Maybe he shouldn’t. They hadn’t provided any additional help in preventing that last ill-wish from being planted or activated. They hadn’t detected any malicious intent, either, which meant Prue could either mask her emotions or she was so fully convinced what she was doing wasn’t malicious at all, but for the good of the valley. They had, however, repelled a portion of the witch duel, so at least he knew they were working and effective.

With a resigned sigh, he forwent expanding the wards. He needed his strength and focus, especially with Prue’s accomplice still in the wind.

Speaking of . . ..

The scents on the breeze told him he had arrived.