Page 74 of A Wolf for Winter

Gritting his teeth, Allen shimmied his feet under him and shoved forward. He caught the tree to steady himself, waiting a precious minute for the feeling to return to his legs.

He swept his gaze from the approaching mob to the Hall, strained his ears to pick up the sounds of jovial music and general revelry. If Talia had already made her move against the Hawthornes, or was in the process of it, there would be screaming. He still had time to thwart one attack so his wards wouldn’t be caught in a pincer maneuver between two enemies. But only if he could move.

Inside, the beast shook out his golden-white fur and threw his head back with a howl.

Allen felt the itch to shift, since he could heal faster as a wolf, but the longer he could keep his true identity a secret, the longer he held the advantage. He was finally strong enough to walk now, though, then jog, and soon, he was sprinting down the hill towards the road to the village.

His approach was spotted, an alert rising from the hedge witches at the front. The mob spread out to cover more ground—the better not to hit their friends with their attacks if violence broke out.

“It’s the Hawthornes’ dog,” one of them spat. “The caretaker.”

“Evening, friends,” he said, keeping his palms open at his sides. He hoped the peaceful gesture would help lighten the mood, but it most certainly did not.

“Friends?” the woman in the center sneered—Beverly Traskell, Prue’s best friend. He remembered her from all the time he’d spent learning about the village’s major players. “Friends don’t lock each other up in prison cells.”

“Don’t waste your words on him, Beverly,” the first one hissed. “He’s their lackey.”

“Prue’s in the cellar suite, actually,” Allen corrected genially. “It comes with a bed and working plumbing, not a cot and a bucket. Big distinction. I’m surprised an educated and precise woman like her didn’t make that clear when she contacted you all by . . . charm, probably?” His eyes flicked to the man who liked to insult him. “And I’m no one’s lackey.”

“Prison cell, cellar suite, she shouldn’t be anywhere but safe in her own house,” Beverly snapped. “I don’t know what those Hawthornes accused her of, but she didn’t do it!”

“I know.”

His quiet agreement stunned the mob to a beat of silence. Only the wind whispered by on the snow-covered fields. A strain of jovial music wafted down from the Hall behind him, shattering their truce.

As outraged voices lifted to the sky, the hedge witches pressing closer, Allen took a step back and lifted his hands high. “I know Prue Stonewell is innocent, because she tried to protect me with this.” He showed them the hexafoil. “And as a token of goodwill, I return that to you, along with her witch’s knot.”

He tossed both charms at Beverly. The hedge witch caught them and passed them off to the two beside her, her flinty gaze never leaving his face.

“He stole those from her!” said the male hedge witch—Mitch the Hedge Witch Bitch, Allen decided to call him.

“You think a human could rob someone like Prue of her witch’s knot?” Beverly scoffed.

“She lost it in battle,” Allen supplied. “Against Talia.”

“Talia?” Mitch snorted. “A mage newt’s got more magic in its little toe than that girl’s got in her whole body. There’s no way—”

“She had a heretic fork.”

That shut him and the rest of Cailleach Lodge up real quick. A few exchanged glances, but Beverly’s attention remained glued to Allen’s face. “And how do you know what that is, Allen Sharpe?”

“Scorned people like to gloat when they finally have the upper hand.” He jabbed a finger in Mitch’s direction. “They grow in toxic environments fostered by the likes of him.”

“Why you—”

“The heretic’s fork is how Talia disarmed Prue,” he said loudly, smothering the man’s protests. “That’s how she rendered me unconscious and stashed me in the woods so I couldn’t warn the Hawthornes of their mistake until now.” He gestured to the tracks he’d left in the snow. “Go check my story, if you want.”

“This is complete bullsh—”

“Dave, shut your mouth and take Emilia with you,” Beverly interrupted. “Follow the caretaker’s steps to the woods and run a Memoria Spell.”

Allen’s lips twisted into a pucker. He preferred calling the belligerent man Mitch to match his personality. As the two trudged off, Beverly asked him, “Why did she spare you?”

“Because apparently I’m nice,” he snapped, golden eyes glinting. People were always so surprised how a little decency and kindness could go so far in this world. “And I’m also true to my word.”

“Meaning?”

“Give me ten minutes. Ten minutes to get into the Hall and release her and we can explain everything. And hold the real culprit responsible.”