Page 65 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

My skin prickles, like I’m being watched by more than the witch outside, but I ignore it. I thank the waitress again on my way out, turning my pockets inside out for any change and finding it painfully empty, then hurry to Cecelia’s car.

I open the passenger door and duck down, meeting her warm gaze. She nods, as if to encourage me to get in.

It’s been eleven years since I last saw her. Her hair is still the same vibrant red, but there are new wrinkles around her eyes. She gained a little weight. Her sense in fashion still seems to be the same, with a long wool skirt and not-quite-matching cardigan. I’m not sure how she isn’t sweating to death in all that fabric.

She reverses out of her parking spot and pulls onto the road. She checks both ways, then takes a left. We ride in silence until the signs for an interstate come up. Her car rattles a bit when she steps on the gas and gains speed.

Her hand hovers over the music, which has been playing classical piano, and switches it to a country station. The difference is jarring—and worse when she increases the volume.

“He’s following.” She glances at me. “He’s about to turn back and go for his bike, though. That should buy us some time.”

I crane around, as if I might be able to spot him through the woods that flash by on either side. I didn’t realize he was so close to the diner. I grip the handle on the door and try to keep breathing.

Another five minutes pass, then Cecelia blows out a breath. “Gone.”

“How do you know?”

She hits the button to silence the music. “We’ve got another passenger.”

I raise my eyebrows. She seemed to always keep spirits close… or maybe they’re drawn to her because she can communicate with them.

The car’s speed still climbs, and we reach another highway. She takes the exit with a quick jerk of the wheel, the car bumping and vibrating on its new path. It protests the speed, the direction. This rust bucket may fall apart before we reach our destination.

But all I can think about is that she’s getting me away from Kian. I slowly relax into the seat.

“How are you, Astra?”

“I’m fine.”

“Kidnapped by the alpha of the Silver Ridge Pack shouldn’t constitute as fine, my dear.” She eyes me. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.” Not him, specifically. Now doesn’t seem like a good time to mention the gouges on my back.

“Was he after your mother?”

From they to he. I focus on the scenery out the window. This highway is quieter, only two lanes instead of four. We’re heading southwest toward Utah. This way through northern Colorado tends to be a bit rough, with lots of curves through the mountains, but Cecelia doesn’t seem bothered. She drives with one hand on the steering wheel and her other resting on the gear stick.

“Astra?” she prods.

“He wanted a Seer, but now he needs a blood witch.” Even saying it sends a spike of anxiety through me. I manage to quell another shiver, but goosebumps erupt down my spine and the backs of my arms.

Cecelia sighs. “Your mother called me two months ago. She gave me your phone number, then a time and place to be. That place was the diner. The time was…” She checks her watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”

My jaw drops. “She gave you the number you called me on? And told you where to get me?”

She saw the phone number of the cell phone I decided to grab on a whim. She knew the exact moment I’d be able to get away from Kian. I cover my face. She couldn’t have told me about any of this? Let me in on the plan?

No, of course not. She never did.

“She didn’t say much about it—just that it would be important. And then she lightly suggested I keep my great-aunt Dolores near.” She snorts. “Auntie was taken by the Silver Ridge Pack when she was a teenager. She apparently spent some time with them before they killed her, and they didn’t keep her in the most favorable conditions. She followed Kian and let me know when it was safe to get on the correct highway.”

What the fuck?

First—if my mother knew I’d be this far from home, there may have been more that she saw. Like the demon attack on our home, or Kian coming for me. How far did her predictions go?

“It wasn’t just the wolves who came for us,” I say in as even a tone as I can manage. “The demons got there first, and they’re the ones who took my mother.”

I lived in a city for a while. It was my chance of being normal, right? My mother encouraged it. And when I decided that it was too much, and I wanted to come home, she met me on the road. The same as we did for all the rest. It reminded me of every time she woke me up early to meet the visiting witches.