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But it’s too late.
“You see, we did not come here to ask for you to give us the wolf,” she explains with a sorrowful little shrug of her thin shoulders. “We came here to take her. By force if necessary.”
The lights go out, plunging the hall into darkness, and screams rise up from all around me.
Nothing on Earth could hold me back now. I run to Lili, throwing myself over her as all hell breaks loose. Diplomacy is out the window—guards to either side of me shift to face what’s coming, while others not trained for this sort of event rush about, panicked.
“Give her to me.” The voice rings in my ear and reverberates in my head like a gong, adding to the cacophony of screams and pleas. “Give her to me.”
“Never!” I wrap my arms around Lili’s limp form. She lolls in them, a rag doll, though I feel the strong beat of her heart against my chest as I clutch her to me.
“Then you shall die, too.”
Too?
Wind swirls around me, and the light fixtures overhead swing, creaking though the windows are closed. The light bulbs explode, sending showers of sparks and glass over our heads, and I smell blood. I don’t know whether it’s witch or wolf, but blood has been shed beyond that which has dried on Lili’s cheeks. And through it all, the witch’s warning rings out.
Too? As in…
They plan to kill her. Not just take her but kill her.
I lower Lili to the floor and turn my back to her, finally allowing my wolf what he so desperately craves.
The chance to taste some blood tonight.
Because the only way they’re going to get to her is through me.
He bursts free, and now I look out through his eyes. He cares nothing for reason or diplomacy. He wants to kill. To avenge. It’s all so much simpler and clearer through his eyes.
Forrest joins me an instant before the chandelier in the center of the room comes crashing down, landing on the table and splitting it in half. Wolves press close to the walls, huddling together as the tension builds. Blood is on Forrest’s jaws, and I see one of the witch’s entourage lying on the floor in a heap beneath her cloak.
But there are more, and all of them have their sights set on my mate. I lower my head, snarling, prepared to mow them down.
“This is your last warning.” The witch’s lips don’t move, but her voice hangs over the room for all to hear, even over the roar of the wind, which I’m now starting to understand is her frustration in physical form. “Give her to us freely or die as she will.”
I recognize Benedict’s gray wolf and see the way his teeth shine even in the darkness. He limps as though he’s been wounded but takes his place to my left, opposite Forrest. The three of us block Lili, but what good can we do against magic? What if they hurt her even worse than they have already?
What if they kill her here and now?
The doors open, and the guards stationed outside pour in, shifting as they do, and now the witches are surrounded by snarling, growling wolves closing in, tightening the perimeter.
The witches surrounding their leader look around, turning their backs to her so that they may face their foes. It’s obvious they’re protecting her, and she is the one causing all of this. If I can get to her, I can end this. I look to Forrest, who inclines his head slightly. He understands; he always does.
Yet before he can begin to advance, there’s movement on the side of the room. It catches my eye, and I follow it, finding old Agnes stepping forward. “Sisters, you’ve done more than enough.”
The witch cocks her head to the side, turning in the direction of Agnes’s voice. “You are no sister of ours, white witch,” she announces with disdain.
“Just the same; we share blood. I may not have chosen your path, but we originate from the same point.”
“What of it? You have no say in this and will die like the rest.” A blast of invisible energy slams into Agnes, and I expect her shrunken body to crumble, but she stands tall. The worst that happens is the blowing back of the long cloak she wears.
“I’m certain I will die, and soon enough,” Agnes replies, chuckling wryly, taking one measured step after another, closing in on the witches. “But it will not be at your hand. I have seen it. I know the time and the place.”
“You waste my time—and destiny can be rearranged, sister.” She says it with cold sarcasm.
“I’m sure you’re right. Destiny can be rearranged, and there are times when even the best-laid plans fall to pieces before our eyes. I’ve seen many years, many plans, many failures.” There’s sorrow in the woman’s words, words she seems to weave together into a tapestry. It’s the almost lyrical tone in her voice, her cadence, and if I didn’t know better, I would think calm is descending over the hall. The wind has died down, and the temperature is no longer icy—I don’t see my breath in front of my face anymore.
