Page 113 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

A demon looms in front of me—almost on top of me—and I shriek. I leap backward and collide with the table. Its edge jabs into my hip. The demon doesn’t notice, continuing on, and for a moment the mirror shows only black while the demon passes through the space we stand.

I fight my revulsion. A thin layer separates our realm from the shadows—and witches like Beatrice, and even some covens, continually drag demons to our world.

I release the power on the mirror and stone, and it fades back to normal.

I set it facedown and examine my palm again. The stone isn’t there. However the blood witch hid it, I can only detect it when I’m trying to reach for its stores of magic.

“Holy shit,” I mumble. My mother never taught me this.

Beatrice laughs. “I’m glad you’re impressed. Now, when your wolf arrives tomorrow, he can help us with the second piece.”

I frown at the table. “Tomorrow?”

“We’re in California, darling. Even he can’t travel that far without stopping.” She shrugs. “Especially if he suddenly feels like he hasn’t slept in seven weeks.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You know about…?”

“A witch hears rumors. Spirits love to gossip, you know?” She loops her arm around my waist and helps me up from the table. She guides me into a tiny, crammed living room. “Let’s get you some proper rest, and we’ll deal with the wolf when he arrives.”

“I’m sorry.”

She waves me off. “You aren’t responsible for his actions. Or his cousin’s. I’m going to make you a tea to replenish your strength. Sit tight.”

“You know he’d rather torture you into finding out how to break that shifter curse than help you help me. Right?”

“I’m aware. And I’m not afraid of the Winter Wolf.”

I sigh.

She points to the overstuffed couch and heads back to the kitchen. I sit and groan at how comfortable it is.

A second—or maybe longer than that—she shakes me awake. She forces a mug into my hands and helps me lift it to my mouth. It tastes like honey and lemon, but the significance escapes me. That’s the last thing I remember.

Chapter 30

Astra

Iwake outside, surrounded by dead grass. My fingers curl in the dry dirt, and I turn away from the sharp brightness of the sun.

I feel better. Surprisingly rested.

I’m not sure how I got out here, though. I sit up slowly, wary of dizziness, and glance around. The blood witch’s cottage is only yards away.

The door bangs open and Beatrice appears with two mugs in hand.

She’s dressed in a gauzy black dress and black boots. Her blonde hair is pinned out of her face. She glances around at the dead grass and nods to herself.

“Your magic reserves were low,” she comments. “Lower than I had expected. I should’ve asked you before taking some for the mirror. But the earth seemed to want to help you.”

I take the mug she offers. “It’s not your fault.”

“I knew you had been taken.” She sighs. “And that you transport yourself. The farther the distance, the more power it takes.”

My jaw works.

The tea has a fruity scent to it, but I don’t drink it. Not until I get some answers, anyway.

“How do you know that?”