Page 4 of Rejected By the Winter Wolf

My skin tingles, accepting the charm’s slight transformation.

It hides the Mark that identifies me as a witch—the one that puts me in more danger than I’d care to admit. Some witches get lucky, and their inky-black Mark appears in places that can be easily concealed. Their ribs, breasts, upper legs. Their backs, even. It’s an utterly unique identifier to the witch who bears it.

Mine crawls up the left side of my neck, over my jaw, and into my hairline behind my ear. Mine splits into branches akin to a bolt of dark lightning. As large as a man’s hand resting against my neck, fingers splaying on my jaw and wrapping around. It’s impossible to hide without magical assistance.

I search the rest of the bag. My clothes, a tiny leather-bound book of handwritten spells, a knife.

Finally, I locate the true gold, my wallet, and phone, at the bottom of the bag. I take my cell out and turn it on. While it loads, I try to keep calm. There could be many outcomes of that fight.

It doesn’t bode well that she sent me away with two demons afoot, plus wolves. She should’ve been more focused on protecting herself. Fending them off. Defending our home.

My mother is one of the most powerful Seers of her generation. She saw the demons coming. Clearly, she saw a way to get me out of dodge… although I can only guess if that was her first option. Did she see me turn around and come back for her?

I open the maps app. After a moment, my location appears as a solid blue dot in a landscape of dark green. I zoom out a little, squinting at the screen. I’m in North Dakota.

Go north, my mother ordered.

Well, I’m certainly fucking north now.

Up until a few minutes ago, I was in Colorado.

She didn’t just send me a few miles—she sent me a few states away.

I swallow thickly and climb to my feet. I zoom back in and find a town. It doesn’t look too far, so I set my course in that direction. I’ll just go into town, find some hotel or motel, rent a room until I can get my energy back up, then figure out how to get back to Colorado.

“You can do this,” I whisper.

The sun has risen by the time I make it into the town. There are a few people out, and I draw curious gazes from all of them.

I pat down my hair, then my clothes, but soon realize that it’s not my appearance. It’s me. Small towns this far north, almost touching Canada, can’t possibly get many visitors.

Certainly not ones who walk in with just a backpack.

Even still, I make it to the tiny town square without anyone calling out to me. There’s a bed and breakfast on one of the corners, a vacancy sign swinging in a gentle breeze. I head for it and slip inside. A bell chimes loudly over my head.

A girl sits at a desk to my left. Her head is bent over a newspaper, pen poised in her hand, but she comes to attention at the noise. “Good morn… Oh, you’re not Pete. Can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “I was hoping for a room.”

She stares at me a beat, then shuffles the newspaper to the side. “Are you okay?”

I glance behind me, but the street is empty. “I’m fine.”

Relatively speaking.

We stand in silence for a moment, then she seems to snap back into business mode.

“We don’t get many new folks,” she says. “Queen bed or two doubles?”

“Just the one bed is fine.” I pause. “How do you not get much new business?”

She takes my ID and shrugs. “Some travel in for work, so they’re frequent fliers. We get to know them. Beyond that, we’re not much of a tourist town. The owners don’t mind it when it’s slow, and I get a lot of reading done.”

“The quiet must get boring?”

Her expression changes. “Could be worse. How many nights will you be with us?”

“Um… two. Maybe three.”