Chapter 2 - Winter

Winter didn't read Jack's letter until she had settled into the thick leather chair at her mother's desk in the storeroom.

She was curious to see what the big, bad alpha wolf could possibly want with her mother. Of course, he wasn't really bad, but he could certainly act it sometimes. Being an alpha looked difficult, and with so many werewolves in town, it wasn't hard to understand why. They could be quite an unruly bunch if they weren't led by the right person.

She had seen enough of the damage that could be caused by their kind. Karl Ryker and his cronies had done a real number on the people of Nightstar before Jack turned up. And though Winter, encouraged by her mother, was grateful to the new pack leader and his friends, she wasn't so sure that getting involved in pack business was very smart.

And with that thought at the front of her mind, she unfolded the letter that Eddie had handed to her, taking a moment to remember his hesitation at putting it in her hands.

What was in this letter that made him hesitate so? Why had his handsome face been so twisted up with concern? And what the hell was all that about his friend ?

She scoffed at that last part. She might not have been psychic, but something told her there was no friend. The drawn look on Eddie's face as he'd asked her about love potions and the like had told her as much.

What did that really matter to her, though? She shoved all thoughts of that away. What really mattered was whatever this damn letter contained.

Dear Wylla,

I hope this letter finds you and yours well. I first wish to thank you for your continued service to the people of Nightstar. Layla tells me business has been booming of late, and though I know you are a very busy woman, I wish to prevail upon you in a matter of the utmost importance.

Winter paused in reading, her lips pursed. Who the hell was this Jack to her mother, exactly? Why was he being so damn formal? What did he want?

Whatever it was, Winter had a bad feeling that something serious was about to go down.

Clearing her throat, she blinked and found the place in the letter where she had left off.

Nightstar, though safe for now, is in serious trouble. I am sure you are aware of the threat that has been plaguing our town since we rid the place of the previous pack alpha.

And I fear I must ask for your help and continued service in protecting Nightstar and all who dwell within.

If you would come to the manor at your earliest convenience, I would be happy to discuss this in greater detail.

Sincerely,

Jack Blackwell

Winter read the letter a few times. There was nothing greatly concerning, no giant and current threat that needed to be handled immediately. And yet, the feeling in Winter’s gut told her that this invitation couldn't wait until her mother returned.

After all, she didn't really have any idea how long that would be.

With that knowledge, she sighed deeply and grabbed her scarf from the back of the chair. Wrapping it around her neck, she shoved Jack's letter into her jacket pocket and grabbed the shop keys off the desk.

If her mother were here, she wouldn't wait, either.

Looks like this one is up to me.

***

The manor looked much better than the last time Winter had taken a hike up the hill.

When the Blackwell pack had first moved in, the place had been practically falling down.

Though there was still the odd piece that needed a little TLC, it appeared they had worked miracles just to keep the roof above their heads.

Though the original porch steps remained, Winter was surprised at their lack of squeaking as she made her way up to the front door.

She had barely lifted her hand to knock when the wood disappeared from beneath her hand and a face appeared before her, or rather, above her. These damn werewolves were always so tall. It made her jaw clench.

You're a witch, for goodness’ sake, Winter reminded herself. Though what she would do if Jack’s letter was some sort of trap, she didn't know.

One werewolf she could handle, but an entire pack? Maybe she ought to have thought all of this through a little more before making the journey up the hill.

Stop being ridiculous, Winter, she told herself firmly. The werewolves of Nightstar had been nothing but kind since Jack Blackwell had taken over the pack.

“Can I help you?” the big guy in the doorway asked.

Golden-haired, green-eyed and muscular, he was enough to make many a woman swoon. Just as many werewolves were. Luckily for Winter, it took more than that to make her forget what they were.

“I'm here to see Jack.”

Cocking his brow at her, the werewolf looked her up and down.

“What about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

Winter gritted her teeth. Werewolves were also so defensive and territorial.

She was about to bark something about Jack having invited her to the manor when there was a voice from inside the house. “Let her in, Will.”

That voice, it made Winter’s body tingle all over. She'd heard it just that morning in the apothecary.

But why it made her feel that way, she didn't know.

Will stepped back from the door and dropped his arms, gesturing her inside.

Eddie appeared behind him, standing in the foyer with such a presence about him that Winter couldn't help but stare.

“I suppose you're here about the letter?” Eddie asked, his expression quite unreadable.

All Winter could do was nod. For some unfathomable reason, her throat felt tight and dry.

“Go back to whatever you were doing,” Eddie said to Will. “I'll take her to Jack.”

“Be my guest,” Will said, sniffing as if he had scented something repulsive.

Winter's jaw clenched. It wasn’t the first time a werewolf had done so in her company. She had a feeling it had far more to do with her witch scent than anything else.

Not very hospitable for a member of the pack asking for our help, Winter thought, deciding it best not to start an argument right now.

Slipping into the foyer, she held her head high and said, “Lead the way.”

Eddie gave a curt nod and gestured for her to follow him down the hall.

They walked in silence, an awkward silence that Winter desperately wanted to break, though she had no clue how. Her words failed her, and her palms were so sweaty that she was forced to rub them on her jeans.

When he stopped at the door at the end of the hall, Winter was almost disappointed.

He turned to look at her, glancing her up and down quickly, his mouth open as if about to speak.

Then, instead, he sucked in a breath and turned to knock on the door.

What was he going to say? Winter wondered, though she was certain she would never know now.

“Come in.”

The call came loud and clear from inside the room and Winter had little time to do anything as Eddie shoved open the door and gestured her inside.

“Thanks,” Winter said as she slipped past him. Eddie's only response was another curt dip of his head.

As she slipped past him, Winter looked at him closely.

Is he holding his breath? she thought, her brow furrowing slightly with curiosity. Why would he be holding his breath? Do I really smell so bad to them?

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Winter slipped into the room to find Jack Blackwell sitting in his chair behind his desk.

Upon seeing her, he rose to his feet and skirted around it.

“Ah, Miss Green, have you come with a response from your mother for me?” Jack asked as he offered her his hand.

Cautiously, Winter took it, shaking firmly.

“How…how do you know who I am?” Winter asked. Of course, she knew who he was. He was what the humans in town believed to be mayor. Everybody knew who he was and what he looked like.

But how he knew her, she had no idea.

Jack shrugged his shoulders, a nonchalant smile warming his face.

“It's my job to know those who live in my town,” he pointed out. “Besides, you look much like your mother.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” she said, quickly adding, “I think.”

At her words, she started to blush.

“It is,” Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And I must admit, I was expecting her to come herself on a matter as important as this.”

Winter cringed at that. Perhaps she wasn't good enough.

She quickly reminded herself that in terms of witchery, she was more than equal to her mother, even if she wasn't nearly as old and wise.

“My mother is out of town, and your letter seemed urgent, so I took it upon myself to come and offer my own services,” Winter said, looking Jack as straight in the eye as possible. It took more than a little guts to do that to a werewolf, especially for witches, who were so able to see the beast that dwelled within.

She could sense Jack's wolf watching her closely, ready to spring if the witch should take it upon herself to try anything. Werewolves were territorial, indeed.

“Perhaps this ought to wait until your mother's return?” Jack suggested.

At that, it was Winter who crossed her arms. Lifting her chin, she continued to meet Jack's eye.

“I can assure you, Mr. Blackwell, that any help my mother can offer, I am able to offer myself.”

Jack stared her down in silence for several moments, and before long, Winter felt as if she were being dissected.

Then, finally, Jack scoffed and said, “Well, I guess so. Though I was hoping to speak to the head of your coven. You aren't, after all, able to make decisions on behalf of your entire coven while she is away, are you?”

A cold shiver ran down Winter's spine. What did he want with their coven?

It was one thing to invite a witch to your home, but it was quite another to make mention of their coven.

“I suspect that depends upon what is being asked of us,” Winter said, shrugging. “Anything urgent could be relayed to my mother over the phone.”

Jack laughed at that, and Winter scowled.

“What is so funny?”

Her arms tightened around her chest, making her feel even more defensive than before.

“Nothing. I just imagined that witches were still using owls and crows to send messages long distance,” Jack said. Then, just as quickly, he shook his head and apologized. “I'm sorry. That was quite offensive. I shouldn't have said that. You'll have to forgive me, I've been cooped up in this office for too long.”

“Might that have anything to do with the reason you brought me here?”

Jack looked at her long and hard, sighing deeply before he nodded.

“Yes, though I'm afraid I was really hoping for your mother on this one,” Jack said, his expression quite serious.

Winter gritted her teeth. Anything her mother could help with, she was certain she could, too.

“As I said, my mother has left me in charge of everything. If I can help in any way, you have my support.”

At that, Jack smiled a little, though the expression was strained.

“Then I suppose I had better get on with explaining,” Jack said, crossing the room to one of the neatly-packed bookcases that lined the walls of the study. Winter was, in fact, quite surprised by these; she hadn't ever imagined that werewolves were all that into reading. In fact, she imagined they were far more likely to shred books up than read them.

“I believe we may have found a way to protect the town permanently from our enemies, but unfortunately, as with anything in these situations, it is not an easy fix.”

Winter's stomach clenched with concern. His tone was none too encouraging, and the way he plucked a book from the shelf to bring it to her didn't help any.

The thick black leather tome was a familiar sight. Not in the sense she had seen it before, but in the sense that it looked much like many of the books in her mother's storeroom.

“Where did you get that?” Winter asked, suddenly nervous beyond belief.

Why did a werewolf have a witch’s grimoire in his possession?

“From what I have learned, this book belonged to a witch who died many years ago,” Jack said as he came to sit on the armchair opposite Winter. He held the book carefully, almost as if he was afraid to damage it, or maybe even that he was afraid the book could damage him.

“If that is so, how has it come to be here? Grimoires ordinarily pass from witch to witch. And as you and the previous owners of this manor are werewolves, I do not see how—”

“The how and the why do not really matter right now,” Jack stated, his gaze hardening. “What matters right now is protecting the town and all those in it, including you and your mother.”

Winter shivered at that. Of course, she was well aware of the threat the ex-residents of Nightstar posed to its current inhabitants, but she had never really imagined they would be a problem for her or her mother.

Being witches, they were more than capable of taking care of a few werewolves. Then again, she had heard whispers that the thick-headed Christopher had been turning humans in order to swell his ranks and take back the town. And that wasn't good news for anybody.

“I assume because you are showing this to me, you believe there is something in this grimoire that might be of help to us?” Winter said, pointing to the book in Jack's hands.

Jack nodded. Opening the front cover, he began to flick through the pages.

“We have found a spell that would prevent any werewolf outside the pack from entering town without consequences,” Jack explained, still flicking through the large book that seemed to have endless pages. Whoever this witch had been, she had lived a long and experience-filled life.

“What kind of consequences?” Winter asked, her nerves firing all over her body. “We witches aren't into violence or harming people.”

“I am very aware of the rede of the witches,” Jack said, nodding. “And I would never ask anyone to break their own moral code, even if it were to save countless lives.”

Winter's body fired all over again. She felt like a trapped animal, wondering what was coming her way next.

“Here,” Jack said, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. Delicately, he handed the book over to Winter.

“It is a spell that would strip any wolf outside of the pack of their animal abilities, were they to cross town lines,” Jack explained as Winter took the book. “It would be an annoyance, I'm sure. But I do not believe it would cause anyone any lasting damage.”

Winter took the book and began to scan the spell he was talking about.

“There is a catch to this spell,” Winter pointed out. The words on the page in front of her, the consequences outlined, were shocking to say the least. What Jack was asking of her, of a member of her coven, was quite unimaginable.

Jack nodded, his lips pursing into a hard, straight line. “And that is rather why I was hoping your mother would be here for this. I was hoping she might speak with your coven and determine if any one of your sisters would be willing to complete this spell.”

Winter's stomach twisted. Her hands grew even sweatier than before.

“What you're asking is next to impossible,” she admitted, looking over the spell again. “No witch worth her powers would accept a consequence like this.”

“So, what you are saying is you won't take this to the coven?” Jack asked, his face growing paler.

“What I'm saying is,” Winter said, closing the book once more, “no witch alive would be willing to mate with a werewolf.”

Quickly, before Jack could respond, she added sheepishly, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Jack said, shaking his head. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as if he actually found her comment funny. “It is the exact reason why I was hoping your mother would come. I had hoped she might hold a little sway in suggesting the ritual to your coven.”

Winter's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps her mother might have been able to convince one of their sisters to do such a thing, but she was nowhere near as good as her mother at motivational speeches.

“I'm sorry, Jack, I just don't think this is a feasible plan.”

His face fell before hardening once more. Straightening up, he placed his hands on the arms of his chair and said in a pointed manner, “This town belongs to us all. We have spent a long time now trying to protect it, first from Karl Ryker, and then from the others who took over as alpha to those who chose to leave town rather than join under my new leadership.”

Winter didn't need to be reminded. She knew well what the civil war between the werewolves was doing to the town. Every other week, there seemed to be some kind of attack.

“It’s only a matter of time before the scale of these things gets out of control unless we are willing to do something drastic,” Jack continued, gesturing to the book in Winter's lap. “This may very well be our only option.”

This time, it was Winter who pursed her lips. She glanced down at the open pages before her again, reading words such as mating and ritual and witch and werewolf , all in Latin, all very familiar to her.

“Surely, there must be another way,” Winter insisted, closing the book with a heavy thud. The book’s pages were so heavy, in fact, that she almost trapped her fingers right between them.

“If you have any other suggestions, then I am all ears,” Jack insisted, raising his brow as if he actually hoped she might have a plan that didn't involve one of his men marrying into her coven.

Winter scoured her mind, searching the deepest, darkest corners for an answer.

Yet, she didn't seem able to pluck one from thin air.

Glancing down, she ran her thumb over the rough leather of the grimoire's cover.

“I'll take this plan to my coven and see what they make of it,” she promised, knowing that was exactly what her mother would do in this kind of situation. Her sisters were, after all, free spirits, and one of them might come to surprise her.

Though she doubted it.

“Thank you,” Jack said solemnly, dipping his head.

“In the meantime, do I have your permission to search for another option?” Winter asked, still running her fingers over the cover.

“Take the book and anything else you might need,” Jack insisted. “If you can come up with something else less awkward, I shall be all ears.”

Winter pursed her lips again. He couldn't have been fairer than that, and yet there was still an odd sensation in Winter’s gut, one she'd had many times before, one that told her things weren't going to go the way she would have liked.

Stroking her fingers over the grimoire, she said, “Do you truly believe this spell might be the only way to save the town?”

At that, Jack's face grew pale. “We have tried everything else. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd have ended this a long time ago. Christopher and his wolves aren't likely to give up any time soon, if ever, and unless you find another way, I fear this is the only thing that can protect our people.”

Winter gulped. The way he said our people made her quiver. Never in a million years would she have imagined an alliance between werewolves and witches, and yet here she sat in the alpha's office.

“Then I'll do all I can to find something else,” Winter promised, imagining the book-lined shelves of her mother’s apothecary. There had to be something there. Yet, if there was, wouldn't her mother have already come up with a plan by now?

Christopher had been a blight on them all for so long. Her coven was tormented by him just as much as the rest of town. A man like that—a wolf like that—caused trouble everywhere he went. Jack was right. He wasn't about to give up any time soon.

Standing, Winter wrapped her arms around the book and asked, “Was there anything else?”

Jack shook his head and rose from his own seat, gesturing her toward the door. “Do you know the way back through the house, or would you like me to see you to the door?”

Winter smiled. She wasn't used to this gentlemanly kind of werewolf. Karl Ryker and his men had been bullies and tyrants.

“I think I can manage,” she said, immediately wondering afterwards if she ought to have accepted the offer.

This place was crawling with werewolves. She could sense them all about the house, upstairs, in the basement, even in the gardens. Being a witch was an annoyance at times, but it did help to know where danger lay.

All her instincts told her she ought to get out of there as soon as possible, and yet Jack and the others had never done anything to make her feel that way save for being born wolves.

She discreetly sucked in a breath, reminding herself that not all werewolves were the same. At least, these wolves had shown her that.

If he was going to harm us witches in any way, Winter reminded herself, why would he be asking for our help?

Pulling open the door for her, Jack said, “We would appreciate your swift action on this.”

Winter nodded, and remembering the spell she had just read, she pointed out, “The spell requires a full moon.”

“I am well aware,” Jack said, leaning against the door. “There is one coming up.”

Winter swallowed hard. She knew well how close the full moon was, and now it felt as if that night was looming over her.

“I had better get my search going then,” Winter said, slipping from the room.

“And you had better talk to your coven.”

Winter nodded, though in the back of her mind, she already had no intention of doing so. Somehow, it felt as if fate had brought Jack’s letter to her, not to her mother. This was her task now, and one way or another, she had to be the one to solve the situation. How could she possibly ask another in her coven to take it on?

“I shall do what I can,” she promised, and with that, she started down the hall.

“Thank you,” Jack called after her.

Hurrying down the hall, she made no response, only gripped the grimoire tighter to her chest.

She had just turned the corner in the hall when she was stopped dead in her tracks by the giant of a man who came up before her. With barely any chance to react, she stumbled backwards, astonished by his reflexes as he reached out and gripped hold of her arm.

“All these months, I’ve lived in Nightstar, and we’ve never crossed paths,” he said, his tone filled with curiosity. “And then, just like that, I see you three times in one day.”

Swallowing hard, Winter urged her arm free of his grip and stepped back, craning her neck to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, I guess it is odd, huh?” Winter said, her cheeks growing hot. In an attempt to change the subject, she added, “I hope your friend manages to find a solution to his problem.”

Was he blushing now as he raised his hand and ran his fingers through his dark, golden hair?

Winter thought he was, but she couldn’t be sure. Not until he scoffed awkwardly and said, “Oh yeah, thanks.”

As if he wanted to change the subject just as badly, he asked, “What’s that?”

Gesturing at the grimoire in her arms, he raised a brow with obvious interest.

“Oh, this,” Winter said, moving the book against her chest. She immediately regretted it as she noticed the way it drew his eyes to her breasts. They seemed to perch right on top of the edge of the book, and even out of the corner of her eye, she could see how voluptuous they looked. “It’s just an old witch’s grimoire that Jack’s asked me to take a look at.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “So he’s got you wrapped up in helping us out then?”

Winter shrugged, biting the inside of her lip. “I guess so.”

She sucked in a deep breath as Eddie leaned in close and whispered, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you werewolves and witches don’t mix?”

There was a dangerous edge to his tone, and yet the way it made Winter’s heart skip a beat wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. In fact, she craved the sensation the moment it was gone from her chest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that things are different here in Nightstar?” she countered, taking another step back.

Eddie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “I guess so.”

Feeling more than a little awkward, Winter sidestepped, locking her sights on the front door just past Eddie. “I should be going. I have a lot of research to do.”

“Maybe I could escort you back to town?”

Winter very nearly accepted the offer. There was something about him, something that made her want to say yes, and yet she stood firm.

“I think I can manage, thanks.”