Chapter 8 - Winter

After the attack in the shop, Winter stared at her phone for what felt like hours, wondering if she should call her mother and tell her everything that had happened. In fact, she was surprised that her mother hadn't called her. She always seemed to have a knack for knowing when something was wrong.

Glancing at the grandfather clock, she realized it had only been about an hour since Jack and the others left, her mate-to-be included.

Every time she closed her eyes, she still saw his face, how he had looked so concerned when he had found her bleeding on the shop floor.

It still took her breath away when she thought of the deal she had made with the werewolves.

She was going to be the one to perform the spell and possibly save the whole of Nightstar from yet more tragedy and attacks.

More than that, she was going to be Eddie's mate. Hell, she had imagined all too easily what that might be like in her dreams.

If she felt anything close to what she had in her sleep, she was sure that her life was at least going to be anything but boring.

“Fuck…” She ground the word out through gritted teeth and finally dared to pick up the phone. Calling her mother, she waited impatiently, tapping her foot beneath the desk.

“Winter? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, now,” Winter admitted, her stomach twisting as she imagined all she was about to impart upon her poor mom.

“What's wrong? What's happened? You sound strange,” her mother said, the concern in her voice palpable. It made Winter's throat constrict, and for a few moments she was unable to respond.

The soreness of her nose, the lingering scent of her own blood, told her exactly why she sounded strange.

“Mom, something’s happened,” Winter said, beginning to shake. Her mom was not going to take this well. She could sense that much already.

“What? What is it? Do I need to come home?”

“No!” Winter blurted out. She was certain if she did, her mom would likely try to put some kind of stop to what she had planned.

“Um…the shop needs a new window and some fresh stock,” Winter explained sheepishly.

“Why? What did you do?”

Winter gulped. Yes, she had been known to be a little clumsy, but it wasn't like she was capable of breaking a damn window.

Her body quivered as she imagined how Eddie's forearms bulged as he held up the wooden board to block off the broken window in the shop door while Kane secured it in place.

Stop it, she told herself firmly. She couldn't be thinking about him. Not right now.

“It wasn't me. The shop was broken into. I, um…I was attacked tonight by a group of werewolves.”

“Those bastards. Just wait until I get back to town. I'll flay Jack and his mongrels.”

Her mother's tone made Winter cringe. Just the thought of what a powerful witch like her mom could do to Eddie and the others made her feel sick.

“No, Mom, it wasn't the Nightstar pack. It was Christopher's men.”

“That's even worse! What did they do to you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Winter responded, deciding it was best not to tell her mother about her bloody nose and bruised ribs. Besides, her nose wasn't broken. There was no real physical harm done; the harm was all in her head. And, she guessed, her future. “Jack and the others saw them off, but it left me thinking. It's time to agree to Jack's plan.”

“Excuse me?”

The tone of her mother's voice was just as Winter had imagined it would be. She didn't sound pleased in the least.

“I'm going to perform the spell, Mom.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Her mother sounded utterly incredulous now.

“I've made up my mind, Mom.”

A strength swelled inside Winter, the likes of which she had never felt before. Sure, she had rebelled once or twice in her teenage years, sneaking out to meet boys and drinking alcohol, breaking all her mother’s small rules, but when it came to witchery and the supernatural, whatever her mother declared was law.

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

Winter sat firm, her hand tightening on the phone.

“I have to.”

“No, there has to be another way. You can't mate with a werewolf!”

The disgust in her mom's tone was painful to hear. It wasn't the first time she'd heard her mother speak poorly of the werewolves; in fact, she’d said some pretty terrible things about them in the past. But just thinking of Eddie now, of how kind he had been, made her want to bite her mother's head off.

Instead, she sighed deeply and said, “My mind is made up. You won't change it. But, um…there's something else we need to talk about.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“No, we need to talk about this. You can't go through with it, Winter.”

“I can and I am. This is more important for now,” Winter stated, preparing herself for what was to come. “When the werewolves attacked me, they…they said something that I need to ask you about.”

Silence seemed to echo through the phone for a second. “What?”

“They…they said my dad had told them it was time for me to come home,” Winter admitted. The werewolf’s words had been replaying in her mind for far longer than she cared to admit.

“That…that’s impossible.”

Winter closed her eyes, her insides tightening into knots. “Mom, I need to know the truth. I deserve that much. I've never asked you about him before. I guessed it was just too painful for you to talk about, that he died or something, but if he is alive, I need to know the truth. Who is my father, and why did he send Christopher’s pack after me?”

Silence. Again.

Winter clenched her jaw. Was this one of those times when her mother said it was none of her business?

If she did, she would have to fight to learn the truth, and right now, Winter wasn't sure she had it in her.

Then her mother sighed and said, “I guess it's time.”

Winter almost dropped the phone right then and there. She couldn't believe it had been so easy.

“Winter, I'm sorry.”

Winter's throat swelled, making it difficult to breathe.

“Your father and I didn't know each other. Hell, I never even learned his name. We were young. I was dumb. It was one night.”

Bile rose in the back of Winter’s throat.

“I'd just gotten out of a terrible relationship. I was vulnerable, drunk, and your father was charming and handsome. More than that, he…he was a werewolf.”

Winter did drop the phone, then. Her hand trembled so badly she barely managed to pick it back up.

“Winter? Are you okay? Did you hear me?”

“I…I did.”

“I'm so sorry, Winter. I had been trying to find a way to get back at my ex, and sleeping with a werewolf, at the time, seemed like the best way to do it. He…he was a witch, and as a witch, I'm sure you know…”

“Okay, stop. I don't need to hear anymore,” Winter said. She knew well what her mother was saying. She had slept with a werewolf to piss off her stupid witch ex. Whatever the reason was, it was a seriously stupid thing to do. More than that, it meant that she had been a mistake, a freak of nature, a half-breed, all this time.

“Why…why didn't you tell me?”

Even as the question escaped her mouth, she realized she didn't really want to know the answer. Her mother started to speak, but Winter didn't hear her. Instead, she slammed the phone down on the desk and ended the call.

Shaking with shock and disgust, Winter stared at a fixed spot on the wall. She needed to do something, needed to distract herself, needed a way to stop this feeling in her stomach.

Maybe she should rearrange the stock cupboard, or even give the shop floor another check over for glass. It was only about five hours until she had to open up shop, anyway. And there was no way in hell she was going to be able to sleep. Not after that .

How could she not have told me? Winter thought. Anger at the deceit clawed at her insides.

So many things seemed to make sense now. The feeling that there was something else inside her, more than just her witch powers, her instincts and her being able to hear things that others couldn't.

She had always been good at those things, always on the ball when it came to finding things, especially people. Was it because she was part wolf?

Bile rose in the back of her throat. I'm a half-breed.

Did the coven know? Did anybody know?

She didn’t think so. Half-breeds weren't exactly well-liked among the supernaturals. In fact, in some communities, they were sought out and sometimes even executed. The traditionalists thought them to be abominations, freaks of nature that never should have existed.

Is my wolf side the reason I'm so attracted to helping the pack? Winter wondered. Is it why I'm so attracted to him?

Confusion warped Winter's mind, and she leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, head in her hands.

Nothing made sense anymore. And yet, at the very same time, it made so damn much sense that it infuriated her. It was no wonder her mother had never told her anything about her father.

He's out there, she thought, shivering hard. Somewhere out there, she had a werewolf for a father.

Her mind was reeling, driving her insane, when there was a sudden knock at the back door.

After all that had happened, Winter instinctively reached for the nearest thing to defend herself with: her keys.

Placing her finger through the keyring, she gripped one of the keys between her index and middle finger and stood, headed for the door.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” she called through the thick wood, wondering if they would even be able to hear her.

“It's me!” came the response, and Winter's heart skipped a beat.

Immediately, she grabbed hold of the doorknob. She had to be imagining things. Surely, at this time of night, he couldn't actually be here.

Gripping the keys just a little tighter in case her struggling mind was playing tricks on her, Winter yanked open the door.

The second she saw him, Winter's mouth fell open. “Eddie, what are you doing here?”

Her exclamation was far harsher than she had intended, and in the near darkness of the alley behind the shop, she struggled to see the way Eddie's cheeks grew red.

“I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd come and check on you after what happened tonight,” Eddie said, gesturing at the small window beside the door. “I saw the lights on.”

Instinctively, Winter bit back, “I'm fine. I don't need you to start acting like you care just because we're going to be mated. You don't need to play the doting boyfriend.”

Eddie took a step back, his eyes widening a little. Then his face relaxed and he shoved his hands into his pockets. With a shrug, he sighed, “I guess I'll just go, then.”

Anger swelled inside Winter, though it wasn't aimed at him but at herself. Why was she being so damn defensive all of a sudden?

Maybe it was just the attack. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe she was frightened of whatever this might be.

Just seeing his face made Winter's chest explode with a sensation that scared the living daylights out of her.

When Eddie began to turn away, she blurted, “No! I'm sorry. Please, stay.”

Eddie looked back over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “You really want me to?”

A thrill ran through Winter at the question. She most definitely did want him to.

“Yes, please, come in.”

In truth, the very last thing she wanted was to be alone right now. After everything she had just learned, she needed something or somebody to distract her. And it was as if fate had brought him to the door at just the right moment. How was she ever to deny that?

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked.

Winter closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She wasn't sure about anything anymore.

When she opened her eyes again, Eddie was looking at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. He had turned back to face her, his hands removed from his pockets once more.

“Yeah, I could do with some help,” she admitted.

“Help with what?” Eddie asked, brow furrowing.

“One last try at finding another option.”

For just a second, Winter thought she saw disappointment or even hurt on Eddie's face. Then, his expression became unreadable once more.

“Yeah, sure. I guess it's worth a try.”

This time, it was Winter’s turn to feel hurt. Why, she couldn’t say, but there was a twisting in her gut the moment he spoke.

Clenching her jaw, she stepped out of the way and gestured him inside, finally releasing the key she had been holding.

Discreetly, she placed them on the shelf behind the door as Eddie stepped inside.

“It's cozy in here,” Eddie said as she closed the door behind him.

Winter smiled. Though it was technically just a storeroom, the back room of the shop had always been one of her favorite places, especially on autumn nights when the chill was beginning to set in—the smell of herbs and spices, the roaring of the fireplace on the far side of the room, all the bookshelves that helped to keep the heat in.

“We witches know a thing or two about making things cozy,” she said, shrugging.

“I guess I'll have to take your word for that,” Eddie said, looking over his shoulder at her once more. “Though if this is just the back room of the shop, I can't even begin to imagine what the apartment upstairs is like.”

Winter barely managed to stop herself from immediately inviting him upstairs. That would most definitely be one step too far.

Getting too familiar too soon was bound to cause more trouble than it was worth in their situation. No, the back room was safer.

“I suppose one day you'll see,” she said, pursing her lips. “Shall we get started?”