Page 75 of A Wolf for Winter

“Don’t do it,” the woman to Beverly’s right cautioned. “The minute he’s back within the wards, he’ll be untouchable.”

“Until we break them down,” the one on Beverly’s left snapped.

“Can we even do that?” someone whispered. “I mean, we’re just hedge witches and—”

“By Mab, Bernice, what do you think we’re doing here?” a fourth voice hissed. “Of course we can bring down the wards. It just might take a while. Maybe.”

Beverly held up a hand, demanding silence. Her eyes narrowed on him. “I’ll need collateral. You are known about Annesley as a good man, Allen Sharpe, but you’ve only been here two weeks. Your reputation is not enough.”

Allen had nothing to give them that he hadn’t already, and promises were just empty words at this point. All he had left was his secret. “Come forward to collect it. Alone.”

There was another murmuring of protests that only grew louder as Beverly stepped forward out of line. Her steps were resolute as she trudged up the slope and stopped an arm’s length away. “Well?”

He held out his hand like he was preparing to drop something into her palm. When she looked down, golden-white fur sprouted from his skin and his fingernails transformed into long white nails.

Beverly gasped, shrinking back, but Allen seized her wrist with his shifted hand, holding her in place. “I give you my secret,” he hissed down at her, his golden eyes flashing. “Because I know of your reputation, Beverly Traskell, too.” She was fair-minded, kinder than Prue, and fiercely loyal to her friends.

Her eyes widened at the sound of her full name. Then she ceased resisting him, and he let her go. “If Iris Hawthorne finds out, she’ll kill you.”

“I know,” he said flatly.

“Then why on earth—”

“Because I love her granddaughter.”

Her expression softened. “Oh you stupid boy.” She stepped back. “Go. You have your ten minutes, or I crow your secret to the world.”

“Thank you.”

Just as he turned, the music drifting from the Hall shifted. There was a screech of bows against violin and cello strings, a chorus of screams, and then the front doors burst open.

A cloud of glittering green light funneled out of the Hall, twisting into the moonlit sky like a rogue tornado. No sooner did the writhing cloud vacate the protection barrier than the Hall doors snap shut. The cloud burst like a soundless firecracker, sprinkling green glitter harmlessly against the snow.

Lilac! his wolf howled.

Frantic, Allen bolted up the hill.

“This changes nothing,” Beverly shouted after him. “You have ten minutes, Allen Sharpe, or we raze Hawthorne Hall to the ground!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The faces of hundreds of terrified people reflected in the glass shards as they rained from the ceiling. They flashed with red as they plunged down, catching the light of the glistening holly berries and foreshadowing the blood that would soon stain them. The revelers screamed, their masks muffling their panic into a single garbled roar of terror.

Lilac flung her arms upward and twirled, the green shield she had conjured spreading wide to encompass the entire ballroom. The glass hit, stabbing partially through her shield. She grunted, unused to the strain, then forced a smile onto her face.

The terrified crowd was watching.

With slow, languid movements, Lilac began to dance. Her magic shield mimicked the sweep of her arms movements, drawing inward and compressing the glass shards. There was a tinkling of crystal, then the fragmented ornaments compressed into shimmering sand. Her magic shield became a cloud of sparkling green light.

The villagers’ screams became hesitant gasps. Lilac maintained her serene smile, as if this had been their plan all along—the young Hawthornes’ twist on an old tradition. The cloud became a sensuous curve of glittering green, like the long silk of a ribbon dancer. The crowd clapped once, twice, in delight, their fear dissipating.

“Boar,” she whisper-hissed, startling her stunned brother. “The door, if you please.”

“Oh, right!” He gave a grand gesture to the front doors, waiting for the crowd to part before he released a lance of green magic. It slammed into the keyholes, shocking the doors to swing open with a thunderous bang.

The cold swept in with a little flurry of snowflakes, but they never reached the floor.

Lilac spun, shoving out straight from her chest with both hands. The shimmering ribbon corkscrewed through the air, much to the cheers of the onlookers, and barreled out into the night. The moment the last of the glittering cloud vanished, the doors snapped shut.