Page 13 of His Winter Wonderland

The thief leapt into the air, preparing to land on her. When he was inches away from her, she raised her leg and kicked him, sending him hurtling backward. Winter stood up and dusted the snow off her ass. Pissed off, she strode toward the thief who was slowly rising to his feet.

Stolen flesh now half on and half off of him, he attempted to adjust it as one would straighten a shirt on their frame. Idiot. Winter didn’t have any more time to waste on this creature. She had a meeting to get to. And she didn’t want to be late. She was cold and she was pissed off and someone had to pay for that shit.

“You kicked me in the chest, bitch,” the thief snarled. The spot she’d kicked him in was bruised and the stolen skin was starting to turn red.

“You’ve ruined my casing,” he complained, referring to the stolen skin. “I guess I’ll be replacing it with your skins. Yours is a little darker than I’m used to. But it’ll do. Your magic will make it last longer than this shifter skin I’m wearing did. I guess I’ll be sporting a darky soon.”

Fury blasted through her veins. So, he was one of those bastards who judged creatures based on the color of their skin. If she was purple, he wouldn’t have a problem with her. But, because she was a brown skinned woman, he thought he was better than her. The anger she was experiencing filtered into her gaze.

It clouded her vision, making her see everything in black and white. A side effect of letting her anger takeover. This was that side of her she tried to keep buried within. The side she was glad Rhen had never gotten to see. The side that was responsible for the destruction of hundreds of realms. A side she hated letting out. To hell with it. Right now, she didn’t care.

“I’m done toying with you,” Winter told him.

The thief laughed. “The game has just begun, wit…”

Lies! Before he could finish the sentence, she raised her hand and called for his skin. Shadows swirled within the depths of her gaze as her dark magic rose up. She rarely tapped into it. She rarely needed to. And though it wasn’t necessary now, she really wanted to shut this thief up.

“Yes,” Vicky, her demon spirit egged her on. “Do it. End him.”

His eyes widened as the flesh he’d stolen peeled away from his body and floated over to her. Not wanting to touch it, she balled her hand into a fist. The flesh dropped to the ground. Blood seeped into the snow surrounding it, staining it red. With the skin gone, she could now she the thief for who and what he truly was. A mere skeleton.

Some parts of him were covered in awful scales while other parts were just aged and decayed bones that were coated with a sticky dark green substance that smelled worse than a rotting corpse. Rumor was, his kind used to live in the deep seas of a different realm before being cursed here.

The reason they were cursed here was because back in their realm, they’d contracted a virus that couldn’t be cured by magic. When they arrived in the Frostlands, they continued to decay. But they didn’t die. The Frostlands was a land for immortals. It would take more than a virus to kill creatures who lived on this plane.

These creatures arrived around the same time she did. Winter tried to recall what her sisters had called them. Mer-people! That was it. That was when she’d first heard the aquatic theory about them. The being before her used to be a merman. His form in water was much different than his form on land.

However, he’d lost the ability to shift back and forth due to the virus he’d contracted. What the hell was the name of that virus! Oh, right. The Z-virus. Zombie virus! After the creatures arrived here, the virus spread like wildfire. To control it, her sister Ember, the Goddess of Pestilence, came up with a potion. It wasn’t a cure. There was no cure.

But it did stop the virus from being contagious and spreading throughout the realm. It also stopped the infected from hungering after the flesh of others. However, it didn’t stop them from desiring flesh. She’d later learned, that had been intentional. Ember had allowed their other sister to add a spell to the potion.

The Goddess of Famine, Kumi, a wicked creature with extraordinaire abilities and too much time on her hands, had taken away their need to feed on flesh and replaced it with a desire to steal flesh. Winter’s sisters were geniuses, but they were also evil. Winter should’ve known Kumi and Ember weren’t helping the creatures just to be helping them.

They’d been doing it because they’d wanted to create their own type of creature. And they’d succeeded. Because of them, the skin thieves now existed. Stealing skin was now their only desire. They hungered for it. It consumed their thoughts day and night. That need was their constant companion.

Which was why they hadn’t wanted her help when she found a herd of them drowning. They instead wanted her skin. It was also why the one before her was refusing to back down, even though he had to know his death was imminent.

Though her opponent could now see the swirl of darkness in Winter’s gaze, though he could see the shadows swirling around her, lifting strands of her hair, he still would come for her. There was nothing in him to help him determine when to fight or flight. He no longer had the ability to recognize true danger.

Neither skin thieves nor true zombies ever ran away from a battle, a potential kill. They fought, they fed, until the end. Fight. Feed. Repeat. Danger be damned. Her opponent, the reanimated creature before her, would battle her to the very end. Even if he was only able to move one finger, he would use that finger to try to end her.

Which was why she needed to make his end swift. She didn’t have all night to battle it out with a creature who would never give up. The creature’s gaze dropped to the useless skin now lying on the snow, turning blue from the cold temperature. His gaze shot to hers.

“Nice tricks. But do you think I’ll let a witch defeat me? A black witch at that?”

Winter shrugged. “I don’t know what you’ll let a witch do. When you see one, ask her.”

“I’m looking at one right…”

“Come.” As she whispered that one word, she motioned for him to come to her. His body raised from the ground and floated over. His legs kicked, arms flailed, mouth spewed obscenities as he tried to break free of her hold. The names he called her only fueled her anger.

“Black bitch, release me. Darkie, I will end you for this. Release me.”

“He called us a black bitch,” her demon growled. “Unleash my full power on him. Let him see what this black bitch can do.”

There would be no breaking free for him. She was tired of his nonsense. She pulled him closer, until he was eye level with her and only a few inches away. Ignoring the stench filling her nostrils, she leaned forward, wanting to be closer to him for just a few seconds. Wanting for him to stare into her eyes.

Wanting for him to see that all hope was lost. Though he was wrong about her being a witch, he had gotten a couple of things right. She was black and she was a woman. He’d mentioned those characteristics of hers at least twice. Apparently, he was one of those people who judged others based on the color of their skin.