Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by Angela Fristoe

  A couple hundred feet from the house, the hair on the back of her neck stuck up, and a sharp prickling sensation traveled along her spine. Her head whipped around, searching for whoever or whatever was watching her. That was when she realized she’d left the aura spear behind. She thought back to the last place she remembered having it, and it led her all the way back to the first house. She’d gotten so caught up in finding the food, she’d forgotten it entirely.

  She picked up her pace until she was nearly running through the fluffy snow gathering on the ground. There was a sound behind her, and she turned back to see what it was, but her foot slipped out from beneath her. She skidded a few feet before falling to her knees. The bundle she carried fell from her arms as she reached out to brace herself with her hands.

  Scrambling to her feet, she looked around and saw the first wolf to her right and another just a few yards away. Looking closely at them, it was easy to see the mixed breeding of the animals. Though, unlike the huskies that her father had owned, these were clearly more wolf than dog.

  She glanced over her shoulder to gauge the distance to the house, but were two more wolves closing in from that direction. She’d never make it past them. Panicked thoughts ran through her mind.

  The wolves moved closer, and she grabbed the sheet she’d used to bundle the supplies and shook it toward them. Food packages flew out, and the wolves skittered away. But their hunger made them persistent, and they continued to tighten their circle.

  Behind her, there was the sound of a bolt gun charging, and she swiveled around in time to watch a pale-gray wolf stumble then explode as the buckshot bolt tore it open from the inside. There was a brief pause in time as she watched the snow beneath the wolf melted into a red pool. Around her the other wolves scattered.

  “Are you all right?” Mason strode over to her and began inspecting her hands. When he went to lift her skirt, she slapped his hand.

  “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me. I just slipped.”

  “Then why are you shaking?” His doubt colored his words.

  “I was almost attacked by a pack of wolves. I think I deserve a couple minutes to recover.” She drew away from him and started gathering the supplies she’d found while avoiding looking at the dead wolf.

  “I’m surprised they even went after you. They hit my traps earlier. Left me part of a rabbit leg.” He scooped up a package and read the label. “Where’d you find this?”

  “In some of the other buildings.” She clenched the full sheet in her hands. “I took the rest of it back to the house already.”

  Mason laid his hand over hers until she glanced up at him.

  “Let me carry it,” he said.

  She released her hold on the sheet then nervously rubbed her hands along the front of her parka. In the distance, a wolf’s howl echoed, and Elora turned on her heel and sprinted for the house.

  She stomped her feet on the woven mat before going inside. She’d expected a rush of warmth, but instead, it was cold and dark. The fire had long since died. With her coat still on, she set about relighting it.

  When the flames caught, she joined Mason at the table and hung her parka over the back of the chair.

  He placed two cups on the table between them and opened the bottle, pouring some of the dark-amber liquid into each of the cups.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Spiced rum.” He took a swig of his drink, nearly draining it. “Drink up. It’s good.”

  Elora lifted it and hesitantly took a sniff. Her mouth watered at the amazing smell. She took a sip and immediately regretted it. How could something that smelled so heavenly taste so disgusting?

  Mason laughed at the face Elora pulled. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “It’ll settle your nerves.”

  She rolled her eyes but took another sip. It still tasted horrible, but at least the flavor was expected.

  “This was all left in the houses?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Well, some of the places were empty, like this one. Others were still stocked.” She sifted around some of the packs. “How long do you think it’ll last?”

  “A couple weeks, maybe three. If I do some hunting, we could stretch it to double.”

  “Six weeks.” Six weeks alone with Mason. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold firm to her decision for that long. “Do you think we’d need it to last that long?”

  “Maybe. Once this storm passes, we’ll know if we can keep moving with the truck.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  “Then, we’ll head to the next town and hope they have a snowmobile we can trade for.”

  He loaded his arms with packs and carried them to the small cabinet above the counter. He shoved them in and then came back for more. She considered helping him, but her near miss with the wolves was catching up with her, and she didn’t think her legs would keep her standing. Instead, she watched Mason tidy up until only two packs and a bottle were left.

  They opened the two packs and shared a meal of beef and mashed potatoes. When her cup was empty, she pushed it toward him for a refill.

  “Slow down,” he said as he poured her another drink. “You might not be feeling it now, but you will.”

  Ignoring his advice, she gulped the drink.

  “It’s a blizzard,” she said.

  “The winds aren’t strong enough yet.”

  “They will be.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can feel it—see it— in the air. If you watch the clouds, they're moving fast and the way the snowflakes were swirling as they fell.”

  “Huh. I guess.”

  She knew he didn’t believe her, but it was a gift she developed on the island when an understanding of the weather was a matter of life and death on nearly a daily basis.

  “Tell me what happened after Niobe took me,” she said.

  “You already know.”

  “Some of it. Not all.”

  “You don’t need all of the details.”

  “I do.” She took one final gulp of rum. “I need to understand what happened.”

  “Nobody needs to understand that. It’s in the past and nothing can change it. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Niobe could have come over at any time.”

  “No. It had to be me,” Elora said. “The blood of a willing victim and the soul of an unbreakable man. She needed her victim to go with her willingly, and she needed your soul. I gave her the opportunity. No one else would have.”

  She motioned for another refill.

  “I think you’ve had enough.” He screwed the lid back on the bottle and shoved it to the side.

  Her lips turned down in a pout then opened wide to yawn. How had she not noticed how tired she was? She glanced out the window, surprised that despite the heavy snowfall, the sun had yet to completely set.

  Another yawn escaped her. “I think I’m gonna just rest my eyes for a bit.”

  She laid her head on the table, letting her eyes drift shut. Mason made some kind of response, but she couldn’t make out what he said. There was a moment where she felt like she was flying, then she was on the bed and the blanket found its way over her.

  14

  Mason stared out the window at the raging snowstorm. He hadn’t been convinced Elora was right, but there was no doubt now. From what he could see—which wasn’t much—it had already snowed almost four inches, and the flakes were starting to come down harder.

  He pulled the thick curtain closed and wandered over to the fire to add another log on. They’d need to make sure they kept the fire going. Otherwise, they risked snow piling over the top of the chimney. Having Elora there to do her burning spell would have been useful, but no spell was better than a drunken one.

  With the fire roaring, he laid the grate in front of it and moved away from the sparks that flew out when a log popped. He’d need to check on it in the night, but it should last a few hours.

  In th
e kitchen, he rinsed off the plates from dinner and stored the rum in one of the bottom cabinets. A smile came to him as he pictured Elora falling asleep at the table. He’d seen plenty of drunks over the years, but she was the first to pass out after only two drinks.

  Though, she’d probably still been shaken up by the wolves. A frown replaced his smile. She’d had a close call. She’d been out there defenseless and without a weapon. That wasn’t something that could happen again. If he hadn’t decided to follow the wolf tracks, he’d have still been out checking his traps when they started circling her.

  Before she’d seen them, he tried scaring them off by throwing rocks, but they’d been determined to take her down. Killing animals turned his stomach, especially when the animal couldn’t be used afterward.

  Sleep had claimed her so deeply; she didn’t stir as he entered the bedroom. With the door open to let in light and heat, he got himself ready for bed then slid in next to her.

  She mumbled something and rolled into him, flinging an arm and leg over his chest so she was nearly lying on top of him. Thick, black curls tickled his neck, and he gently swept them aside. Light from the fire played across her face, highlighting her delicate features. If he hadn’t known she was born and raised in Ironshore, he would never have guessed she’d seen anything outside a royal ballroom.

  She wiggled against him, and the tip of her nipple scraped along his chest. His cock twitched, and when her leg straddled him further so her pussy was pressed firmly against his thigh, he hardened with desire. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and counted his breaths. Her hips began to rock, rubbing herself along his leg, and it took everything in him to hold still. She’d made it clear earlier that she didn’t want to have sex, and taking advantage of her intoxicated state wouldn’t be right.

  Her movements subsided, and he gradually relaxed as exhaustion pressed him down. As sleep crept closer, its black emptiness sucked away the red glow of the fire. His body jerked, and his eyes flew open.

  He took a deep breath, letting it flow through him and push away the tension in his chest. It was a familiar response to falling asleep for him, his body’s rejection of a night spent in absolute darkness, experiencing the impending void of death.

  To distract himself, he began planning a schedule for their days in Petersville. Until he was sure the wolves were gone from the area, he needed to stick close, which meant he and Elora would finish searching the houses and businesses together. But if they were snowed in for weeks, he’d have to hunt, and Elora needed to know how to protect herself.

  Sleep, though, never failed to claim him eventually, and his detailed plans for training Elora became vague and the darkness took over.

  When Mason woke in the morning, it was with an odd sensation that things weren’t as he expected, almost as if he’d woken from a dream. Impossible since he hadn’t dreamed in six years. He brushed the sensation off and rolled from the bed, careful not to disturb Elora.

  In the main room, the fire had been reduced to mere embers, so he poked them and added some kindling, then placed a fresh log on top. Seeing that the window was frosted over, he went to the door and inched it open. Snow spilled in, and he stopped to poke his head through the narrow opening.

  At least two feet of snow had fallen overnight. That settled the question of when they were getting out of there. The truck might be able to plow through town where the roads were clear of debris, but making it back to the highway would be impossible. The chance of hitting something concealed by the snow was too great.

  Six weeks was a generous estimate for when they’d be back on the move. They’d most likely be there until spring unless they wanted to try walking to the next town.

  He put on a boot and used his foot to push the snow back out the door. It was a losing battle as more fell in, and his efforts became more about scraping the dirt from between the floor tiles than clearing the snow.

  “Ohhh, please stop,” Elora moaned from the bedroom doorway. She held her head in her hands, curls spilling over her shoulders and curving around her breasts.

  “Bit of a headache?” he asked with a smirk.

  “I think my head is going to explode.”

  “You’ll live.” He shut the door and went to the kitchen, ignoring her glaring eyes. “Drink some water. Avoid food.”

  She groaned and stumbled to the table. Mason poured her a glass of water from the pot they’d boiled yesterday. She drained it, and Mason gave her a refill.

  “You were right about the storm,” he said. “It dumped a couple feet of snow. Good thing you found the food. We're gonna be here a while.”

  "Mmhmm."

  “We’ll check out a couple more houses today. We should hit the mining offices as well. They’ll have had emergency supplies.”

  “Mmm.”

  “We also need to start your training.”

  That brought her head up. “My what?”

  “Training. You could have been killed last night. You need to know how to defend yourself.”

  “Against wolves?”

  “Wolves, guards, ravagers. Whatever you're going to face between here and the sunny side of the Underworld.”

  He tore open a breakfast pack and added water. Closing the bag, he shook it, feeling it warm in his hands. When the pack became too hot to hold, he dumped the contents into his bowl and then tossed the empty pack in the stove.

  “Ugh, that’s disgusting,” Elora mumbled from behind her hand.

  He laughed. “Maybe next time I tell you to take it slow, you’ll listen.”

  “I’m never touching rum again. I feel like I’m going to die.”

  “Does that mean you're ready for some good news?”

  “I don’t think any amount of good news will help.”

  “The plumbing’s working.”

  “Whoo!” she cried, then immediately grabbed her head again.

  “It’ll be safe for bathing and cleaning clothes, but we’ll need to boil it for drinking and eating. I haven’t got the water heater going yet, so it’ll be cold ...”

  His words trailed off as Elora stood and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the water running and then her faint cry of shock as the freezing water hit her.

  Figuring she’d be a while, he bundled up and headed around to the small shed attached to the back of the house. Inside were the water heater, furnace, and generator he’s found the day before. He’d tinkered with it a bit but hadn’t wanted to waste the day working on it, especially if they didn’t have the gas to get the things going. But if he was going to be waiting around for Elora anyway, he may as well try.

  An hour later, he was ready to give up. Machinery had never been his thing. Growing up, he’d either been training to fight or crafting weapons to fight. His grandfather had tried to teach him some mechanics, but he’d never been able to sit still long enough. He’d craved physical exercise.

  The sound of crunching snow alerted him to Elora’s presence, and he twisted around on the stool he was sitting on to see her appear in the entrance to the shed. No longer wearing her skirt, she wore a pair of jeans so snug they could have been painted on. He focused back to the generator before his thoughts could turn to an entirely different form of exercise.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trying to get us a few warm showers.” He motioned to the three machines. “If we can get these working and find some gas, we’ll have warm water, electricity, even a heater.”

  She glanced from him to the machines then back again. Moving past him, she turned a few knobs on the generator and then opened the gas tank. She opened the putsi pouch she carried around her neck and removed something, then dropped it into the tank. She muttered a few words and flicked a switch. The generator sputtered then caught with a deep chug. It started slowly, then sped up as it warmed.

  “We’ll need to light the pilot lights for the furnace and the water heater,” she said, backing out of the shed.

  “How did you do that?”

>   “A bit of peppermint and vervain. We can use it with the spell to regenerate the fuel. It should last a few days, and then we can add more.”

  “Do we have more?”

  “Vervain? You said it was incorporated into your armor, so we should have enough. Peppermint might be an issue.”

  “We’ll scavenge later.” He rose and pushed the stool to the corner out of the way. “Training first. I need to know you're able to protect yourself in case we get separated.”

  The plan had seemed straightforward. Train Elora to use the aura spear, buckshot bolt, and an axe. He’d run through training drills with dozens of Tank trainees. She would just be another. Yet, somehow very little had gone to plan.

  After they cleared a large square patch out front, he went over some basic safety tips and then handed her the first weapon. Yet, the aura spear required a target to draw from, so other than having her practice shouldering it and setting off an empty charge, there wasn’t much else they could do with it.

  The buckshot bolt was a little more successful, but after a couple wild shots, he realized what a waste of ammo it would be. He was hopeful that there’d be extra rounds in some of the buildings, then they’d try again.

  The knife fighting was where the biggest problems began. She’d picked it up quickly, despite holding it in the wrong hand. He’d expected her to take a defensive stance, but instead, she stood there, the knife hanging by her side as if she were daydreaming.

  Intent on showing her the error of her carelessness, he lunged at her. Without looking at him, her arm swung out, catching him across the neck. Gasping for air, he collapsed to the ground, and she straddled him, pressing the tip of the knife to the center of his chest.

  He stared up at her wide-eyed, and she dropped the knife, scooting off him and to his side.

  “Are you okay?” She helped him sit up.

  He coughed and rubbed his tender throat. His constricted windpipe ached with each breath.