The Depths 0f Winter (Shifting Seasons Book 3)

by Sammie Joyce

  He was disappointed when I called and told him.

  “Are you sure, Margot?” he asked and I could tell he was trying desperately not to argue with me. I loved him even more for his composure.

  “Yeah,” I sighed even though I wasn’t. “I think I’ll just use this time to catch up on some grading and lesson plans.”

  He paused.

  “All right. If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

  I knew he would. He was right there if I needed him. I felt a spark of guilt at the reminder.

  “Thank you, cheri.”

  We disconnected our calls and I fed Pascal before turning on my computer and getting to work. I needed a distraction from the uneasy sense that was growing in the pit of my stomach.

  When I finally looked up from my computer, it was just before noon but you’d never know it by the slate-gray skies outside. The blizzard had officially struck full force and I knew I was stuck.

  Even Pascal hadn’t asked to go outside, but at least he’d moved from where he’d spent most of the previous evening—skulking by the front door.

  I needed to have something to eat and as I opened a can of soup, I found myself wondering what Flint was doing in that moment.

  I’d call him later, after I’d finished my lesson plans. Suddenly, I was regretting that I hadn’t taken him up on his offer to go over there.

  Why can’t you make up your mind? I snapped at myself. I knew no matter what I’d done, I would have been second-guessing myself, but the dread in my gut was steering me in a million different directions.

  I pulled the boiling soup off the stove and sat down to eat, watching in dismay as the storm whipped against the windows. I’d need to go out and get some more firewood from the shed at some point, but I wasn’t looking forward to braving that.

  The heat of the soup made me feel tired and I blinked sleepily after I’d finished half a bowl. Maybe a nap was in order. I hadn’t been sleeping well and it certainly explained why I was so on edge.

  “A nap,” I agreed aloud, causing Pascal to jerk his head up and look at me curiously. “I’ll feel better after a nap.”

  * * *

  I didn’t feel better after my nap. If anything, I felt worse—much worse.

  As soon as I crawled out of bed, I jammed my feet into a pair of slippers and padded out into the living room where Pascal was lying by the door again, growling slightly.

  “Stop that!” I barked at him but my words did nothing to dissuade him. Before I could scold him again, the phone rang and I snatched it up, knowing it was probably Flint.

  “How are you holding up over there?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  Even I could hear the edge in my voice but there was nothing I could do to soften it.

  “Margot, what’s wrong?”

  I ground my teeth together and shook my head, wishing I could answer his question. I noted it was almost eight o’clock! How long had I been asleep?

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “I-I have this sinking feeling in my gut, you know? Deep inside. Like something bad is going to happen.”

  “Oh, Margot,” he murmured.

  “I know, I know,” I grumbled. “I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop while everything is going so well but I can’t help it.”

  I didn’t mention the fact that Pascal was acting strangely. I knew the dog was probably picking up on my unreasonable emotions.

  “There is no other shoe,” he told me softly. “But I know that feeling well. I get it all the time.”

  His empathy filled me with gratitude. It was nice to know I wasn’t alone in my neurosis.

  “Do you want me to come over?” he offered. “I can—”

  “Mon Dieu, non,” I interjected, affection warming me. “The weather is terrible and it’s late anyway. I’m sorry, Flint. Forgive me for being like this.”

  “I happen to adore the way you are,” he replied and I knew he meant it.

  “I took a nap,” I continued, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. “That didn’t help matters at all.”

  “You’ll be up all night!” Flint cried.

  “Not if I go back to sleep now,” I said, more to myself than him. “And I’ll start fresh in the morning.”

  Isn’t that what I always used to tell my students? Go to bed, start fresh in the morning.

  It was a lot like “try turning it off and back on again”, wasn’t it? I was a giant hypocrite but I was willing to try anything at that moment.

  “Will you call me as soon as you wake up—or even if you need me in the middle of the night?” Flint asked.

  “I will call you as soon as I wake up,” I promised. “There will be no phone call in the middle of the night.”

  “D’accord, cherie,” Flint murmured. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Merci. Bonne nuit.”

  I hung up and ambled back into my bedroom, falling face first into the bed without finesse. I hoped that I was right and that the morning would alleviate some of the stress I couldn’t shake in my gut.

  As I closed my eyes, I heard Pascal bark. Once and then three more frantic yelps.

  “Pascal!” I groaned. “Qu’est-ce que c'est maintenant!”

  Before I could roll over, I heard a scuffling in the garage and my blood froze. Oh! It all made sense now. The animals were taking shelter and driving my dog fou.

  “Pascal,” I sighed, rising from my comfortable spot. “C’est bon. Leave them alone.”

  But as I ambled toward the kitchen, Pascal’s barks reached a fever pitch.

  “Pascal?” I called out, noting that he sounded far away now. “Où es tu?”

  He wasn’t in the hall but I could still hear him… as if he were trapped in the garage.

  “Oh, mon Dieu,” I breathed, rushing toward the side door to rescue my escaped pup. I had no idea how he might have gotten inside the carport, but I could hear his howls of protest. I prayed that the animals who had sought refuge weren’t predators.

  I flung myself around the corner of the kitchen and suddenly my body went stiff as I saw the man standing in front of my sink.

  19

  Margot-Celine

  “Bonjour, mon amour,” Rene murmured, stepping toward me.

  No, I told myself firmly. No, this isn’t real. This is a terrible dream and I will wake up in Flint’s arms in one minute.

  I considered that it could be a nightmare. After all, Rene hardly resembled the high-powered executive I’d married fourteen years earlier. In the place of that man was a wild-eyed, scruffy monster who bore no resemblance to the man I’d unwittingly wed. He was soaked from being out in the snow, his matted hair too long and filled with burrs. He seemed to be a mountain man, someone living off the land, someone who hadn’t seen civilization in years.

  “Did you miss me, cherie?” Rene asked, advancing on me. My eyes darted toward the knife block but he was directly between me and the blades. I heard Pascal losing his mind in the garage and I looked at him, terror filling my face.

  “W-what did you do to my dog?” I whispered.

  “That stupid mutt tried to bite me,” Rene growled. “Can you believe that? He’s going to have to go.”

  I blinked.

  “Did you hurt him?”

  “Not yet,” Rene replied. “I just barely managed to get him into the garage.”

  I thought about where the landline was, but even if I got to it in time and somehow managed to dial out, no one would be there fast enough to save me from this bastard.

  “It took me a long time to find you, Cellie,” he told me and I shuddered violently at the nickname. He had always called me Cellie, knowing how much I’d despised it. “You went back to your maiden name. That’s very hurtful.”

  “You’re supposed to be in prison, Rene!”

  “I am, aren’t I?” He lost the almost genial look on his face, pausing with a slight distance between us. “I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

  I gaped at him.

  He
blames me for what he did?

  “How are you here, Rene?” I demanded. I figured my only chance at survival would be to keep him talking.

  “I broke out of La Vieille, oh, a year back now,” he mused, a pensive look on his face.

  “A year ago?!” I sputtered. “W-why didn’t I hear about this?”

  Rene smiled cruelly.

  “I am much better at covering my tracks than you,” he jeered, again advancing on me. “Which begs the question, why were you so hard to find, ma petite? Who are you running from?”

  I gaped at him in sheer disbelief.

  “From you!” I breathed, even though I knew I ran the risk of making him angry. And I knew what happened when Rene got angry.

  “Moi?” He seemed dubious. “You’re my wife. Why would you run from me?”

  He’s insane, I realized, fear causing my breaths to catch in my throat. I willed myself not to have a panic attack, not at such an inopportune time.

  “I am not your wife,” I hissed back. “We’re divorced and you shouldn’t be within five hundred feet of me!”

  I stopped myself from threatening to have him thrown back in prison, already seeing the madness in his face.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Cellie.”

  “You shouldn’t have abused me!” I roared back, all the old emotions I’d felt overwhelming me in a torrent. All the things I’d wanted to say to him, all the anger and sadness and frustration, it all came to a head in that moment.

  Even in court, I’d been too afraid to confront him, the hold he’d had over me paralyzing.

  “Abused you? Those were misunderstandings,” he purred, his jaw tightening at the reminder. “If you hadn’t forced me to do it, none of this would have happened.”

  “Which time?” I growled, a sense of empowerment rising from within me. This may have been my last few minutes on earth but I wanted to ensure that Rene knew exactly how I felt about him before he killed me. “The time you broke my ribs? The time you gave me a concussion? The broken arm? The brain bleed? Which time are you talking about, Rene? It’s hard to keep them all straight after eleven years of abuse at your hands.”

  He tilted his head to the side and glowered at me.

  “You’ve changed, Cellie. You’ve gotten mouthier.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I squeaked, knowing now that I’d pushed him too far. But it had been worth it… hadn’t it?

  Rene answered with his fists as he always did. In seconds he was on me, his arm raised to pummel at me.

  “You are my wife and you belong with me!” he hissed as he straddled me. “You’re—”

  Before he could finish his sentence or administer the first blow, the front door flew open in a wave of wind and snow.

  Rene was thrown back by the impact and it took me several seconds to realize that it wasn’t the weather that had splintered the wood from the door frame.

  I fell back as the grizzly jammed his body through the opening, a ferocious roar overshadowing Pascal’s barking to reverberate through my tiny house.

  “Mon Dieu! Un ours!” Rene screamed. He had no idea what was happening as the beast charged onto him, grabbing him by the neck. “Cellie! Cellie, aidez-moi! Au secours!”

  It was all I could do to turn my eyes away from the display in front of me, knowing exactly what it was I was witnessing.

  “CELLIE!”

  “My name is not Cellie,” I hissed, squeezing my eyes closed as the bear tossed my ex-husband clear across the room. His body landed out in the snow and only then did Flint pause to look at me, blinking once before turning to finish what he’d started with Rene.

  20

  Flint

  There had just been something in her voice, something that didn’t sit right with me. Whether Margot-Celine had been overthinking or not, I knew she needed a friend and I couldn’t, in good conscience, let her be alone when she was feeling so down.

  No sooner had I hung up the phone than I was out the door, running into Davis as I parted.

  “Where are you off to in this weather?” my son demanded. I eyed him covertly and he grinned.

  “Does this have anything to do with that French teacher you’re dating?”

  I was slightly stunned that he knew about Margot-Celine, but I had to remind myself that Lowell was one of her students.

  “I’m going to wait out the storm there,” I told him. “Stay warm.”

  “Be careful, Dad,” Davis called out to my retreating back and I paused to give him a smile.

  “We’ve endured worse than this,” I reminded him.

  Yet as I shifted into my bear form, forsaking the car, I felt a dread of my own forming in the base of my stomach as I neared Margot-Celine’s home. Perhaps it was the incessant cry of a dog that reached my ears before I got any sense of anything else that was wrong or maybe Margot-Celine’s agitated tone still echoed through my skull. Whatever the reason, I didn’t shift back as I neared her house.

  The dog in a frenzy was unmistakably Margot-Celine’s. I could hear him fussing inside the garage, his cries reaching shrieks of displeasure when I arrived on the scene.

  When I’d seen her pinned on the floor by a stranger, the red film overtook my eyes.

  I didn’t pause to think about the repercussions of someone seeing me. I only reacted, throwing my weight against the door. It splintered like it was made of glass, and instantly, the assailant fell backward, his eyes wide in shock.

  “Un ours!” he yelled and I felt a sick sense of dread. He was speaking French, yelling for Margot-Celine to help him, but she knew who I was and what I was doing there, even if I had no idea who he was.

  After I tossed him into the snow, I stopped to look at my lover, her face almost translucent with fear. I couldn’t speak but I knew she could sense that she was safe now.

  In seconds, I was outside, my claws raking out to slash at the attacker’s retreating back as he tried to fumble away in the snow.

  He let out a howl of terror but it was lost in my own growl of fury. He fell face first into the snow and my desire to kill him where he lay was almost too much to endure.

  I saw Margot-Celine on the phone, watching the scene from her broken door, and when our eyes met again, she shook her head almost imperceivably, reading my intense need to end this cretin’s life.

  “Margot-Celine Doucette,” she was saying. “Please, hurry. My ex-husband is here and trying to kill me.”

  The words hit me with full force. The man pinned beneath me, shivering and bleeding, was Margot-Celine’s ex-husband. Suddenly, so much made sense, so many little points about her came together to fill the puzzle I’d tried to understand.

  When Margot-Celine got off the phone with 911, she remained in place, trembling as she held my gaze.

  “Cellie!” the whimpering man cried out, even though he couldn’t see her. “Help me! Shoot this bear!”

  There was a hatred in me so strong, I wanted to drown him in the snow with my paws, but I knew I couldn’t, not when Margot-Celine implored me not to with her eyes.

  It took a long while for the sheriff to arrive in the storm and when he finally did, Margot-Celine’s ex-husband’s lips were blue and he was breathing irregularly. I knew he wasn’t going anywhere and I pretended to be frightened off by the arrival of the vehicles.

  “D-did that bear h-hold him in the snow?” I heard the sheriff ask as he yanked the offender to his feet. From my spot in the woods, I watched Margot-Celine nod, her body quaking as she tried to tell the police what had happened.

  “H-he s-s-saved m-m-my l-l-life,” Margot-Celine gasped. Panic of my own seized me as I realized she was in bad shape. I needed to get back to her immediately.

  I shifted back into my mortal form and scrounged the nearby woods for clothes. I knew that Davis tended to keep an endless supply in the woods, just in case of an emergency shift. I used to chide him for it but suddenly I was grateful. Running back up the mountain and returning in this weather would be impossible in a
timely fashion and Margot-Celine needed me now.

  My feet were still bare but I rushed back to her house where the police were finishing up with her.

  “Margot!” I breathed, rushing in to take her in my arms. Instantly, she recoiled, her body stiffening. I felt a knife stab to my heart as I realized that she was terrified of me—again.

  “I’m sorry, you are… what’s your name?” the sheriff asked pointedly.

  “He’s fine,” Margot-Celine interjected. “Just get Rene out of here.”

  But even with those words, her body was quivering and she refused to meet my eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry this happened, ma’am,” the sheriff intoned, turning away. He seemed grateful to be leaving.

  “Maybe you should stay somewhere else until the storm lets up, Ms. Doucette. That door won’t be fixed for days.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I told them.

  “Suit yourself.”

  The cops left and I hurried to find something to cover the door from the hole I’d made. Snow had already blown inside and I felt guilty, realizing how much damage I’d done. After I’d covered the entrance in plastic, I threw more logs on the fire and let Pascal in from where he’d been trapped in the garage. The dog was beside himself, panting and dehydrated from all the crying he’d done. He was so grateful to me for releasing him from his agony, he licked my hand before running to his mistress.

  “I’ll have the door fixed right away,” I told her but she still wouldn’t meet my eyes. I could tell she didn’t want me there, even if she didn’t come right out and say it. But I’d be damned if I was going to leave her alone in that house after all she’d endured.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked. She nodded, wrapping herself in a blanket as Pascal snuggled on her, the pair very much a scared Norman Rockwell painting.

  I made the call in the privacy of the kitchen and when I hung up, I made Margot-Celine a cup of tea.

  She didn’t touch it, nor did she raise her eyes to look at me when I gave it to her. It was like I wasn’t even there.