Ghostly Snow: A Dark Fairy Tale Adaptation (Girl Among Wolves Book 3)

by Lena Mae Hill

  Harmon rocks back like I just punched him in the chest. “What?”

  “Well, you know. Mrs.—Yvonne. She said you could marry Astrid if I was dead, and you thought I was dead, so…”

  “Stop,” Harmon says. He steps over to me and cups my face between his hands, tilting my face up to his so I have to meet his eyes. “I told you. That’s not how it works. There is no one but you, and there never will be. I will keep telling you that until you believe me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pulling away. “I just thought…we haven’t had the mating ceremony anyway, and you’ve had girlfriends before…”

  “Everything before we Choose a mate is kid’s stuff,” he says, taking both my hands. “Yes, we live close, people get crushes, they have girlfriends and boyfriends, but it’s not serious. It’s not this.” He squeezes my hands. “I would have waited for you to wake up until the day I died.”

  “Sorry,” I say again, shaking my head. “I do know. It was hard living apart from you, and Yvonne put ideas in my head…of course she’s the one who can’t be trusted. Not you.” I slide my arms around him and rest my cheek against his chest. His strong arms encircle my body, and he rests his cheek on top of my head. For a long while, neither of us move.

  At last, he pulls away, his eyes serious. “This has gone on long enough,” he says. “It’s time to do something about your mother.”

  So much has happened that it takes me a moment to realize he’s not talking about my mother, the tree. He still thinks Yvonne is my mother.

  “She’s not my mother,” I tell him. And then I tell him everything else. It’s a relief to speak again after so long, and it all comes pouring out—her strange behavior when she visited, how she didn’t act like herself. A growl builds low in Harmon’s throat when I tell him about the fight I had with her the day of the fire. But when I tell him about her trying to take my body, his blue eyes harden into deadly blades of ice.

  A realization jars me out of my story. “Haven,” I cry. “We need to get Haven.”

  “Okay…” Harmon says. “That’s the wild witch, right?”

  “Yes,” I say, already starting towards the clearing. “Come on, hurry.”

  As we make our way there, it’s Harmon’s turn to fill me in on events. After I was put into the tree that night, Talia—or Yvonne, dressed in Talia’s body—sneaked my body into my nest, where Harmon found it the next morning.

  I try not to think about what he went through, but I know what it’s like to find the body of someone you love. I raise his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles as we walk.

  My mother, or the woman Harmon thought was my mother, pretended to be devastated, and kept saying she wanted to bury me and get it over with, that she couldn’t bear the pain of having my body around. This aroused Harmon’s suspicions, and he contacted Dr. Golden without my mother’s knowledge. When she found out, she was furious and tried to stop Dr. Golden from disturbing my body, which only made Harmon more determined. At that point, he thought I was dead and that my mother must have poisoned me.

  Dr. Golden told him that I was alive, but I had been put to sleep by some kind of potion. Unfortunately, without a sample, Dr. Golden couldn’t tell what was in it or what could counter it. Fortunately, my body had also been put under some kind of protection spell that would keep evil spirits away and preserve it until I woke.

  “Haven did that,” I say, increasing my pace until I’m almost running. I’m still wearing my clothes from last winter, and they seem to weigh me down in the humid summer air. But I barely feel the heat trapped inside the black dress—one of Haven’s—and the sweat gathering on my skin. All I can think about is that she saved my life, and it might have cost her own.

  Harmon says that once the houses were fixed up enough to go back, the wolves moved back down into the valley. The only house that was completely lost was his. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, but I can see the pain etched into his face. He lost his father this year, too, and his home. And me.

  I glance around at the trees of the Enchanted Forest. Though I wonder what the ghosts are saying around me, I can’t hear them anymore. I can only hear the cacophony of crickets and cicadas and katydids, and the steady murmur of Harmon’s voice.

  I’m surprised to hear that when the pack found out I’d been put under a spell, they were outraged and wanted to protect me. Unfortunately, the situation also kindled their old distrust of the witches, and they moved off the mountain. Mother tried to say it was Harmon’s fault, since he’d pushed for alliance with the witches, but anyone could see he would never intentionally do anything to endanger me.

  When Dr. Golden told him I was alive, he carried my body with him down the mountain, to the new house the community built for us, this one just a simple cabin like the rest.

  “I read to you sometimes,” he says, shooting me an uncertain look. “I know you like Shakespeare. I didn’t know if you could hear me.”

  “Aww,” I say, and watch color climb into his cheeks.

  “I thought you were in there somewhere,” he explains. “Like a coma.”

  “What about Mother? What was she doing all this time?”

  “She was pushing me to marry the new shifter heir,” he says, cutting his eyes sideways at me. “She actually lost some support among the wolves for it, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Now I know why.”

  “She’s invested in both sides,” I say. “She wins either way. Either she’s Alpha, or her daughter is married to the Alpha.”

  “Unless we kill her.”

  I suck in a breath at the callous, almost casual way he says it. But then I remember that death is not a shocking concept to them. It shouldn’t be to me, either. For wolves and shifters, death is part of life. I’ve been exclusively human for too long, growing up never knowing that was part of my heritage. But if I’m going to be a shifter, or an honorary wolf who can’t shift, I should get used to their way of life.

  “I’m going to kill her,” Harmon says solemnly. “Are you okay with that? I know she’s your mother, but—.”

  “She’s not my mother,” I cut in sharply.

  “She has your mother’s body. Will it be hard for you to know I did that?”

  “No,” I say, my voice colder than I’ve ever heard it.

  We pass one of the camps where the wolves stayed, the leaves still crushed down and paths still worn into the ground. And then we reach the hive, and beyond it, the clearing where Doralice once stood. When we draw near, I hear voices, laughter. It strikes me as strange, suddenly, how normal everything sounds. Life really does go on, is always going on, all around us.

  I brush my fingers against a tree trunk and smile as we step into the clearing.

  For a second, no one notices. Then a piercing shriek splits the air, and a sturdy little blonde elf charges me. I catch her in my arms, my breath knocked out, and Harmon catches us both so we don’t go sprawling. I’m going to have to learn to plant my feet in preparation for Xela’s hugs.

  “You’re back,” she crows. “You guys, Stella’s back. We haven’t seen you since that night you disappeared with Haven. At first we thought maybe she’d finally worn you down and gotten you to join her collective, ran off on a honeymoon. Then they found your body the next day, and Haven never came back…” She breaks off, her eyes moistening.

  My heart thuds painfully in my chest. “Haven never came back?”

  “No,” Uzula says, slinking across the clearing to join us. “We looked everywhere.”

  “We were hoping you could tell us what happened to her when you woke up. And here you are!” Xela throws her arms up, then lowers them and gives me a mischievous wink, peering past me to Harmon. “And you brought me something pretty!”

  “Very funny,” Harmon says, but he’s smiling.

  Xela’s smile falters. “You don’t know where Haven is?”

  I swallow the sour taste in the back of my throat. “The last I heard, Yvonne ordered Astrid to put her in the tower.”


  “What are we waiting for?” Kale asks, leaping across the clearing in one bound, landing in a crouch. “Let’s go get her.”

  Together, we all traipse back through the forest—an Alpha wolf without his title, a shifter who can’t shift, a faerie who lost his love, a friendly elf, a surly troll, and Uzula, of mysterious origins. When we get to the briar patch around the lighthouse, Xela groans and Yorn grumbles. Kale studies it silently, then crouches. The next moment, he’s twenty feet away, on a stone. Another leap and he’s at the base of the lighthouse. Without hesitation, he begins to scramble up the wall, his limbs stretched wide, his tiny toes and fingers finding the smallest cracks and seams, chips of paint, rough texture in the siding.

  “What the hell?” I ask, glancing at the others. Xela and Uzula are grinning in appreciation at Kale’s skill.

  “Maybe I’m the one who should be jealous,” Harmon mutters, sliding a possessive arm around me.

  “Not funny,” I say, giving him a playful punch. But my attention is quickly drawn back to Kale, who has reached the window. He slips through and disappears. A minute later, he reappears in the window, climbs onto the ledge, and leaps. I have to hold back a scream as he plummets fifty feet towards the ground. But somehow, he lands on his feet, catlike, halfway across the jumble of vines.

  Straightening, he shakes his head.

  “She’s not there?” I ask. “Yvonne told Astrid to bring her here.”

  “Figures,” Xela mutters. “I never trusted her.”

  “You think?” I say. “She took my shifting.”

  “If she’s not here,” Harmon says. “There’s only one way to find her. It’s time to talk to your mother.”

  Without another word, he turns and starts down the mountain. The rest of us fall in behind. “You’re sure she’s not up there but…dead?” Uzula whispers, her black hair gleaming in the sunlight, each strand nearly prismatic with shimmer.

  “I’m sure,” Kale says, his lip trembling.

  I try to steel myself for the worst. If my mother was bad, I can only imagine what Yvonne is capable of.

  Chapter 26

  As we make our way into the wolf valley, my muscles begin to clench, drawing tight to my bones. I’ve barely had my body back for an hour, and we’re going to confront my attacker already? I don’t know if I’m ready. I need time to think. Catching up with Harmon, I grab his arm.

  “Don’t we need a plan or something?” I ask. “We can’t just charge in, guns blazing.”

  “No guns,” he says, holding up both hands. But behind his smile, his eyes are fierce and determined.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “But nothing,” he says. “She tried to kill my mate. She took your friend. She tried to take my pack from me, and she’s not even a wolf.”

  “So you’re just going to find her and kill her?”

  “No,” he says. “I’m going to challenge her.”

  “What if…?” I can’t finish the thought. It’s too terrible.

  “What if I lose?” His jaw is set, and his eyes bore into mine. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Can I just borrow Stella a second?” Xela asks, slipping her hand into the crook of my elbow. She motions for Harmon to keep on, and after his eyes catch with mine a moment, he turns and continues down the mountain.

  “What are you doing?” Xela hisses. “Don’t show him you’re afraid he might lose. He needs confidence. You’re supposed to believe in him.”

  “Yeah, but what if he does lose?” I whisper back.

  “You’re a shifter,” she says. “You don’t mate for life.”

  But I know she’s wrong. Whether it’s my werewolf mother’s genes or just something in me, I know I’ll never love anyone the way I love Harmon. Rabidly, painfully, eternally.

  When we reach the valley floor, Harmon stops at the stream that runs behind his old house. I’m surprised to see that they’ve left it standing, a blackened shell of the community center it once was. Only the front porch and front wall are still in good condition. I take Harmon’s hand and squeeze, smiling up at him. “I’m sorry if I sounded doubtful,” I say. “You’re going to win.”

  He cocks an eyebrow and smiles down at me. “What do I get if I win?”

  “You get me,” I say, sliding my free arm around his neck and pressing my body to his. “And you better win, because I don’t mate with losers.” I stand on tiptoes and kiss him. When I pull away, he’s looking at me with hungry, determined eyes.

  I shiver for the fate of that evil woman.

  “You won’t,” he says, his jaw tightening. “If I don’t win, it’s because I’m dead. There’s no loser.”

  I swallow hard. “It’s a fight to the death?”

  “Yes, or the other wolf can choose permanent exile from the Three Valleys. The Winslow witches put a protection on the valleys centuries ago. Anyone exiled can never set foot in the valleys again. But I’m not going in thinking of exile. I’m going in for the kill.”

  I nod, my breath catching. I have to remind myself this is how wolves are. He’s not being brutal, he’s being a good Alpha and a good mate, protecting us. Who knows what her sorcery can do, what tricks she could play to get through the witches’ shield.

  Harmon pulls me in and kisses me hard. “Let’s go.”

  Our little band marches through the community, along the path to Mother’s house. But instead of turning down the sloping drive, Harmon squares his shoulders and continues on.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I summoned the pack,” Harmon says darkly.

  When we step into the clearing where they hold their lunar meetings, where they shift into wolves once a month, where they celebrated what was supposed to be Harmon’s coronation, I see what he means. Almost everyone is here, but as I look around, it looks like a sparser group than the last time I was here. I scan for my sisters, for my mother’s body, but they are not here.

  “Where are the others?” I whisper.

  “The ones who are loyal to your mother do not answer my call,” he says. “I don’t have a pack bond with her or her followers.” I can tell by the haughty tone of his voice that he’s hiding the wound that causes his pride.

  The wolves stir, and a murmur goes through the pack when Harmon appears with us. I meet their curious gazes without dropping my eyes. Since we took them in, they haven’t been hostile to me. But they also probably knew I was supposedly dead, and that Harmon kept my body in his house, waiting for me to wake up.

  “What’s going on here?” a voice demands behind us. It’s a voice that now sends a chill down my spine, now that I recognize the cadence that is not my mother’s. I should have guessed sooner.

  Her eyes rake over me, and for a moment, I see a depth of fury I didn’t know was possible. It hits me like a banshee’s scream, racing along my skin, down my spine. But she recovers herself quickly, composes her face into an approximation of a smile.

  Harmon turns to face her. “I’m glad you answered my summons.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she says. “I just came to see what you were trying to pull this time.”

  Harmon squares his shoulders. “As rightful leader of this pack, I challenge you for the position of Alpha.”

  A collective inhalation from the pack meets this declaration. I glance at the others, but no one meets my eyes.

  “It’s about time,” Yvonne drawls in an artificially light tone.

  “Since a fight for the pack requires all members in attendance, you’ll have to go and gather your followers,” Harmon says coldly. “Since you cannot communicate through the pack bond.”

  Yvonne stands there a few seconds, looking furious, then turns and storms off.

  “I thought you couldn’t communicate with them, either,” I whisper.

  “These members pledged loyalty to me,” he says quietly. “While you were sleeping. I’m their Alpha already.”

  I try not to think about Harmon gnawing on all these people and drinking their blood.


  After a minute, Yvonne returns, her head held high. “My minions are fetching the others,” she says. “Now let’s get started. How does this work?”

  I notice some of the others frowning, and decide that’s probably something she should already know.

  “I will fight to the death for my pack and what I think is best for them,” Harmon says. “My leadership will be fair to all, and I will bring unity with the other valleys in a way that benefits this pack.”

  Yvonne laughs, that high-pitched laugh I should have known could never come from my mother. Now that I see Yvonne in her body, it’s hard to believe I was so blind I couldn’t see it before. My mother would never coordinate a fall palette for her outfit the way Yvonne has—camel colored ankle boots with patterned boot socks scrunched down above them, skinny black jeans, a cream cashmere sweater, and a rust-colored scarf.

  “I’ve brought unity with the shifters,” Yvonne says. “I’ve allied myself with their new queen, as well as some of the witches. I’m obviously the better diplomat. And you’re barely more than a baby. Do you even shave yet?” Her lip curls in a sneer, but Harmon’s face remains steady and fierce.

  Voices on the trail distract me, and the next moment, the rest of the pack arrives, led by a breathless Zora. She’s dressed better, too, though not as noticeably in her ripped jeans, lace-up ankle boots, and olive-green sweater with a plaid scarf. Still, there is something disheveled about the whole pack, as if they can’t maintain order without an Alpha. They bump into each other when taking position behind Yvonne. Their numbers are less than when they camped with us, which must be a result of Yvonne pushing for an alliance with the shifters. I’m surprised to see that in her pack are not only the remaining wolves, but a few strangers.

  “Witches,” Zora whispers. I startle, not having noticed her slipping in beside me.

  I survey Yvonne’s bunch and spot Astrid in a tight circle with some more strangers, who must be her shifters. “What is she doing here?” I hiss, nodding in her direction.

  “Mother’s weirdly obsessed with her,” Elidi says, joining us. “She practically lives with us. Mother says she’s teaching her to be a queen.” Our eyes catch, and that unspoken connection between us tugs at me. All that time, I just wanted to be her sister. I wanted a family so badly that when it was offered by an imposter, I jumped at the chance, too blinded by that fantasy to see that it wasn’t my mother doing the offering at all.