Blood Winter (Horngate Witches)

by Francis, Diana Pharaoh

  Max walked into the dining commons and found it empty, but the scent of cooking food permeated out into the hallway and made her stomach growl.

  She went first to the pitcher of milk sitting on the buffet. It was magicked to keep it cold. The milk came straight from the cows and was thick with cream. Max poured a glass and drank it down, following it with two more. She felt the coolness spread through her stomach and chest. After pouring another, she went to push open one of the swinging doors into the kitchen. She didn’t go in. Except in the case of emergencies, one needed an invitation to Magpie’s domain, or one paid the price in inedible food.

  The witch stood at one of the stoves, her back to Max. Her hair fell down her back in a blue-black raven’s wing, except for two streaks of white at her temples, which gave her the nickname of Magpie.

  She turned and looked over her shoulder at Max, her sharp gaze taking in her wounded arm, before traveling back up to linger on her face.

  “You look like shit.”

  “Feel like it. I need to calorie-load.”

  The witch’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry. I’ll tell you, but I’d like to get started eating, and,” Max said, lifting her arm, “I’m having a little trouble getting things one-handed.”

  Magpie pointed to a table with two chairs in the corner to the left of the door. “Sit there.”

  Max stared and then slowly pushed inside and sat gingerly. Magpie went to the refrigerator—now powered by magic, as was everything else in Horngate—and brought Max an entire bread pudding loaded with bourbon sauce. She gave her silverware and some more milk, then headed back to the stove, where she started cracking eggs for an omelet and tossed on four T-bone steaks.

  “All right, tell me.”

  Max dug in and, between bites, told her everything that happened, even Alexander’s sudden change. It was hard to keep secrets from Magpie, and there was no one else to tell.

  Magpie listened without offering any judgment or advice, bringing more food as it was ready. It wasn’t long before Max could use her hand again, albeit painfully. Her fingers were covered with new skin, and although they looked skeletal, the muscles were starting to bulk them up again. Her wrist was back to full size but weak. In another hour or so, it would be back to normal.

  She forced herself to eat past the point of comfort. Her earlier healing had taken a lot out of her, even with Gregory’s help, and she not only had to replenish herself, she also had to prepare to wear the amulet. It ate energy like a giant tapeworm.

  “As plans go, it’s not a good one,” Magpie said, coming to sit opposite Max, her arms crossed, her pale brow furrowed.

  “No, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Unless you’ve got a suggestion?”

  The witch shook her head. “Wish I did.” She hesitated, then shook her head again. “I tried calling Giselle. Phones aren’t working.”

  “Whatever blasted us in that trench must have shorted hers out, too.” She shoved back from the table and stood up; her stomach bulged. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to check the angels before I go. Wish me luck.”

  Max started to push through the doors and stopped when Magpie spoke.

  “How long can you wear that amulet before you die?”

  “Longer than I’ll need to,” she said, and pushed on out of the kitchen.

  Seeing the angels wouldn’t take but a minute. It might be the last time she had the chance, and she had some last words to tell them, just in case. Even if they didn’t remember.

  She stopped and turned back and swung the door open. Magpie was stacking dishes. She looked up. “Something else?”

  “Just . . . thanks.”

  Magpie’s brows rose. “For what?”

  “For the food.” Today and yesterday and the last thirty years’ worth.

  The witch frowned and put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Max said, wishing she’d suppressed the urge to say anything. “It was a simple thank-you.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Magpie snapped. “I’m not a fool, and I’ll thank you not to treat me like one. Now, what exactly are you trying to say to me? Spit it out.”

  Max gave a little shake of her head. She should have known better. Soft. She was going soft, that was the trouble. Too much teenage-girl angst over Alexander. She needed to get hold of herself. She straightened her spine and rolled her head to crack her neck. Coolly, she met Magpie’s exasperated gaze.

  “You’re right. I meant thanks. And good-bye.”

  With that, she spun about and jogged off to the angel vault.

  WHAT THE FUCK’S WRONG WITH YOU?” THOR demanded, staring at Alexander. “Three hours ago you were all over Max like a sixteen-year-old boy with his first hooker. Now you let her go off and put herself in Sterling’s hands without batting an eyelash. Are you possessed?”

  Alexander rubbed a finger over his lips. Then he shrugged, deciding the question deserved an honest answer. No, his friend deserved an honest answer. “I have considered the possibility.”

  Thor jerked back. “What?”

  “It is a fact that my feelings for Max have changed startlingly, and I do not know why. It is well within the realm of possibility that I could have been bespelled without knowing it.”

  Thor dragged his fingers through his hair and then spun to look at Gregory. “What do you think?”

  The witch stared at Alexander for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don’t see anything. I can look more deeply, but I might not be able to detect it.” He looked at Thor. Do you smell anything out of place on him?

  Thor glared at Alexander and strode forward, sniffing around his neck and down his chest. He circled around him, then stepped back and shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. You could use a shower,” he added.

  “I am not the only one,” Alexander retorted. He cocked his head at Gregory. “Check me out.”

  “Turn around.”

  Alexander turned to face the stove. The witch put his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, and green magic flared brightly. It slid into his flesh like curling scalpels. He stiffened, and his Prime roared awake, the tiny shack swelling with his power.

  “Easy,” Gregory muttered, his fingers clenching tighter.

  “I did not know you were going to try to kill me,” Alexander said through clenched teeth, his body rigid.

  “It’s just a perk,” the witch said dryly. “Besides, you’re a big boy. You can handle it.”

  “Remember that when I drop-kick your ass across the city.”

  The magic progressed from the top of Alexander’s head to his feet, slicing him thin as it searched for some sort of geas. His breath came short, and he braced his legs wide, forcing himself to hold still. Finally, Gregory stepped back, his magic fading. He staggered, and Tyler caught him and helped him into a chair.

  “Get me some of the cider, would you?” Gregory asked. Thor complied, and Gregory sipped gratefully.

  “What did you find?” Alexander asked.

  “Nothing that shouldn’t be there.”

  “But there could be something you don’t see, right?” Thor pushed.

  “That’s what I said.” He scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Though something that powerful would take some time to develop and set. It’s pretty specific to you—making you not care about Max. Plus, it came on you pretty sudden.”

  “But it’s not impossible,” Thor said. “He went to get Max clothes from the truck. He was alone then. Somebody could have gotten to him then, right?”

  Or maybe when Sterling had ripped him from his body and dangled him at the River Market. Alexander mentioned the possibility.

  “Maybe. But why go after your bond with Max?” Gregory shook his head. “It’s just as likely that this is your own doing. You could very well be shutting yourself down to protect yourself. But Thor and Tyler should keep an eye on you anyway. If this is
a spell, who knows what else was done to you?”

  “Maybe he’ll grow horns and a tail and baa like a goat,” Thor said darkly.

  “Shut up,” Alexander said. His Prime was still on edge, and so was he. Part of him liked not feeling anything for Max, but part of him missed that intensity, the joy of being with her, and even the fury and pain of fearing for her life. Had he shut those feelings down himself? If so, could he bring them back? Or did he want to keep his newfound freedom?

  “Whatever has happened to me, it does not change the fact that we have a job to do,” he said, giving himself a little shake to clear the vestiges of pain from his body.

  Thor stared broodingly at him, his arms folded, and then nodded. “All right. We can shelve it for now, but something’s not right with you.”

  Alexander shrugged. “We have our orders. Max wants us to find Tris.”

  “I’m going to find Giselle now,” Tyler announced. He had been watching Alexander’s testing in brooding silence. “I’ll let her know what Max has planned.”

  He slipped out the door before anyone could reply.

  “You know, the big hole in Max’s plan is how everyone is going to find her once she finds Sterling,” Gregory said slowly.

  His two companions stared at him; then realization slowly dawned.

  “She wouldn’t,” Thor said.

  “She would,” Alexander replied. “She would make sure we were all going to be safe, and then she would go after Sterling herself.” That should have made him feel . . . something.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.” Thor’s glare spoke volumes. The old Alexander, the one who cared about Max, would have seen it.

  “Nothing we can do about it now. We should do what she told us to.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? You ought to be going ballistic.”

  Alexander ignored that. “We need to find Tris and make sure she, Doris, and Geoff are safe.”

  Thor blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. How are we going to do that?”

  “We go look.”

  “Oh. Brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “I’m staying here,” Gregory declared, swigging down the rest of his cider and standing. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. He was clearly running on fumes.

  Alexander scowled at him. He did not want to leave Thor to watchdog Gregory, but the witch was likely to kill himself trying to heal everyone. That could not be allowed.

  He took a breath, but before he could speak, Gregory interrupted. “No, Thor is going with you. People are in trouble, and even if I went with you, I’d only slow you down. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to kill myself. I’ll make sure they don’t have anyone in immediate danger, and then I’ll rest and start again when I’m fresher. I’ll stay until things are handled. You know where to find me if you really need me.”

  “And if they decide they don’t want a witch in their midst?” Alexander asked, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

  “I’ll protect myself.”

  Thor snorted. “You’ll get to work, and they’ll bash you in the head. Or shoot you. Slit your throat. Strangle you . . .”

  “Enough,” Gregory said with a dry chuckle. “I’ll set up a ward circle, and I’m sure Kara will assign me guards if you ask nicely. Lena will likely do it no matter how you ask. She seems fond of me.”

  “I don’t like it,” Thor said.

  “Got anything better?” Alexander said. “We cannot haul him out of here against his will. You either come with me or stay here and guard Gregory. Besides, Max said it herself—everybody has choices to make. She knew what Gregory planned and was not going to fight him on it.”

  “That’s because she was planning to commit suicide,” Thor said. He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, leaving white tracks against his skin. Finally, he nodded. “Let’s talk to Kara, then.” He eyed Gregory balefully. “You even try to die, I’ll come back and rip your guts out myself. And if you do die, I swear I’ll drag you out of whatever hell you’ve fallen into and make you suffer so much more than you can ever imagine.”

  Gregory was taken aback. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

  “I don’t,” Thor snapped. “But this covenstead means a lot to me. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  “Then let us get going,” Alexander said. He brought up the rear, setting a hand on Thor’s shoulder and squeezing. The other man shrugged him away and stalked out of the shed.

  Alexander understood Thor’s feelings all too well. They had both been turned into Shadowblades by Selange. She was short-tempered, vicious, ruthless, and capricious. She had not cared about the health or safety of anyone within her covenstead, except as their illness or loss might lessen her power and prestige. Because of Max, both he and Thor had escaped her covenstead and been claimed by Giselle and Horngate. Both Blades would fight until death to protect their new home.

  They soon found Kara at Lena’s tent. A group of people had gathered within the magical bubble that Gregory had created. Snow rested on top of it like frosting on a cupcake. Within, the ground was turning soggy with the increasing warmth. Many had stripped off their heavy coats.

  The group fell silent as the three Horngaters approached. The few who’d been sitting stood. About two-thirds of them were men, the rest women. They ranged from young to grizzled, and none of them looked all that happy. Lena was downright furious. Her cheeks were flagged red, and the muscle in her jaw was throbbing with fury.

  The three stepped through the bubble into the warm air. Thor and Alexander flanked Gregory, slightly in front of him. The others fell back a step at the palpable threat that radiated from them. Everyone except for Lena and Kara. Lena smiled at them, her gaze fixing on Gregory with real warmth. Alexander approved. She might not trust magic, but she knew goodness when she saw it, and she did not let his being a witch interfere with her gratitude.

  “Thanks for coming back,” she said, then looked around the circle. “We appreciate your willingness to help us.”

  One of Gregory’s brows quirked up, but he did not challenge the obvious lie. Before he could speak, Alexander interrupted.

  “Gregory is willing to stay and heal your people,” he said, eyes gliding around the circle, meeting each person’s gaze in turn. “But you must guarantee his safety. You must give him a place to sleep and feed him. He will not have the strength to take care of everyone at once.” He narrowed his attention on Lena and Kara. “You must make sure he does not overdo it. He is an idiot and will give all he has.”

  Lena frowned at Gregory and nodded. Alexander almost felt sorry for the witch. Lena was tough as rusty nails, and it was clear she was going to take personal charge of Gregory. Gratitude was a double-edged sword.

  “I still don’t like this,” rumbled a barrel-chested man with a thick blond beard. His eyes were steel-blue, and he carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm.

  “Don’t have to like it, Marty,” said another man. He was short, with a round belly, a thick mustache, and thinning hair. “You’ve been outvoted, so shut up, do what you’re asked, and don’t cause trouble.”

  “Witches are evil,” someone muttered. Alexander couldn’t tell who.

  “I don’t know that witches are any more evil than anybody else,” Kara said. “What I do know is that so far, these folks have done nothing but help us, and I for one am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. We’ve got sick people, and this man—this witch—can help them. Any of you want to count on God for curing your families, you go on and keep praying. But I think God has sent us our help, and he’s standing right in front of us. Your other choice is Benjamin Sterling, and I sure as hell don’t want any part of him.”

  Clearly, Kara had already raised this point before, and it was having its intended effect. No one answered, and her mouth tightened in a flat grin. She looked at Alexander. “We’ll take care of him. You have my word.”

  He nodded. He would have to trust her. “Then we will l
eave him in your hands. Do not let him do much more before he rests.”

  Gregory made a disgusted sound. “I am not four years old.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t need a keeper,” Thor said from his other side.

  “You two be careful, whatever you’re up to,” Kara said.

  “That word is not actually in our vocabulary,” Alexander said dryly, and Thor snorted.

  “Then I wish you luck,” she said, and reached out to shake their hands. “Gregory will be here when you get back.”

  “Then we will be on our way.” Alexander glanced at the witch. “Do not be stupid.”

  “You’re one to talk,” the witch retorted, then held out his hand. “May the Spirits guard you and bring you safely home.”

  “See you when we see you,” Alexander said after shaking hands. “Watch your back.”

  With that, he and Thor started off on the hunt.

  “HOW CAN YOU FEEL NOTHING?” THOR ASKED, FINALLY breaking the silence of the last twenty minutes. He had spent a good fifteen minutes before that trying to dig more out of Alexander than the fact that his feelings for Max had just suddenly shut down.

  The snow was falling in a thick curtain, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. It piled up to mid-thigh, deeper where it had drifted. It brought with it a muffling silence that seemed to go on forever.

  Thor and Alexander slogged through it in bounding leaps. They had decided to head down to Highway 93 where it entered town and try to pick up the trail there.

  “You’ve been insane about Max practically since you met her. No one stops feeling that kind of emotion just like that—” He snapped his fingers. “So what is really going on? And this time, the truth, if you can manage it.”

  “I told you. Something snapped, and I felt nothing. I looked into her eyes and realized nothing with her would ever change. It is self-preservation. If I do not cut her off, I will certainly go rabid.”

  “Bullcrap. That’s the most chickenshit thing I’ve ever heard in my life, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, you aren’t a coward. There must be something else.”