Page 28 of Season of the Wolf

I didn’t say a word, pulling the drawstring at my waist.

This new dynamic between us—one whereshefelt the need to be the protector—it didn’t sit well with me. It had nothing to do with it being some sort of hit to my masculinity. It hadeverythingto do with what the end result would be: her heading straight into danger.

As if she hadn’t already done that enough. For me. For others.

We reached my bedroom door at the same time, making it clear neither intended to heed the other’s warning. So, instead, we went together.

Every light downstairs seemed to be on. Peering past the rail that overlooked the foyer, there was a body. Cloaked in dark, tattered clothing and a sackcloth hood, it writhed in the arms of the six guards that struggled to manage its weight.

The voice was hard to place, presenting as both female and male in unison as it howled, or more like roared. In size, the creature could have easily measured up to an Elder.

Evangeline stepped back from the rail as her eyes widened. There was fear in them—unmistakable and present for good reason. The next second, she covered her nose and mouth, retching behind her palm.

“Oh, my gosh … thatsmell!” she nearly gagged.

I turned toward the body again, but sensed nothing, which meant the odor was only detectable to supernaturals.

“What is it?” I asked.

She closed her eyes for a long time, looking as though she might vomit if she spoke too quickly.

“Death,” she said. “It smells like … death.”

My eyes left her again, shifting down to where the thing had been wrangled to the floor, and it hit me.

A witch.

And judging by the way Evangeline responded to the powerful stench, I could only guess this one was as evil as the day is long.

“Liam … wait!”

Soft hands grasped at my arms as I rushed down the steps, but I slipped through them.

“Liam,” she called out again, making it hard to miss the panic in her voice.

Her steps fell in sync with mine as we descended, my focus never leaving the creature someone thought it’d be wise to bring into our home.

Stepping down into the foyer, I crossed the few feet to the witch, but was halted by a hand pressed firmly to my chest.

“It’s not a good idea to get so close, Liam.” I glanced up, meeting Elise’s worried gaze. As she stood between me and our ‘guest’, the panicked expression she wore matched her daughter’s.

I ignored her, feeling the roughness of the sack between my fingertips when I pulled it from the monster’s head.

Putrid.

My shoulders squared as I laid eyes on the thing—skin the sickening greenish-gray of a corpse, brittle black hair that stood out in every direction. It’s dry, crusted lips parted with another scream, revealing blackened teeth rotted away by a lifetime of dark magic.

Anger filled me to capacity.

“What is this?” I asked, barely getting the words out as I gritted my teeth. “You brought this thing here? Where yourdaughterlays her head at night?”

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the negligence.

“We’re all out of options,” Elise reasoned. “We needed another witch to assist Hilda with the spell.”

“Or maybe it’s just time to accept things for what they are,” I snapped.

The house was quiet other than the mindless screaming that came from Elise’s guest.

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