Page 19 of Midwinter Night's Prince

Again, Blair stopped herself from doing what came naturally to her. Magic. Funny, that she used to think herself a poorer witch when it came to the craft of hexes or enchantments. Now that she had to use her bare hands, she realized just how much she usually relied on magic. Instead of making a fire with a wave of her hand to heat up a breakfast, she ate another energy bar. Painstakingly folding the sleeping bag and tent back up seemed to take forever. Yesterday, she'd done it without relying on her magic for speed because she'd been tired, and in no rush. Now, she wanted nothing more than to get going and every one of her human gestures seemed so very slow.

Finally, she was ready. Velvet had remained tucked against her chest, never quite relaxing. She was glad of his size today.

Blair followed the path she'd taken the previous day to reach town, alarmed by every move, every sound. Birds chirped cheerfully, indifferent to her crisis. She was safe, she told herself. If anything of consequence had spotted her, she would have been dragged to hell by now. Somehow, the thought was almost comforting.

Velvet hissed softly, though his head was buried inside her coat. Moments ago, she would have thought him asleep. She looked, finding only trees and rocks, and a river running some paces away. There were birds nearby, but she couldn't spot them over the autumn foliage.

Blair's eyes narrowed as she discerned a shape that didn't quite blend in with the greenish scenery, verging on orange. At first, she believed it to be part of a branch, but paying attention, she could distinguish the shape of a large owl, cream, gray, and silver. It was quite beautiful.

Blair stared at it and the bird stared right back.

Velvet grumbled. Hercat was sensitive. Blair had wondered if all the magic inflicted upon him had fundamentally changed him—making him sensitive. To what, she couldn't tell.

"It's just a bird," she told Velvet soothingly. "Calm down."

She couldn't tell whether the later reassurance was meant for him or for herself.

They were just a couple of miles from town. She could see the outline of the white stone buildings crowned by orange roofs. She'd be there in minutes. Fifteen, twenty at most. Blair picked up the pace.

She was safe.

Are you?

The whisper in her ear morphed into laughter. Startled, she turned, expecting to face someone, something. That voice was entirely unfamiliar. But there was nothing behind her. Just the mountain, and the whisper of the wind.

Blair walked faster. She caught the outline of a shape running up the path and stiffened, but it was just a dog. A well-fed, boisterous brown thing with his tail high. She sighed. Clearly, he was a pet. That meant there were people around—normal people who took care of their animals.

The hound barked happily at her chest, no doubt sensing Velvet's presence. While the cat had freaked just moments ago, it was now sleeping against her. Never mind about him being sensitive to anything.

"Hey, doggo. Did you get lost over there?"

Just as she spoke, a couple of older kids appeared from around a corner down the path, following after the dog. She smiled at them. "Are we close to town?"

Hopefully they spoke English, because she didn't know a word of Greek. Latin, she could twist her tongue around—many spells were written in Latin, for some reason. Greek? Not so much.

But the children kept walking, not even acknowledging her.

As though she didn't exist.

11

OUT OF TIME

Seth tuned out the chatter surrounding him, blocking out his companions' excitement. For months, they'd been frustrated, humiliated by the fact that a simple witch could evade them so.

Adam was supposed to be a decent tracker. Burg usually could loosen reluctant tongues. Vince's team had always been successful in their missions. Gerald was a competent scout—when there was anything for him to uncover. Blair had shown them all up, until Axia got involved.

Adam had managed to cast location spells using Blair's hair, and they could feel their quarry drawing closer.

He closed his eyes. The five morons around him meant nothing. They were no threat—to him or Blair. While Aveka had demanded that Seth remained with her chosen hunters, she hadn’t had the foresight to demand he prevent from murdering the idiots. He'd rip out all of their throats before letting them anywhere close to his witch. Yet he couldn't calm down.

Blair was still there. He could feel it. She was still on Olympus, so very close to the portal that could pull her down to the immortal lands of his father.

He'd miscalculated, believing her somehow reasonable—or at the very least, manageable. If he'd have guessed she'd go so far, he would have thrown her a bone when she was safe, on another fucking continent, assuaging at least part of her curiosity.She may never be safe again now; not here and not anywhere near a portal on Earth.

Seth had been seven the first time he wandered close to a doorway to the other worlds.Almost three decades had passed, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. The strange sensation of being observed, followed. Then there had been a whisper melodious as a siren’s song. He’d followed it. Of course he had; no one had cautioned him against the dangers. Seth tumbled down space and time at a harrowing speed, before hitting the ground so hard his nose had bled—red at the time.

He opened his eyes to a world so bright and beautiful he wondered if he’d died and ended up in heaven. He was soon relieved of his delusions. An entire month of torture at the hand of harpies and crones followed. They asked questions he didn’t know the answer to and viciously cut him when he attempted a reply. When he remained silent, they did worse. If not for the magic in his veins, he would not have survived.

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