Wonder: A Soul Savers Collection of Holiday Short Stories & Recipes (12 page)

Chapter 2

The lake looked like a black hole in the white mounds surrounding it. The water hadn’t frozen completely yet, so the falling snowflakes liquefied as soon as they touched the surface. All around the body of water, however, the snow began accumulating on the hills and evergreens, creating what the Normans would call a perfect Christmas scene.

Although the thought of Christmas usually made Claire cringe, she didn’t mind it at the moment. She could appreciate the beauty around her and even the peacefulness. Was it so wrong to want a break from all the ruckus and chaos the Daemoni loved? If sorcerers could get away with being hermits for centuries, surely she could spend a few hours by herself in this peaceful place. Of course, maybe tonight wasn’t the best night to indulge herself. The guilt of abandoning her friends and people warred with the giddiness of doing her own thing for once. She hated the guilt—she wasn’t supposed to have a conscience, damn it!—and let the giddiness win.

She tied her trench coat tighter around her body and walked along the lake’s shore, her boots sinking into the thick snow. With a flick of her finger, her footprints immediately disappeared, leaving no trace of her path. She practically skipped alongside the water’s edge, and then danced and twirled, holding her arms out to her side, hanging her head back and sticking her tongue out to catch the big flakes. The only sound that could be heard was her own breath. She felt freer than she’d ever had before.

Fuck you, Mother and Grandmother
, she thought.
And you, too, Lucas. Screw the Amadis and the Normans. Tonight is mine!

She’d barely made it a hundred yards around the lake when the snow began falling faster, sticking to her hair and eyelashes. She enjoyed every bit of it. Even when she reached the far side and found herself in a full-blown blizzard.

The wind howled and blew the snow sideways, and the warlock could barely see more than two feet in front of her. Normans could easily become lost in such a blinding storm, but being a mage had its advantages. Obviously, Claire could flash away and return to the city and the anti-Christmas festivities, but that was too easy and too boring. Instead, she created a bubble around herself so she could at least keep the snow from falling in her eyes. She heated the air within, too, to counter the falling temperatures the storm had brought along with it. Then she continued her stroll around the lake as she considered what to do next.

A yellowish glow in the distance provided her answer. A light that came in and out of sight as the snow fell heavily and gusts of wind stirred up more from the ground. Claire headed for the light, but even with her protective bubble, she found it more and more difficult to walk as she leaned against the wind. Finally, the cabin with the glow in its windows came into view, and Claire made her way around a large truck and found the cabin’s back entrance.

She paused on the porch and used a spell to listen through the door. She wanted to stay here for the night, so the people inside had to go. Four Normans—two adults and two young children—talked about drinking hot cocoa, making popcorn, and singing carols by the fire. Claire nearly gagged on the saccharine sweetness of their conversation, but when the youngest child, a small girl, started asking about opening presents, a smile grew on the warlock’s lips. A perfect opportunity for a Random Act of Evil had presented itself.

Claire considered a variety of spells she could perform to cause the cabin to be hers for the night. The most obvious was to kill them all, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. She always had trouble going to such extremes, especially when young children were involved. She justified her softness by saying that those children could become Daemoni in the future, but it was really her conscience acting up again. She needed to do something about that. Although, by not killing them, she was doing things the way
she
wanted to. Rebelling in her own way.

Rebelling against the rebels? What side does that even put me on?
She blew out a sigh.
This is all so confusing.

She wanted to be bad in her own way, so she mentally flipped through her other options until she found one that was her own flavor of fun: she would scare the Normans out by making them think the cabin was haunted. With a twist of her hands, a cabinet door in the empty kitchen swung open and banged shut, and her work began. She started by creating noises in the kitchen, bathroom, and upstairs loft while the Normans sat in the main room of the small cabin. The children squealed with each bang of a door or drawer at first, but as their fear rose, they began to cry. The parents tried to remain cool as they scurried around the cabin searching for a source of the noises, but Claire could sense their anxiety building when they couldn’t find the cause. They didn’t start talking about leaving, though, until the warlock became more persistent.

She caused the lights to blink on and off by themselves, then moved objects right in front of their eyes. The mother yelled at the father, accusing him of ruining Christmas because he’d brought them to this haunted cabin in the middle of nowhere, and she begged him to take them home. He argued back that the snowstorm made the roads too treacherous to drive on, and she countered that the four-wheel-drive had been his reason for buying the late model truck that sat outside. Their argument exploded, punctuated by the children’s sobs and screams.

Claire realized she needed to make the decision for them. With a flick of a finger, she magically tossed the biggest present under the tree through the front window. The shattering glass silenced the parents’ fight. Claire sent more presents outside, then made them pile into the bed of the pickup.

“See! Even the presents want to get the hell out of here,” the mother exclaimed, and Claire nearly burst into laughter at the ridiculous statement.

“Let’s go, Daddy. Please,” the little girl begged, and she ran outside.

The rest of the family followed at the same time Claire caused the falling snow to slow. She couldn’t hold the spell for long—this storm was too strong for her powers—but hopefully long enough to convince the father it was safe. He glanced up at the sky.

“The blizzard has slowed,” the mother said as she scooped up the little girl into her arms. “Let’s go while we can!”

“I don’t know,” the man said as he contemplated the heavy clouds in the dark sky above.

Claire had the interior of the house banging and clattering as though it belonged in a B-rated horror movie, but she thought she might have to go to her last resort—throw embers out of the fireplace, lighting the cabin up. She’d rather not, though, because she couldn’t magically fix the destruction a fire would cause, not when the only remains would be ashes. And if the flames grew out of control, her whole purpose for driving the family away would be for nothing.

The family, clad only in pajamas and robes, huddled in the space between the cabin’s front door and their truck while the father still stared at the sky. The boy, about seven years old, tugged on his dad’s sleeve and pointed toward the woods behind the cabin. The air in Claire’s lungs became trapped as she thought she’d been caught. But all eight eyeballs stared beyond her, doubled in size. Their mouths fell open, and their fragile bodies quaked.

Claire spun around, ready to fight whatever had them more frightened than the inexplicable happenings inside their cabin.

A monster bounded out of the trees and down the hill, all teeth, claws, and glowing red eyes. No, not really a monster. Claire let out a bit of air. Just a grizzly bear that roared at the family as it barreled toward them. The father wrapped an arm around the boy and lifted him off the ground. Without any more debate, the parents ran for the truck and practically threw their children in the backseat before jumping inside the front. The engine cranked over, and the truck’s back tires threw snow ten feet into the air as the father tried to get them out of there as fast as possible. With a fishtail of its back end, the truck disappeared around the corner, and the cabin fell silent as Claire stood completely still.

The bear turned on her. Its jaw opened wide, baring all of its teeth, including fangs longer than Claire’s fingers. It roared again as it ambled toward the warlock. She studied it for a long moment, then relaxed and nodded as she released the trapped air from her lungs.

“Thank you for that,” she said.

The bear growled in response. Its eyes glowed brighter. He dared to challenge her! Claire lifted a brow while settling her hands on her hips. She glared back at the beast.

“You know I’ll win,” she said. “You’re no match for a warlock.”

The bear growled again, but then its whole form began to shrink.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” the man who’d replaced the bear snapped at the warlock.

Chapter 3

Claire couldn’t help staring. Standing way over six feet tall, with black, disheveled hair, dark eyes, tanned skin that stood out against the snow, and a hard body that was all mounds of muscle and no fat, the man was a glorious beast. Every bit of him was big and powerful. Intimidating. Even the not-a-bit of him that hung between his legs.

Claire blinked, then flicked her hands, covering the were-bear with pants. He strode toward her, the amazing muscles of his upper body rolling and rippling, and she was glad she hadn’t given him a shirt.

“You ruined my dinner,” he growled, his eyes still glowing an angry red.

Claire slowly licked her lips before sticking the bottom one out.

“Sorry,” she said as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“
Sorry?
” he barked.

She shrugged. “I need a place to stay during this storm.”

Saying the word reminded her of her spell, and she broke it. The snow began falling harder again, and the wind whipped at them.

The man narrowed his eyes. “You could have done anything. Why here? You ruined my plans.”

Claire cocked her head. “And what plans were those?”

“Do my Random Act of Evil, maybe eat someone for dinner, then hibernate in their cabin for a few days.”

“Well, sorry. The cabin is mine now.” Without touching the knob, Claire opened the door, and turning her back on the Were, she stepped inside.

“You mages are unbelievable!” the Were snarled. “Especially you cocky-ass warlocks. I don’t care how hot
you
are, you’re all the same inside. You think you can do whatever you want to
who
ever you want, even your own kind.”

Claire spun, ready to show him exactly what she could do to him and to remind him that he was
not
her kind. Although she knew what he meant—they were both Daemoni—her mother and grandmother had ingrained in her that mages were nothing like the Weres. Warlocks, especially, were far better than the beasts. But it was this thought that stopped her. She’d wanted to do whatever she felt like doing. She’d wanted to break the rules that shouldn’t exist. And she definitely wanted to know what this man felt like under her ... inside her. Had he really called her hot?

A slew of sexy thoughts ran through her mind, and following through on them would be the ultimate crime in her mother and grandmother’s eyes. They didn’t care about her—only about their bloodline. In fact, if it were up to them, Claire would have been married to Dingle-Barry when she was fifteen years old.
He
had the right blood and upbringing. They’d throw an absolute Daemoni fit if she did anything more than kick this Were out into the cold. And if she slept with him ...?

A grin spread across Claire’s face as she once again eyed the beautiful man before her. “I can’t offer you dinner, but you’re more than welcome to come inside.”

His gaze raked over the warlock, and as if his eyes requested it, her coat magically fell open, exposing the tight black sweater that stretched across her not-so-little breasts. Her legs quivered when his eyes slowed over the swell of her hips and stopped at her thighs. She was tiny. He was not. Thoughts of all the ways he could take her soared through Claire’s mind. She bit her lip as she waited for his response.

The next growl that came out of the man had changed. This one was full of lust, not threat.

When he didn’t immediately stride inside and sweep her into his arms, Claire removed her coat, turned her back, and swayed her hips as she entered the cabin more deeply. As she’d hoped, he followed her inside, closing the door behind him.

“Claire,” the warlock said over her shoulder to introduce herself.

“Tony,” the were-bear replied as they entered the kitchen.

Claire flicked her hand to repair the little bit of damage she’d caused while running off the Normans, then she glanced around the kitchen. Hot homemade cocoa still steamed from a pot on the two-burner stove, and the supplies to cook popcorn over the fire sat on the counter. Claire waved a finger toward the refrigerator, and the door opened.

“Help yourself,” she said. “Not any Norman meat in there, of course, but surely you can find something to your liking.”

Tony leaned over to poke his head into the tiny fridge, his large frame nearly blocking out the light inside. Claire stared unabashedly until he straightened up with nothing in his hands, although plenty of food sat on the shelves.

“I’m not hungry for anything in there,” he said as he turned to face her. The weight of his full gaze fell on her, and his black eyes smoldered, making her weak. She’d never felt such magnetic attraction to a man before, nor such sexual tension hanging in the air. But still he remained on the other side of the kitchen. Claire turned her back on him and poured herself some cocoa. She made him a mug, too, and tossed some mini-marshmallows on top, then she gathered the pan, oil, and popcorn and went into the family room.

The small room could only hold a single sofa and a wooden coffee table that sat in front of the fireplace, stockings hanging from the mantle. In the corner, a Christmas tree still twinkled with little colorful lights, although the presents were all gone. A bearskin rug lay on the wooden planked floor between the table and hearth. With a silent spell, Claire turned the rug into what appeared to be a simple shag before Tony could see it. She didn’t want to know what his reaction would be—for all she knew, that could have been one of his relatives. And she certainly didn’t want to ruin tonight’s prospects because of a stupid rug.

She knelt in front of the fireplace, poured the oil into the pan followed by the popcorn kernels, and then arranged the pot on the pile of burning logs. Tony came in and set their mugs of hot cocoa on the coffee table, and sat on the sofa, watching her intently.

“This ... drinking cocoa, making popcorn on a fire, you ... this is not exactly how I expected to spend this evening,” he said.

Claire chuckled. “No, me neither. But what can you do when there’s a blizzard like the one outside?”

“Keep warm any way you can.” His voice held all kinds of promises that sent Claire’s heart into a gallop. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, as she leaned into the fire to give the pot a shake. She could feel Tony’s eyes on her ass. “But you have all kinds of ways to stay warm, so why are you here?”

The warlock leaned back on her heels and stared at the fire. “I’m exactly where I want to be tonight, so why bother using magic to be somewhere else?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “And I could say the same about you. Surely you have a home or even a den and your own fur coat to keep you warm.”

“My home’s far away.” He paused, then added, “And I’m exactly where I want to be tonight, too.”

With a small smile playing on her lips, Claire pulled the pot off the fire and placed it on the table, its lid sitting sideways as big puffs of white popcorn pushed it upwards. She stood and grabbed the blanket off the arm of the sofa, sat down next to Tony—but not too close—and wrapped the fuzzy cover over her before picking up a handful of popcorn and her mug. When she sat back, an arm landed heavily on the back of the couch behind her. She pretended not to notice and ate her snack.

Wind howled outside, and the snowdrifts grew larger, blocking out the bottom panes of the window next to the fireplace. Claire snuggled deeper under her blanket and sipped on her cocoa while watching the flames dance in the hearth. She didn’t even mind the Christmas tree, and Tony didn’t seem to either. Sitting here as they did in this cozy little cabin while the snow fell outside and the fire popped and sizzled almost made her understand Normans and their love for this holiday. There certainly was a sense of peace that she could appreciate.

The arm behind her fell across her shoulder. When she didn’t wiggle away, Tony pulled her closer.

“I guess I was wrong about all warlocks,” he murmured, his mouth very close to her ear. “You’re definitely not like the others.”

Claire suppressed a chuckle. If he only knew exactly why she’d invited him inside with her. She may not be exactly like the others—like her mother and grandmother and everyone else so concerned about their bloodlines that they never had any fun—but that didn’t make her any better. In fact, her whole goal tonight was to be bad. Bad in every way that felt good. Sitting here so warm and contentedly definitely felt good, but she had much more in mind.

At the same moment she twisted in her seat to face Tony, he turned toward her. Their faces were only inches apart, and his warm breath fell on her lips. She looked into his deep, black eyes and saw the same primal need in him that she felt in herself. He lifted a large hand to the side of her head, which she tilted into his palm as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. She’d never imagined a Were being so gentle, especially one as big and feral as a bear. She wasn’t sure she wanted gentle.

Their gazes locked, he leaned in. She licked her lips, readying them, then closed her eyes and opened her mouth slightly. Her heart beat once as she waited. Again. She was about to open her eyes when she felt him. But right when his lips touched hers, two
pops
sounded in the room.

Claire’s eyes flew open to find the new arrivals standing in front of the door to the kitchen. Tony jumped off the couch with surprise, fur already rising on his arms and his teeth elongating. He crouched for the change as he stared at the two women, both dressed in long, wool cloaks and knee-high boots.

“Shit,” Claire swore under her breath. “Why didn’t I think to shield and cloak the place?”

“Because you’re not letting your
brain
do your thinking,” said the younger of the two women.

Claire clenched her jaw against the voice that sounded to her like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Hello, Mother,” she said through gritted teeth. “Grandmother.”