Page 38 of The Wolf and his Witch

“Thanks, Alain.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

Gabriel ended the call and pocketed his phone. He checked the store once more. Brian was still deep in conversation with his customer. He closed his eyes and focused on his feelings for Annabelle, his mate. The way his heart jumped every time she smiled at him. How the flash of challenge in her blue eyes and the defiant tilt of her chin never failed to intrigue his wolf. How the thought of losing her made his heart heavier than a ten-ton boulder and his wolf want to howl.

He took the blood-smeared reindeer, pushed through the resistance pulsing outward, and pressed it against the wrapped grimoire. Sparks flew and fire wrapped around his arm. He gritted his teeth and locked his knees, holding the ornament in place with the sheer force of his will. A screech to rival the meanest banshee ripped through his skull, but still he held on. For his mate. For Annabelle.

All of a sudden it all stopped—the pain, the noise, the sparks—like a vacuum had sucked it all in. An uncanny silence filled the store. The noise of the traffic, of Brian and Mr. Dior, the buzzingof the overhead light—all gone. Something crackled, like a spark of electricity arcing. Then a blast of power so strong sent him flying across the room and slamming into the counter.

Gabriel slumped to the floor, his jaw clenched against the agony in his ribs. The eerie vacuum was gone, and panicked footsteps were heading his way from the back of the store. Gabriel hoisted himself to his feet and grabbed for the grimoire. He met no resistance. He snatched up the bloodied reindeer, surprised it was still intact, and raced through the door, the little bell tinkling in his wake.

Chapter Seventeen

According to the car’s navigation system, Muir Woods was a forty-five-minute drive, traffic conditions permitting. Gabriel made it there in under half an hour and jagged a parking spot on his first circle of the lot. He was out of the car, striding toward Stef and Isobella before the engine had stopped ticking over.

Stef eyed the Christmas present in his hand. “You found it?”

He tore the wrapping off and held up the grimoire. “Yeah. I got it.”

Scrunching up the gold wrapping and silver bow, he shoved them into his pocket as they entered Muir Woods.

Once out of sight of other hikers, tourists and day-trippers, Isobella led them off the path and they pushed deeper into the woods.

At a large tree, she stopped, dropping her backpack. “This is where Annabelle performed the spell.”

Gabriel studied the forest, opening up his wolf senses. Nothing but the scent of damp earth, the rustle of the breeze in the trees and the hint of bird song. He nodded. They were far enough away from the trails. No one should interrupt them. He looked down at the book in his hand. Old and fragile, the worn binding had splotches of blood all over it, faded over the centuries to a dark brownish-red. A blood witch, like Annabelle, had owned this grimoire. Given it contained a spell to travel through time, it had probably belonged to Cordelia, the witch Maxime’s ancestor had written about.

Stef and Isobella leaned over his shoulder as he gingerly turned the pages. Pages and pages of spells.

Stef grabbed the edge of the book. “It’s in English.ModernEnglish.”

“Oui.And look at the spelling.” Gabriel pointed to a word, then another. “AmericanEnglish. No wonder Annabelle’s boss thought it was a fake.”

He kept flicking through the pages.

Isobella gasped.

Gabriel paused. “Is this the spell?”

Isobella shook her head. “No. It’s just… Some of these spells…” She flicked a page back and pointed at the scrawl on the page. “This one is a spell to set a person’s blood on fire. It would boil you alive from the inside out.” She turned another few pages back. “This one is to spread a blood-born disease. You could kill a lot of people with it in one go.”

“Isobella, have you ever met Cordelia King?” he asked.

Isobella grimaced. “Once. That is one creepy old lady.”

“Did you get a close look at her eyes?”

Stef raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s this all about?”

“When I spoke to your brother, before the crash, he mentioned an evil time-traveling witch our ancestors had come up against. Her name was Cordelia. Apparently, she had two different colored eyes.”

Isobella sucked in a breath. “Cordelia King has two different colored eyes. One blue, one green.” Isobella recoiled. “Are you sayingthisgrimoire belongs to Cordelia King?”

Gabriel shrugged. “It has a spell for time travel in it. It belonged to a blood witch. AnAmericanblood witch.”

“But that would mean, all this time, our coven has harbored—”

The horror in her eyes mirrored his own feelings, but Gabriel didn’t have time to dwell on it. He handed the book to Isobella. “I need the spell Annabelle used.”

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