A Snowed in Valentine’s (Holiday Shifters of Frost Mountain #10)

Prologue

The young-looking witch in the beanie and the wool sweater knew a lot of things, though not all.

It came with the territory.

She knew, for one, that she wasn’t the only supernatural aboard the plane that was currently headed from Vegas to Chicago. She also knew that at least one passenger on Flight 18 would be arriving at a different destination, one way or the other.

But these were merely rudimentary details. As a witch and a powerful one at that, she considered herself privy to a host of more interesting tidbits that a majority of the world’s populace was ignorant of, one of which was the fact that Earth was not the only world filled with people. Other worlds, other realities, existed alongside hers: worlds where humans and supernaturals lived together in perfect harmony, realms where monsters thrived, worlds filled with old celestial beings and from which some crawled into this world...it was all so much.

One world, in particular, had caught her interest.

She knew exactly what Frost Mountain was, and she knew that it was a terrible place to be. It was a vast, nay, infinite dimension, brought into existence through dark, ancient magic. It had a sun, moon, and stars as Earth’s sky did, although these were somewhat illusory, as was often the case with magic. She knew that Frost Mountain had come into existence several lifetimes ago and had been growing ever since.

Her name was Daphne Emerson, and she was growing tired of merely knowing . The time had come to apply that knowledge. And so here she was, seated in business class on Daystar Airlines Flight 18, preparing to do something that had never been done before.

“ Svarta ,” she muttered.

A light wave of turbulence rocked the plane. At least, it felt like turbulence. Daphne knew better. The protection spell she’d just cast was slowly spreading around her, trying to encompass the circumference of the entire plane.

Hopefully, this works , she thought.

Sucking in a breath, she regarded the grimoire sitting open in her lap. It was a large, ancient-looking book with words scrawled across the yellowed pages. All she had to do was close the book to see the words THE BOOK OF NYX emblazoned on the front cover in gold letters.

There were other copies of the book in existence, but this one was special because it was the original copy. It was handwritten in a forgotten language. Just below the words on the front cover in tiny print was one name among others:

Eleanor Emerson

It was the name of one of the writers of the grimoire, witches who knew the darkest magic known to mankind, which was passed down through generations until it fell into Daphne’s hands.

It was the name of one of Frost Mountain’s creators.

She flipped over to the next page, tracing her finger over the words. Svarkime…Svarkinosi…Svarlia…aha!

Her finger came to a stop, hovering just above a section of the page near the bottom.

Svassissimo nepo diovina.

Daphne repeated the words to herself, not daring to speak them out loud just yet. She knew that the words meant Open the void. It was a spell to open or reveal a portal for spatial travel. What followed it were instructions on how to concentrate her magical energy in order to achieve the desired outcome.

Daphne’s lips twitched. The way she saw it, most spelled magic, was merely a means to hack reality. Life was like a game with rules and codes that certain people could sometimes break, people with the knowledge and energy to exact their will upon reality instead of being subject to it.

People like her.

She glanced up from the grimoire and looked around at the other passengers. People traveling on business. People headed to Chicago to see their families. A lot of these passengers were regular humans going about their regular lives. Daphne could sense a few supernaturals around, but she doubted anyone in this cabin suspected her. If they did, they’d probably be running up and down the aisle in a frenzy.

Not that she was doing a great job of blending in. Between the beanie and the layers of clothing she wore, she looked like she was traveling to the North Pole.

Well, my destination isn’t much different, she thought, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as she continued reading the grimoire.

“Can’t imagine you’re not hot under all that clothing,” said someone to her left.

Daphne lifted her head and, with a raised eyebrow, looked at the passenger who’d just spoken. She was young with scarlet hair and blue eyes. Daphne had noticed her checking out the other passengers since they’d taken off. She looked bored.

But Daphne also noticed something else about the woman: she spoke with a British accent. That wasn’t the only thing out of place about her. There was nothing human about her aura. This woman was a fellow supernatural. A snow leopard shifter, to be exact. Most witches would have had difficulty sensing who the redhead truly was, but Daphne was no ordinary witch.

“Fancy accent you’ve got there,” she replied.

The woman’s cheeks reddened. “Uh…thanks.” Her gaze dropped to Daphne’s sweater. “Aren’t you hot under all that? I’m surprised you aren’t sweating.”

Without really thinking, Daphne shrugged and said, “It’s going to get very cold soon.”

The redhead looked at her like she’d lost her marbles. Which Daphne supposed wasn’t far from the truth. What she was attempting to do was something no one in the long line of Emersons before her had ever done. It was insane.

Do you really think you can fix the Frost Mountain problem, Daphne? Do you think you can end the problem that’s been going on for centuries?

She’d known about Frost Mountain ever since she was a little girl, nearly four decades ago. Daphne remembered sitting at her mother Diana’s feet, staring with wide eyes into the flickering fireplace as the older witch narrated the story that had traveled down the generations from one witch’s lips to another’s ears.

We Emersons, her mother had begun, we come from a long line of powerful witches. But with great power comes the possibility of absolute chaos.

It happened sometime in the latter part of the 1700s, around the time of the American Revolution. A war broke out between shifters and witches. Many of the actual details had been mixed up over the years, but the war had occurred due to a land dispute.

Why couldn’t they just share the land? Daphne had asked her mother.

Because, little one, Diana had replied, the shifters and the coven of witches didn’t trust each other. They refused to live together. But neither wanted to leave the land for the other and soon, a war began.

The shifters hadn’t stood a chance. Years later, Daphne would learn that the coven had fought dirty, using dark magic to defeat the shifters in a swift attack. As if that weren’t enough, they’d decided to exile the shifters to a faraway location, someplace from which they could never return.

So they’d created Frost Mountain, an infinite dimension blanketed in snow. Not bad for a Christmas vacation or a hiking trip. It would be terrible if you happened to be stuck there forever.

And that was exactly what happened. Only it got worse.

Frost Mountain was intended to be a sort of prison for the shifters who’d gone against the coven, but shortly after its creation, Frost Mountain spiraled out of the control of the very witches who’d created it. What had begun as a dimension with a sealed entry portal and no way to escape soon became an independent entity with portals reaching into Earth and other worlds, other dimensions, claiming lives, people, and whatever else happened to get too close.

For centuries, the descendants of the witches of the coven, including the Emersons, had struggled to undo what their ancestors had created, but to no avail. Frost Mountain simply could not cease to be. The ball had been set in motion, and it was never going to stop rolling.

At least, that was what other witches seemed to think.

But from a young age, Daphne had thought otherwise.

You cannot fix something so powerful and ancient, Diana had sternly warned her when Daphne shared her thoughts with her mother. Frost Mountain’s not up to anyone to fix. Do not ever attempt it, you hear me?

As a young girl, Daphne had nodded in response.

That had been decades ago. But now, as the last Emerson alive, there was no one to stop her except herself. Frost Mountain couldn’t be allowed to continue to exist. Not as it was, anyway. If a place so vast could have so many entry points and no exit, she could begin by trying to create one. But first, she had to get to the mountain.

However, as she sat perusing the grimoire, she couldn’t help wondering, What if I fail? What if this is a suicide mission?

No one who had been to Frost Mountain had ever returned. At least, not that she knew of. It was hard to tell who’d simply gone missing and who had accidentally walked through a portal that had appeared in their backyard, not so much with planes or ships. Greater disappearances were harder to miss. The Bermuda Triangle alone was home to portals responsible for missing craft.

And then there’s that ghost ship from the 19th century, she thought. Mary Celeste or something.

The way she saw it, she was more likely to find a portal in midair or at sea. It was why she’d boarded this flight. She could have been sitting in her apartment back in Vegas, trying to conjure up a portal to Frost Mountain. But revealing one that was already there should be easier. All she had to do was find the perfect location, a likely spot for a portal leading to Frost Mountain.

Like forty thousand feet off the ground.

The plane shuddered again. As long as her protection spell held up, everyone else on Flight 18 should be safe from whatever happened after she performed her spell.

Svassissimo nepo diovina.

She repeated the words in her head, a chill settling over her.

“What’s with the book?” It was the red-haired passenger. She was frowning at the grimoire.

“It is power,” Daphne replied automatically.

“Power…” The woman tapped her chin for a moment. “Right. You mean knowledge. As in, knowledge is power. You don’t look like a nerd.”

Daphne blinked back at her. She didn’t look like much of anything. She didn’t even look her age.

“Well,” the redhead said, “it’s a really old book.”

She was trying to make conversation. Daphne groaned inwardly. Now wasn’t the time for small talk. Still, she decided to humor the woman.

“It belonged to one of my ancestors… er, my great-grandmother. She was one of its authors.”

It’s the main author, to be exact.

The woman’s eyes widened a little. “Interesting. Something tells me she was as great as her title.”

That was one way to put it. Daphne couldn’t help grinning. “I guess you could say I’m living vicariously through her.”

Or is it the other way around? She dismissed the thought.

The woman chuckled, brushing her red hair out of her face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you anyway. I’m Julia.”

“Daphne.”

“Nice to meet you, Daphne,” Julia said.

Her gaze flickered just then. Daphne followed it, unable to suppress her curiosity. Two of the passengers in the next aisle, a man and a woman, were arguing about something. From what she could gather, the man wouldn’t stop kicking the woman’s seat despite her complaints.

“Guys like that are jerks,” Daphne blurted. “He’s not going to stop kicking her seat.”

Julia’s head snapped toward her. “How can you be so sure about that?”

“It’s just who he is.” Daphne shut the grimoire, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Leopards don’t change their spots.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Not even snow leopards.”

Julia’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Cripes!”

“I need to use the toilet,” Daphne said, getting up. Shooting her companion a wink, she headed for the back of the cabin where the lavatory was.

She suspected Julia’s eyes were still on her. The woman was clearly beyond stunned, wondering how in the world Daphne had figured out what she was. But Daphne had greater things to worry about right now. Her stomach fluttered with both trepidation and anticipation as she slipped into the small cubicle and locked the door.

She knew a lot of things. But she didn’t know just how terrible things would get. If she did, she would have returned to her seat.