Chapter 4
Chapter Four
My monster. My king. Until death will we part.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Winter didn’t understand how time traveling turned day into night. It was about noon when they left and now it was midnight.
Kaden tried to explain by using a two-sided coin metaphor.
He said time traveling was like a fixed coin toss, landing on the opposite side every time.
When she said that didn’t make any sense, he explained that time was a circular cycle, like a ring.
Half represented twelve hours of daytime and the other half represented twelve hours of nighttime.
Time traveling was similar to folding the ring in half, taking someone from one side of the circle to the other.
Her nausea reached a crescendo when he started comparing the gravitational strength of the earth with the sun.
“I got it, thanks.”
Kaden chuckled. “Fine, just trying to help.” He spun and led the way through the craftsman’s shop. It was dark and closed for the evening. Winter rolled her suitcase along, letting her wheels thud against the thick, uneven floorboards.
He unlocked the front door and held it open. “After you, milady.”
“Such a gentleman.” She half-curtsied, then stepped into the brisk night air.
One inhale and her smile grew brighter than the moon.
Her lungs loved this time period—less pollution.
The streets were lined with evergreens that reminded her of the forest. Instead of a thick blanket of snow, there was only a skiff this time.
Her pleather riding boots were perfect for this weather.
Without a word, Kaden stole her suitcase and snapped his fingers.
Ugh. “Thanks,” she murmured. Getting rid of him would be harder with her things trapped in his void. “I have an idea … before we go to the inn.”
“And what would that be?”
She glanced at him sidelong. “Isn’t there a tavern around here?”
He grinned. “I’ll lead the way.”
Winter was quick on her feet, matching his long strides through town. Hand-in-hand, they probably looked like a happy couple.
Good.
Phase one and two were officially complete. For phase three, she wanted him drunk. It was a metaphor for the stupor she’d fallen into—so consumed by lust that she’d mistaken it for love.
He opened the door to The Sea Shanty, gesturing her inside. The blast of warmth was a welcome reprieve from the wintry chill. She gave her body a wiggle, adjusting to the temperature. It smelled as foul as the last time she’d been here—a combination of soot and sewage.
Winter tapped her wand for reassurance. There wasn’t phone service in 1918, but she could use her amplifier if she needed to.
Kaden threw an arm around her. After shimmying through a crowd of card players and toothless wannabe-sailors, they made it to the shiplap bar along the far wall.
There was only one empty barstool and it had Winter’s name on it.
Kaden pulled it out, helped her up with a chivalrous hand, then tucked her in.
She recognized the owner, Jerrick, and tried waving him over, but he was too preoccupied to notice her. She frowned.
“I’ll walk over there,” Kaden offered.
Once her shadow disappeared, she slouched.
The patron beside her nudged her arm. “That seat’s taken.”
She waved him off. She had no patience for drunk humans—not anymore.
“Suit yourself,” he said.
Winter lifted her nose, but not in distaste. It was the opposite. A familiar aroma stirred in the air, smelling a lot like brown sugar and cinnamon.
Bloodied knuckles with fang-like tattoos knocked on the bar top beside her. “Move.”
She turned to meet their owner.
Westley.
Well, it looked like him, but everything was different. His colorful eyes had turned dull and dark, reminding her of sunken earth. His hair, usually shorn on the sides, had grown longer. Skin that typically glowed looked paler, and his jaw was covered in thick, dark hairs.
Had he slept at all recently? Shaved once?
He lost his balance, swaying. The stench of liquor rolled off his cloak like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. He was supposed to be leading a pack, and that wouldn’t be possible in this condition. Could he even shift while he was this inebriated?
“Youu’rnn my seeeat, Witch.”
Winter’s eyes widened. He was acting like he didn’t even recognize her. This wasn’t the Westley she’d grown to know; it was the scary version.
“I-I can go.” She tried to leave, but he boxed her in. “If you just let me, that is.”
He didn’t move. His eyes drifted closed as he inhaled so deeply his shoulders shook.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
His hand moved faster than light, wrapping around her throat.
“Let go of me,” she choked, clawing at his fingers. They’d been through this already; why was he treating her like this?
“Mine,” he snarled, shaking her.
She gasped for air. “Stop,” she wheezed.
His eyebrows twitched. Abruptly, he released his grasp and thundered away. Winter rubbed her throat as he stormed towards the entrance. Like a giant ship passing through a small harbor, he was given a wide berth. She was surprised the door remained on its hinges after he slammed it shut.
What. Just. Happened?
“I told you that seat was taken.”
Winter turned towards the patron nudging her, again. His mouth hooked into a devilish grin. “You should see the last guy.”
Kaden returned with two whiskeys. “What’s going on here?”
Winter ignored them both, still utterly confused.
His hand clamped on her shoulder. “Babe, is this man bothering you?”
She took a much-needed sip. “No, I’m fine.
Better now, actually.” She’d never told Kaden about meeting Westley and didn’t plan to.
He especially had no idea how confusing their time together had been.
All that fear, hate, desire, hope, power, and pain had been bundled into one giant mess.
She shouldn’t be surprised Westley was acting this way.
Jerrick finally made his way over. “My favorite whiskey drinking lady! What brings ya’ back here?”
She tipped her glass. “Elmwood’s finest, of course. Are you excited to garden this spring?”
He tossed a rag over his shoulder. “I don’t know if my roses will survive after all this snow.”
“A little extra love should do the trick. Give ‘em a chance.”
Jerrick winked. “I’ll do just that.”
Kaden cleared his throat. “Have you two met before?”
At that remark, Jerrick darted to the far end of the bar.
Winter clenched her teeth and turned around. “Yes, he’s a nice human. Could you get me a tissue from the restroom, please? I need to blot.” She smacked her red lips for emphasis.
He pressed a quick, soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
Kaden didn’t know much about makeup. If he had, he would have known blotting lip stain a few hours after application wasn’t necessary. This was almost too easy. When he was well out of sight, she freed her knitting needle from her top-knot, letting her hair tumble down in waves.
Pointing her wand towards Kaden’s whiskey, she spoke under her breath. “Fortior.” Strengthening his alcohol would show him how being weak and manipulated felt. Moving the tip to her glass next, she whispered, “Debilior.” Reducing the effects of hers would ensure phase three went according to plan.
Winter tucked the wand behind her ear for safekeeping, taking a sip. The whiskey tasted like liquid heat—as lethal as she was.
Kaden arrived, handing her tissues with pride.
“Thanks.” She pretended to blot, scrunched up the evidence, and raised her glass. “To us, to forever, and to love.”
Kaden lifted his drink, oblivious as ever. “I love you, Winn. Beyond every moon and star.” He tapped the rim of his glass to hers with conviction, like he understood the definition of those three words, then he drank.
Winter pretended to.
She’d never drink to love.
Love had destroyed her.
Burned her to ashes.
But like a phoenix, she’d risen from them, feathered and ready for flight. With her newfound power, forged from heartache, she’d never be weak again. There was nothing left to break.
Winter helped Kaden up the steps of Elmwood’s Bed and Breakfast. She’d carried half his weight for the entire three blocks it’d taken to get here. When they reached the top of the icy staircase, he slurred, “I loveee youu, Winn. I’m the luhckiest wizzz-ard in all the realmss.”
He was grinding on her very last nerve. “Shh. People are sleeping.” She opened the door, pleasantly surprised by the odors. A combination of ginger, honey, and baked bread.
The floors were made of a simple oak, adorned with a hunter green rug patterned with yellow swirls, matching the mustard-colored drapes.
She dragged Kaden along the slim entryway.
The walls were covered in a variety of clocks—the kind that ticked.
One had double doors that suddenly flung open.
Stuffed birds popped out, screeching, “Cuckoo!” Winter placed a hand on her heart as she recovered from the jump scare.
“Oooo. It’ss two o’clockk,” Kaden mumbled.
“Shh.”
She hurried to the front desk. There was a human girl behind it who looked much too young to be working this late, or at all for that matter.
She had tight brown curls, prominent dimples, and vivid blue eyes.
She readjusted her knit blanket over her shoulders.
“Welcome to Elmwood Bed and Breakfast, do you have a reservation?” She sounded like a little robot, but those hadn’t been invented yet.
If Winter didn’t already know better, she’d poke its puffy cheeks and pull on its hair.
“No. Is there any availability?” she answered as politely as she could, considering Kaden’s face was embedded in her neck.
“Yes, it’s six dollars a night.”
Winter had spent more on tea. She shoved her hand into Kaden’s pocket, found the bills, and slapped them on the desk—the way they did it in movies. She had no idea how to handle paper money otherwise. Coins, as she’d learned from The Sea Shanty, were more of a slide technique.