Page 21 of The Wolf and his Witch (The Descendants #1)

Gabriel stood in Annabelle’s apartment staring at the Christmas tree, his chest all tight.

There, amongst the red and green baubles, the bows and the tinsel, were the hand carved ornaments he’d bought for her at the Christmas markets in Paris.

On Christmas Eve. The night he’d walked away from her without an explanation. She’d kept them.

He’d known Annabelle was missing her family so he’d taken her to the Christmas markets to buy decorations and treats.

While she’d been preoccupied at one stall, he’d purchased a beautiful hand-blown glass star, as delicate as the snowflake it’d been modeled on.

He’d planned to put it on top of the tree he bought for her once she was asleep, and surprise her in the morning.

He’d never gotten back to her apartment.

Instead of spending the night together drinking good wine, eating artisan cheeses and handmade chocolates, she’d spent Christmas Eve alone. And Christmas day.

He took in the angel on the top of this tree. Had she kept the star? She must have found it in amongst their parcels. Had she brought it home with her, or left it in Paris?

“Nothing in the linen closet,” said Isobella, walking back into the living area.

Stef came to stand beside him. “We’ve searched every inch of this apartment, Gabriel. It’s not here. I could go back to Marjory’s and take another look, but…” She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll find it there either.”

Gabriel plucked one of the wooden ornaments from the tree and cradled it in his palm. The little reindeer looked small and fragile in his large hand.

“She wouldn’t have taken it into work with her, would she?” asked Isobella.

Could she have taken it back to Rarity? It would be easy to hide there. One book among many. Nobody would expect it.

Gabriel glanced at the tree. Rarity had a little tree.

A tree with fake presents beneath it. That’s what she’d been doing when he’d walked in that morning—standing beside the Christmas tree.

She wasn’t supposed to be working. It was her day off, according to her boss.

She’d said she’d come in to finish a catalog she’d been working on, but she’d been standing by the tree, fussing over one of the brightly wrapped parcels beneath it.

“I know where the grimoire is.” He turned to face the woman that would be his ancestor. “Isobella, do you know the preparations needed for this spell?”

Isobella nodded. “I helped Annabelle with it when she was testing it. We’ll need to go out to Muir Woods. The connection with nature seems to help.”

A plan formed in Gabriel’s mind. “Stef, get in touch with Alain. We may need backup. Then take Isobella up to Muir Woods. I’ll go to Rarity and pick up the grimoire, then I’ll meet you there.”

“What about the time paradox? You know, the risk of meeting yourself in the past and…not existing.” Isobella chewed on her lower lip. “It’s something Annabelle worried about. That and the fact she could never quite get the timing right.”

Gabriel stared at the wooden reindeer still in his hand. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

* * * *

Gabriel was grateful that Brian, the owner of Rarity, was busy with a customer when he entered the store.

He made straight for the little Christmas tree by the window, with its silver and gold baubles and gold star on the top.

Beneath it, artfully arranged, were a half a dozen Christmas presents, all with the same gold wrapping paper and silver ribbon.

He glanced at Brian, who was talking animatedly to the customer, a book open on the counter between them. Which ‘present’ held the grimoire?

He sniffed, inhaling the scent of pine, old books, Brian, the citrusy musk of the customer’s Dior Sauvage aftershave and Annabelle.

No help there. He’d have to pick up and smell each individual book.

Brian would notice that, and it may not be of any help.

There was a possibility Annabelle had wrapped them all.

Brian glanced at him over his spectacles. “Oh, hello again. I’ll be right with you.”

Gabriel waved him off. “Take your time.”

Time. He felt it slipping through his fingers.

Who knew what state his Annabelle was in.

Brian turned back to Mr. Dior and Gabriel brought his wolf close to the surface, opened his senses and focused on the gift-wrapped boxes.

There. The one at the bottom of the pile.

A subtle vibration, repelling him. A witch’s ward.

He pulled out his phone and put a call through to Alain.

“This had better be important,” Alain fierce-whispered. “I’m right in the middle of the election debate.”

Gabriel turned his back to Brian and kept his voice low. “How do I break a witch’s ward?”

“Hold on a minute.” A muffled apology, a few startled exclamations, a ‘this is a life-or-death situation’ muttered by Alain, then Alain was back on the line, no longer whispering. “That depends on who created the ward and what its intended purpose is.”

“Annabelle created it. She’s a blood witch. She’s placed it on a grimoire she’s been hiding.”

“Was she hiding the grimoire from you?”

“Yes, but also others.”

“Mmm. Blood witch wards are strong. This could take time. How long have you got?”

Gabriel rubbed his hand across his face. “I don’t have time, Alain. I need it. Now. Annabelle’s in trouble. I have to save my mate, and it’s the only way I can see to do it.”

“Annabelle’s your mate? That helps. A lot. Have you claimed her yet?”

“No.” L’enfer, he wished he had. He wished he’d claimed her Christmas 2020, back in Paris. They wouldn’t be where they were now if he had.

“Right. We can still make it work, but it could be a little showy, and it may hurt a bit.”

Pain he could live with. For Annabelle. Showy… He glanced over his shoulder. Brian was leading Mr. Dior into one of the aisles.

“We have to be quick. I’m in a bookstore. I may only have a few minutes.”

“ Putain, Gabriel! Breaking wards takes time, sometimes days. I’m a witch, not a miracle worker.”

“Maybe, but you’re all I’ve got, Alain. I need to break the ward now. It is a matter of life and death. Annabelle’s.”

“ Merde. Right.” The thump of boots pacing back and forth echoed down the phone line. “Right. I may have something that will work. I can’t guarantee it, but it’s worth a try. Do you have something of Annabelle’s?”

Merde. Something of… Wait.

He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out the little wooden reindeer. “I have a Christmas ornament I bought for her.”

“You gave it to her? Even better. Now, you’ll need your blood.”

Gabriel grunted. He set the little reindeer down next to the Christmas tree, checked Brian and his customer were otherwise occupied, then brought his wolf to the surface.

His canines punched through his gums. He didn’t know how much blood he’d need, but he’d bleed himself dry if it helped him save Annabelle.

He punched his canines through his wrist and blood flowed from the wound, trickling down his hand and spattering on the timber floor.

“Now what?”

“Smear the blood all over the ornament.”

Gabriel did as he was told. “ Oui. ”

“Touch the ornament to the object that’s warded.”

“That’s it?”

“No. Of course that’s not it. Merde , Gabriel. Magic, real magic, is never simple.” Alain sighed. More pacing. “ L’enfer , I don’t even know if this is going to work,” he muttered.

“It’s all I’ve got, Alain. It has to work.”

“Right. Let’s do this. Do you love Annabelle?”

Gabriel growled, and both Brian and Mr. Dior looked his way.

He turned his back to them. “Of course I do. She’s my mate. What sort of question is that?”

“And you want to save Annabelle?”

“ Oui. Of course .” What the hell was up with all the stupid questions? Merde, he didn’t have time for this. “Yes. I want to save Annabelle. Get to the point, Alain.”

“Magic is all about intent, Gabriel. Good, bad or indifferent, your intent is important. It’s what I’m counting on to make this work.”

“Fine. I love Annabelle. I want to save her. Now tell me what the hell I have to do.”

He checked on Brian and the customer again. They were talking animatedly about a book.

“You have to touch the ornament to the ward, but—and this is really important, Gabriel—when you touch the ornament to the ward, you need to keep those things, those feelings firmly in your heart and mind. It’s all about the intent.

The ward is designed to protect the grimoire, to keep it from falling into the hands of someone who wishes to take it from her.

Someone with ill intent in their hearts.

Ill intent toward her. Keep your thoughts focused on saving her, on your love for her. ”

Gabriel glanced at the bloodstained ornament in his hand, then at the Christmas-wrapped grimoire. “And that will work? Will it break the ward?”

Alain was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, “I hope so. Given the time frame. It’s all you’ve got.”

“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 buzzing of 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.