Halfway Bitten Read Online Free Page A

feeding Gus and changing into ratty clothes that were more forest-ready, I wandered up the back path between my house and a row of birch trees that were busy shedding bark like a dog’s hair on a white couch. Their small leaves rattled happily in the light wind, ignoring my bad mood altogether. I cast a look of mild reproof at the irritatingly pretty row and stalked off onto a well-worn path hemmed by low ferns and the odd blackberry. Up a mild incline, I found a deer path that doubled as a cut-through to the other side of town, a sort of impromptu sidewalk that locals used. The meandering track wove in and out of the trees, always at the edge of the meadow that circles the upper crescent of the lake where there aren’t many cabins or homes. One of the reasons Halfway is still tranquil is that we haven’t allowed it to be overrun with cheap vacation homes or hideous McMansions filled with visitors who don’t care about the lake. Or the town. Or us, for that matter. You can always tell that type in the diner; they rarely remove their sunglasses when ordering the waitresses around. I’m glad we’ve dodged that particular tourist bullet. So far.
    I reached that point in a walk where the mind begins to travel in a sort of cheerful meander. I missed Wulfric, but knowing he was out there somewhere felt good; I knew he would come back, and we would celebrate by beginning the joys of discovery all over again. He was a sweet and careful lover; not that I’ve taken a ton of men to bed, but I could feel a gentle strength within him that told me at every second we were together, he was aware of me. My needs. My size, which is more important than you might think.
    You try sharing a bed with a guy whose feet hang off the end of the mattress.
    He would take my face in his gentle hands and kiss me, all the while letting his body ease onto me with the grace of a deer. There was something primal about him that made me relax; Wulfric was above all else a man, not a boy. I reveled in his warmth when the sun was just coming up in that cool hour before the world woke up and life began.
    I picked a lovely fiddlehead fern and marveled at the mystery of its knurled green shape. After a few minutes, I was shadowed by some pines that ran along a slope, when I noticed something.
    Actually, it was a lack of something. As in silence.
    Silence in the woods is rarely good. Birds should be calling, frogs doing whatever you call their noises—but, you know, slimier—and the bustle should never fade to stillness while you’re standing in the middle of a fairly remote open space, no matter how close it might be to town. I didn’t even have to reach out with my senses; I knew I was being watched. I lifted the fern head to my lips and nibbled at the crisp little jewel while casually reaching out with my magic to scan the area.
    There were two of them. That much I knew. What they were was opaque, and I dared not push too hard with my power, knowing that my charms would give away any concerted effort on my part. Blessed metal might store magic like a battery, but it vibrates like a tuning fork when you draw upon it. Any magical being in the area would feel it and know their cover was blown, and that might scare them. Frightened beings make bad decisions, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that kind of mistake.
    I let my power ebb and then reached out again, but this time I did so slowly. Odd . Now there was one of whoever was watching. I kept my brows from raising and let my pace drop until I was taking steps slowly enough that each footfall was spaced by a quiet second. In those breaks, I listened. What I heard made my skin flush hot with anger. It was a feminine laugh, low and disdainful.
    The smell of tobacco smoke tickled my nose, and a series of most uncharitable thoughts bounced through my head just as Anna spoke to me from ahead on the path.
    “Hi, Carlie. You really are an outdoor kind of girl, aren’t you?” She was perched on a