Madame Lucy pushed the front door open, the wind chimes above it whispering as the trio stepped inside—Peter tugging Rory in first, and Nathan’s enormous black wolf carefully lumbering behind them. He had to duck low, his ears brushing the top of the frame. Even then, his shoulders scraped the edges of the doorway.
The inside of the house was warm, earthy. Crystals hung from the ceiling, dried herbs strung above doorways, and shelves overflowed with jars of roots, bones, and strange powders. A fire crackled in a stone hearth in the corner.
Rory hesitated by the entryway as Nathan’s massive body barely fit through, settling down with a heavy thud in the center of the room. He was still panting lightly, flanks rising and falling. Wounds from the fight with Zara marred his fur—scratches, cl
