Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Lots of residents were out and about, heading to work and getting stores ready to open. There was no denying that the medieval city was something to behold. Though it was modernized, there were no phones, no computers, no TVs. But that was part of what Wynter liked most about it. It wasn’t so much a place of technology as a place of preternatural power.
Venice-style canals networked through the city. Each of the Ancients had their very own Keep, and all were sporadically dotted throughout the place. There were also many houses, and no two looked exactly alike. They came in all styles.
Some were rustic and whimsical, like magical country hideouts. Some held a fairytale feel, such as the very singular gingerbread house. Others were old fashioned, featuring wattle walls and timber frames. Some were cute and enchanting, much like the cottage that Wynter and her coven occupied. Beyond all the buildings were rivers, mounds, forests, and caverns.
Residents could shop at the stores, eateries, baileys, or the market near the town hall. Most people spent their downtime going horseback riding, socializing at the taverns, or playing games such as golf and football in the large park.
Artificial sunlight shone down upon the city, but it didn’t stem from the aqua blue stalactites that hung from the cavernous ceiling. It came from the combined power of the Ancients. Beneath the hustle and bustle noise were the artificial sounds of birds cheeping and the flapping of wings. The slight breeze was equally fake yet more than refreshing.
Simulating real-life, the sunlight would gradually fade and eventually be replaced by moonlight, just as the daytime sounds would be replaced by the hooting of owls and chirping of crickets. As such, one could easily forget that the city was underground.
Wynter walked along cobbled path after cobbled path, doing her best to ignore the looks being slanted her way, letting her gaze roam over the Halloween props outside each house—scarecrows, skeletons, ghosts, door wreaths. But some people so very rudely stared at her that there was no ignoring them. They were always the first to look away when she met such bold stares, though.
Striding down her street toward her home, she saw that many of her lycan neighbors were stood around. They didn’t offer her odd glances or glares. They gave her nods or simple greetings. That was the thing about lycans, they were so territorial that they considered their closest neighbors under their protection, irrespective of whatever else might be happening. It was a comfort to know that none would be considering cashing in on the bounty. They’d instead be pissed about it on her behalf.
A relieved breath left her lungs as she finally reached the gate to her front yard. When she’d first seen the thatched-roof cottage from the outside, Wynter had thought it looked like a magical retreat. That “feel” had only deepened since the coven had added more and more personal touches to the exterior—hanging bells, garden gnomes, fairy castle sculptures, a wicca welcome mat, cauldron planters, and hanging baskets spilling with fern.
Of course, the current Halloween-y stuff only made it better. A row of witch hats bordered each side of the path. Synthetic cobwebs were attached to the doorframe. Pumpkins lay on straw either side of the doorstep. Fake ravens were dotted around the angular lattice windows. Hattie had rested some of the brooms from her very vast collection against the stone wall. And then there was Xavier’s contribution—a hand holding a red apple that he’d stuck to the front door near the knocker.
Wynter unlocked and then pushed open the thick door, strangely comforted by the familiar scraping sound it made as it scuffed the floor. Hearing voices coming from the kitchen, she made her way through the living area, pausing to kick a rumple out of the Moon tarot card rug.
The cottage’s interior was charming with its curved walls and wooden ceiling beams. Synthetic vines and maple leaf garlands were twined around the tree-trunk columns. A crescent moon mirror hung above the arched, brick fireplace. Pretty throw pillows adorned the plush sofa and single armchair. Triangular vases of fig and ivy hung from the walls.
A triple moon trunk sat beneath the corner altar, to which they’d recently added some symbols of late fall. So now skulls, pumpkins, acorns, and dried leaves sat with the athame, bell, candles, and cauldron.
The scents of coffee and freshly baked goods washed over her as she entered the kitchen. Xavier and Delilah sat at the barn wood dining table, empty plates in front of them. Hattie was pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven, humming to herself. Anabel stood at the counter sprinkling herbs into her cauldron; her tools and other jars of ingredients were close at hand.
They glanced Wynter’s way with a smile and said brief hellos. Then, as one, they frowned.