Nora Connolly

Nineteen

Nora Connolly

Stupid, was the first thought that rang through Nora’s mind. Roman had been right. She shouldn’t have gone into the evil wizard’s house. But she so desperately wanted to know what happened to her parents—and what happened to Winter---that she couldn’t not go inside. Her gut had told her that the answers were there. Of course, she’d been yanked inside by an invisible force, and the door was slammed shut.

Nora started to pound against it. “Roman!” she called. “Roman!”

“Don’t bother,” a cold voice said, “he won’t be able to hear you.”

She turned slowly, and looked at the stranger that was speaking to her. He was a tall man, in his early fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a beard. “I wondered how long it would be before you found me, girl.”

Nora stared at him. “I don’t know you.”

“No,” the old man said, crossing his arms over his chest, “but you should. I’ve been trying to keep you away from that damn werewolf. I won’t have my granddaughter with a w