ONE
Nothing ruins a lovely day like being stalked by a supernatural. I know someone is following me. I just haven’t been able to catch a glimpse of the fellow.
I presume it’s a “fellow.” No one ever sends a woman to threaten me, which really is an oversight—the supernatural women I know are far more dangerous than the men. Maybe I just travel in the wrong circles. Or the right circles, depending on how you look at it.
At this moment, though, I would prefer a little less danger in my day, given that I’m walking along a very busy London street with my very human friend and her very human cousin. If anything goes wrong, I’d never want Audrey and Henrietta to be caught in the cross fire. Especially when—like most humans—they have no idea that their world contains things like, well, me. A witch, currently conveying some very dark magic to my aunt’s half-demon client.
Magic this fellow stalking me might be hoping to steal.
Audrey taps me with her parasol, opened against the midday sun. “Don’t turn around now, Cordelia, but there is a man following you.”
She says this lightly, teasingly, but I still tense.
“No need to worry,” she says. “He’s just interested. As usual.”
Henrietta rolls her eyes my way. “And here I thought we might actually finish a walk without Cordelia attracting at least one admirer.”
I sigh dramatically. “He’ll need to get in line. I already have more suitors than I can possibly handle.”
“None,” Audrey says. “You have none, because you accept none, and if you send this poor fellow into the queue, he’ll discover he has stepped over a hole and disappear forever.”
Henrietta laughs.
“I think you might like this one,” Audrey whispers. “He has a dangerous air about him.” She leans toward her cousin. “Cordelia always pays attention to those ones.”
As we pass the next window, I look at my reflection while pretending to adjust my bonnet. At last I spot my stalker across the narrow street, about a dozen feet back.
I frown as I examine him in the reflection. He’s not the sort of “dangerous man” Audrey teased me about noticing. Those are supernatural thugs who look as if they have a blade in each boot and a pistol in each pocket.
This one is a very different kind of threat. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. The sort of man who seems ordinary but radiates a palpable air of menace that has others giving him a wide berth.
A vampire? A high-level half-demon exuding something that even humans sense?
Or maybe I’m overly sensitive to danger, and humans grant him space only because he’s too well-dressed for this street. He wears a crisp new top hat—very fashionable in fashionable neighborhoods, which this is not. His relaxed suit is also up-and-coming couture for the man-about-town. He’s tall and clean-shaven. Maybe only a few years older than my twenty-three. His jet-black hair is already curling despite pomade.
He does look dangerous. But why? My brain seizes on this little mystery with the ferocity of a terrier. Is it the angles of his face? The set of his jaw? The intensity that pulses from him? Or is it the way he moves, powerful despite his lean build and fancy suit?
I shake off the question. What matters is that he must be dealt with, and I can safely do that, this being midday on a public street.
I catch up to my friends and chatter nonchalantly until we reach the next street.
“And this is where I leave you,” I say, a little louder than necessary. “We’ll meet back here at the top of the hour.”
As Audrey and Henrietta continue along, my pursuer tucks himself behind a group of tradesmen. With that distinctive hat, though, he towers several inches above them.
It’s a poor attempt at concealment. I can do better. The first step is to raise my parasol, giving him an easy marker to track. Then I, too, join a group of factory workers. I’m tall for a woman, but there are enough men in the group to hide me. Once among them, I turn to a ruddy-faced young woman and say, “You look as if you could use a parasol. Please, take this.”
I press mine into her hand. Her mouth opens in surprise, but before she can say a word, I slip behind a hansom cab awaiting a fare. Her group continues on, the parasol high, her friends tittering and exclaiming over her luck.
I cast a blur spell. It’s sorcerer magic—my aunt and I aren’t Coven witches, so we use every spell we can master.
When I peek out, my pursuer’s top hat bobs along behind a cluster of men. I switch to a witch’s cover spell, which hides me as long as I don’t move. Then I wait until the men pass, and I see the shadow of the tall fellow in his fancy hat. I step into his path—
“Oh!” The man draws back, and I find myself staring at an older gentleman, his hands raised as if I’m about to rob him.
I look up at his hat—the exact one I’d seen on my dangerous-looking pursuer.
“Nicely done,” I murmur under my breath.
Copyright © 2025 by KLA Fricke Inc
Excerpt from The Wolf Queen’s Curse copyright © 2025 by KLA Fricke Inc. Witch of the Wolves by Kaylee Archer (Excerpt)
ONE
Nothing ruins a lovely day like being stalked by a supernatural. I know someone is following me. I just haven’t been able to catch a glimpse of the fellow.
I presume it’s a “fellow.” No one ever sends a woman to threaten me, which really is an oversight—the supernatural women I know are far more dangerous than the men. Maybe I just travel in the wrong circles. Or the right circles, depending on how you look at it.
At this moment, though, I would prefer a little less danger in my day, given that I’m walking along a very busy London street with my very human friend and her very human cousin. If anything goes wrong, I’d never want Audrey and Henrietta to be caught in the cross fire. Especially when—like most humans—they have no idea that their world contains things like, well, me. A witch, currently conveying some very dark magic to my aunt’s half-demon client.
Magic this fellow stalking me might be hoping to steal.
Audrey taps me with her parasol, opened against the midday sun. “Don’t turn around now, Cordelia, but there is a man following you.”
She says this lightly, teasingly, but I still tense.
“No need to worry,” she says. “He’s just interested. As usual.”
Henrietta rolls her eyes my way. “And here I thought we might actually finish a walk without Cordelia attracting at least one admirer.”
I sigh dramatically. “He’ll need to get in line. I already have more suitors than I can possibly handle.”
“None,” Audrey says. “You have none, because you accept none, and if you send this poor fellow into the queue, he’ll discover he has stepped over a hole and disappear forever.”
Henrietta laughs.
“I think you might like this one,” Audrey whispers. “He has a dangerous air about him.” She leans toward her cousin. “Cordelia always pays attention to those ones.”
As we pass the next window, I look at my reflection while pretending to adjust my bonnet. At last I spot my stalker across the narrow street, about a dozen feet back.
I frown as I examine him in the reflection. He’s not the sort of “dangerous man” Audrey teased me about noticing. Those are supernatural thugs who look as if they have a blade in each boot and a pistol in each pocket.
This one is a very different kind of threat. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. The sort of man who seems ordinary but radiates a palpable air of menace that has others giving him a wide berth.
A vampire? A high-level half-demon exuding something that even humans sense?
Or maybe I’m overly sensitive to danger, and humans grant him space only because he’s too well-dressed for this street. He wears a crisp new top hat—very fashionable in fashionable neighborhoods, which this is not. His relaxed suit is also up-and-coming couture for the man-about-town. He’s tall and clean-shaven. Maybe only a few years older than my twenty-three. His jet-black hair is already curling despite pomade.
He does look dangerous. But why? My brain seizes on this little mystery with the ferocity of a terrier. Is it the angles of his face? The set of his jaw? The intensity that pulses from him? Or is it the way he moves, powerful despite his lean build and fancy suit?
I shake off the question. What matters is that he must be dealt with, and I can safely do that, this being midday on a public street.
I catch up to my friends and chatter nonchalantly until we reach the next street.
“And this is where I leave you,” I say, a little louder than necessary. “We’ll meet back here at the top of the hour.”
As Audrey and Henrietta continue along, my pursuer tucks himself behind a group of tradesmen. With that distinctive hat, though, he towers several inches above them.
It’s a poor attempt at concealment. I can do better. The first step is to raise my parasol, giving him an easy marker to track. Then I, too, join a group of factory workers. I’m tall for a woman, but there are enough men in the group to hide me. Once among them, I turn to a ruddy-faced young woman and say, “You look as if you could use a parasol. Please, take this.”
I press mine into her hand. Her mouth opens in surprise, but before she can say a word, I slip behind a hansom cab awaiting a fare. Her group continues on, the parasol high, her friends tittering and exclaiming over her luck.
I cast a blur spell. It’s sorcerer magic—my aunt and I aren’t Coven witches, so we use every spell we can master.
When I peek out, my pursuer’s top hat bobs along behind a cluster of men. I switch to a witch’s cover spell, which hides me as long as I don’t move. Then I wait until the men pass, and I see the shadow of the tall fellow in his fancy hat. I step into his path—
“Oh!” The man draws back, and I find myself staring at an older gentleman, his hands raised as if I’m about to rob him.
I look up at his hat—the exact one I’d seen on my dangerous-looking pursuer.
“Nicely done,” I murmur under my breath.
Copyright © 2025 by KLA Fricke Inc
Excerpt from The Wolf Queen’s Curse copyright © 2025 by KLA Fricke Inc.