The Twisting

by Laurel Wanrow

  Putting down her glasses, Miz Gere rose and came to the door. “Daeryn, you have to realize, not every girl is going to fall for your handsome looks and pretty talk. Let this one…” She frowned.

  “She is gone, isn’t she? Mary Clare, too?”

  After a moment, Miz Gere nodded. “I told Annmar I couldn’t pay her after her trial ended. I thought we’d made an arrangement, though perhaps she’s gone to Market Day looking for another position. I’m sure she’d let me know if she was leaving for good. She has wages coming.”

  “She’s not at Market Day,” said a young girl behind them.

  They turned, and with a shaky hand, Mary Frances held out an envelope addressed to Mary Clare. “It’s from Mary Alice, our oldest sister. I-I read it already. I wasn’t going to tell, but Ma says no secrets if the person is in danger.”

  Miz Gere took the envelope. “What danger?”

  “The Outside city,” Mary Frances whispered, her eyes wide. “Everyone knows it’s dangerous, but Mary Clare so wants to go there. I didn’t tell her Mary Alice said she could visit, ’cause she might go if she got the letter. But he”—the girl nodded to Daeryn—“says she and her best-est friend Annmar are missing, and I remembered that this morning Mary Clare packed a lunch.” Her green eyes welled with tears. “Two of everything.”

  Daeryn’s aching stomach sent up a wail of pain. That had been a good-bye kiss.

  “If she doesn’t know Mary Alice said yes, then why did they leave?” asked Mistress Gere.

  Mary Frances swallowed. “I heard them planning a punishment, with sketches or something else. Mary Clare said she’d get me if I told anyone, but it’s for a Mr. Shearing.”

  “No, they didn’t.” Miz Gere put a hand to her mouth.

  Daeryn spun to her. “What? What else do you know about the bas—man?”

  The lady turned to the little girl. “Thank you, Mary Frances. You did the right thing telling us. I’ll let your mother know.” She waited for the girl to enter the kitchen, then faced Daeryn. “Annmar came to me with a story about him confusing her with his touch and thought he had done the same to me. I dismissed the idea, thinking it no more than a young woman’s awe of a successful businessman who had paid her undue attention. But in asking my fellow consortium members about their dealings with the man, I discovered every last one of them took a loan—and regretted it. Most accepted the offer when he delivered their purchased machines, and none could say why they’d done it. Then I realized I’d also wanted to buy more of his machines, right up until he started playing games with us.”

  Daeryn snorted. “Then my running him off did more good than we thought.” It might land him in a heap of trouble to suggest the businessman was a witch, but he had to ask: “Do you think Shearing worked his Knack on you?”

  She nodded. “Repeat this only if necessary: The other Farmlands Elders and I are investigating the stories of dozens of Basin farmers he’s contacted. However, my immediate concern is for Annmar if she’s gone to confront him.”

  “I want to go after her.”

  Miz Gere clasped his shoulder. “Do it.”

  Daeryn raced out of the house and across the farmyard, chickens scattering before him. Annmar was a new Knack-bearer. She had no idea how dangerous a Basin witch could be.

  He pounded up his bunkhouse stairs, taking two at a time, and burst into the room he shared with his best friend. “Rivley?” he called. “Get up.”

  He wrenched open a dresser drawer. His hand hovered above the clothing inside. What did he need to go to the city? He opened the next drawer, but he couldn’t seem to find anything to suit. Damn, it didn’t matter. Clean trousers landed on the floor. He dropped his trousers, pulled off his shirt and spun to the wardrobe, throwing the doors wide, pawing through shirts. “What should I take?” he mumbled, then louder, “Riv? Get up.”

  From deep in the covers came a hissed, “Sleeping. Leave me alone.”

  Daeryn whirled and kicked Rivley’s bed.

  “Get out,” Rivley snapped.

  The hair on Daeryn’s neck rose, sprouting with polecat fur. No packmate dared refuse a call to action. Daeryn shoved his hands into the mound on the bed and heaved it over.

  Rivley landed, his lean limbs tangled in blankets, his reddening face screwed into fury. “What are you doing?” He thrashed out and smacked Daeryn in the legs, knocking him off his feet. “I’ve had next to no sleep, you ass, and got caught quaking in my boots, thanks to you. They won’t let me operate the Harvester if I’m not better by tonight. And I have to be. I won’t put Mary Beth in that position again. Or Master Brightwell.”

  Daeryn scrambled up, dread and nerves and outrage burning through him. His muscles hummed and twisted, his raging body allowing him only one solitary thought: “Annmar has gone to the city,” he snarled.

  “I don’t blame her!” Rivley rose on his knees and swung at him again.

  No! Daeryn’s instincts screamed. He shifted form and pounced on Rivley’s back, landing on his left shoulder and sinking his canines deep.

  “Get off—” Rivley punched Daeryn’s forehead and tried to lift him around the middle.

  Daeryn dug in his claws and held fast, his jaws locked in place. Rivley twisted, issuing shouts and then hawk shrieks when he tried to shift and couldn’t.

  Seconds later, the mark was done. Daeryn relaxed his jaws and extracted his teeth. Four deep punctures connected by a ring of smaller skin breaks. Instinctively, his tongue rolled out, and he licked the welling blood. One swipe sanitized and sealed the wound with the acidic saliva that rose in ’cambires with the marking urge.

  Daeryn retracted his claws and dropped to the floor, changing forms and straightening as Rivley did. They faced off, both glaring, neither backing down, neither averting his gaze. A growl rose in Daeryn’s throat, answered by a harsh click from Rivley’s.

  “What the hell is with you?” Riv shouted. “We agreed to discuss this!”

  Great Creator, Riv is… Daeryn stepped back and cut his vocalization. Rivley didn’t move. He wasn’t acting beta. Definitely not beta. Daeryn held himself rigid, muscles roaring with the strongest ’cambire urges he’d experienced in years. What had he done? He’d marked Riv, but then backed down—him? An alpha? And Rivley… Rivley looked—ah, furious.

  This wasn’t how things were supposed to work—or was it? Every instinct said he needed Rivley at his side. Pack. Now, to protect Annmar. What they’d realized was needed to solve the gildan…and for him to be with Annmar. His head spun with confusion. I’ve forced a mark on Rivley. He’d never done that before.

  Rivley had never fought him before.

  He agreed to be pack, just last night. In that second, Daeryn became all too aware of his body: standing on his toes, leaning forward, fists clenched, hackles raised. Not this way. This was one move short of a fight. Like he’d nearly had with Jac. He and Rivley were more equally matched, but… He didn’t want to fight his best friend. He wanted his friend back.

  He wanted Annmar back.

  But this…ah, hell. He and Riv had agreed to co-lead. Their first gildan lesson had resolved because they’d realized they each should claim an alpha position. The gravity of his mistake settled onto Daeryn, and his stomach clenched tighter than his fists. He eyed the avian. How could he avoid a fight? His standoff with Jac from a week ago stirred in his memory. Fight her with words, Rivley had said then…and now demanded.

  Daeryn forced his balance to his heels, his arms to loosen, his fists to open. “Discussion? Up until I suggested that, you didn’t care if we talked about it.” Damn, anger still edged his voice. Daeryn cleared his throat and tried again. “We never talk like we used to. Maybe you were right, we just need to become pack. Maybe you’re right now, I should have talked it over.”

  “Damned right.” Rivley’s fists pumped. “This is not working together. We’re supposed to work together to restore a pack. As co-leaders.”

  “We are working together. We have the doodem. The Harvester works.
And now I need the help of a packmate to find Annmar. She’s left the Basin, and I can’t follow alone.”

  Rivley stomped a foot. “So you’re going to drag her back here and mark her, too?”

  “I-I don’t know the next step with her. But she’s gone and in danger, and I have no future with her if she’s not here and we’re not free of these.” He pointed between the bloodstones sparkling in their navel piercings.

  “You only had to ask,” Rivley snapped, his voice escalating. “Even if Brightwell said the Harvester still needed repairs, you’d come first. Whatever it was, I would have said yes. You never—”

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  They jumped at the banging on their door. It flew open. Maraquin, dressed in a flannel shirt that hung to her knees, stepped one foot in and pushed aside mussed strands of dark hair to peer at them. “What’s the problem down here? Jac wants to know if you’re in trouble—” Her roving gaze fixed on Rivley’s shoulder. “Oh. Well.”

  She looked between them, one side of her mouth quirking into a smile. “Neither of you looks like you need help.” She heaved a sigh and jabbed a finger forward. “Take it outside, Jac says. You’ve woken everyone, and if you don’t get the hell out of here, she’s going to come kick you out. Or your asses. We’ll be crap for tonight if this keeps up.”

  She spun around and stomped off. They listened while she pounded up her stairs.

  Daeryn held up his hands. “Can I start over and explain?”

  Rivley jerked his chin to his shoulder. “Kind of hard to do that.”

  His hackles prickled up at Riv’s tone. “Just listen, would you? Annmar left to confront Shearing.” Daeryn repeated the little he knew, including Miz Gere’s investigation into Shearing possibly swaying other Basin farmers. When he’d finished, Rivley’s frown had grown deeper.

  “Er, right,” Rivley said. “So, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, but that Mr. Shearing isn’t a stranger to Annmar. He was a client she’d done drawings for. He has a scarred hand, and she thinks he’s the one who hired the ropens to kidnap her. Apparently, he wanted her to return badly enough to try it himself.”

  She…no! Daeryn turned to the wall, balled up his fist and…stopped. He needed to be able to run. “Damn.” He leaned his forehead to the cool surface and pinched his eyes closed. “That’s what Mary Frances overheard. Annmar is going to try to punish him—and hell”—he straightened and pivoted—“Shearing approached her right before Miz Gere let Annmar go.”

  “What?”

  “The lady told me she has no money to pay Annmar. With no job at Wellspring, could she have returned to ask this Shearing fellow for a job…of some sort? That makes no sense. She wouldn’t try to punish a prospective employer.”

  A staccato of clicking burst from Rivley. “Annmar as much as said she hates the man.” He picked up his trousers and headed for the bathing room. “Be with you in a minute.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  Daeryn finished dressing by the time Rivley returned and sat on his disheveled bed to shove his feet into his boots. His gaze fell on Rivley’s bitten shoulder. “I don’t know if ending this gildan requires working as pack, but I won’t make you keep my mark.”

  Rivley stood, batting away the suggestion. “Maraquin saw it. Jac already knows. You follow through, or I’ll be forced to mark you.”

  That would not happen. Once again, they locked stares.

  This time Rivley stepped back and broke eye contact. “By the Creator, Dae, what’s with you?”

  “I’m scared for her.” He tipped his head and stared at the ceiling. “I finally meet a girl I like, and she falls prey to a scheming arse. I will do whatever it takes to see her free of him, including following her Outside.” Daeryn lowered his gaze to meet Rivley’s. “Sorry, I didn’t do this right. I’m one step from trouble every move I make these days, and I don’t know why. What I do know is I don’t want to fight you. In or out of a pack.”

  After a moment, Rivley nodded. “We’ll find Annmar.”

  Daeryn’s inner urges quieted. Why he was out of sorts or had these strong urges now was still a mystery, but they must be on the right path. He grasped Rivley’s hand and shook it. “We need one more person for this to work.” And Daeryn damned well better stay human to make the arrangements. He reached for the doorknob.

  “Derby sounds like a big place. You sure are putting a lot of hope in finding her.”

  Daeryn’s hand froze in mid-turn. “I have to trust in hope. Otherwise, what else do I have?”

  Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  Daeryn slanted his gaze toward Rivley in the dim corridor along the nocturnal guards’ rooms. They needed Terrent. The fox boy knew how to get through Forestridge’s Borderlands without using the Gap Gateway. They had no Proofs, nor time to apply for them, making it the only way Outside. Yet if the passages were as dark and confined as a tunnel, Rivley would never manage it. Daeryn would solve that when they arrived. First, he had to acquire Jac’s agreement to borrow Terrent from guard duty.

  He’d messed up with Rivley, but might be forgiven. With Jac, he wouldn’t be. The wolf would kill him if he just left, taking away another ’cambire predator. His chest tightened. Would Jac hear him out and agree to his request like their collaboration yesterday? Or would she fall back to her old snappish habits? Like he had.

  Honestly work together to restore yourselves and your pack.

  Pacing slowly on, Daeryn formed up his opening line while clenching and unclenching his fists. Not forceful. That had been a mistake with Rivley. Desperate might work. Jac would believe him to be in her debt, which would be true.

  Too quickly, they arrived at the wolf girls’ door. Both of them. Daeryn looked fully at Riv. “Thought you’d never been to their room.”

  “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t invited,” he muttered, and after a pause added, “Besides, same as with Annmar’s room, apparently if one of us can get in, the other can, too. This gildan’s binding has a greater power than we realized.”

  Hang it all. So what did that mean for breaking it? Daeryn steeled himself. He knocked firmly, but not too loudly.

  Behind the door, a snapped, “What?” cut the silence like a gunshot.

  He knocked again.

  A growl preceded Jac threatening, “This better be urgent.”

  The floorboards creaked, then stomping footsteps prompted Daeryn to beat out a mental reminder: I need her help. I will stay human.

  The door opened, and Jac stood before him, her face slack and bearing dark smudges beneath dull eyes. “Why,” she hissed in a voice so low he had to strain to hear it, “are you interrupting my sleep? Again.”

  He blinked. Jac hadn’t cursed, yelled or lashed out. Damn it all, if the wolf wasn’t leaps ahead of him in self-control. “Uh, thank you for answering. I need some help.”

  Jac’s brow flew up.

  Daeryn explained the trip—skipping Miz Gere’s suspicions—then said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d cover for me while Terrent accompanies Rivley and me through that alternate passage.” Jac didn’t respond, so he added, “If not for me, then to repay your debt to Annmar.”

  “So what if I owe her?” Jac said. “Miz Gere said for you to go, not take our best shooter.”

  Daeryn fisted his hands. Jac flicked her gaze to them. Figured she wouldn’t miss that, even in this state, yet he couldn’t release them now. “Would you just cut the crap and help me? Consider it an extension of working as a team.”

  Jac’s eyes narrowed. “Some of us will not be working if others of us don’t get her sleep.” She started to close the door.

  Daeryn thrust out his hand and slammed it open. Quick as he was, Jac jumped aside, letting the door bang the wall. Her expression tightened, but so did his as he stepped over the threshold.

  Behind him, Rivley cleared his throat.

  Damn, he’d irritated both of them. “I’m sorry about your sleep,” Daeryn said evenly. “I just need help getting through this cavern—”

  “Why do
n’t you go the normal way?” Jac asked with a rumbling growl.

  “Don’t have Proofs.”

  “Then plead with the Gatekeeper, not me.”

  Rivley elbowed him. “Forget it. We can do this, just the two of us, if we—”

  “We can’t,” Daeryn snapped. “My chance of getting out of the Basin is far better sneaking through a cavern than convincing a Borderlands Gatekeeper to bend his rules. But Terrent needs to lead us.” He turned back to Jac. “To help…a co-worker.”

  “To help your sweetheart—”

  “She’s not my sweetheart.”

  “You want her to be,” said Maraquin from her bed.

  Ah, hell. If he could have done this some other way besides in Mar’s face, he would have. He lifted a hand to rake it through his hair and thought better of it—more evidence of his frustration. Instead, he casually pointed to Maraquin. “Right, she’s not. But you both know my feelings for her, so it shouldn’t surprise you that I have to do this. Look, I can’t spill details, but Miz Gere is digging up evidence that Shearing might be coercing our fellow farmers with more than words. Knowing that, would you do any less than your best to find and protect one of your own?”

  “Of course not.” Jac shuffled closer. “Why does Terrent know about this cavern and not anyone else?”

  “He found it as a kit and used it to sneak into the Basin—” Daeryn slapped a hand to his head. “Great Creator. The pests. That could be how they’re getting in.”

  Maraquin scrambled off her bed. “Seriously? You mean Terrent has known of a secret way in all this time and never said anything?” She elbowed Jac and pulled her back to whisper in her ear.

  Daeryn couldn’t hear what she said, but Rivley nudged him again and gave a slight nod as the wolf girls talked. Daeryn released his breath. Jac really was better to get along with than a fortnight ago.

  And more in control than I am.

  Jac stepped away from Maraquin. “You haven’t considered our other team duties.”

  Hell. “Jac. This girl needs some help. Don’t make me force—” Daeryn snapped his mouth closed. When would he learn to think before he spoke?