by Chloe Jacobs
“Listen to me,” he repeated. “We may not know where the portal is yet, but we know the creature who brought us here wasn’t the only one of its kind. All we have to do is find the other Lamia. We have a solid lead that they’re somewhere in the mountains. But,” he continued, raising his voice over the muttered complaints and objections, “Wyatt is right. With the eclipse coming, we have to relocate. Once we’ve freed the others, we head for the mountains and ride out the storm.” His voice turned pleading. “We’ve got to at least try. It’s high time we took our destiny into our own hands, don’t you think?”
Like a slick politician, he made it sound so easy, as if they were all going for a stroll through the park on a slightly rainy day. They might get a little wet, but nothing a nice wide umbrella wouldn’t make better.
She understood. Ray’s desperation warred with his sense of responsibility. It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the risks. As she watched him glance down at little Jacob, Greta knew he understood them perfectly, but his anger was obviously stronger than his fear or his guilt.
Wyatt stepped back in to calm them all down. There was a long silence as they absorbed the ramifications of what Ray was asking. Finally, Carter looked up at Wyatt with big eyes that glistened with so much hope. “Is there really a chance we could all go home?”
Her heart lurched. She sensed rather than saw Wyatt’s hesitation, and wondered if he was going to give it to them straight, or try to influence their decision in his role as protector. He looked at her over their heads for a split second, but there was no way she could help him with this. She lifted her shoulders and pursed her lips together. He glanced back down, meeting Carter’s expectant expression dead on with all seriousness.
“If we try this rescue thing now, it’s going to be very dangerous. It’s going to take every one of us working together, and even so, we might not make it. Not all of us.” His gaze moved to rest on each of the boys in turn. “So tell me now that you don’t want to do it, and we’ll just pack what we need and find a safe place to wait out the eclipse. I won’t let anything happen to you boys, and I promise we’ll still make a plan to free the others and look for a way home once it’s safe again—safer, anyway.”
Ray opened his mouth to object, but Wyatt grabbed his arm tight. They argued silently for a long moment but Ray finally nodded. There would be no guilt trips allowed.
Charlie was the first to respond. “I think we have to give it a try. This eclipse is going to hit everyone in Mylena, right? Sloane thinks it will affect the guards in Agramon’s fortress too, right? So we can’t leave the others there. Who knows how many would die?”
Jack, Carter, Leo, and finally Niall agreed as well.
Ray turned to Sloane, but the younger boy spun around and looked at her. “Are you going to stay and help us?”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Sloane—”
“No. If we’re really contemplating this, we need all the help we can get, don’t we?”
Both Wyatt and Ray had deftly kept any part she might play out of the discussion up until this point, but now the rest of the boys turned to face her, too.
Luke would have told her not to make a decision based on emotion. Her heart pounded. She wanted to say no. How could she look into their eyes and agree to lead them all to slaughter?
How could she let them go on their own?
She groaned and swore. A day ago, even hours ago, she would have. But now…“I’ll do what I can.”
Sloane nodded. “Then I guess we better make some plans.”
…
After they’d agreed on a course of action for the day, Sloane came around and sat beside her. She was still shaking inside, wondering how she’d gotten herself into this mess. He was quiet for a few minutes, but finally blurted out, “So, I’m guessing you know how to use that thing?”
She followed his gaze and smiled. He’d been eyeing her sword every other minute, so she had an idea where he was going with this. “I was lucky. For some reason, the sprite who found me when I came over decided to keep me alive and teach me.” She laughed, but the memory of Luke still hurt too much. “God, I hated him at first. He drilled me constantly. Self-defense, weapons training, and all that stuff about Mylena. I don’t think I got a full night’s sleep for two whole years.”
“Why not?”
“He would attack me while I slept. I never knew when it would happen. Sometimes it wasn’t for a week, and then maybe he’d get me three nights in a row, so I was always on guard.” She shrugged. “But I guess that was the point.”
“How many of the Lost have you taken down?”
She hesitated. “Enough to know that you don’t want to come up against them if you don’t have to.”
“Do you think we’re going to have to?”
An image of the twisted, monstrous looking squirrel came to mind and she realized that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what was to come. It was a snowflake on the tip of the iceberg. “Yeah, I do.”
With that, Wyatt called everyone together and gave her the floor. She spent the rest of the day channeling her inner Lucius and drilling every one of them as hard and unmercifully as he would have.
To her surprise, the boys were already pros at stringing their own makeshift bows. They’d learned to use the softer, springy branches of a Yew-like tree, and had been chipping the thin shale rock laying around all over the place into pointed heads that could be tied to lightweight shafts. They’d even been saving the feathers from whatever wild fowl they’d been able to catch, to fix to the end of the arrows.
Carter was their best shot. He hit the bulls eye—a piece of cloth pinned to a tree trunk about sixty feet away—nine times out of ten, but then he started to slip.
“What’s going on?” she asked after watching him miss the last three shots, stopping a safe distance behind him as he huffed and swore.
He shifted, holding the bow and arrow in one hand while he shook out his draw hand. “It’s nothing.”
She recognized the problem right away. “You need a guard to protect your fingers and your arm from the bow string. It’s sharp when pulled tight, and that snap-back is awful.”
“I’m not a baby,” he said, getting defensive. “I can handle it.”
“This isn’t about how tough you are,” she said quickly. “You’re the best shot in the group, so we’re going to get you the equipment you need to make sure you’re dead-on accurate when we need you to be.”
He blushed and nodded, calling out to Ray who, it turned out, was the one responsible for putting together the tents and making sure all their clothes didn’t fall apart.
“Sure, I can get that made for you tonight.” Ray grinned. “Hey, maybe that means you’ll be able to catch us some more of those squawky little things that look like overgrown pigeons. Now that we know what herbs are safe to use, they might taste better.”
The look he turned on her was still snarly, as usual, but maybe a little less so. Greta decided it was time to put him to work.
“Are you ready?”
“Bring it on, hunter.” His smile was a little too confident.
So she used him as her punching bag for the next few hours, to provide examples of her fighting techniques to the others. That surly look was gone in no time after he’d spent a good portion of the afternoon flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him.
It was actually kind of fun to have someone to spar with. She grinned as they circled each other. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, the blood rushing hard and fast through her veins.
This was good for her, too. It sharpened her senses. And Ray was no lightweight. He didn’t go down easy. He was eager to learn and caught on quickly, and when she moved on to train the next person, he helped the other boys who needed direction.
It was near the end of the day when Wyatt finally stepped up. He’d been in and out, working with a small group to pack up camp while she trained the others, and then switching them out.
A hush move
d through the small circle that had formed around her. She had Ray in a chokehold and when he stiffened in her arms, she looked up and grinned when she saw Wyatt with a sword in his hand. “Where’d you get that?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’m good at slipping around unnoticed and, um…liberating people of things.”
She laughed. “Don’t I know it. You ready to take me on?”
“Only if you’re done beating on him.”
She shrugged and let go of Ray, giving him a gentle push. He stumbled a few steps and threw a disgruntled scowl over his shoulder at her, but even he seemed eager for the matchup.
“Sloane, give me my sword.” He’d been covertly manhandling her weapon whenever she wasn’t putting him through his paces and she knew he’d get a kick out of being the one to draw it from its sheath.
She held out her hand and caught Sloane’s gentle, straight toss. With a few swift twists of the blade, she stepped back and made room for Wyatt to come closer.
They started circling one another. The boys shuffled back to give them more room. Wyatt removed his coat and threw it to little Jacob. Greta had lost hers hours ago.
She sized him up, wondering what his strength was. She already knew he was stealthy and quick. “Are you sure you can handle that thing?” She nodded to the heavy looking weapon in his hand.
He grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
With a quick glance around, she examined the rapt faces watching them. How far to go with this particular lesson? She didn’t want to eviscerate the guy in front of everyone and risk damaging their confidence in his ability to take care of them. But he needed to be challenged and improve if he was going to have any chance of protecting these kids when the time came.
“Okay.” She motioned him forward with one hand. “Come get me.”
To his credit, he didn’t rush her, but continued to move slowly. The ground in the circle was mucky and black after an afternoon of training, and their feet were covered in it.
She could tell he was studying her the same way she’d done to him. After a long moment, he glanced past her and nodded so slightly she might have thought she’d imagined it if Ray hadn’t cleared his throat at that moment.
Even as her body shifted instinctively to glance over her shoulder to see what was going on, she realized she’d been duped. She veered out of the way just in time to avoid Wyatt’s swinging blade.
“Oh, so you’re a dirty fighter,” she said with a grin, dancing out of reach as he pushed forward and swung again.
“And proud of it.” He cross-stepped to the side and hefted the sword up. She was impressed with his moves, but sadly, he would soon realize that any chance he had to take her off guard was gone.
With an agile feint, she went on the offensive, swinging low to high and knocking his weapon up. He barely avoided a blade to the chin as he jerked back and threw her a sharp look.
Serious now, they took turns advancing and retreating. With calculation, she pushed forward, swords clanging over and over again. She forced Wyatt to keep retreating until he realized he was headed right for the line of bodies making up the edge of the circle. With a grunt of exertion, he shoved back to give himself room to maneuver back into the middle of the battle area.
She had to admit, he had her fighting hard. And yet, she was going easy on him. He knew it, too. It was in his eyes, filling with a determined steel. “Come on, hunter,” he growled. “You can do better than this.”
Their swords locked together. He grabbed her arm and dragged her forward to pull her off balance. Suddenly her face was inches away from his, framed between the two blades vibrating from the force of their collision.
Her body tensed. They were both breathing hard and fast, gazing into each other’s eyes. His breath caught the same time hers did.
In the frozen moment of stillness, the wind picked up. She felt it ghost across her sweaty skin and the chill brought her back to her senses. She twisted her wrist and slipped her ankle behind his left foot.
He anticipated her move and narrowly avoided being thrown to the ground, but in his attempt at some fancy footwork that would have put him at her unprotected back, he slipped in the mud and went down.
Before he could move, the tip of her sword was at his jugular. Behind him, Sloane turned to Ray with an open hand, who jerked off his nice fur lined gloves and slapped them into Sloane’s palm. They’d been taking bets?
“You’re dead.” She held out her hand to Wyatt.
He ignored it, getting to his feet without any help before bending back down to grab his sword. He swiped at his muddy pants and wouldn’t meet her eyes, bright spots of red staining his cheeks.
Was he upset that she’d beat him? Or was there some other reason for him to feel uncomfortable suddenly? She felt heat rise in her own cheeks at the thought.
“So it seems,” he murmured.
Chapter Fourteen
Greta fell onto her pallet late that night feeling many different things. Exhaustion warred with restlessness. Optimism warred with fear.
They hadn’t had any more encounters with rabid woodland creatures, but that didn’t make her feel much better. The forest had been quiet all day. Too quiet. Deathly quiet.
According to what Isaac had said, the eclipse wasn’t due for two more days, but things were already starting to unravel.
They needed more time. As of right now, they weren’t even close to being ready. Not ready to move, and definitely not ready to take on a demon the likes of Agramon.
Her anxiety had been mounting all day, despite the relatively uneventful afternoon. More than once, she’d tried convincing Wyatt to ditch this crazy plan, but after the entire group had voted, they were all committed to it.
How could she have agreed to walk them right into Agramon’s territory right as the world was about to explode? If only she hadn’t felt certain that leaving them here to die instead would have stripped away what was left of her soul.
The old Greta would have weighed the odds and taken the safest path for herself, but so much had changed in a short time. She had changed.
With a sigh, she turned onto her side, hoping to make the whispering in her head shut up. Luke’s voice was telling her she’d taken on a duty she wasn’t prepared for, heading into danger she didn’t comprehend.
There was another voice in her head too, telling her she could do it. That she was strong. The voice was telling her she had been made for this and needed to use her skills for something good. It said that these boys were hers now, that she was responsible for them in a way she hadn’t been responsible for anything ever before, and she couldn’t let them down. It wasn’t Luke’s voice. It wasn’t even her own, or Isaac’s.
She thought it might be her father’s.
She closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be a new day. One day closer to the eclipse, but also one day closer to the thing she hadn’t dared hope for in four years—the possibility that she might be able to go home again.
Why did the thought cause little pinpricks of discomfort behind her eyes?
It wasn’t because of Isaac. She couldn’t possibly be upset because going home would mean never arguing with him again. Her heart wasn’t aching from the idea that she might never see the intense look in his eyes again, or hear his voice. She wasn’t going to credit her anxiousness with the idea of leaving him behind. He belonged here and she didn’t.
Really?
If Greta didn’t belong here, then where? After all this time, could she return home anyway? Did she deserve to go home? After what Mylena had made of her, wasn’t this exactly where she belonged, just like he had tried to tell her?
Fists clenched beneath her cheek, she desperately tried to banish his face, but that only made her more aware of the low noises coming to her through the thin canvas. Small bodies shuffling, snoring, and whispering softly in the tents surrounding hers. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily tonight, which was probably more a blessing than a curse.
Deciding to embrace
sleeplessness—and thwart Isaac in the process—she rose and loaded up, strapping on her sword and daggers before leaving her tent and stepping out into the chilly night. She might as well make herself useful and relieve Ray and Sloane of sentry duty.
The moons were almost full. By tomorrow night they would be like big pink snowballs in the sky—one slightly larger than the other—and nobody would even notice the cluster of stars glittering around them in fierce, cold glory. How many other worlds were out there, she wondered? Enough to fill that sky?
Circling the outer perimeter of the small group of tents, she found Sloane standing on the edge of the glade with his back against a tree trunk. He wasn’t asleep, but he looked pretty close, making her feel a momentary twinge of guilt. She’d worked everyone hard today—except for Jacob, who had excitedly filled the position of water boy/cheering squad. Sloane especially had thrown himself full tilt into her weapons training.
He looked up now as she approached. The weariness in his stance vanished, and he straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes to see who was coming.
“Why don’t you go on to bed,” she said, wrapping her long woolen scarf around her neck to ward off the chill.
Damn cold. She made fists of her hands and stuffed them under her arms. Sometimes she wanted a pair of thick mittens so bad. They would keep her fingers toasty warm, but the trade-off was not being able to get to her dagger as quickly. She resigned herself to the thin leather gloves with no fingers. “You’re going to need some sleep if you intend to survive what I’ve got planned for tomorrow.”
He groaned good-naturedly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to move tomorrow, but I’ll take whatever you dish out, especially if it means getting to watch you kick Ray’s ass again.”
She chuckled, having heard Ray’s soft step approaching behind her.
“What are you two doing?”
Greta turned around. “I was thinking of taking my turn on the night shift a little early.” As much as she’d pushed Ray’s buttons since her arrival—intentionally and not so intentionally—Greta had come to respect him for his devotion, loyalty, and sense of honor. The last thing she wanted was to undermine his position as Wyatt’s second in command in front of the others. “If that’s okay with you.”
