“I don’t know, maybe back into Wyndoor. It would prove our theory if it were true. But if they came in and don’t want to be here, why not just go back the same way? Unless they can’t?” I gasped, realization smacking into me as I tried to keep up. I had a question of my own. “Did you hear what Jorta said, when I asked him about our friends?”
Sirris slowed down finally. We were almost to the last bend in the trail before town. “Yeah. Do you think he meant Thomas? I mean, with their own advanced senses, it’s possible they could pick up on the fact that they were all werewolves, even if they differ from the werewolves in Wyndoor.”
I nodded, slowing to a fast walk and holding one hand high, while the other rubbed at a stitch in my side. She slowed down beside me with an apologetic glance as we rounded the last bend.
And froze.
In the path directly in front of us, was a small red fox, bushy tail curled around her slim body, the white tip covering her dainty paws. She’d been waiting for us. She tilted her small elegant muzzle, nose quivering as she scented the air in our direction, as curious about us as we were about her.
I recognized the same small fox from the time before. I was looking at Wendy Seul, professor of our shifters class and a fox shifter herself. And Nick Seul’s mother. I wondered how much of her human memories and awareness remained intact in her non-human form. Sirris, I knew, wouldn’t be aware of who she was staring at, because I hadn’t shared Nick’s confession with anyone. It wasn’t mine to share.
Sirris crouched down on one knee, fascinated. Being half-shifter herself, she loved all creatures big and small, as long as they weren’t trying to eat her. “Aren’t you the beauty? Look at you, all bushy-tailed and wonderful.” She murmured.
Wendy gave a flick of her tail and lifted her nose. She gave a high yip that didn’t sound at all dog-like. She stood up and moved off the trail into the woods. The last time we’d seen her, it had been from a distance in the deep dark of the forest and I hadn’t had a chance to get a good look. We were closer, and the moonlight lit her up. So now I noticed what I’d missed. She had a rather severe limp. Her right rear leg didn’t function entirely right so that when she moved, it lacked the mobility of her other three limbs. The result was a rather severe limp. Still, I could only imagine the joy this form brought her, because lame or no, she could still run. She paused just off the trail and looked back at us, giving a second yip of warning when we hesitated.
I remembered what Nick had said. “I think she wants us to follow her again.” I told Sirris, moving to follow. We left the main trail. More jogging. Only now I hopped over limbs and skirted dead fall and ducked so the low limb on my right didn’t take my head off. Despite her handicap, she moved plenty fast.
We were traveling horizontal to where Bitterroot was as she pulled us onto another path that ran parallel to the one we’d been on before.
Wendy went left on the trail and disappeared from sight for the space of several seconds around a sharp turn. When we made the bend and caught up, we realized she’d stopped and stood poised over something rather large in the middle of the path; left for someone, anyone to find.
My heart started pounding faster as the dread slammed into me. “Oh, no.” Murmured Sirris beside me as we drew closer, recognizing the same coarse clothing that much of the Tuttle clan favored. Wendy had moved several yards off and sat watching us, shoe-button eyes gleaming with an emotion that was more human than dog.
We neared the figure on the ground. He looked like an unseen hand had dropped him to sprawl where he lay, limbs twisted every which way where he’d fallen. The smell as we bent beside him told us more than the finger I lay against his carotid, hoping against hope the cold clamminess of his skin concealed a heartbeat. But we both knew he was long dead, probably by a couple of days at least. I didn’t recognize him, and when I looked at Sirris stricken face, she shook her head as well. But underlying the scent of death, we smelled canine shifter. He was a Tuttle. I assumed he was one of the group that had gone missing over two months prior.
Confusion swam in Sirris eyes, mirrored in my own I knew. The dull dark pattern of old bruises and wounds decorated his upper torso and arms, exposed through the tattered remains of whatever clothing he’d been wearing when he disappeared. He hadn’t had a good time of it wherever he’d been. His presence here, on the inside of Drae Hallow, raised more questions than it answered. We both knew that every one of the missing Tuttles had disappeared several miles from here, on the other side of the mountain, beyond the shield, and during the middle of the prior semester, several months past.
The corpse was old, but not old enough. Only a few days ago, he’d been alive. Maybe in the midst of the despair I felt over his senseless death I shouldn’t have found hope, too. But the fact that he’d been alive so short a time ago made me wonder if maybe the others still were.
“We have to report this. Now.” I told Sirris. She glanced my way, lower lip trembling. We both should have been immune to the sight of death. It wasn’t like we hadn’t seen plenty of it before. But the tragedy of it, the sadness hit us particularly hard. To survive for so long in captivity, only to end up discarded and dead like so much refuse high-marked the hopelessness of it all.
My eyes glanced to where Wendy Seul had been sitting only a moment before, cleaning her paws and watching us all. But she was gone, having faded back into the forest from where she’d come, the limp not slowing her down at all.
With one last glance in the dead man’s direction, we turned towards town.
“YEAH. THAT’S HIM. HIS name was James. James Rae. He was a friend of my brother’s”
Thomas’ face was the color of ash as he stared down at the young man, laying on a gurney in the morgue. The coroner had peeled back the top half of the sheet, exposing his torso and face. I knew Thomas wasn’t missing the bruises. He’d suffered before he died. We stood behind him, Sirris hand reached out to touch his shoulder, but he shrugged her off. I snagged her hand and squeezed.
We left the room as they returned him to the locker. I wasn’t sorry to leave the cold antiseptic smell, used to conceal the scent of decay, behind.
In the next room The Mayor, Lucas Seul, and several members of the Guard waited. But they weren’t waiting for Thomas. He never glanced our way as his broad back disappeared through the door. A glance in Sirris direction and I saw the hurt she tried and failed to hide.
Lucas Seul’s expression pulled my attention. He looked grim and angry. We’d told him about the fox with the limp that had guided them to the body. I didn’t have to tell him that the fox was his wife. I knew he’d figured that out.
“You found him on the path into Bane forest? Last night, at dusk? Did you see anything else while you just happened to be there?” Neither Sirris nor I missed the sarcasm.
“No, just the body.” I admitted, ignoring the snarky tone.
I found Carol’s calculating gaze on both of us and I tried not to squirm. Uh, oh. “So, more of the vampire’s handiwork?” We both looked up at that, blinking. My mouth was open to speak. I never got the chance. “Strange thing,” she continued. “Last night the Guard went out, trying to track them down? They were acting on an anonymous tip on where they were holing up. Was an excellent one too. Plenty of evidence when they got there that the vamps had been there.” She stepped in closer, and we took a step back. My eyes flew over her shoulder to land on Lucas Seul. His eyes were shuttered, but not so much I couldn’t see the disappointment lurking there.
Carol Shamon wasn’t finished. “Imagine their surprise though, when they arrived and found that the vamps had flown the coop. They were gone. Almost as if someone had warned them, told them the Guard was coming. We all know that’s crazy. I mean, who in their right mind would try to warn off the beasts that are killing the good people of Bitterroot?” I felt my back as it hit an invisible wall. I was out of room. I had a terrible feeling about this. Next to me, Sirris didn’t need to be an Empath to know we were screwed. It was going dow
n; we were just waiting to see what direction it would fly in from.
I tried once more to open my mouth, to feed them the story we’d concocted on the way back to town to tell them about the body, but I snapped it shut when Lucas Seul held something up in the air. Something familiar that I wasn’t aware I’d lost when we battled the vamps the night before.
A bolt. Maybe when the vamp and I had tumbled around on the ground it had spun loose from the bow or out of the quiver. Or... did it matter?
I was finally allowed to speak. “I think there are some things about the vampires we don’t know. Finding the dead...” I never finished the sentence.
This time Lucas Seul stepped in; his eyes conflicted but buried in regret. “What we do know Sadie, Sirris. Is that you both went against the direct orders of Drae Council? You went behind our backs to undermine our; my authority!” His voice gained in volume as we cringed.
“You told them we were coming! What if they’d decided to use that information and retaliate, set a trap? What if you’re stubborn determination to know best had cost the lives of some of those young men just doing their duty and following orders?” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them back up, his expression was resigned.
“I can’t help you on this one ladies. You’ve taken the decision out of my hands.” His eyes moved to the two guards standing at the door, waiting. He nodded in their direction and stepped back. My eyes flew to Carol’s. I expected to see deep satisfaction reflected there. After all, in one fell swoop we’d just confirmed every bad opinion she’d ever had about both of us. Instead, she refused to meet our eyes, looking away when the guards stepped forward.
I felt Sirris tremble beside me and I instinctively moved closer to her. Finding trouble was second nature to me. I was a natural at it. But Sirris was different. Her sweet goodness was a beacon to all who knew her. Call it Mermaid Magic or just her own brand of wonderful. A small hitch under her breath had me losing mine. I’d done this, led her to this moment we couldn’t talk our way out of.
The hard-eyed Guard stopped in front of me. Roger, the first young guard from the first day I’d come into Drae Hallow so many months ago, looked at me. It had to be him. My luck was holding up fine.
I was only relieved that they didn’t pull out the cuffs.
CHAPTER NINE
Fern sat on the edge of the bunk and looked down at her orange high-tops with regret. With a sigh, she shoved them aside and grabbed the brown and green hikers next to them and put them on, lacing them up. The high tops didn’t blend, not where she was going—where she needed to go.
She stood up and grabbed her pack, glancing at the empty top bunk and frowning. Her roommate hadn’t come back last night. She hoped Sadie and that crazy crew she hung with hadn’t gotten themselves in some kind of trouble.
That was part of the reason Fern grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulder. She had places to go and Demon wolves to see. Something was going on in her world, something weird, and she was going to find out what it was.
Fern closed the door behind her and moved like a wraith down the hall, inclining her head towards the prefect, Margie, who never looked up and saw her shadow as she passed. Fern was good at that—blending in. She lived in the shadows because she was comfortable there.
She wriggled her fingers, straightening them and waiting for the crack of sore knuckles. The words were there as well, waiting for her mind to set them free and cast a spell to do her bidding. For now, they were unnecessary. Fern saved them for when they were needed. She grimaced. It was probably the most normal part about her.
She moved down the steps of the dorm building with soft grace along the sidewalks that led to the main trail out of Drae Hallow at dusk. She went alone as she did most things, because alone didn’t hurt as much.
Sadie Cross had the right of it. She was a witch, and a damned fine one. She was training to be one of the Greats. But it wasn’t her only gift.
Only one other person knew what she really was. Her other power, or curse depending on who you asked, was her ability as an Empath.
Most thought Fern Mason hid from the company of others because she was cold and felt nothing for anything or anyone. The reality was not even close.
The lights of Rule 9 academy faded behind her and nobody saw her go. She was confident they’d have missed her even if they’d been staring straight at her. She could be invisible that way.
At the portal leading out of Drae Hallow she reached slim fingers up above her head and traced the pattern there, welcoming the spark of electricity that trembled along her fingers. Fern stood back as the hard rock faded and the doorway appeared. Without a sound, she crossed over the thresh hold.
Little more than an hour later she was on the other side of the mountain and traveling the dark trails, drifting in silence, her grey eyes reflecting the pinpricks of light that slipped though the branches and lit them up at night. Fern didn’t worry about being discovered by anything that didn’t belong. She’d be aware of what they felt before they got close enough to know she was there.
She enjoyed the walk, the solitude and the peace of mind the darkness gave her. She thought back to Smaug’s and the longest speech she’d given in a year to Sadie and Sirris and her friends. The experience had left her incapacitated with a severe migraine for the rest of the day as she’d struggled to process the sea of raw emotion that had swam in the atmosphere of that ice-cream shop. The struggle Fern faced daily to seem normal and unaffected was exhausting.
Parts of the consciousness of the cream winged insect she’d sent as her own personal spy into the Council’s den came back to her. The hunt for the vampires, the damage they’d done and the attacks unpunished as long as they roamed free taking victims. But she also recalled the mention of the Dark Faction’s involvement, which made her frown. There was more at stake here than seeing justice served. She hadn’t lied about believing there was a connection between the demon wolves and the vamps. It was why she was wandering to the east side of the outside of Shephard’s mountain all alone at night. There was another reason. She would not feel guilty that she was also protecting her own interests.
Lost in thought, the brush of emotion was so faint at first, she missed it. But when it slammed into her with all the force of a sledgehammer, she came to an abrupt halt, holding her hands up as if to hold off the pain. Fern moved slower, edging closer, sticking to the deeper shadows. Her fingers were already moving as she came within a few yards of the source of the crippling emotion. They traced the patterns in the air as she whispered the incantation that allowed her slim frame to further blend into her surroundings, so well in fact that even as she edged into partial view, slinking along the tall ponderosa pines from trunk to trunk, they didn’t see her. Fern stilled and listened, close enough to hear every word, the spell only partially protecting her from the force of the rage pouring off of them in waves.
The three demon wolves, were camped close to a substantial overhand near the cliffs, large enough to form an adequate cave like area and shelter from the worst of the elements. They reclined around the fire they’d built in the center of the clearing outside it. The tallest one was pacing back and forth, while the other two reclined in a less agitated state, but still fired up.
The words were guttural to her ears, grating rough against her sensitive hearing. Still, she realized with a start that they were speaking in a crude form of English she could understand.
“We’re running out of time. We have to find a way back before they find us. We can’t last long out here without the others.” He growled.
One wolf, short and stocky compared to the others, reclined against a large log, using a large stick to poke at the fire and rearrange the logs. “We’ve looked everywhere, Giat. They froze the other portal from before that moved between here and Wyndoor. Maybe we haven’t found another way because there isn’t one, have you thought of that?”
The third wolf sat on a flat rock, further away from the fire and dining
on what looked like the remnants of a rabbit’s hind leg. “We should have pressed harder. If anyone knows the way back, it’s that girl and her friends. You should have let us make them talk. A little persuasion...” He tore off a strip of meat with his sharp incisors and chewed with gusto. Giat, taller than his companions by several inches, glared at his scarred countenance in disgust. “Liad, If I’d let you do what you wanted to they’d be dead. How much information would we have gotten then?” he asked.
Liad shrugged, tossing the bone into the fire where it sizzled and popped, flaring brighter for a moment. “Would have been more fun my way. Just saying.”
Giat whirled away and stalked to the edge of the clearing.
Fern held her breath, praying the spell would hold. He stood less than five feet away and seemed to stare straight at her.
She could feel the anger and the despair rolling over her from the tallest wolf, Giat. He puzzled her the most. Of the three, he was by far and away the most intelligent. It seemed they weren’t here by choice either, that someone had drawn or sent them through the portal. And now they wanted to go back, like the vampires did.
Fern frowned, and the spell wavered as the wolf turned away. She inhaled a slow and steady breath. She’d come close to discovery. She was reaching the limit of how long she could hold the illusion of blending into the surroundings to near invisibility. She just needed a little longer.
The short, stocky wolf poking the fire pulled something up and held it in the fire's light. It was a scrap of checkered fabric, ragged and old.
“As Liad said, you should have let us make them talk. Then they could have told us about this. They were really interested in it when they found it. They think it might lead to their friends who disappeared. Do you think they crossed over somewhere else?” Giat stared at the scrap of cloth, reaching down to snatch the square of cotton. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, snorting at the faint smell of a wolf pup.
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