Wolfsbane

by Andrea Cremer

  “But what?” Adne’s hands were on her hips. “You don’t approve of my weaving?”

  “It’s not that,” I said, still examining the portal. “But don’t they make you nervous?”

  Adne sighed, slashing her skeans across the portal in a giant X. The door vanished. “Look, Lily. This whole exercise was to show you that it’s perfectly safe. I don’t know what more I can do other than let you walk back and forth through the door all night.”

  “That isn’t what I meant,” I said. “Aren’t you worried the Keepers will just open one of these to find you? It’s perfect for a surprise attack. I mean, that’s what we’re using it for, aren’t we?”

  “Oh.” Adne nodded. “I see.”

  “See what?” I asked. “You should be worried. That’s a pretty big flaw.”

  “Yes, it would be,” Adne continued, smiling wickedly. “If that were a problem, but it’s not.”

  “Why not?” I was irritated by the smug expression on her face.

  “Because our Weavers are so special,” Connor said, sliding his arms around Adne’s waist and kissing her on the cheek before she whirled around and shoved him away.

  “You are such a jerk,” she said, but she couldn’t hide her laughter.

  “I was trying to give you a compliment,” Connor said, feigning an injured expression and not quite dodging quickly enough when she grabbed for him.

  “Would someone please tell me why this isn’t a problem?” I asked, put off by their easy banter when I was still so tense.

  “Keepers can’t create portals,” Adne said simply, slipping out of her impromptu wrestling match with Connor to face me again.

  “Why not?” I asked, frowning.

  “It’s one of the few benefits we have for not breaking the natural magic rules like they do,” she said.

  “I’m still not following,” I said.

  “Remember that whole sin against nature issue Silas brought up earlier?” Connor grinned at me.

  “I do, not that it made any sense.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And I’m surprised you’re bringing it up now.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Only out of necessity. I think you’re gorgeous, wolfie—no mutant features in sight as far as I can tell. Then again, you do have all your clothes on.”

  “Shut it, Connor.” Lydia groaned.

  “Yes, ma’am. Okay—so the Keepers broke some big rules on the way to all that power they have, creating Guardians included,” Connor said, pushing his hands through his messy chestnut hair. “The truth of it is portals work on natural principles. And if you go around offending the earth all the time, like the Keepers do, you can’t ask it for favors.”

  “Huh?” I couldn’t make sense of what he’d just said.

  “Everything in this world is connected—including all the places on the globe,” Adne said. “Weavers use Old Magic to pull together the threads of that connection, linking one site to another. That’s how we travel.”

  “But the Keepers—” I began.

  “Can’t pull the threads to begin with,” Connor finished for me. “They have to travel the old-fashioned way. Or the new technology way, I guess. But no portals. They cannot weave. The earth won’t allow it.”

  I still wasn’t sure I understood, but our conversation was interrupted by the door on the other side of the room swinging open. Dropping to the ground, I shifted, ready to attack the man who had a crossbow aimed at us. Connor stepped in front of me before I could strike.

  “Isaac, put that down! What did we ever do to you?”

  The man with the crossbow grunted. “Oh, good. We were wondering when you’d get here. Why did you open a door in the storage room?”

  “Because if it were Ethan with that crossbow, he’d have already shot her.” Adne pointed to me. “I was being cautious.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Isaac said. “Though all he could do right now is spew cookies at the wolf. He’s been stuffing his face ever since he got here.”

  “Calla, you should try not to shift so much here,” Lydia said, moving to embrace Isaac. “Where’s my best girl?”

  I shifted back into human form, swallowing a retort that hovered on my tongue. What did they expect? I didn’t have a very good history with Searchers and crossbows.

  “She’s in the kitchen with Ethan,” Isaac replied.

  “How is Ethan?” Adne asked. “Aside from being filled with cookies.”

  Isaac looked at me. “He’s coming around.”

  “That’ll do,” Connor said, taking my hand and pulling me to the door. “Isaac, meet Calla. She’s the alpha who’ll be leading our fabulous new Guardian revolt.”

  I’m doing what? The ramifications of this new plan came crashing down onto me like a rock slide.

  “Is that all?” Isaac grinned. “Nice to meet you, rabble-rouser.”

  I shook his hand, giving Connor an unfriendly sidelong glance.

  He slapped me on the shoulder. “Just making sure your reputation precedes you.”

  “Thanks.”

  We followed Isaac, whose wealth of long, minuscule braids swung from a ponytail at the nape of his neck as he sauntered into a large room that was empty except for the mats on the floor and weapons hanging from the walls.

  Seeing my eyes wander, Lydia smiled at me. “Training room.”

  Isaac led us through another door, where we were greeted by a roaring fire, the smell of fresh coffee, and two faces. One smiling, the other scowling.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Lydia opened her arms to a woman who looked about the same age—thirty-five give or take a couple of years—and whose chin-length crop of springing curls was reminiscent of Bryn’s, except for their blue-black hue.

  “It’s my lucky day,” the woman said, kissing her.

  “Can it be my lucky day too?” Connor asked, eyeing the liplocked pair.

  “Don’t hit on my girlfriend, Connor.” Lydia laughed, pulling the other woman into a fierce hug.

  “I wasn’t hitting on her,” Connor objected. “I gave her a compliment. You think I’d poach your territory? You forget that I patrol with you. I don’t want to be at the wrong end of your daggers.”

  “Smart man,” Lydia said, then turned the other woman to face me. “Tess, this is Calla. She’s the slumbering wolf we’ve been hoping would stir.”

  “And stir she has.” Tess came to me immediately, offering both her hands. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Again that word . . . honor. It threw me.

  “Thanks.” I took both her hands; they were soft and warm. When she smiled, it lit up her pale blue eyes, full of sincere kindness. I liked her instantly.

  “Do we have time for a cup of coffee?” Isaac asked, holding up a pot. “Or are we jumping straight to blood and guts?”

  I stared at him, startled by the questions that pitted coffee against gore.

  “You won’t be jumping anywhere,” Lydia said, pulling Tess back into an embrace. “Reapers are to hold down the fort. Just Strikers and the wolf out on this run.”

  “And me,” Adne said.

  “I heard you’re the new Weaver, Ariadne.” Isaac was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Adne,” she replied. “It’s just Adne.”

  “Still rebelling against your father, Ariadne?” Tess asked as she leaned against Lydia. “We’ve talked about that.”

  “You’ve talked about that,” Adne said, pushing past them to grab a seat at the kitchen table next to Ethan, who was staring at his coffee and a plate full of cookie crumbs. “And would you two get a room? You know not everyone here has stumbled across true love and yet you two rub our noses in it every chance you get.”

  “Watch it,” Lydia said. “We don’t get that many chances and you know it. We’re lucky to share an hour in the same time zone on most days.”

  “Besides, you’re sixteen, Ariadne.” Tess fixed her with a stern gaze. “You haven’t had time to stumble across love yet.”

  �
��Sure she has.” Connor slid into the chair on the other side of Adne, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “She just doesn’t appreciate it yet.”

  Adne groaned and dropped her forehead onto the table. “I’ll marry the first person who gets me a cup of coffee, I don’t care who it is.”

  “Throw me a mug, Isaac!” Connor half rose.

  “Oh, please,” Adne mumbled onto the tabletop.

  “Are you kidding?” Connor said. “A cup of coffee instead of a ring? That’s the kind of proposal I’m ready for.”

  I traced the cool metal band circling my finger. When I caught Adne watching me, I hid my hands under the table.

  “And all you can afford,” Isaac added.

  “Well, that too.” Connor laughed.

  “I still don’t have any coffee,” Adne said. “Even with my generous offer.”

  “Don’t give up that easily, sweetheart.” Isaac smiled, bringing Adne a steaming mug. “Coffee, Calla?”

  “Uh, I—” I hesitated, still not understanding this bizarre chatter in the face of impending battle. “Shouldn’t we focus on the attack? Anika said we only have a brief window for this to work.”

  The room went silent. I held my breath, clearly having said the wrong thing.

  Tess took pity on me. “Sweetie, there’s always time for a cup of coffee.” She took my arm, settling me in the chair next to Connor.

  “Time for anything good when you’re staring death in the face,” Connor added.

  “Amen,” Ethan muttered from the corner.

  I gazed at their thin, bleak smiles and my confusion evaporated. I thought about their lives. About what they had to face. Keepers. Guardians. Wraiths. The stuff of nightmares.

  Survival. That’s what this was about. The Searchers were warriors, like Guardians. They looked at every fight like it could be their last. All of this—from oddly timed coffee to Connor’s inappropriate jokes—fortified their defenses. Only this wasn’t body armor. It was a mental bulwark. A way to save their spirits from despair.

  As strange as it was, I could get on board with this strategy. Especially if it involved coffee, though I wondered if the crankiness of not getting any might give me the winning edge in a fight.

  “What is this place?” I asked, trying to piece together the storage area, the training room, and now the kitchen.

  “We have outposts adjacent to the major Keeper settlements across the globe. They have two main purposes: to keep us connected to our contacts in the human world and to use as staging areas for strikes against Keeper targets.”

  “It’s home sweet Purgatory.” Isaac sighed.

  “It may be Purgatory.” Lydia laughed. “But the coffee is damn good.”

  “Purgatory?” I frowned, then smiled when Isaac handed me a mug full of swirling liquid, black as tar.

  “You know, it’s the place you get stuck between heaven and hell,” Connor said. “Heaven being the Academy and hell . . .”

  “Is Vail.” Ethan pushed his chair back and went to the far side of the room, apparently no longer able to tolerate my presence.

  Tess shook her head at him, but he ignored her, drinking his coffee in solitary silence.

  I decided that giving Ethan a wide berth was probably my best bet. Whether he trusted or liked me didn’t matter. I hadn’t come here to make friends. I was here to save my pack.

  I turned back to Connor. “So where are we exactly?”

  When I asked the question, I had to hide my own shudder; if we were close to the Keepers, how safe could we be?

  Lydia answered as she and Tess joined us at the table. “We’re in a warehouse in Denver. Weavers open doors from here to our strike sites. Strikers come and go according to their assignments.”

  “And we Reapers sojourn alone,” Isaac said, looking mournful.

  Tess clucked her tongue. “Are you saying I’m not good company?”

  “Not if it means you’ll stop cooking for me.” Isaac flashed a grin at her.

  “He’s got you cooking for him now?” Lydia asked. “You’re much too nice.”

  “Don’t ruin my arrangement, woman!” Isaac protested. “Plus I do the dishes.”

  “He does,” Tess said.

  I took a sip of my coffee, trying to keep up. “What are Reapers?”

  “There aren’t many Searchers left in the world.” Lydia’s voice had a hard edge. “Most stay at the Academy teaching or training; they only head out for missions on an as-needed basis. But those who are still fighting the good fight day-to-day live in outposts like this one. Our teams always have the same distribution of members: groups of ten, specific assignments for each member. The Reapers gather supplies and run valuable goods through the black market, maintaining our cash flow in contemporary world currencies.”

  “Black market?” I frowned, a little nervous.

  “Don’t worry, Calla, we don’t deal in nasties, like human organs.” Tess giggled, shaking her head. When I laughed uneasily, she hurried on. “It’s mostly art and antiquities. Stuff we know how to find that other people wouldn’t have access to.”

  “She’s trying to tell you that Reapers are smugglers,” Connor said. “But nice ones.”

  “Connor, you know we trained long and hard for this work,” Isaac said.

  “Longer than you,” Tess added.

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Standard training for Searchers is two years of general skills and another year of specialization for assignment,” she said. “Reapers do an additional two years.”

  “To learn how to smuggle?”

  “Look what you’ve done now, Connor.” Tess shook her head. “No, that’s not how it works. Reapers know art history, language, and classics backwards and forwards. That’s in addition to their combat training. Reaper work is almost more dangerous than the Strikers’ duties.”

  I cleared my throat nervously. “And the Strikers are?”

  “The Strikers are your counterparts,” Lydia said. “They’re trained to be the first line of offense against the Keepers. They execute hits against designated enemy targets. But that mostly means they kill Guardians.”

  “Great,” I said, feeling my canines sharpen at her words. “And Weavers open doors. And Monroe, he’s your—”

  I tried to remember what they’d called him.

  “Guide,” Tess offered. “He’s our Guide.”

  Ethan came forward, slamming his empty cup on the table. “Now that preschool is over, can we get moving? Anika had a point. We only have a few hours of daylight left.”

  “Ethan!” Tess was on her feet.

  “Easy, girl.” Connor stood up too. “He’s right. We need to head out.”

  Lydia looked at me. “I’m sure you still have lots of questions. I’m sorry we can’t answer them all right now.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I rose from my chair, muscles humming. The caffeine buzz and the thought of getting into the forest had me itching to run.

  It was time for this alpha to find her pack.

  SIX

  THE DOOR ADNE OPENED this time revealed a landscape I’d known my whole life. The snow-covered slope sparkled under the afternoon sun, cut at intervals by the shadows of towering pines.

  “That’s the eastern face,” I murmured. The need to run, to track my packmates and bring them to safety was overwhelming. I ground my teeth as I fought for control.

  “Yes,” Adne said. “Will this work? We have the rendezvous point set nearby. Grant’s on a snowshoeing trail about a half mile away; it’s in the park reserve that runs up against the edge of your patrol routes, but he shouldn’t draw the wolves’ attack . . . hopefully.”

  “I hate winter,” Ethan grumbled, lacing up his boots.

  “I can’t wait to make a snow angel,” Connor replied as he strapped on a pair of snowshoes.

  “Sometimes I really don’t like you,” Ethan said, reaching for gloves, but I could tell he was trying not to smile.

  Lydia laughed and continued to put on
her own winter gear. “Calla, Ethan and I are going with you to track down your packmates. Connor is heading in the other direction to meet up with Grant.”

  I nodded, though I silently wished it were Connor coming with us rather than Ethan. It didn’t help that Lydia took point as we headed into the portal with Ethan bringing up the rear. I worried that having my open back in range of his crossbow might prove a little too tempting.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Adne said, closing the door. She leaned against the tree. “Don’t take too long. I think even my twenty layers might not hold up at this elevation. It’s freezing.”

  Her comment pulled me back from thoughts of running wild through the snowdrifts. “Why don’t you just wait inside?”

  The Searchers stared at me. I stared back, not understanding why they were frowning. When a door was open, you could see the other side of a portal. It was blurry, but not that blurry.

  Ethan grumbled something under his breath. Adne glanced at him before offering me a quick smile.

  “Sorry,” she said. “We forget you don’t know all the rules. Portals are never left open.”

  “Never.” Ethan stamped the snow. “And Weavers never join an actual strike—they stay at the outer edge of any mission zone.”

  Adne scowled, but Connor shook his head. “You know why it’s necessary, peaches.”

  “Shut up.”

  Lydia placed her hand on Adne’s shoulder. “Weavers are the most powerful and valuable instruments among the Searchers. We try to keep their risk minimal.”

  “But that’s my point,” I said, frustrated by how much I still didn’t know about my supposed allies. “If she’s on the other side, she can just close the portal at the first sign of danger.”

  “No matter how careful a Weaver is, we still make mistakes.” Adne’s eyes were like knives. “Something could get through.”

  “I thought you said Keepers can’t do portals,” I said.

  “Keepers can’t create portals,” Adne said. “They can still go through them. So can their beasties. Guardians, wraiths, whatever.”

  “And if the Keepers ever got their hands on a Weaver,” Lydia said, “if they forced a captive to open doors, we’d never see them coming. That’s why portals stay closed and Weavers can’t be Strikers. They work outside the danger zone . . . as much outside it as we can manage, at least.”