Wolfsbane

by Andrea Cremer

  “It’s the chains,” I said, touching the iron at his wrist. “You’ll be able to shift once they’re off.”

  “Connor,” Monroe said, gesturing to Nev. “Get him out of the restraints.”

  Monroe bent down to free Mason.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ethan said, glancing warily at the two chained Guardians.

  “What are you going to do, shoot them?” I snapped. “Do you even remember why we’re here?”

  “Our rescuers want to kill us, huh?” Mason asked, noting that Ethan’s crossbow was trained on his chest. “Nice.”

  “Well, it fits the way everything else has been going lately,” Nev said. “I’d say I’m surprised, but I’d be lying.”

  “They aren’t going to kill you.” I glared at Ethan until he slowly lowered his weapon.

  “What if—” he began.

  “What if it’s a trick?” I said. “Look at them. How are they going to fight like this? I’m worried we won’t be able to get them out in one piece.”

  “That makes two of us,” Connor said. “And here I was hoping for wolf reinforcements as we went along.”

  “If there’s a fight, we’ll fight,” Nev growled as the chains dropped away from his arms. Then he was a wolf, snarling while he limped toward Mason.

  “Oh, man.” Ethan backed away, raising the crossbow.

  “Knock it off!” I said. “They aren’t your enemies.”

  The moment he was freed, Mason shifted too. The two wolves circled each other, sniffing, licking, nuzzling, and finding comfort through their contact. I watched, longing to join them but wanting to let them have their own moment of reunion.

  “Whoa,” Ethan murmured as Mason bared his teeth, sinking fangs into Nev’s shoulder, lapping up the blood that poured out.

  “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “They’ll heal if they do this now. Then they can fight with us.”

  Nev took blood from Mason’s chest; I could sense the power of their bond flowing through the room, replacing their wounds with strength.

  “Glad that worked,” Connor said, apparently sensing the tension in the room lift in the same way I did. “But we need to move.”

  Ethan was frowning. “Hang on.”

  “What?” Connor asked.

  “The blood thing is going to be a problem.” Ethan turned to me. “How the hell are you going to kill any of the others?”

  My brow knit together. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you wolves take bites out of each other, won’t you just heal up anytime you swallow?”

  I had to work hard not to punch him in the face.

  “That’s not how it works,” Monroe said.

  I glanced at him, startled, though given his connection to an attempted Guardian revolt, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d already uncovered the secrets of pack healing.

  With my hands on my hips, I glared at Ethan. “It’s not just drinking Guardian blood that heals wounds. The blood has to be gifted; otherwise it’s just blood.”

  “Gifted?” Ethan stared at me.

  Mason had been watching the exchange. He shifted into human form.

  “She’s right,” he said. “It can’t be taken. The blood must be offered to invoke its healing power.” The bruises on his face weren’t gone, but they’d faded considerably.

  “That’s much, much better.” He smiled, holding his arms out to me. I flung myself into his embrace.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said. “I pretty much thought you were dead.”

  “Gifted,” Ethan murmured again, his expression fixed somewhere between puzzlement and wonder.

  Nev remained a wolf, standing at Mason’s side protectively, but when I smiled at him, he wagged his tail.

  I pointed to the Searchers. “Connor and Ethan, meet Mason and Nev. Monroe is in charge. He’s helped Guardians before.”

  Mason’s eyebrows went up.

  I shook my head. “Like I said, I’ll explain later. Where are the others?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “They moved us around a lot. Kept separating us, rearranging us. We’ve always been in pairs.”

  He paused, swallowing. “They must’ve thought we’d break faster if we had to watch another packmate being taken by a wraith. Nev and I have been in the same room for a while now, but I haven’t been able to keep clear track of the days. I don’t know how long it’s been since I saw any of the others.”

  “Do you think they’re still alive?” Monroe asked.

  “Yeah.” Mason sighed. “The Keepers don’t have quiet executions. If they killed another wolf for what happened, we’d have been dragged out to watch it.”

  He turned sad eyes on me. “Your mom, Calla. I . . . I’m sorry—”

  “I know,” I murmured, cutting him off as a lump rose in my throat. “Ansel told me. He found us.”

  “Is he okay?” Mason paled. “What they did to him . . .”

  “He’s in rough shape,” I said. “But he’s safe.”

  “You said they moved you around,” Monroe interrupted. “Where?”

  “There are four cell blocks down here,” Mason said. “Each is set off of the Chamber.”

  “What’s the Chamber?” Ethan asked.

  “Where violence becomes a spectacle,” Mason said, smiling grimly. “I’ve been writing a song about it in my head. You know, to pass the time. It’s where they killed Naomi.”

  Mason took my hand when I cringed. “And where they punished Ansel . . . and Ren.”

  When he said Ren’s name, his eyes met mine, full of questions. My blood ran hot, pulse racing with the need to find him.

  “We need to check those other blocks,” Monroe said, his voice tinged with the same urgency I felt. “Let’s go.”

  Connor checked the last cell in that block, finding it empty. Mason and Nev were the only prisoners here.

  “I guess it’s door number five, then,” Connor said, moving to the door at the opposite end of the hall from where we’d entered.

  The wolf at Mason’s side, his coat a mixture of copper and steel gray, began to snarl.

  “What’s the matter with your guard dog?” Ethan asked.

  Monroe threw him a stern look.

  “No offense intended,” Ethan added quickly.

  “That leads to the Chamber,” Mason said, his hands beginning to shake.

  “Is there another way to access the other cell blocks?” Monroe asked.

  Mason shook his head.

  “Open the door, Connor,” Monroe said.

  TWENTY

  NO FLUORESCENT CEILING panels hummed in the Chamber. Instead tiny lights bobbed and hiccupped, circling the room, the multitude of oil lanterns signaling us like a somber warning. Bathed in that wavering, dusky yellow, the broad space yawned like a hungry maw. I felt as though a jackhammer was at work against my ribs.

  “Did we go through a time portal or something?” Connor asked.

  “Either that or this is the site of the world’s most depressing Renaissance festival,” Ethan said, stalking into the room, crossbow at the ready.

  As I glanced around the space, I tried to swallow my stomach, which wanted to climb out of my throat. They were right. Unlike the sterile, modern cell blocks, this room had been constructed from flagstones, piled one atop the next, like mounds of slugs, a dark slimy gray that looked perpetually sodden. The dimly lit space was empty save a dais, a gothic mockery of a stage that jutted out from one wall. Words had been carved in the stone facing behind the platform.

  Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

  Dante. I shuddered, thinking of the hellish images that lined the walls of Efron’s office upstairs and how those scenes were probably re-created in this chamber. The room smelled of must, cobwebs, urine . . . and blood. So much blood. I faltered. The scent was overwhelming. Death poured into my lungs, making my stomach churn. Mason caught my arm, steadying me.

  “I know,” was all he said.

  My ey
es kept wandering to the dais, though I tried to tear them away. My mother had been killed there. Murdered by Emile Laroche while my father was made to watch. My brother had been mutilated. And Ren. What had they done to Ren? Tears burned trails along my face until Monroe rested his hand against my cheek, his thumb brushing away the stinging saltwater.

  “Someday all of this will be torn down, stone by stone,” he said. “That is why we fight.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “The cell blocks branch out from each side of the room,” Mason said, pointing to the nearest door—a mirror image of the one we’d just passed through.

  “Is it always empty?” Monroe asked, his question echoing through the cavernous Chamber, emphasizing his point.

  “Not when I’ve been here,” Mason said. “It’s been packed with Guardians waiting for the Keepers’ decrees.”

  “I don’t like it,” Ethan said.

  “Neither do I,” Monroe said, glancing at me. “Can you lead us to the others?”

  I took a breath and almost retched. The remnants of torment had oozed into the floor. I felt like I was trying to track a scent amid a pile of decaying corpses. Nausea made me waver on my feet again.

  “Not here,” I said. “Maybe in the blocks, like the one we just left.”

  “We should do this as quickly as possible,” Monroe said. “Connor, Ethan, and the wolves take point while I try the doors.”

  We moved to the south door first. Monroe picked the lock while Connor and Ethan kept their eyes on the room, scanning for signs of an ambush. Both Mason and Nev were in wolf form now, circling our group, testing the air, their ears flattened, fangs bared against the assault of violent scents that swirled around us.

  Monroe opened the door and I followed him inside. Though still unpleasant, the scents inside the block didn’t overwhelm. I took a few steps forward before shifting into human form.

  “This one’s empty,” I said. “Next block.”

  “No luck?” Ethan asked when we returned to the Chamber.

  Monroe shook his head.

  “Where to next?” Connor rolled back his tight shoulders, eyes still traveling over each point of access to the Chamber.

  “West block,” Monroe said, moving across the room. I glanced around the room. The order Monroe had selected meant we’d search the north block last if we didn’t find everyone in the next set of cells. The north block lay nearest to the dais—and I wanted to go nowhere near the stones that were stained with my mother’s blood. Would her blood stand out amid the stains? Would I fall apart if I caught her scent spilled across those stones?

  As I pulled my eyes off the dais, I thought I saw movement, as if the shadows near the ceiling had shuddered. I stopped, peering into the darkness.

  “Calla?” Ethan paused by my side.

  I waited, watching the spot where I thought I’d caught movement. Only shadows rested there. My racked nerves were making me see things.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, hurrying after Monroe.

  When we reached the south door, Nev whimpered, scratching at the space between the door frame and the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” Monroe asked.

  Nev shifted forms. “I can smell Sabine. She’s in there. Other wolves too.”

  Mason whined, turning in circles, head bent low.

  “How many others?” Connor’s grip on his swords tightened.

  “I’m not sure,” Nev said. “But it’s not only Sabine on the other side.”

  “What about the rest of your pack?” I asked. “Is Ren inside?”

  “If he is, the other wolves are covering his scent,” Nev said. “I can’t pick it up.”

  “But you can smell this Sabine?” Ethan frowned.

  “She smells like jasmine—it’s a distinct scent. Easy to pick out even in a crowd.”

  “Uh . . . okay,” Ethan said, his eyes growing curious. “Jasmine?”

  “Can we talk perfume later?” Connor snapped. “I’m guessing we have a fight waiting behind this door.”

  “We’re ready,” Nev said, shifting back into wolf form, hackles rising as he growled.

  “I’m opening the door now,” Monroe said. “Be ready for anything.”

  The lock clicked. The door opened. I shifted forms, hackles raised.

  The hall was empty, identical to the others we’d already searched.

  “Which door?” Monroe whispered, looking at Nev.

  Nev stalked past the first two cells, muzzle tracking low, sniffing. Mason stayed on his heels, ears flat against his head.

  He paused in front of the far door on the right and looked at Monroe, who nodded. Connor and Ethan had their weapons raised as Monroe turned the doorknob. He hesitated, glancing at the others.

  Not locked, he mouthed.

  The Searchers exchanged a grim look, setting their shoulders as Monroe swung the door open.

  I heard the snarls before two elder Banes leapt from the cell. The first slammed into Connor, yelping when a dagger slid between its ribs. Two of Ethan’s bolts lodged in the second wolf’s chest. It hit the ground, yelping but still on its feet, and whirled to strike again. Mason launched himself at the wounded Bane. They rolled along the floor, a furious tangle of teeth and claws tearing at each other. Nev rushed to Mason’s aid. Ethan ducked into the room.

  “Go with him, Calla,” Monroe said. “If your packmates are inside, they’ll need you to convince them we’re allies.”

  I nodded and slipped into the cell. Ethan was staring down at a third Bane, who was crouched in front of a limp figure along one wall. I saw the spill of dark hair, the curve of slender limbs barely covered by the shreds of a dress. Sabine. She wasn’t moving. My blood ran cold. Was she dead?

  “Calla?” I turned at the sound of my name and I thought my heart would burst. Bryn gazed at me, eyes wide with disbelief. She was chained to the wall just as Mason and Nev had been. Her face was thin, cheeks hollow, her own dress only slightly less tattered than Sabine’s. My throat closed as I realized they were still in the gowns they’d been wearing the night of the union—or what was left of them.

  I yelped, starting toward her, but stopped when I heard Ethan’s low voice.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll step away from the girl,” he said, taking aim at the Bane snarling in front of Sabine.

  The wolf’s ears flattened, keeping its eyes locked on Ethan. It bent over Sabine, its fangs close to her throat. I could hear the vicious pleasure in its low, steady growl.

  She moaned softly, eyes fluttering open. The rush of relief that she was still alive was overrun by horror as the Bane lowered its muzzle, taking Sabine’s neck in its jaws.

  “Calla, you have to do something!” Bryn shouted, straining against her bonds. “Efron ordered the Banes to kill her if anyone attempted a rescue.”

  I wheeled, focusing on the other wolf.

  Ethan was already moving. With a shout, he tossed his crossbow away, barreling into the startled wolf. Human and Guardian crashed to the ground. Ethan swore when the wolf’s teeth sank into his shoulder. I lunged across the room. The wolf moved to strike again, its attention fully on Ethan. My jaws sank into the wolf’s shoulder. Blood spurted and I heard a crunch as my teeth hit bone. The Guardian squealed, twisting to attack me. I rolled along the floor away from its snapping jaws. That split second of distraction was all Ethan needed. He drew his dagger, sliding beneath the wolf, and thrust the blade up into its throat. The wolf shuddered and went still. Its limp body dropped to the floor when Ethan kicked it off of his dagger.

  Sabine’s hand was at her throat and she was staring at Ethan. He went to her side, touching her arm gingerly.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes moving over her body. He looked away, blushing when he realized how much flesh her torn dress revealed.

  “No,” she whispered, still watching him. “Who are you?”

  “Ethan,” he said, clearing his throat while trying to find a safe place for his eyes. “I’m here
to help you.”

  She drew a sharp breath. “You’re a Searcher.”

  He nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “But I’m on your side.”

  I almost choked, not because of the blood in my mouth, but because I’d never imagined those words could come from Ethan.

  “I thought I was going to die.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I was certain of it. He said I would never leave him and live.”

  “Who said?” Ethan slowly reached out, touching her cheek. I saw that his fingers were shaking.

  It was Bryn who answered. “Efron.”

  “Efron Bane?” As if remembering himself, Ethan snatched back his hand and pivoted to face Bryn. “The Keeper.”

  She nodded. “He . . . likes to keep Sabine close. I think he took her choice personally.”

  “What do you mean, close?” Ethan frowned. Sabine met his eyes and something seemed to pass between them.

  His fist closed. “God damn that bastard.”

  Sabine looked away, another tear sliding down her cheek.

  I shifted forms, taking a step toward Sabine. “What choice?”

  “He said I could swear a new oath of fealty,” she whispered, more tears coursing over her skin. “Return to Emile’s pack if I denounced you and your packmates.”

  A choice. The Keepers or me. I shuddered.

  “I wouldn’t,” Sabine continued, grimacing before she brushed the moisture from her cheeks. “I don’t know why you left, Calla, but what they did to Ansel . . . I knew they would do the same to Mason and Bryn. I couldn’t be part of that.”

  “Efron came down hard on her,” Bryn said. “The wraiths were here every day. And only for her. They came for me a lot less. Four, maybe five times. I got off easy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Sabine offered her a weak smile. “Once is hard enough.”

  “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” I knelt beside Bryn.

  She hugged me so tightly I couldn’t breathe. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered again, horror crawling under my skin. I might have been a captive, but I had been safe, well treated, and far from the agony that my packmates had been subjected to day after day since I’d fled Vail.