“Come, I’ve had the salon set up for tea, if you’ll partake.” Octavia led him down a long hall with exquisite deep navy damask wallpaper and polished wood floors. The second door on the right was open and he could hear a squawking inside. Intrigued, he stood in the doorway as Octavia settled on a long, low couch before a china tea set. The room was open, airy, and brightly lit from three picture windows. Lush plants, from spiky ferns to delicate orchids, were arranged in the windows in planters and pots of different sizes and colors, their shiny glazed surfaces glinting like jewels. And in a massive cage in the far corner sat a stunning blue and gold macaw, its eyes watching Roderick carefully.
“Don’t mind Macon, he’s getting cranky as he gets older,” Octavia said, motioning Roderick into the room. “Please, sit. How do you take your tea?”
Oddly charmed by the room and its inhabitants, Roderick took the seat across from Octavia and accepted a cup of steaming black tea. “Black is perfectly fine, my lady.”
As he sipped his tea, he watched Octavia closely. Her dark brown hair was piled high on her head in an intricate braid as when he first saw her. But now he caught the glint of a pin nestled in the pile, something gold and amber. She was turned out in the highest of fashions for riding outfits, with black leather boots into which black trousers were tucked. Her shirt, a dark grey, brought out the deep russet of her eyes, but it was mostly covered by a velvet jacket so red it was nearly black. He noticed she wore only a single ring, but not like any wedding band he’d ever seen.
So, no lord of the manor, then.
Her movements were precise, but he wouldn’t call them delicate. Steady. Even assertive. She was quick, though, another thing Roderick could appreciate. Once Octavia prepared her tea, she sat back on the couch and gave him that assessing look again. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you here, Ranger.”
Roderick nodded. “It is….unusual for the nobility of the area to invite me before I knock on their doors. If they invite me at all.”
She smiled politely but wanted to tell him how much she related to that statement. Money could buy plenty of things in this world, but a place in proper society was not one of them. “As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, Ranger, Wilderwood is a little different than most towns. It was built by my great grandfather, right after the Spires War. So many people were displaced, their homes burned, their families murdered. He wanted to give those who were lost a place to call their own.” Octavia motioned to the picture windows, through which Roderick saw gently rolling hills sprouting tiny purple wildflowers. “And my great grandfather was a bit of an eccentric himself. Something I think passed down through our line.”
Curious, Roderick leaned forward. His position gave Octavia a better look at his rugged face and deep brown eyes. “Eccentric in what way? Usually that’s a polite word for -“
“Unacceptable amongst most society. Yes, I know. But he was an academic, a learned man, before it became popular among nouveau riche to be ‘book learned’. And when he built the town, he attracted those same sorts of folks, many of whom had lost so much already.” Octavia shrugged, the movement elegant. “And since then, Wilderwood has always been a place for those on the fringes.”
It was Roderick’s turn to assess her. She was clearly telling him all this for a reason - most didn’t make polite chit chat with Rangers. He didn’t want his past interactions with nobility to color every meeting with them; but his instincts and his training belied his inclinations. “I wonder, my lady, why you haven’t inquired as to my business in your town.”
“Why do you think I invited you here?”
She had him there. He huffed out a laugh before setting his half-finished tea aside. “I’m not your first Ranger, am I?”
“You are not.” A look flashed over her face - there and gone in the briefest of moments. But it left him wondering. Asked to swear on it, he would have said it looked like grief. “The last one came through here just over two years ago. Said they wanted to make contact with the Fae portal that was rumored to be in the nearby woods, but since Rangers aren’t supposed to trespass, they came to see me first.”
Roderick frowned. He knew of a few Rangers who stayed in the nearby area, but none of them were invested in Fae matters except one. And that person had been lost to the energies of that strange place, never to return. “Are the woods part of the town?”
“Just outside of its borders. I believe they were being polite, nothing more. They could have gone there without informing me.”
That confirmed one suspicion he had. “I see. So, you understand that a Ranger in your midst means there’s an issue.”
She nodded. “I don’t ask for much, Ranger. You are as free to move about town as any guest. But if the reason you’re here poses a danger to my people, I want to know. As isolated as we are, we’re no strangers to the random beast or creature lurking on the outskirts. And several people here have a little bit of fae or otherworldly ancestry.” Octavia adopted a relaxed pose, but a fire sparked in her honey brown eyes that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. “But the people who live here do so because they chose it. They chose to trade a bit of isolation for the knowledge that their studies, passions, and hobbies would be supported. We’re an enclave of academics, artists, researchers, and craftspeople. And we take care of each other. So, if there’s a danger, please tell me.”
From anyone else, those words would have sounded terribly rehearsed. But Roderick heard nothing but painfully honest concern; a forthrightness he was now understanding to be a part of Octavia Wilder. Mind made up, he steepled his fingers under his chin and said, “Then we need to talk about the forest around the town, my lady. And this includes the Ranger who came here previously for those very same trees.”
***
“So, what’s he like?”
Harken leaned against the wall and pouted. “Clearly not susceptible to my charms.” At Ruby’s glare, he put a hand to his chest. “I swear I didn’t try to influence him! Just did the whole ‘you’ve got the wrong house, mate’ act.” The pout deepened. “Octavia wasn’t happy.”
With a frustrated sigh, Ruby swatted at the man with a kitchen towel. “No, she wouldn’t be! This meeting was already stressful and then you try to prank her guest - a Ranger, no less! Harken, what were you thinking?”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, and by the middle of her diatribe Ruby could see genuine regret flit over Harken’s face. “I know it was stupid,” he said softly, looking down at the floor. “But I’m supposed to be coming of age and Mama says stretching my powers is how you keep buildup from happening.”
Ruby couldn’t yell at the boy anymore. Harken was a young half-incubus, nearly age of majority, and with the wards at their weakest point, she couldn’t put all the blame on him. He was likely overwhelmed by his magic and unsure of all the protocols. But he was also boundary-testing, pushing on limits set up and abided by adults. So no, she couldn’t blame him completely. Her younger years had been spent running wild through the forests picking berries, befriending foxes and squirrels, and saving deer from human poachers.
Bleeding heart that she was, she couldn’t take the boy’s pout any longer. With a swift pull, Ruby wrapped her arms around him in a hug that would have squashed a human’s lungs. Harken dug in, planting his face in her shoulder and sighing. “After shift, we’ll run the woods. Would you like that?”
Harken nodded. “Think Octavia’s going to fire me?”
Ruby tapped him on the forehead so he’d look up at her. “I think if you pull that nonsense again, she’s going to make you muck the stables and feed the pigs.”
Harken wrinkled his nose. “Understood.” Then he brightened and Ruby got the full blast of his charming smile. “Think we’ll find some poachers to throw sticks at?”
Ruby smiled at him, a sense of maternal love blossoming in her chest. She’d known Harken since the day he was born and with his mothe
r alone and often working two jobs, she’s been the boy’s adopted aunt for nearly three decades. “We can certainly try.”
***
Roderick and Octavia stood over a map of the area as he spoke. They’d retreated to her study in the wake of more sensitive discussions and now her wide mahogany desk was home to their cooling teacups and the maps. “The first sighting of a ‘restless, necrotic energy’ was here, about four weeks ago.” He pointed at the forest northeast of Wilderwood, roughly thirty miles outside of the town’s borders. The ring he wore on his index finger glinted in the late morning sunlight. “It was chalked up to tall tales about the Grey Lady.”
Octavia nodded thoughtfully. “A local legend, one that’s been around for several generations.” She studied the map, and then looked to Roderick. “So, I’m assuming the mayors of Bridgeton and Veldersmith wrote it off as superstitious nonsense.”
There was a tinge of anger in her tone and Roderick wondered at the history there. Another mystery to explore, especially if it tied into his hunt for Luther. “That was quickly followed by reports of missing sheep, then mutilated cattle. Bridgeton and Veldersmith sent out hunting parties but found nothing. And what finally led me to believing this is Luther’s doing are the missing hunters. Three, so far, as of last Friday.”
He watched her chew on her cheek, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “And yet they saw fit to not inform me. Clearly I need to have a little chat with my fellow mayors.”
He was likely treading into dark waters with his next question. “Is that common, to have the leaders of the nearby towns not send word about that which threatens all?”
She huffed. “Oh, if it’s a dire issue like our local poet laureate composing in their town square, they by all means send a runner like it’s a life-or-death matter. But for something like this, of course not. Why would they? It only puts all of us at risk.” She frowned at the map, fighting back the urge to rant angrily about the complete morons who ran Bridgeton and Veldersmith. But it would, ultimately, do her no good and possibly make her look like a vengeful fool in front of the Ranger.
Roderick checked his smile; he could see how tightly Octavia reigned herself in and was impressed by that steady hand on the rudder. It wasn’t easy to push aside such powerful feelings, especially when you felt as though you’d been wronged. He knew that all too well. “I do have copies of the reports they made to the local constabulary, if you’d like to read through them. Between the two of us, perhaps we could narrow down the search beyond-“ He checked his notes. “Eighty square miles of forest. Good lord. Every time I see that number my head spins.”
Octavia nodded her assent. “I’m no Ranger, but I do know the area well. And you are doing us a huge service. You are welcome to use the house as a base for your hunt, and I’ll make my staff available to you. You should also stay here. The manor is closer to the woods than The Drake’s Rest and Mama Stockton will understand.” She grinned slyly. “That woman only looks terrifying. She’s got a heart of gold, I promise.”
Roderick put a hand to chest and bowed. “I am grateful, Lady Wilder. If I may be so bold, you and yours are much kinder than most to us Rangers.” His mouth twitched into a brief grimace. “Usually we’re met with suspicion or terror.”
Octavia nodded. “Because they think you’re the ones bringing in the monsters, instead of hunting them?”
“That our presence will doom the town and bring the monsters down upon them.”
“That’s absurd.”
He shrugged. “And yet, sadly, it is not a misconception we’ve been able to rid ourselves of. So thank you, for both the information and the kindness. I will make good use of it.”
Octavia was silent for several moments, her eyes fixed on the map. When she straightened to look at him, Roderick felt a jolt in his gut. It was the oddest thing, but he swore he saw her eyes flare with something like power. He sensed no magic or sorcery on her, and his charms and amulets didn’t vibrate in her presence. Roderick pushed it all aside as she said, “Ranger Arman, a couple of things. First, Wilderwood is a peaceful place. We may be eccentrics, but we watch out for each other and we maintain the peace. We do have some assistance with this from the sisters on the hill. They use a...let’s say rather interesting combination of hickory witchcraft and hill healing. Mostly they treat burns, cuts, help deliver babies, that sort of thing. But they maintain our wards, and the timing of Luther’s attacks and your visit are unfortunate.”
Roderick wanted to preen a little at how patient he’d been, and found himself still surprised at her admission. Most rural towns and villages kept some kind of wards up to keep out the worst of the worst - hags, ghouls, doppelgangers. Creatures that had no soul, no morality, and simply preyed and fed on the populace until they were drained dry. Or a Ranger came for them. “Unfortunate how?”
Octavia shifted from foot to foot and he watched a tendril of hair spiral loose with her movement. It brushed her cheek and she absently batted it away. “We always refresh the wards on the spring equinox. And the wards only extend into the woods in a one-mile perimeter.”
Oh. Oh no. The realization hit him immediately, like a punch to his stomach. He was afraid to ask the next question. “When do Bridgeton and Veldersmith renew?”
“Bridgeton renewed three weeks ago. Veldersmith renews tomorrow.”
“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”
“Indeed.” Octavia made a pained noise before pointing to the map. “We are the next choice for your feral vampire. I am suddenly a bit more sympathetic to my fellow mayors, if they were dealing with all of this while trying to renew their wards.”
“Lady Wilder, I must ask.”
“No, they don’t keep out feral vampires.”
Roderick’s grimace deepened. “I know it’s not the easiest ward to maintain, since the magic tends to keep out other vampires and weres, but I really must implore you to consider adding this to your wards starting this year. My order has been besieged by feral vampires in the past and they managed to wipe out -“ He paused to will away thoughts of Yasmin’s broken body clutched in Luther’s claws. “We have suffered losses at the hands of feral vampires. And I must admit that this one in particular is...personal for me.”
A note of recognition lit up her eyes. “I see. I am sorry, Ranger Arman, for both this ugly business and for your loss. I had wondered why you were alone. We seem to attract Rangers on solo business.”
“Of which I have questions for you, but it’s not important now. Merely a professional curiosity.”
“Of course. I’ll tell you what I can.” Octavia was only lying a little, as she had no issues discussing Bellemy Eislen but wasn’t about to relate more personal details. “But on the issue of the wards, I’m afraid they’re as strong as they can be. I cannot add in what you wish.”
Roderick tilted his head, studying her closely. “Surely you know I must ask why.”
“I doubt the answer will surprise you.” Her face was impressively blank, and Roderick was staring hard at her, trying to read it. “Wilderwood is a safe place for all, Ranger. Everyone.”
Impossible. His charms would have gone off the minute he stepped within miles of the town. Other than a few flickers of distant fae ancestry, he hadn’t seen one ounce of other kind anywhere in Wilderwood. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be direct, my lady.”
Roderick didn’t want to admit that the face she now pulled was rather adorable; a scrunched-up nose and narrowed eyes, as if trying to wash away a bad smell. “We’re a town of eccentrics,” she repeated, as if speaking to a small child. “Wilderwood was built by my human ancestors. But I was not born as such, and I swore to ensure the town remained open to all as long as they obeyed our rules and worked toward our common good.”
Her words rattled in his ears. “Born as such” only had a handful of implications, namely fae, were or -
“I was born vampire nearly four hundred years ago, Ranger Arman.” Octavia pushed up her sleeve and h
e saw the raised carvings under her flesh, like scars that ran deep within her skin. “I am the only living member of my line and you can take heart that it dies with me.”
Four
The previous night
Eislen ran, fast and hard, through the dense spring growth of the forest, dodging rocks, roots, and branches that seemed hellbent on tripping them up. No matter how fast they ran, the sounds of snapping jaws and gnashing teeth were always right behind.
They didn’t dare look back. Not now. Not when so close to the town’s borders. The wards would keep them safe -
An earsplitting, bone-rattling crash and several snarls and yelps sounded behind them, and now Eislen had to look. Because by all accounts, they were still upright and uninjured. But as they glanced back, the wolves that had been chasing them were beset upon by something much larger. It had one of the wolves in its massive, clawed hand and another impaled on a rusted sword. There was a flash of green yellow in its eyes, and Eislen saw the werewolf’s distinct russet hue.
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