by Emma Savant
16
It was a werewolf. It had to be.
And there might be more up ahead.
The bike skidded across the undergrowth and came to a stop, and I removed my dagger from my boot.
“Who’s there?” I demanded.
The dark shape moved. It was bigger than I’d thought werewolves would be, almost as tall as me on all fours with broad shoulders the width of a large boulder.
The shape moved again.
It wasn’t a werewolf. I squinted, wishing I’d thought to put a cat-eye spell on myself before I’d left so I could see better in the dark. But it wasn’t a boulder, either. Rock didn’t shift like that.
The thing made a sound. I cut my engine to hear better, and a blinding flashlight illuminated my face. I shielded my eyes. Footsteps approached me, and I tensed, dagger raised.
“Scarlett?”
It was a man’s voice, and it sounded surprised, not violent. I lowered the blade.
“Who’s there? Get that light out of my face.”
The blinding beam dropped, and I blinked several times to try to get the afterglow to fade. The man came closer, and I pulled my phone out and turned on my own flashlight.
The face looking back at me was familiar but took a second to place. I widened my eyes.
“Alec?” I said. “Forrest Designs?”
And the hulking shape behind him was a tent.
This was the last person I’d expected to see—and also, who in their right mind went camping in werewolf-infested forest on a week night? I tightened my hand around the dagger and tensed my legs against my bike.
“What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same question,” he said. He glanced down at my motorcycle, seeming totally confused, and raised his hand to block my flashlight. I lowered the phone.
“Sometimes I like to ride my bike through the forest in the middle of the night,” I said.
It was the most stupidly obvious lie I’d ever told, but I stared straight at him like I expected him to buy it. That was one of the earliest Dagger lessons: people would believe anything if you delivered your lines with enough confidence.
This seemed a bit of a stretch, though. He looked from me to the bike and only seemed to get more confused.
“You—” he said, then trailed off. He tried again. “In the forest. You—why?”
I straightened. “Adrenaline rush,” I said.
This was only getting worse.
“Some people like to mountain bike,” I said. “I do, too. Just a different kind of bike.”
Nothing about his expression changed, but he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with this line of questioning. “Cool,” he finally said and blinked a few times. “I guess.”
“So what about you?” I said. “Camping isn’t allowed.”
“I know,” he said. “I put up some talismans to keep Humdrum cops away. You woke me up.”
“Do you not have work in the morning?”
“I do,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I can’t get my nature fix in tonight.”
He was not, I noticed, wearing pajamas. He was in a T-shirt and jeans, which had both seen better days. Nor did he seem like I’d just awoken him. His eyes were bright and sharp and watching me closely.
He shoved his free hand into his pocket, while his flashlight dangled loosely, the beam pointed at the ground, casting a swinging pool of light on the undergrowth.
“You shouldn’t be here at night,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
“Right back at you.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“And I don’t?”
There was nothing that irritated me more than men assuming I was some delicate little flower. That could be an advantage, according to the other Daggers. Men like that usually underestimated us, which made it a lot easier to get them in handcuffs. I still found the attitude grating.
Alec scanned the area, like he expected someone to overhear us out here in the middle of nowhere.
“There are dangerous people in these woods,” he said. “Not just Humdrums or Glims like me who are trying to get a little outdoors time.”
“Yeah, I know stuff goes on here,” I said. “Trust me, I’m not planning on meeting up with anyone for a drug deal.”
“I’m not talking petty crime,” he said.
He shifted from one foot to another. I took in the way his gaze shifted from mine, and the curve of his wiry shoulders, and the long scratch on his arm. I squeezed the handle of my dagger.
“You talking about werewolves?” I said.
His instant change in posture was everything I needed to know. He hunched his shoulders and looked back at me with the same expression I’d seen on one of Ginger’s old dogs who’d been caught eating food off the counter.
I raised my dagger and held it back, ready to strike.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” I said. “Back away or you’ll wish you had.”
Both of his hands flew up, and he stepped backwards. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Someone already hurt my grandma,” I said. “Where is she?”
His eyebrows drew together, and he took another step back. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t do anything to your grandma. Wait, is she okay?”
There was actual concern in his voice. I lifted the dagger.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His voice was higher, almost a yelp. “I don’t know, honestly. Can you put the knife down, please? I would never hurt your grandma. I would never hurt anyone. What’s going on?”
I stayed frozen, eyes locked on him. His own were wide, and his fingers were splayed, as if to show me that he wasn’t hiding a weapon, even between them. His face had gone pale, too. He seemed genuinely frightened of me.
Well, good, I thought. He should be.
“Where are the werewolves?” I said. “They took her.”
“Put the knife down, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me, and I’ll put the knife down,” I lied.
He shook his head, and his shoulders lifted a little. “No. Doesn’t work like that.”
I set my jaw and watched him. His lips were pressed together, and he was meeting my eyes now. Slowly, I lowered the blade.
I didn’t put it away, though. I wasn’t that dumb.
“Where are they?”
“That way, past the next ridge and down the stream,” he said. “At least it was a few years ago. I used to be friends with one of the wolves.”
“Are you a wolf?”
“I’m a magician,” he said.
I surveyed him, but it wasn’t like I could tell just by looking. Some faeries had a gift that allowed them to identify Glim races, but most of us had to rely on visual cues, and there was no visible difference between a sorcerer or a warlock or a magician and that same person in their werewolf form.
“And you’re friends with the dogs?”
“Used to be. Not anymore. Was stupid to be involved with them in the first place.”
“Are you the one who figured out who my grandma is?”
His eyebrows drew together. “She’s the head of Carnelian. You told me that.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not,” he said. He sounded irritated now. “I have no idea what you’re talking about or what you’re really doing out here, but don’t rope me into something that isn’t my fault.”
I frowned. He didn’t have any of the tells of deceit. His gaze was steady, and he hadn’t covered his mouth or touched his neck or given any of the little cues I’d been trained to look for.
Still, what were the chances? He knew the wolves and was in the middle of a Carnelian commission.
I knew a sketchy situation when I met it.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” I said.
“Not sure what I’m supposed to do about that.”
“You could take me to the werewolves’ den,” I said. “I
f you’re really not friends with them.”
“So you can do what, exactly?” he said. He nodded at the knife. “That’s enough to give one of them a paper cut.”
“It’s stronger than you’d think,” I said. “I’m not going to do anything tonight. I just need to know where they are.”
He folded his arms and watched me. I could only imagine what kind of sight I was, with disheveled hair and a bright-red bike and a weapon in hand. I slowly held my dagger up, then made a show of tucking it back in my boot.
He sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll lead you there. I’m not happy with them, either.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll tell you on the way. We have time. It’s not exactly close.”
I jerked my chin toward the back of the bike. “Climb on.”
This, more than anything I’d done so far, seemed to concern him.
“On that?”
“Yes, on that,” I said. “You’ll be safer than you would be in that tent.”
“That tent is held together with magic,” he said. “Why do you think you didn’t hit it even though you were barreling through here like a demon?”
“Because I’m a good rider.”
He quirked an eyebrow up at me, and I raised mine at him.
“You don’t have to come,” I said. “I could just kill you and leave you here.”
Whatever fear I’d inspired in him earlier was gone now. He snorted. “You’re not going to kill anyone. You need me for your grandma’s show.”
I patted the bike behind me. “Come on, we don’t have all night.”
Entirely too slowly, he stepped toward the bike. He shot me an apprehensive look, then swung his leg over the seat and settled in behind me. I’d ridden with Rowan and Autumn before, but Alec’s wiry frame sat differently on the bike. I shifted, getting used to his presence behind me.
“Do you have a helmet?” he said.
“Don’t need one,” I said. “Your tent isn’t the only thing held together with enchantments.”
I started off into the forest, and he gripped me tightly around the waist.
“Calm down,” I said, leaning forward and speeding up. “We’ll be fine.”
17
The forest blurred on either side of us. My headlights rippled dimly ahead, their watery light barely enough to relieve the darkness. Occasionally, Alec pointed, and I adjusted our course to match. Mostly, he just sat behind me, his arms like a vise around my waist.
After a while, we hit a trail: a thin, winding path I wouldn’t have noticed if my senses hadn’t been so heightened.
“Just follow this,” Alec said. His voice was loud enough to hear, but still obscured by the sound of the engine and the branches cracking below us and against the front of the bike. “It’ll open onto some old-growth forest where the ground’s been mostly cleared. Stop the bike the second you see that.”
I nodded and twisted us to keep on the trail.
“So what’s your baggage with the wolves?” I called over my shoulder. “You told me you’d tell me on the way.”
“They turned a girl I used to be friends with,” he said.
“Like a girlfriend?”
“Like a friend,” he said firmly. “Could have been my sister. We were in school together from first grade on. Even ended up in the same Humdrum high school. That’s where I met the werewolf I used to be friends with, and I was stupid enough to introduce him to her.”
“You went to Humdrum school all twelve years?”
“I wanted to,” he said. “Needed to get away from my family sometimes. So did she.”
I didn’t ask about his family baggage. I wasn’t here to make a friend. All I needed was information—about the wolves, about their weaknesses, and about their crimes.
“And they turned her?” I said. “Didn’t kill her?”
“This pack isn’t about killing,” he said. “They’re not just random bad guys. They have an agenda.”
I twisted my head to look at him.
“Watch the road!” he yelped.
The narrow path stretched out in front of us in a straight line. I laughed.
“You’re fine,” I said. “I can handle my bike.”
“That’s what everyone says until they crash,” he said.
I focused on the path, although it didn’t need much attention. “What’s the agenda?”
“They turn people,” he said. “They’re trying to grow their numbers. Get enough werewolves who all believe the same things and maybe you can secede from the rest of the Glimmering world.”
I snorted. “They’ve already seceded.”
“They’re just lying low,” he said. “The pack’s alpha doesn’t want to lie low, he wants to create his own sovereign nation. Then he wants a seat on all the major Glimmering councils and full control of his pack’s land.”
The idea was ludicrous. There were leaders in the Glimmering world, and they were all well-established. Most of those roles stretched back literally thousands of years. Ordinary werewolves who abided by society’s rules were represented by the High Priestess or Sorcerer’s Guild President or whoever best matched whoever they were before they’d gotten turned.
Werewolves did not, as a rule, represent themselves as werewolves on the Faerie Queen’s highest councils.
“Gonna be hard to make their own country when the land belongs to the city.”
“Wouldn’t be hard to relocate them,” he said. “The Faerie Queen owns a lot of property west of here.”
“That’s bizarre,” I said. “They’re werewolves. They can exist within Glim society just fine.”
“Not running free, they can’t,” he said. “Glims aren’t comfortable with weres and vamps.”
“Well, yeah, they’re predators,” I said.
“Humans are predators.”
“You sure you’re not still friends with them?” I said.
We went around a sharp curve to avoid a tree, and his arms tightened around me. “I’m not, but I used to be,” he said. “I get where they’re coming from.”
“I live in secrecy all the time,” I said. “Never hurt me.”
There was a long silence, during which I realized I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Yeah, what’s your deal, anyway?” he said.
I didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, the undergrowth thinned. Ahead, the beam of my headlights solidified as the textured shadows of leaves and saplings gave way to flat ground. I brought the bike to a stop.
“This it?” I said.
“This is where we go on foot,” he said. “Your bike’s too loud.”
“It’s quieter than it sounds,” I said. “You’ll notice you didn’t hear me until I was practically on top of your tent.”
“I noticed,” he said. “But we’re not going to push it. The wolves have better hearing than you do.”
“You don’t know anything about my hearing.”
I had average hearing. I just didn’t like him assuming things about me.
We left the bike under some trees, hidden with loose branches and a cloaking spell. I kept my wand in one hand after casting the spell. From a distance, it would do more good than the dagger if a werewolf spotted us.
Our steps were quiet against the ground, which was covered with a layer of dry pine needles. I could almost make out the trunks of the pine trees that rose on every side, though I still had to walk carefully to avoid running into anything. Alec had banned the use of flashlights, informing me that the wolves’ eyesight was better than mine, too.
“How far is it?” I whispered.
He grabbed my arm and squeezed. I couldn’t see his face, but the squeeze was clear: shut up.
Alec stopped a few times and examined various tree trunks with his face only inches from the bark. I followed after him. Small runes were written on the trunks in what might have been brown chalk, subtle enough that a passerby wouldn’t see them unless they knew where to look. The runes seemed to be gi
ving him instructions, because he occasionally turned when we reached one and headed off in a new direction.
The undergrowth thickened under our feet again, and the sounds above our heads changed from the scratching of pine boughs to the rustle of leaves. The ground sloped downward, then steeply up, and then Alec cut sharply to the left.
“This is it,” he whispered, his lips so close against my ear that he barely had to breathe the words.
I wasn’t sure I could make my voice that quiet, so I gestured vaguely at him in question. The outline of my arms was barely visible in the moonlight that filtered down between the trees.
“To your left, up a little,” he said. “There’s a gap between the rocks.”
It took me more than a few seconds to see it. There, between two slabs of rock that were irregular with moss and ferns, was a tiny black gap. It didn’t seem big enough to fit a person, but if it was the entrance, it would open directly into the hill.
I took a step, and Alec gripped my arm.
“We can’t go in,” he said.
I turned and leaned toward him. “I don’t even think that’s real,” I whispered. “I think you took me on a wild goose chase.”
“It’s real,” he said. “And you’re dead if you go in there. The pack is large, and they know what they’re doing. You wanted to know where it was. Now you know. And now we’re going to turn around and get out of here.”
I let him drag me away, but not before pulling Grandma’s scarf out of my pocket. Its loose edge dropped straight to the ground, pointed as stiffly as if someone was holding the other end.
This was the place.
“How many are in the pack?”
“There were around forty last time I had anything to do with them,” he said. “Probably more now, maybe a lot more.”
Forty. The Daggers would be outnumbered, but we could handle that. I knew Mom had taken down three chimeras alone one time, and they were probably more dangerous than werewolves. If I could get the whole coven here, and if Alec could tell me all their weaknesses, we could take Grandma by force.
“I need to know everything you know about the Wildwoods,” I said in an urgent whisper. “Who’s their alpha? What kind of guard do they keep? What’s their fighting style?”