by Sally Green
The gold ring my father gave me is on my finger and I put it to my lips and kiss it. The time we did have together, though brief, was amazing. I learned by copying my father. I transformed into an eagle and we flew together, hunted together. Those few days were precious. Being with him, sitting quietly with him, I felt like I knew him and he knew me.
I try once more to stop time, but it doesn’t work and I need to eat. I need to transform, go animal. At least that Gift, my own Gift, really does come naturally now, though I don’t use it often. I’m not afraid of it like I used to be, but I know it takes me to a different place. The animal doesn’t care about human stuff, about Annalise or even my father. I remember when I was first learning transforming and I shouted at the animal, expecting him to listen, expecting him to understand. Really I needed to listen to him, needed to understand him. Now I respect him, my animal, my other me. He’s brutal and fast and wild, but he’s at peace with that, with the world.
I don’t need to strip off before I change. I stand, take a breath, imagine wolf and
* * *
We—my animal me—caught a badger. A good meal. I’ve had maybe four hours’ solid sleep. No dreams. And now I’m yomping along as a human, practicing my Gifts again, feeling good, feeling fast. It’s afternoon by the time I reach the place where I killed the two Hunters. I slow as I approach the clearing and skirt round it.
The land is flat here. The trees are mature and the earth under them is bare. The clearing is natural; a big tree has fallen and taken another couple with it so that three large tree trunks lie across the ground. They must have come down in the autumn, and now that it’s winter the area feels open and light but colder somehow too. The bodies of the Hunters are gone.
I don’t go into the clearing yet. I make my way round it, sticking to the edge, keeping trees between me and the open, just in case. I carry on round the clearing and find nothing. I’m sure I’m alone here. Fairly sure. Ninety-five percent sure.
Now I move slowly forward, keeping low and quiet, to where the bodies were. There are a lot of footprints, and not from the dead Hunters before they died but from live ones I think, and the marks lead north out of the clearing. They’ve taken the bodies. Looking at the tracks I think more than two Hunters and less than eight were here, which means four or six as they only ever work in pairs. But really I don’t read tracks well, so it’s a guess. And I’m certainly not good enough to say how old the tracks are, but the Hunters have only been dead three days so I think their bodies were taken recently. Very recently.
I try to follow the trail but I lose it and have to go back on myself and try again. This time I spot another footprint lying over one of the boot prints. This is different: something like a trainer, definitely not a Hunter’s boot. My heart rate jumps.
Annalise?
That’s a stupid idea. Why would she be here? The chances of it being her are minuscule.
But, still, minuscule is more than zero.
I follow the Hunter tracks, scanning further into the forest and after a short distance I see the trainer prints again. I follow them but it’s a slow process. I can’t do it quickly in case I miss something, and there’s no obvious path. Unlikely as it seems, I wish I had Nesbitt with me. He’s the best tracker the Alliance has, but he’s never around when I need him.
I follow the trail through the forest and through the afternoon, until the sun is low in the sky. It’s too dark to see footprints now, but I don’t need to. From the top of a gentle slope looking down into the next valley I see something better: a thin line of smoke coming through the treetops.
They must be relaxed to light a fire.
Or it’s a trap.
Celia’s voice in my head says, Hunters wouldn’t give themselves away so close to where they’d lost two of their own.
I’m not sure how many of them there are. And they can go invisible, thanks to Wallend and his magic. They used their invisibility at BB, and many Hunters I’ve caught since had the ability. But I’ve got it too. And I want to get into the camp. There’s someone with them. I’m convinced of that. And it may be Annalise. There’s probably no more than six of them. Six I can take.
Six plus Annalise. If they’ve found her they’ll take her back as a prisoner. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d be a hero to them: she shot Marcus, and perhaps Gabriel’s right and she was a spy for them all along. Perhaps it was her who told the Hunters about the apartment in Geneva and the cut that led to Mercury’s cottage.
I need to take a closer look.
I’m weaving slowly and silently down the valley through the trees. The ground is bare in places but in others the trees thin and brambles block my path. It’s dark by the time I work my way through, and the distant hissing in my head from mobile phones is louder, so I go invisible and move silently on.
Then I see the first Hunter, a guard. I watch her for a minute or two. She stays in her position looking out to the forest.
If there are six Hunters, I’m guessing two will be on guard while the other Hunters are resting, eating, or perhaps already sleeping.
I move back and circle round to find the other guard. She’s at the edge of a small clearing. Two guards, as I thought. I’m making my way round to the first guard again when I pick up the hissing sound of a mobile phone. A third guard! But I can’t see her. She’s invisible.
So, three guards. I’ve not been right round the camp so I do that now and, guess what, I pick up another hissing sound, another invisible guard. Four.
I go past her and back to the first Hunter, one of the visible ones. I find a place to watch from and let myself become visible. After an hour or so, I hear footsteps—a fifth Hunter, coming up behind the first. This one is older. She walks up to the first Hunter and says a few words. The younger woman nods and goes back into the camp. I can’t see flames or smoke from the fire but I reckon it’s only thirty meters or so further on. The older Hunter looks relaxed but not lazy, like she’s done this a thousand times before. It’s the middle of the night and she’s probably dog tired but she casts her gaze around, seems to look at me, and my heart races, adrenaline kicking in. Has she spotted me?
I stay still. I don’t think she’s seen me. I’ve done nothing to give myself away. I’ve been sitting here well back, well hidden, though not invisible. I need to stay put. Any movement will alert her. Even going invisible now may change a shadow or a shape.
My breathing seems loud and I force it to calm.
Wait.
And she looks away. She’s continuing to scan the area slowly and carefully but she hasn’t seen me. It was chance that she looked my way.
I need to work out what to do. There’s four guards. Four guards means at least six Hunters in total but probably more. They know someone killed their two friends. From my tracks they’ll know the killer was alone, that he killed with a knife. Will they know it’s me? I’m sure Celia would be smacking her forehead at this point, telling me, Of course they know it was you!
And that means they’ll be hoping I will come back. So this is a trap. And again in my head I can see Celia saying, Are you stupid?! Two visible, two invisible. They want you to think they’re a smaller party than they are.
It’s a pretty basic trap, but it’s a trap for sure. The one thing I think they haven’t realized about me is that I can sense their mobile phones.
What do they know about me? They know I’ve eaten my father’s heart; they have his body so they’ll have worked that out. So they know I’ve got his Gifts. They know what his Gifts were but they won’t know which ones I’ve mastered yet. They probably know I won’t have mastered them all. They probably think I will, given time, so catching me sooner is better than later. Obviously they’d rather kill than catch me. This is definitely a trap.
And the other person in there? Could it be Annalise? They might know I want her. They might think I’ll want to rescue her. They might have
caught her after the battle.
If it’s a trap, I should leave. But if that is Annalise . . .
I’ve searched for her for months. I can’t miss this chance.
So my options . . .
Option one: leave. Go back and tell Greatorex and get her little team out here to put their training to good use for once. They’d take two days to get here if we went at it hard. It’s a possibility. But then there’s also a possibility that the Hunters will have left and Annalise, if it’s her, will have gone too. And Greatorex might not agree to come at all. She’ll probably say it’s not worth the risk and move camp instead.
Option two: scout out the camp but don’t attack. Check if it’s Annalise in there. This is a good option. I can stay invisible long enough to get past the guards and into the camp and out again if I have to. If it’s not Annalise I can go and get Greatorex. Or just go. If it is Annalise . . .
Option three: attack. I’ve never attacked more than four Hunters in a group. They’ll be able to go invisible but they don’t like to do that in close fighting, in case they shoot each other. I can always kill a few and escape. If there are too many I can run, let them hunt me and pick them off one by one. There was only ever that one fast girl who could keep up with me. But if this is a trap then these Hunters will probably have been chosen because they have powerful Gifts that can be used against me, and I’ve no way of knowing what they are. The Gift I fear most is the one Celia has: the deafening, high-pitched noise. It incapacitates me, makes me vulnerable, and I’m not sure I could stay invisible if I got hit by something like that.
So: attacking is madness; scouting is risky; leaving is the sensible option.
That’s that then. Decision made. I attack.
Option Three
I may be mad but I’m not suicidal: my attack has to be in the darkest, coldest part of the night, guerrilla style rather than all-out battle mode. I wait a few hours, but my hands are stiff, almost numb, which isn’t good, and I move back through the trees and run for ten minutes, getting myself warmed up, getting myself in the zone. I know what I have to do: remove the guards one by one, silently but quickly. Difficult, because two of them are invisible, but then who wants easy? Once I’ve finished with the guards, I can go into the camp and deal with whoever’s in there. I have to move fast but calmly. Be professional and keep thinking, Celia would say. Kill them quick, I say.
Back at my spot in the trees I look down at the first guard. She’s the old hand; she’ll be a good fighter. I mustn’t give her a chance to fight.
I take a deep breath, think of cool air, check I’m invisible, and then walk down to her, careful not to make any sound. Close now. The Fairborn in my hand. The Hunter is right in front of me, staring through me. I take one more step and slice across her throat, grabbing her body with my free hand. She tries to hit me, her lips moving, but instead of words blood comes out of her mouth.
I lower her to the ground as carefully as I would a sleeping baby, listening all the time. I can’t hear anything, so I run to the trees and on to the next guard, the first invisible one, slowing as I hear the hiss of her mobile. It’s loud but it gives me no sense of where she really is. I stop and listen for another noise, anything: her breath, a movement. But I get nothing, only the loud hiss of her phone.
I edge forward. It’s dark but now I see the trampled bracken and her footprints. I take another small step, arms outstretched, and the Fairborn helps me now. It senses her. It wants her blood.
I let it lead my hand. The Fairborn is straining and I know I’m only millimeters away from her. So I let the Fairborn loose, thrust fast into the air at chest level. The knife’s so sharp that her jacket, skin, even bone, hardly slow it and I feel warm blood on my fingers, and my right hand finds the Hunter’s mouth as she grunts loud and I pull the Fairborn down, ripping material and flesh. Hot, slippery guts spill over my left hand. The Hunter is visible now, writhing on the ground, and I’m kneeling over her, holding her jaw closed, muffling her whimper. She’s another young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties.
I wipe my hand on her clothes, and I clean the Fairborn too, risking going visible for a second or two, but I have to move much faster now. That was too slow and she made a noise—not a big one but enough to alert the other guards, if they’re good. I can’t risk the guards waking the others.
I have to get into the camp.
I go as fast and quiet as I can. The fire is low but bright and I can make out the shapes of three people lying near it. Further away, by a large tree, is another Hunter and near her, chained to the tree, is a hooded prisoner, a female prisoner, petite and slim. I need to concentrate. So, four Hunters here, two left keeping guard, and the prisoner.
I slit the throat of the nearest sleeping Hunter but she kicks and jerks and I have to move to the next one fast. I don’t need to worry about being silent now. I need to be quick; the sleepers are waking but still don’t know what’s happening. The next Hunter is getting up but I push her down and stab her throat and take a step toward the third, but the second one isn’t giving in without a fight and she gets hold of my leg, clinging on, bleeding out. Somehow she has her gun in her hand and shoots. I’m still invisible but off balance and the bullet misses me and I kick her in the face and roll away.
That’s four Hunters dead, four still alive and it’s chaos now. The Hunter by the prisoner has gone invisible but is shouting for the guards. The Hunter by the campfire has got her gun. Fairborn in sheath, I send lightning out from both hands, one in the direction of each Hunter. Smoke and a scream comes from the one by the fire and I leap at her, falling on to her, and the Fairborn back in my hand knows where to drive itself: into her stomach and then ripping upward. She screams again and the Fairborn slashes across and the Hunter goes silent. Then there’s shooting and I push away from the dead Hunter and roll away still further.
That’s five down. I crouch. The sixth Hunter, who was by the prisoner, is now invisible and moving. She’s shooting all over the place but I can’t get an exact position on her. I throw myself flat to the ground and wait.
The shooting stops. My hands are slick with blood but the Fairborn is happy. I feel its vibration, its desire to do more work. There’s still three Hunters alive. And the prisoner. I look over to her. She’s still there, now lying curled up on the ground. Then I realize I’m not invisible any more. Fuck! Concentrate! Breathe. Think air! I check my hand and I’m invisible again. I was lucky they didn’t see me but it’s dark and I’m flat on the ground and anyway I’m invisible again.
Then a shout—“Lady two!”—and whoever said it is moving fast to my right. It’s code for something, something that they’ve planned. I need to get out!
I run to my left as fast and silent as I can but only get three paces before my muscles cramp up: first my legs and then my arms and my stomach. I drop to my knees. Head on the ground. Trying to breathe quietly. Wanting to vomit. It’s some kind of magic. Bad, but not as bad as Celia’s noise. I can fight it if I heal.
I get a buzz from the healing and then run for the trees. I’ve almost reached them when the cramp hits me again. I’m on my knees and the shooting starts again and I roll over and over and send lightning out of my hands. And I hit a tree trunk and I heal again and get to my feet and the shooting is mad and there’s shouting and I dive to the side and throw lightning bolts, as many as I can, as far as I can. I’m buzzing from healing and somehow that seems to help me and I’m pissed off and terrified too. And I run around the clearing, sending lightning and flames and there’s a scream and more shots, but no more cramping. That has stopped.
I scan the clearing and the edge of the trees. I’m still, my breath coming hard, panicked. I have to calm it. Have to stay invisible too. I think I got the one who can do the cramp thing, but only because she’s not doing it any more. Then I see her, surprisingly close, lying half hidden by a tree, her arm outstretched to me, her eyes open.
; So that means there’s two Hunters left.
I hear a sound to my right. I send lightning there. The biggest bolt I can make. And I run a few steps through the trees. The shooting starts again. I drop to the ground and lie flat.
It goes quiet.
I wait.
And wait.
If they’re dead they’re visible. I raise my head to look.
Nothing . . . or maybe something. Smoke. And then I see the seventh Hunter. She’s not dead but kneeling on the ground, blackened. Her jacket smoking. Her right arm limp at her side and her left hand holding her gun loosely. She’s looking around. Dazed.
And then the final Hunter becomes visible behind her. Somehow I got her too, even though she’s further away. I can’t see her face. She’s lying on the ground.
I have to concentrate hard on staying invisible—breathe slowly, think air—and then I move to look more closely at the girl on the ground. Her face is burned and blackened. Her eyes open. She’s definitely not faking it. I allow myself to become visible.
The kneeling Hunter is breathing hard. I step toward her so she can see me and she tries to raise her gun. The Fairborn slits her throat. More blood on my hand. Another body lying on the ground.
The prisoner is still curled up on the ground. Ankles chained to the tree. Hands zip-tied in front. A canvas hood covers her head, tied round her neck where strands of her blonde hair stick out.
I’m shaking. I take a breath and another and some more.
My hands are sticky with blood. I grip the Fairborn tighter and grab the prisoner by the shoulder. She jolts back but is silent. I cut at the string that ties the hood, careless of the point of the Fairborn as it nicks her neck. That’s the least of what Annalise deserves. I pull off the hood.
Blonde hair tumbles out and half covers her face. Annalise’s hair?