I screamed.
The wolf dragged me behind a tree, holding my arm and shaking me by the trapped arm when I tried to fight.
“Stop!” I yelled, the pain like a lance driving into me.
Another wolf raced up, and then transformed. He was short, but powerful. His dark hair skimmed his shoulders, and he glared at me as he put his hand on my throat and squeezed.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
“Let her go,” Bryn said.
Yes! Get off! I wailed in my head.
I tried not to struggle, which only sent piercing pain through me, but lack of air made me feel panicked.
Neither werewolf released me.
“Let her go now,” Bryn said, pointing a gun at the wolf who had my arm. “This gun is loaded with silver.”
“I can crush her throat before you have time to shoot us both.”
“I can save her from a crushed throat, but nothing can save you if a silver bullet rips through your skull. I won’t miss.”
“You’re wasting your time. Leave her to us. She’ll never give it to your kind,” the werewolf said.
I clawed at his fingers with my free hand. I was starting to see spots.
Bryn narrowed his eyes. “She’s not who you think. This is the first time she’s ever been in Scotland. You’ve confused her with her mother or someone else.”
The werewolf bared his teeth in a snarl, but he dipped his head and smelled my hair. “She’s the one,” he said with a sneer. “She’s disguised her scent with magic, but underneath it’s the same.”
Bryn shook his head. “She’s not the one you’re looking for. Let her go or I will kill you.” The deadly calm of Bryn’s voice sent a chill through me. The wolves must’ve been able to feel how serious he was.
The man’s grip on my throat slackened and then released. He shifted into wolf form, made a low growling sound, and then he and the other wolf turned and melted into the forest.
“Are you all right?” Bryn said, extending his free hand to help me up. I rose and looked around.
“I’m okay,” I said, dabbing my arm carefully. The teeth punctures weren’t nearly as deep as they might have been, but they throbbed. Blood seeped from the wounds, but luckily didn’t spurt or gush.
“This way,” Bryn said, hurrying through the woods, glancing at the night sky occasionally.
“Where’s Zach?”
“I don’t know. We got separated. But he’ll know to double back to the cars as soon as he gets the chance.”
“He won’t leave the woods if he thinks we’re out here and in trouble.”
“If I hadn’t gotten to you after ten minutes, I would’ve lit the night sky at five-minute intervals to let him know not to return to the cabin.”
“What if he’d found me rather than you?”
“He’d have signaled with a double shot into the rotten tree near the site where we confronted the wolves.”
We spoke and jogged as quietly as we could.
“I’m surprised the Conclave gave you guns.”
“They didn’t give them to us,” Bryn said. “The wolves killed Van Noten, the driver, and the Frenchman, Mouclier.”
I shuddered.
“Van Noten had a lot of power, but she was too slow when casting. She wanted to sweep the area with a big spell. There’s no time to get complicated with werewolves. Mouclier was taken by surprise. He was shooting and spelling at two in front of him that kept weaving in and out of view. Then a third flanked him. He was blindsided and taken down, his throat torn so deeply there was nothing but—” Bryn clenched his teeth. “Sorry. You don’t need to picture that. I didn’t see the attack on the driver, but passed his body. We got separated from Poppy, Kato, and Lundqvist, the operative with the brown buzz cut. I’m not sure whether they’re alive or not.”
He swallowed and frowned. “These werewolves attack with more precision than most. Almost military or paramilitary. Sutton noticed immediately,” Bryn said with admiration in his voice. “That’s why I decided to try to reason with the leader. Normally with attacking werewolves, you just have to shoot them. I don’t have to tell you. You saw what the pack in Texas was like.”
I nodded.
We emerged from the woods at the cabin to find Zach and Mercutio running toward us.
“Wolves or wizards?” Bryn asked, yanking the van door open.
“Both,” Zach said, shooting holes in the tires of the other cars. “Keys?”
“I’ve got them. Van Noten had them on her.”
Once we were locked in the van, Bryn started it and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. I heard the soft pop of gunfire from the woods. The sound was muffled by the heartbeat pounding in my ears. I held my breath, bracing for a tire to be blown out.
As we barreled down the narrow road, kicking up gravel and dirt, I spotted two pairs of yellow eyes just behind the tree line. The wolves were running with us. If our car was incapacitated, they’d get to us before the wizards. I had no doubt they’d tear the van open as if it were made of tin.
I bit the inside of my mouth, sitting rigidly still and holding the armrest. We turned onto a wider road. I looked back, finally exhaling, when I saw that we were out of range for the wizards.
I unbuckled myself and went to the window, peering into the trees. Mercutio joined me, standing on a seat with his paws on the window.
I spotted a blur of dark fur and saw it stop. I watched the wolf’s yellow eyes, stationary now. The wolves were done chasing us. At least for the moment.
Did that mean they’d given up? Or would they track us? Werewolves, like Mercutio, can track anything, including magic. I had a sinking feeling that we hadn’t seen the last of them.
* * *
“WE NEED TO change vehicles,” Bryn said.
“Tracking device?” Zach asked, leaning forward. He was in the back behind the divider, but Bryn had turned on the intercom to allow us to talk together.
“I assume. It’s standard on Association cars.”
I stared out the passenger window. “That werewolf who got shot, he had a little boy. Three years old.”
“Kato shot him. Not Zach or I.”
I pursed my lips, frowning. “They didn’t try to kill Kato and me when they had the chance. They were holding us for the leader to come and question us. If I’d had the chance to convince them I wasn’t whoever they wanted, nobody had to get shot.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
My gaze turned to Bryn. “Did Kato tell the other Conclave members that they didn’t hurt us?”
“No,” Bryn said. “He just said that werewolves had chased you, that he’d gotten away using gunfire to slow their pursuit, and that he’d left you up a tree with them circling, ready to attack.”
I folded my arms across my chest and looked back out the window. “Do you think it’s possible a werewolf shot in the chest with a silver bullet could survive? If they got him to a surgeon who could take the silver out and fix whatever things in his chest had gotten hurt?”
“Yes,” Bryn said. “They have an amazing capacity to heal. If they got him to help in time, he could recover.”
I didn’t know if Bryn was just saying that to make me feel better, but it worked. That werewolf had still been talking and breathing when I’d left him. I’d recently survived a wound that would have killed any regular person, so the power of supernatural healing could never be counted out. I rubbed the breastbone in the middle of my chest, which still ached on and off, especially when I jarred it.
The difference was that I hadn’t been stabbed with a metal that was poisonous to my supernatural healing. Still, he’d been in the heart of his homeland. The other wolves would know right where to take him for help.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t think it was Momma they were looking for.”
; “Let’s not talk about that right now,” Bryn said, cutting me off.
“Why not?” I asked, glancing back at him.
“There could be recording devices or bugs in the van.”
“Oh,” I said. I pursed my lips and shook my head. “You know what? I’m sick to death of the Conclave. They can go to hell.”
Bryn’s brows rose, but that didn’t stop my flapping jaws.
“President Anderson, if you’re listening,” I said loudly, “I know that you just took over, but you should really worry less about artifacts and more about what your assassins are doing. Because sooner or later it’s going to come back to bite you in the butt. And speaking from experience, I can tell you, werewolves have real sharp teeth.”
13
AFTER WE STOPPED so I could wash and bandage my arm, we drove from the northern part of Scotland back down to one of its main cities. Bryn looked up car rental agencies in Edinburgh, and we dropped him off there, parking the van a block away. He joined us with a different van and we transferred our luggage and ourselves to the new vehicle. Then we left the Conclave van and drove south into England. We weren’t going to bother going back to London to fly to Dublin, since London was the heart of the Association and Conclave operations. Instead we stopped for the night, sleeping in the van. It was more comfortable than I expected, but that might’ve been only because I was so exhausted.
I dreamed that the wounded werewolf was okay and reunited with his little boy and werewolf wife; then I dreamed I was eating carrot cake in a fancy hotel room that looked out over a city full of skyscrapers, and finally I dreamed that I was standing on the banks of a river petting a palomino pony who drank from it. I bent and cupped some water and drank, too. It was fresh, not salty, and tasted of earthy silt. Strands of strawberry-blond hair fell over my shoulders.
Not my hair, I realized, but I wasn’t startled awake by the realization.
Green eyes rose, and Kismet’s lips, rosy with cold, whispered, “You’ve gotten hurt again, twinheart. Don’t let that trouble you. I think it’s naught but a scratch.” Her lilting Irish voice made me smile. My arm tingled, my body growing feverish in the dream.
“It was a werewolf that bit me like I was honey and apples,” I said.
“Like you were a stag, you mean,” she said.
“He thought I was someone else. You, I think.”
“That’s as may be. Where were you, Tammy?”
“We were in Scotland. In the woods.”
“What did I say about the Scotch woods?” she said, frowning. “I don’t warn you just to hear my pretty voice. Heed me.”
“I got kidnapped.”
“Are you still?”
“No, I escaped.”
“Good. Next time escape sooner, so you don’t end up in places I’ve told you not to go.”
I made an exasperated noise.
She looked over her shoulder. “I have to get back on the path. Rest now, Tammy love. I’ll see you soon. Don’t forget our meeting place.”
I jerked awake, sweat sprouting on my forehead. Bryn slept in a reclined seat across from me. Zach lay sprawled on the floor, perpendicular to the bench seat he’d started the night on. It had been way too short for him.
I wiped my face with my sleeve, then pulled the fabric up to examine my arm. The puncture wounds had been scabbed over, red and sore when I’d gone to sleep. Now, however, the scabs were gone and small pink scars were all that was left behind. I touched them, but they didn’t hurt. The scars would likely fade, too.
It was lucky for me that I was born of supernatural creatures. When regular folks were bitten by werewolves, the wounds never healed. They just kept bleeding and festering until the person either became a werewolf or, more frequently, died.
I studied Zach, so full of muscles and robust health. Hard to believe it had been only a few months since he’d nearly died of a werewolf bite.
I lifted my wool coat that I’d been using for a blanket. I stood and slipped my arms into the sleeves, then took Kato’s gun from the pocket in the back of the passenger seat where I’d put it. I tucked it into my pocket and got out of the van.
I closed the door and shivered in the cold, misty air.
“Mercutio,” I called.
We were parked on a village lane in Northern England. Mercutio’s nocturnal, so he was outside hunting. He might find some rodents to eat, I supposed, wondering if the time change was affecting him. Did he realize that we were on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean? Did he even know about the Atlantic Ocean? He was a jungle cat, maybe from South America originally, since he understood Spanish as well as English.
I stretched and then rested my hands on top of my head, watching my breath fog past the cold tip of my nose.
A soft purr near my leg made me smile and bend down to stroke Mercutio’s fur.
“You know what, Merc? Remember that pair of tiny fae I met while we were on the branch? They thought I was Kismet. They warned me the werewolf leader was coming. Just now I saw Kismet in my dreams. When I told her I thought the werewolves had bitten me thinking I was her, she said that was possible. The Association doesn’t know about Kismet. If someone from the Conclave spotted Kismet or were brought a picture or a sketch of her and her hair looked redder than it is, she might have been confused for Momma or Aunt Mel. We all look a lot alike.”
Merc cocked his head.
“The leader of the werewolves said that I would never give it to Bryn’s kind. They knew Bryn was a wizard. The wolf suggested that Bryn leave me to them. If the wolves know Kismet’s a faery, they certainly wouldn’t expect her to give anything valuable to the witches’ association.” I licked my lips. “How likely do you think it is that Kismet’s the one who knows what happened to the Association’s stolen artifact?”
Merc’s soft meow rose into the cool air.
“Yeah, I think so, too. This artifact, whatever it does, is probably like the Hebrides Amber that the faeries and witches fought to the death over. If we had it, and if the Seelie queen wanted it pretty bad, that might be all the leverage we’d need to buy Kismet’s freedom from the Never and to get Momma and Daddy out of trouble for helping Kismet escape. The only trouble is that we need that artifact to trade for Andre and Aunt Edie.” When I looked down at Mercutio, hair fell into my eyes. I shoved it back and held it off my face. “What do you think, Merc?”
Mercutio meowed softly.
“I know,” I said. “I’m not sure either.”
In the distance, the sun was starting to rise.
“I know one thing: If we find the amber artifact, before we give it to anyone, we’ve got to figure out what it does and why everyone wants it.”
Merc didn’t disagree.
* * *
THE WATER CROSSING from England to Ireland was as rough as cake batter full of nuts. The choppiness made Zach and me feel sick. Bryn convinced me not to stay belowdeck, and he was right; it was better standing at the rail with wind in my face and my eyes closed.
Zach was sick over the side once. He went down to brush his teeth and wash his face, but he came back up and then lay on a bench with his eyes closed and the sun on his face, the sea air blowing around us.
Bryn stayed close to me, bringing me a scone and jam that made me feel better. Zach refused to eat until we reached land.
In Dublin, we checked into a hotel in Temple Bar. We’d all agreed not to unload the van. We each just took in a small bag with a change of clothes and toiletries. After Bryn and I showered and dressed, we met Zach in the lobby, which was decked out with lime-green couches and chocolate-brown and white accent pillows. Adele’s voice belted from the speakers as we exited to the street.
I liked the way that some of the streets were just for pedestrians. There were lots of shops and tourists taking pictures and having fun. It felt almost like a Duvall street festival. We found the lit
erary pub crawl online and booked tickets and then went to a restaurant for lunch. We each had a bowl of Irish stew. Zach had a shepherd’s pie, too, making up for not having eaten much since leaving America. I ate dessert to keep him company.
I told Bryn and Zach about the small faeries and my dream where I’d talked to Kismet. I wasn’t sure if the dream had been a real conversation or just my imagination getting carried away.
“She’s younger and her hair’s quite a bit lighter. I’d be surprised if the Conclave mistook her for your mother or aunt,” Bryn said. “They don’t usually make those kinds of mistakes.”
“I don’t suppose they do.”
“We know she’s traveled through Scotland over the years when she’s left home on various missions that were unrelated to the amber artifact, right?” Bryn said. “She’s been sent to spy and assassinate fae enemies?”
“Right.” I licked my lips.
“And werewolves wouldn’t have any use for a magical relic. They can’t perform magic.”
I nodded. “So she’s probably got something else they want, because don’t you agree that the werewolf leader thought I was her?”
Bryn nodded.
“Yes, and those little faeries thought so, too. They mentioned a horse and a bow, and that my hair was darker red from being humanside.”
“When we see her, you can ask her,” Bryn said, taking the bill.
He was the only one with Irish money, and he insisted on paying for lunch. He didn’t want us using credit cards until we were ready to leave Dublin, in case the Conclave had arranged to track us electronically.
We had a couple hours before the pub crawl. On the street, we stopped to listen to a band of young guys playing for the crowd. I rubbed my hands together to keep them warm.
“Here,” Bryn said, holding out his.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’ve got pockets.” I didn’t want to hold hands with Bryn in front of Zach. It seemed too soon for that, when things between Zach and me had just ended for good.
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