by Laura Taylor
Genna wandered along the street in Penrith, wondering where she should go. Hitching a lift this far had been relatively easy, but in order to get much further, she was going to need some money. If she could even figure out where she wanted to go, of course.
Sempre’s arrival at the estate had been a predictable, though unpleasant development. Given that Genna had accused her of breaking the Treaty, Il Trosa would have to deal with her sooner or later. But from her outburst in the basement, it had been fairly obvious that Il Trosa had quickly reached the conclusion that Sempre wasn’t responsible for that. She’d come barrelling in, threatening pain and torment for the murder of Feriur, and Caroline and Tank had said nothing at all about any charges against Sempre. Running away had been a desperate option – deserters from either shifter pack were hunted down by the Council’s assassins and swiftly put out of their misery – but by Genna’s reckoning, a painless death from a bullet was a far preferable outcome when compared to the torture Sempre would happily put her through. Perhaps Il Trosa saw that as a suitable punishment for breaking the Treaty, she mused, as she stared hungrily at a bakery window. Perhaps they were quite happy to hand her back to Sempre and forget all about the Treaty, knowing she would suffer plenty at Sempre’s hands.
So now the only question was how far she should go before waiting for the assassin to find her. She needed to go far enough that Sempre wouldn’t find her again before the assassin did, but not so far that she ran a high risk of running into the Noturatii.
A sudden wave of hunger and tiredness had Genna swaying on her feet. Months of exhaustion weren’t going to be solved by a single night’s sleep in a bed, and though Il Trosa had brought her both breakfast and lunch, she was much skinnier than she should have been and could quite happily have eaten three or four meals in one sitting. But to solve the problem of either her tiredness or her hunger, she was going to need money.
Fortunately, she had an easy solution to that one, if a rather dishonest one. Her unusual gift would allow her to magic money right out of someone’s wallet or bag. She only needed to be within a few inches of the item – an easy enough thing to achieve while queuing in a shop, perhaps, or browsing shelves in a supermarket – and if anyone suspected anything and decided to search her, they would find absolutely nothing. She could bring the money back into reality somewhere safe and private, and no one would be any the wiser.
Of course, there was the option of just making the food itself disappear, but as tired as she was, Genna didn’t think that was a good idea. A lot of shops had security cameras, and she could hardly explain an object just disappearing off the shelf right on camera. And though she’d had a fair amount of practice at using her gift by now, juggling several large objects at once when she was all but exhausted seemed to be asking for trouble.
There was a supermarket just down the street, she realised as she looked around, and if she could lift a few notes from a couple of different people, she could use the opportunity to buy some food at the same time.
Mind made up, she headed in that direction, too tired to even be nervous about committing daylight robbery right under people’s noses. Inside the supermarket, in an effort to remain inconspicuous, she picked up a basket and wandered the aisles, looking for likely candidates.
But after a few failed tries, Genna realised that finding a successful target was far more difficult than she had expected it to be. At first, she’d tried to find ‘rich’ looking people, if such a generalisation could be made. People wearing jewellery, or designer clothes, or those buying ‘luxury’ items, like chocolate cake or fancy cheeses. She didn’t want to take the last ten pounds from a poor old lady trying to buy a loaf of bread, after all. But as she perused the shelves, she found out that unfortunately, a person’s appearance meant nothing when considering the ease of lifting a few notes out of their wallet. The woman with the huge earrings and fancy blouse wouldn’t stand still long enough for her to get a focus on the contents of her designer handbag. The giggling couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other had no cash in their wallets and were presumably planning on paying for everything with a credit card. The old man reading the ingredients on every single different variety of biscuits only wanted to chat, and in the end, Genna was too scared that he’d recognise her later to attempt stealing anything from him.
It took nearly half an hour in the end, a couple of notes swiped from a businessman as she’d pretended to weigh up the benefits of white versus rye bread, another few notes from the harassed mother who’d been too busy tending to her children to notice what Genna was doing, and a last score from the young man in his mid-twenties who looked like he’d never been in a supermarket before. Snatching a quick opportunity in a quiet corner, Genna counted her haul and discovered she had close to two hundred pounds in her possession. She grabbed the last few things she wanted – bread, ham, a bottle of soda, some fruit and a jar of pickles – and hurried through the checkout.
Outside, she found a park and set about devouring her prize. Despite her hunger, she forced herself to eat slowly, aware that she’d make herself sick if she ate too much too quickly. But going slowly made her savour the flavours, the luxury of being able to eat in peace without worrying someone was going to steal her food, and finally she felt full, for the first time in ages. She sat back sipping on the last of the soda, enjoying the sweet fizz as a decadent treat that she wasn’t likely to taste again for a long time.
Or ever, was more to the point, given that an assassin was going to be coming after her.
It was still a way off getting dark, but the light had begun to fade, and Genna weighed up her options for the rest of the evening. Sooner or later she would have to find a hotel to sleep in. Which meant she was going to have to decide on a destination and get on with getting there. Where would be a good place to die, she wondered, surprised at how accepting she was of the idea.
Within her forest home would have been a good place once, but now it was tainted with memories of Sempre’s wickedness, no longer the tranquil refuge she had once believed it would be.
In Il Trosa’s estate would have been an equally fitting place, surrounded by wolves and in the presence of Sirius. For all Sempre’s frequent denouncements of their rival pack, Genna had heard enough rumours to believe that Il Trosa did better than the Watch on one count, at least: they paid more attention to the natural laws of the magic that Sirius had blessed them with, so he was as likely to linger around their estate as anywhere else.
But in the absence of either of those two options, where should she go? Somewhere an assassin could track her, but that wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention from the Noturatii. At least she had some real clothes now, she thought wryly, looking down at herself. Now that she wasn’t dressed in her grey robe, she wouldn’t stand out just walking down the street.
But where else was there in the world that held meaning to her?
The Station Hotel was nearby, Genna realised, with a wave of tiredness. The place Tank had met her. Where he’d hugged her like a long lost friend. Where he’d come through on his promise to help her, if at all possible, should she ever ask. Where they had a warm fire and rooms for rent, and food, and wine…
Because a glass of wine was sounding really good right about now. Genna longed to just forget about everything that had happened in the last year and relax in a warm, comfortable spot where the rest of the world wouldn’t bother her.
The assassin wouldn’t be arriving tonight, after all.
Cindy and Dave would have left by now, Genna remembered, dismissing her concern that they’d recognise her and wonder why she was back there. They’d told her they were heading to Wales, and they would have been on their way early this morning, so she didn’t have to worry about running into them again.
With a sigh, Genna bundled up her leftover food, tossed the empty soda bottle in the bin and headed off up the street. Ten more minutes, she told herself, and she would be enjoying a warm shower in her own private bedroom,
courtesy of the stolen money tucked snugly into her pocket. All things considered, there were far worse places to be when she was a dead woman walking.
Baron stood on the lawn beside the cellar door, a thick shaft of metal in his hand – the bolt from the lock on the cage door. “So you’re saying Genna can make things disappear into thin air?” he clarified, trying to follow what Eleanor was saying.
“Those of the line of Grenable have been known to inherit a number of significant abilities,” she said, standing with her arms folded as they tried to work out how the hell their captive had disappeared from beneath their noses without a trace. “The ability to make objects disappear is one of the rarest gifts, but also the most powerful. Feng examined the rest of the lock closely, and there’s no sign of any other damage. No scratch marks, no sign of any lock-picking device. That’s the best explanation I can come up with, given the available evidence.”
“We’ll need to talk to Sempre,” Caroline pointed out pragmatically. “If Genna’s inherited an ability, then surely Sempre would know about it.”
“If she knew Genna could do this, then why the hell didn’t she tell us?” Baron snapped. “Genna was a loose canon in the first place, selling us out to the Noturatii. God knows what she’s going to do now.”
“But if Sempre knew about Genna’s meeting with the Noturatii, as Genna says she did,” Eleanor pointed out, “then she has a reason to want Genna as far from here as possible. That way, she can’t give further evidence against Sempre. Allowing her to retain a means of escape satisfies that purpose.”
“But why would Genna come here in the first place if she was just going to run away again?” Caroline said. “None of this makes any sense.”
A loud bark got their attention, and everyone turned to see Andre and John racing towards them across the lawn, both of them in wolf form. Upon discovering Genna’s disappearance, Caroline had shifted into a wolf immediately, following the fresh scent trail to try and discover where Genna had gone. The answer had been both obvious and baffling. She’d escaped via the tunnel that led out of the basement onto the lawn, but while the lock on the cage had been destroyed, the other two locks had been left untouched, Caroline clearly remembering having to unlock them to lead the Council members inside.
But regardless of the ongoing mysteries, Genna’s path had been clear, a distinct trail leading off through the forest. As the two best trackers on the estate, John and Andre had been called into action, tasked with following the scent as far as it led them and reporting in to the Council when they found something of use. That had been twenty minutes ago, and they’d heard nothing since.
“What did you find?” Baron asked as the pair of them pulled up and shifted.
“Her trail runs through the forest, over the east gate and down to the road,” Andre reported. “Then it disappears. In all likelihood, she hitched a ride in a car. She could be anywhere by now.”
John was standing silently beside Andre, his body language displaying a subtle but unmistakable deference to Andre, and Baron felt a touch of relief as he observed the dynamics between the pair of them. John had always been a headstrong one and it had taken him a long time after he’d joined their pack to learn to respect its leadership and social structures. With his current antagonism towards Baron, it was comforting to know he was getting along well with Andre. Hopefully the former assassin could be some sort of role model for the boy.
Once Andre had given his report, John spoke up. “It would be interesting to ask why Genna left,” he pointed out, his sharp tone and calm stance giving conflicting signals about how he really felt about the situation. “She deliberately came to us for help, and then she hightails it out of here before we’ve even done anything. Things like that don’t happen without a reason.”
“A valid point,” Eleanor agreed, turning to Baron and Caroline. “When was the last time you saw Genna inside the cage? I’d like to know exactly what happened here between then and now.”
Ten minutes later, Caroline was watching on with growing impatience as Sempre stared at the bolt from the lock on Genna’s cage where it lay on the table in the middle of the stable. Behind her was her three-woman cheering squad, and on the other side of the table were Baron, the Councillors and a handful of the senior wolves from the Den.
“One of your wolves is now a deserter, and we’re going to have to expend significant time and energy calling in an assassin to track her down,” Eleanor snarled at Sempre, as the woman stammered over her reply. “So think carefully before you answer my question.”
Sempre hesitated, as her companions glanced at each other nervously. “She’s inherited the ability to make objects disappear,” she admitted finally. “But it’s of little use,” she added defensively. “Genna has refused to work at developing it properly. She can move tiny objects, from very close range, but that’s all. She’s really very clumsy with the whole thing.”
“Clearly she had some skill with it if she can neatly remove only the centre bolt of a lock,” Eleanor snapped. “And then not only remove the other two locks from their doors, but also replace them perfectly enough that none of us noticed the difference! And whether you thought her abilities a danger or not, you should have at the very least told us of their existence. If we’d thought there was a realistic possibility that she could escape, we would have posted guards and prevented it!”
Sempre looked genuinely baffled by Eleanor’s outburst. “Aren’t you overreacting a bit? Genna’s primary crime was to kill my second-in-command. You claim she’s caused ‘property damage’ here, but no one has told me what the hell she’s supposed to have done. I asked for her back in the first place, and you’re the ones who lost her when you refused a perfectly reasonable request. So stop trying to lay the blame for this whole mess on me!”
Dead silence followed. Eleanor glanced at Feng. Paula cleared her throat. Baron and Caroline, watching on, fidgeted nervously. As yet, Sempre had still not been told of the breach of the Treaty. Or told that Il Trosa knew of it, if the increasingly unlikely story that she was the instigator of the breach was to be believed.
The original plan had been to talk to Genna before revealing anything to Sempre, to make sure the Council had a clear picture of what had supposedly happened before anyone got the chance to change their stories. But now it seemed that that wouldn’t be possible.
“I’m afraid the charges against Genna – and by extension against you – are much more serious than you have been led to believe,” Eleanor explained stiffly. “Last spring, reportedly under orders from yourself, Genna attended a meeting with a Noturatii operative and sold him information about the location of this estate. You and your pack are charged with high treason, as detailed in the Treaty of Erim Kai Bahn, section thirty-three. As of this moment, the Treaty is no longer in effect, until or unless the rest of the Grey Watch can negotiate reasonable terms to avert the entire shifter nation going to war.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Half an hour later, Andre followed the three Councillors across the lawn, dreading the conversation they were about to have. Sempre had said very little after Eleanor’s shock announcement, which was both a good and a bad thing. On the one hand, it meant they hadn’t had to deal with hours of temper tantrums, wild accusations or cringe-worthy protestations of innocence. On the other hand, the less she said, the more difficult it was to work out whether or not she was lying. In the end, she’d simply stated that she’d never ordered Genna to attend any such meeting and that it was imperative that Il Trosa send an assassin as urgently as possible to track her down. For all that the request came across as an imperial order, no one was inclined to make an issue of it, as they all agreed on the urgency of bringing Genna back.
After that, Eleanor had glanced sideways at Andre, and his heart had sunk. Once they reached a secluded place where they wouldn’t be overheard, Eleanor turned to face him. “You know what I’m going to ask,” she said, not bothering to sugar-coat the situation. “You are legally retired,
and as such, I have no power to order you to do anything. But as an assassin, you have the skills and experience needed to find Genna, and calling in another assassin from elsewhere in Europe would take time we can ill afford. So I have to ask: will you please track Genna down for us?”
A dozen different thoughts fought for space in Andre’s head as he tried to formulate an answer. “What is to be her penalty when she’s found?” he asked after a pause.
“Does it matter?” Eleanor replied, though not unkindly. “Surely the future of our species is of greater importance than the fate of one girl?”
“I retired as an assassin because I was sick of killing people for no better reason than that my masters were tugging at my leash,” Andre said harshly. “If you want me to find her, then you can tell me what the consequences will be for her when I do.”
“It’s impossible to say for certain,” Feng said, when Eleanor seemed at a loss for words. “She stands accused of treason. Sempre may or may not be involved, which would lessen Genna’s responsibility if she was, but we’ve barely begun to explore the complexities of the case. In the first instance, we want Genna brought back alive and in good health, so that we can question her and try to resolve this situation as peacefully as possible. The Council and the Watch may, in the end, decide that putting her down is a reasonable course of action. But if we do, you would not be asked to be the one to do it.”
That much, at least, was a relief. But there was another, far more weighty issue to be dealt with. “She’s cut and run with no traceable path,” Andre pointed out, knowing that the Councillors would be aware of the complications associated with tracking her. “She has no access to money, so there won’t be a financial trail. She doesn’t have a car, a passport, a criminal record. There’s nothing at all in the human world that I could use to track her, and if she’s hitchhiking, there’s no scent trail to follow either. You know what that means.”