Chapter 12 #2
After what felt like a lifetime, I finally reached a spot where the roots of the tree curved out enough to make a space.
I crouched down and used my hands to dig while keeping an eye on the vines.
The ground was hard, so I had to shift my nails to claws to get through, but soon enough, I felt the top of the box.
I pulled it free and clutched it to my chest while I retraced my steps, practically holding my breath until I was a safe distance away.
I opened the box and plucked the silver necklace out before tossing the box aside. Sooner or later, Sorin would trace my path here, and like me, he was crazy enough to think hiding something beneath a strangler vine was a good idea. I’d have to find a new place to stash the necklace after this.
The necklace was something I’d borrowed from Drudonia.
Well, technically stolen, but it had just been sitting on a shelf in one of their rooms of interesting but ultimately useless Fae artifacts.
The necklace was made of delicate silver loops and had rather peculiar magic.
When clasped around someone’s neck, it made them undetectable by sound or scent, but only to Velesians.
Its magic didn’t work on Moroi, Furies, or any of the monsters that roamed Lunaria. We hadn’t found anything else with the same kind of magic, and Velesians hadn’t existed when the Fae would have crafted this necklace; we were all still just humans back then. So who had they made this necklace for?
As Samara would say, yet another Fae mystery to add to the list.
“Good luck tracking me now, Sorin.” I grinned and fastened the Fae jewelry around my neck, which was the only way to activate the magic, and took off at a steady pace, heading west. After a quarter mile, I leapt up into the trees to help cover any physical trail left behind, although the ground was pretty hard and I’d been careful not to disturb much of the undergrowth.
As good a tracker as Sorin was, he had to have something to go on. My practice avoiding Ryker was paying off. Sorin stood no chance.
It was about forty miles to Lake Malov. At the pace I was going, I’d be there in two hours, less if I pushed myself more, but I had to be careful.
Just because it was daylight didn’t mean it was safe.
Howlers were most active during the day, and a large enough pack was definitely dangerous, especially since I didn’t have any weapons on me.
I could have taken the necklace off and shifted to my wolf form, but my best chance at survival would be running.
I let myself sink into my race through the trees, allowing my instincts to guide me.
Mile after mile ticked by with no issues, and just as I started to think I would make it to Lake Malov with no unfortunate encounters, I felt the familiar combination of adrenaline and unease all Velesians learned to pay special attention to, like the forest itself was whispering a warning.
You are being hunted.
This was the real reason we were still alive. It wasn’t our ability to shift into predators nor our enhanced speed and strength. Those things helped for sure, but it was our preternatural instincts that had kept us alive in this land of monsters.
A Velesian that ignored them was a dead Velesian.
I didn’t slow my pace, keeping my steady jog as my gaze scanned the trees around me. Another mile passed and the birds stopped chirping, then everything went very silent.
Howlers wouldn’t get that kind of reaction out of the local wildlife. Most of the monsters that would only came out at night. Dread coiled in my gut.
I was being hunted by Strigoi.
The Moroi often flirted with their hold over humanity.
If they embraced their bloodlust, it made them faster, stronger, and more capable of surviving in the harsh world we lived in.
Though, just like with Velesians who lost themselves to the call of the wild, some Moroi severed their connection to humanity entirely.
Usually this happened when an outpost was attacked, the panic and death creating an intense atmosphere that pushed Moroi too far.
It happened less these days because we’d gotten better at maintaining the wards, but Erendriel and his wraiths had done a number on the Moroi last year.
We didn’t know for sure how many Moroi had become Strigoi in the aftermath of those raids, but there had been an alarming increase in Strigoi attacks recently.
Just my luck that I’d run into them.
In hindsight, I regretted not going out of my way to one of the scout stashes. A leather vest would be real nice right about now to help protect my vital organs from razor-sharp claws. Not to mention having a weapon or two.
I clenched my jaw and slightly picked up my pace. Who was I kidding? Fighting wasn’t an option.
Strigoi rarely traveled alone; groups of three to six were more common. They were clever hunters and adapted quickly in a fight. Outrunning them was my only choice. I debated shifting, but even on four feet, I wasn’t faster than a Strigoi. And I’d always been better at fighting in my human form.
Only three miles stood between me and safety. Getting there in one piece would be challenging but doable. The real problem was that it would take several seconds to activate the hidden doorway and another ten seconds for it to open, which meant I needed to buy some time.
Something moved in the tree ahead of me, just to my right. I didn’t change course though. Not yet. They might be faster and more vicious than me, but I knew these woods far better than they did.
Or at least I hoped I did, because I was about to bet my life on that.
I didn’t shift, but I did let my wolfish nature rise to the surface. Adrenaline flooded my veins, and the world grew sharper. Then the slight crack of a branch six feet to my left sounded like thunder.
I dove forward, tucking into a roll just as two shapes leapt from the trees on either side of me, nothing more than blurs of talons and fangs.
A hiss tore from me as one of them sliced up the back of my calf, but I didn’t stop moving.
Within two seconds, I was back on my feet and running, weaving through the trees and ducking under low-hanging branches.
The Strigoi were silent as they raced after me like specters of death.
There were at least four of them. Maybe six. It was hard to tell because they were so damn quiet and only revealed themselves when they struck. I needed to dwindle their numbers and slow them down.
Nothing other than instinct had me throwing myself to the left.
My shoulder hit a tree and I bounced off, spinning once and seeing the Strigoi that had landed where I’d been a second ago.
She was young, barely in her teens when she’d turned.
A pink ribbon was tied to the end of what was now a very knotted braid, and her pastel blue dress with yellow flowers was in tatters.
This was why I hated facing the Strigoi more than any other monsters in Lunaria, because they were us, or at least they used to be. No matter how divided the Velesians, Moroi, and Furies became, we were all Moon Blessed.
It was hard to kill my own.
Another Strigoi lunged out from behind a tree.
He must have been a large man before he’d turned.
He was tall, well over six feet, and had wide shoulders that had once belonged to a broad build.
Now, he was so gaunt, I suspected I’d be able to catch a glimpse of his ribs if I looked through the large holes of his shirt, but that wasn’t something I had time for as I flung myself back.
This time, I wasn’t quick enough. Claws tore open my stomach. Another two inches, and I would have been disemboweled. Then the thing that used to be a teenage girl sank her fangs into my arm.
I kicked out, catching the larger Strigoi in the stomach and sending him flying back several feet before tearing the girl off my arm and gripping her by the throat. I slammed her against the tree. Once. Twice. Her skull cracked.
They were faster. I was stronger.
Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down as I dropped her and sprinted away. It took more than a fractured skull to take down a Strigoi.
My stomach burned like it was on fire, and I clamped an arm around it to keep the wound from opening more. It would heal eventually, but torn flesh always took longer to knit itself back together, and she hadn’t exactly been polite about it while ripping into my arm.
I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain, running towards the one thing that could save my life right now. A quick glance over my shoulder told me the big Strigoi was still on my tail along with the girl, and at least a couple more were in the trees.
Where the fuck are you? I stole quick glimpses through the trees as my feet pounded into the earth.
Finally, I spotted what I’d been looking for, or at least I thought I did.
The camouflage made it tough to tell, but we were definitely in its territory, so I hoped I was right.
I altered my course in the direction of a tall dead tree that had an identical dead tree exactly six feet away from it.
The only difference between the trees was that the one on the right had a long, jagged, white line down its trunk like a scar.
Please don’t be dead-dead, I pleaded before skidding to a stop as one of the Strigoi keeping pace in the canopy dropped down to block my path.
Damn it. I was so close. Another one landed next to the first. I couldn’t hear the other two and I didn’t dare take my eyes off the ones in front of me, but I suspected they would be at my back in seconds, which meant I was boxed in.
This was going to hurt.
I didn’t wait for them to attack, which I knew they’d do at any moment; instead, I lunged forward, putting all my weight behind the movement, and my shoulder slammed into Strigoi that had just landed.