Chapter 32
“Fear and distrust of the unknown is innate across all species.”
— Flora and Fauna of the Seelie Lands
This cannot be happening. My ears must have water in them or something. “Did you say fae?”
Maddox takes a handful of steps forward and then points toward the mucky ground next to his worn boots.
I might not be an expert tracker, but even I can tell there’s a trail of boot prints in the ground that look as fresh as the ones we left behind. “Someone else is at the bottom of The Divide.”
Maddox crouches next to the closest print, tracing the edges, his frown growing with each passing second. “So it would seem.” Slowly he rises, gaze following the trail of boot prints to where they disappear into the low shrubbery.
Who in the world would be down here? Are they here deliberately, or are they victims of chance like us? “Do you think someone else survived the fall off the bridge?”
“This I do not know.”
Of course he doesn’t. How could he possibly?
Maddox reaches for my hand—a reflex. Green fingers intertwine with tanned ones. “If we have the misfortune of meeting this fae, we must not trust them. There is no telling their intentions. Stay close to me.”
I’m already wrapped around him like a vine. How much closer can I get?
My mind drifts back to last night, when the strong hands now holding mine were between my thighs.
There is one way we could be closer, but that would involve removing all our clothes and—
What am I doing? I shouldn’t be fantasizing at a time like this. For all we know, the fae down here with us could be a vicious murderer. He could be a cannibal, consuming fae flesh for his meals.
Not that there are any other fae down here for him to hunt. What if he’s not fae at all but something else entirely?
We need to get out of here.
My stomach grumbles.
Maddox’s gaze falls to my protesting middle. “We must find food and then search for somewhere safe to stay this night.”
Somewhere safe. Hidden from sight. But where?
My stomach growls again. “Should we catch some fish?” I say with a forced smile to hide the fear twisting through me.
And by we, of course, I mean Maddox, because I’m entirely useless.
I could always offer to start the fire, but everything is so wet, I’m not sure where we’re supposed to find fuel. Without a fire, we won’t be able to cook the fish.
What I wouldn’t give for the safety and comfort of a sun-drenched table at LaMonte, an almond croissant in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other.
“Let us first check for berries.”
Berries sound a hundred times better than raw fish.
Maddox stalks forward on silent feet, toward the thicker shrubbery at the base of the cliff.
The mud isn’t as kind to me, sucking at my shoes until I’m forced to remove them.
How is he not sinking? Unseelie magic of some sort?
With my fingers hooked in my slippers and mud squishing between my toes, we finally reach the cliff face.
The trail—if one would even call it that—is barely as wide as my slippers end to end.
If it gets any smaller, we’ll be doomed.
Tomorrow’s problem.
First, we must—
A low growl rumbles from the bushes. Maddox’s body goes completely still, the muscles in his shoulders bunching.
Coiling. With the slightest flick of his hand, he motions for me to get behind him right as the largest beast I’ve ever seen prowls from between the shrubs, its bloodshot eyes trained on us.
“I want you to start climbing,” Maddox whispers.
“What? No.” I cannot leave him behind to face this beast alone.
“Please, Nia.”
What good am I to him in this fight? I’ll only get in the way.
Slowly, I press my back into the cold cliff wall, fear choking off my breath as I inch closer to where the path begins to rise.
The wolf’s lips draw back, revealing razor-sharp teeth. Maddox withdraws his dagger, but to use it, he’ll have to get too close to the monster with death in its eyes. If only the spear hadn’t been lost to the flood. If only he had a sword in his rucksack.
If only . . .
The wolf rears back. Lunges.
Maddox swipes out with his blade, slamming the end into the wolf’s throat.
The strike doesn’t fell the beast; it enrages him. Wild red eyes narrow, there’s another growl, and the wolf leaps on top of Maddox, knocking him to the ground. The beast gnashes with its teeth, swipes with its claws, catching Maddox’s forearm in its maw. His blade tumbles to the ground.
I have to do something.
I have to—
I grab a loose rock, launching the stone at the wolf’s head before the monster can go for the kill, hitting the beast square between the eyes.
Its head slowly lifts, another growl tearing from its bleeding throat.
My heart roars as I swipe for another rock. Maddox takes advantage of the distraction, retrieving his blade and driving it home between the wolf’s ribs.
The beast swings back toward Maddox. I throw my rock, hitting its shoulder, but this time, the wolf pays me no heed. There’s a terrible ripping sound. A spray of blood. A scream.
My scream.
The wolf staggers to the side and collapses next to Maddox’s prone form.
Blood. So much blood.
And silence.
Too much silence.
“Maddox . . .”
I stumble off the path toward where he lies, my heart in my throat and tears burning my eyes.
Please let him be all right. Please . . .
His arm is torn open, and there are bite marks on his shoulder, but he is breathing and blinking up at me. Alive. For now.
My knees sink into the mud. “You’re alive . . .” It’s impossible to tell where the wolf’s blood ends and his begins. He needs water, and fast.
Maddox tries to sit up only to fall back once more. I do my best to help him upright, his weight no match for my weak arms. “Where’s your flask?”
“Empty.”
No. No. No. “Canteen?”
“Rucksack.”
He manages to sit long enough for me to dig around in the leather pack still hooked to his back. What remains of the water sloshes in the canteen. Heavens, it feels like there’s almost nothing left.
What are we going to do?
Unscrewing the lid, I lift the canteen toward Maddox’s pale lips. “You need to—”
My words are cut off by a growl.
I whip toward the wolf Maddox felled, finding its carcass limp and lifeless in the mud. If it’s dead, then where did that sound come from?
Another low snarl lifts the hairs on my arms. The back of my neck.
Two wolves stalk from the bushes, one to the right and one to the left.
There’s no way out.
With blood dripping down his forearm, Maddox fumbles for his dagger.
He’s wounded. There’s no way he can take on two wolves alone.
This is it. We’re going to die.
A sharp whistle pierces the gloom.
The wolves’ pointed ears twitch, and their heads turn toward the noise.
A streak of brown sails through the air, hitting the closest beast dead in its eye.
The mammoth wolf collapses where it stood, twitching twice before falling still.
The other one takes off running, its bushy tail slamming into the brush, the snap of limbs and thud of paws vanishing into eerie silence.
Maddox struggles to his feet, and I try to help him, but he’s too heavy and—
There’s another whistle. Closer. A fae stands before us, a curtain of shiny black hair falling over a very bare, very green, very buxom chest.
The fae at the bottom of The Divide isn’t a man.
It’s an Unseelie woman.