7. Chapter 7
Like a fool, I vanish into the trees, if only to prove him wrong.
The canopy thickens overhead, swathing me in tangled plants that enwrap their thorny vines around my legs as if they’re coaxing me to stay awhile.
Perhaps forever. But the more I hack away at the foliage with Augustine’s beloved dagger, the more it expands and swells in response.
It’s as if this forest is trying to bury me alive, I swear to all the gods.
“I thought I told you to trust him, not steal from him,” Solara says in a scolding tone as she materializes beside me.
She’s wearing a gown of amethyst chiffon that flows from her neck down to her ankles, which makes her look like a ghostly orchid amongst this sea of living weeds.
Weeds, by the way, that are now trying to strangle me.
I cut more of them loose, letting out an exasperated huff.
Meanwhile, Solara’s gaze falls on the dagger in my grasp and she frowns.
“I didn’t know that you were a thief, Sister,” she comments.
“It’s not like he didn’t deserve it,” I remark, recalling how I’d swiped Augustine’s blood-caked dagger from his grasp last night after he’d drifted off to sleep. Admittedly, I still feel quite accomplished over this feat, considering how he’d been none-the-wiser to its absence this morning.
“He’s only trying to help you.” Solara jams her finger against my cheek, an action which leaves an icy imprint on my skin. “Now go back to the big man and apologize for being a twat.”
“Fat chance,” I say, using the dagger to slice another thick vine out of my way.
“If I return to him now, he’ll only goad over my inability to be a pirate for the rest of the day, and I can’t stand the thought.
Plus, a pirate would never admit to their thievery, would they?
” I break free of the last weed, then tromp down the dirt-trodden trail that leads me deeper into the forest, leaving Solara behind.
“You can become a pirate later, once you’re safe!” Solara calls out. “But right now, you’ll never make it out of this forest alive without him. In fact, it’s blatantly obvious that you’re already lost.”
“I’m not lost,” I scoff, knowing full well that I’m completely lost. “He won’t tell me anything about himself or where we’re going.
Doesn’t that strike you as a little odd?
” I ask over my shoulder, yelping as a sharp twig scrapes my cheek, drawing blood.
Thank all the gods that no one is around to witness the liquid dribbling down my chin in rich silver ribbons, or they’d chain me up and drag me to the gods for being an abomination.
Solara rushes to catch up with me, stepping directly into my path. Her movement causes me to pass right through her, like I’ve hit an icy wall of sleet, or a frost-nipped cloud with teeth. Fuck. That was weird.
“I need you to listen to me, Shay,” she pleads. “This is important. You must turn around and find Augustine.”
I swallow down blood-tinged saliva and nod, feeling delirious, nearly having bitten through the tip of my tongue. One does not simply walk through their sister’s apparition and stroll away feeling… normal.
“The old woman’s name is the Mother of Chaos,” Solara says, mustering up far more patience for me than I probably deserve. “She came to me in a dream, vowing that if you freed her, she’d unite us together across the universe. But none of that will be possible if you die in this forest.”
I mull over her words. “Free her from what, exactly?”
“She didn’t explain,” Solara admits ruefully, throwing me a sidelong look. “All she said was that a burly man would come to collect you, and that he would lead you straight to her.”
My lips twist in disdain. “Did you hear that?”
Solara gawks at me. “I heard it straight from the source, of course. In a dream. Do you ever pay attention to anything I say?”
“No,” I tell her in earnest. “I was asking if you heard that.” I hold out a hand to silence her as something rustles in the leaves nearby.
Two yellow eyes appear first, followed by a massive black body.
A creature stalks toward me, and I suddenly come face to face with death, along with an even worse admission: I was wrong.
The wolves that Augustine had warned me about aren’t really wolves at all.
They’re demons from Hell cloaked in sleek black fur, with teeth so sharp, they could puncture through bone quicker than wind cleaves apart smog.
I clutch my utterly useless dagger against my chest as another beast appears, followed by a third, until soon, I’m surrounded by a pack of them, each looking hungrier and more formidable than the first.
A stitch finds its way into my chest and twists, feeling like a white-hot knife impaling me in the heart.
All this time, I’d been imagining that Augustine was the most dangerous thing in this forest, but I’d been wrong.
So wrong. My hands shake like the wings of a frightened bird, causing my pilfered dagger to tumble right out of my grasp.
But I don’t make a move to pick it up. I don’t dare move at all.
There’s no point in trying to fight them. I wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone all twelve of them. My stomach forms a pesky knot that I can’t seem to untangle regardless of how much I squirm, as a stark realization ravages me to the core.
This is how my life will end. Which means that my entire childhood spent festering behind the walls of that shadowy enclave—a place that felt more like a prison sentence than an orphanage—only to be strewn on the streets and left to fend for myself at the age of eighteen, had been all for naught.
Never mind the seven years I’d wasted with a man I’d so desperately wanted to love, only to be discarded the moment things had gotten serious between us.
The fact is, I never had a chance to amount to anything worth spitting at.
I was, and will always remain, as insignificant as paint peeling on the wall.
No one will miss me, aside from my sister, who probably doesn’t even exist.
The creature stalks closer through heaps of tangled weeds, stopping directly in front of me.
Gods, its breath reeks like the sulfuric pits of Hell.
I refrain from emptying the entirety of my stomach contents all over its two front paws as it sizes me up, probably to determine whether I’m worth the wasted breath it would require to rip apart my tendons into bite-sized pieces and gobble them up.
“Don’t scream,” Solara whispers. “Screaming will only give them cause to kill you faster, solely to make the ear-bleeding sounds stop.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I manage to choke out.
“Don’t move either.” Solara’s voice pitches up an octave. “Just pretend that you’re in a dream. One with a lot of rain and thunder. I’ll handle this.”
“Okay?” A single tear slips down my cheek as grief shackles me in barbs sharper than the weeds. I imagine my body becoming fertilizer for the invasive plants, giving them life after they failed to save me.
Solara slips away, and the wolf’s muzzle comes within inches of my face, its rank breath wafting into my mouth and filling my lungs.
I choke and sputter, hold a bated breath, and then try counting to one hundred to distract myself.
The wolf bends down and sniffs me curiously, its yellow eyes meeting mine in a dance of trepidation.
I brace for impact, fully expecting its jagged teeth to tear open my throat and me to bleed out all over the forest floor.
But instead, it blinks. Then it stuffs its muzzle beneath my armpit and gives me a little nudge, snorting out fumes of putrid heat until I agree to run my fingertips through its soft fur and… pet it?
“Solara?” I glance around in a panic. “Solara, where did you go?”
Solara doesn’t answer. Instead, rain begins to trickle over me in sheets of sleet and hail, quickly turning into a whirlwind of snow that whips at my cheeks and unwinds my braid.
“Solara!” I chatter, my excitement tearing through the wind.
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s working!” A clash of lightning claps overhead, and the wolf nuzzles my hand in agreement.
“I knew it.” Augustine’s gravelly voice punctures the clearing, skidding to a halt on the bridge of my brow, where it immediately instigates a clapping headache.
“They like you. It’s probably because you gave them fish.
” He studies me intently as the wind simmers down, the rain dissolving into mist. “Along with that apple core,” he adds, taking a step closer. “You are quite the slob, Raven.”
“My name is Shadow,” I grumble in discontent, looking over my shoulder, still in search of Solara. “And as far as giving them fish, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles lowly to himself. “Back in the clearing, you threw fish into the thicket. Two fish, to be precise.” He holds up two fingers and waves them around, a grin slipping over his lips. “And as it just so happens, everything in the forest belongs to the wolves. Your trash is their treasure.”
This makes me snort. “And what about you then? Do you also belong to the wolves?”
Something dark and sinister flickers in his eyes, like perhaps I’ve gotten it all wrong, and the wolves belong to him.
I roll my eyes and continue scratching the beast behind its ear, fearing that if I stop, it will grow tired of my company and dismember me limb from limb.
“Where did you get all of that, anyway?” I ask, motioning with a chin jerk toward Augustine’s weapons, which have multiplied since we last spoke.
He’s wearing double baldrics, one slung over each side of his torso cross-body style, each of them secured with swords.
There’s also a brand-new quiver strapped to his back, complete with a bow and arrows.
And on top of that, he still has the daggers strapped to the sheath on his thigh holster.
Aside from the missing one that I stole.