Chapter 25
Things Can Always Get Worse
Fenrir Thorsson
The silence in the car is broken only by our passenger's ragged breathing.
His scent—terror mixed with the distinctive copper-sweetness of Elvin blood—fills the confined space, sharp enough that I can taste it on my tongue.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, furious at being pulled away from Astrid.
Each mile between us stretches like physical pain.
Cormac drives with single-minded focus, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, taking turns too quickly.
"We should have brought her with us," I say for the third time since leaving the warehouse.
Cormac's eyes never leave the road. "You know we couldn't."
My hand goes to the door again, the metal groaning beneath my grip. The electrical sensation that connects me to Astrid pulses like a second heartbeat, urging me to return to her.
"She could help us," I insist. "She deserves to know what she's up against."
"And she will," Cormac says, his tone softening slightly. "But not now. Not like this."
I settle back into my seat, forcing my hand away from the door. My wolf snarls its frustration, but for once, we're not at odds. We both want the same thing. To be with her, to protect her. The difference is merely in methods.
I turn to look at the Elvin man, truly studying him for the first time.
His clothes are ragged, filthy from whatever ordeal he's endured.
His pointed ears quiver with each panicked breath, and his once-fine features are gaunt with hunger and fear.
Someone or something has carved strange symbols into his forearms, the wounds still healing.
"What's your name?" I ask, keeping my voice deliberately gentle.
He startles, eyes widening as if surprised to be addressed as a person rather than cargo. "T-Tharin," he manages after a moment. "Tharin of Willow River."
"You're safe now, Tharin," I tell him, though the words feel hollow even to my own ears. Are any of us really safe?
Cormac takes a sudden turn onto a narrow road that winds through dense trees. "I’ll send someone from the ranch to return the car after the sirens take us through."
Tharin stiffens in the back seat. "Sirens?" The single word carries a universe of terror.
"Not like before," I assure him quickly. "Our sirens are allies."
His eyes widen in panic. "No—no sirens. Please." He presses himself against the door, as far from us as the confines of the car will allow. "They took me. They—"
"These sirens are safe," Cormac says firmly, but with compassion underlying his tone. "They've been with our rebellion from the beginning."
Tharin shakes his head violently, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.
"We have no choice," I tell him. "It's the only way to reach the ranch without traveling for days."
The car slows as we approach a small, secluded pond, silver in the moonlight. Nothing about it appears remarkable to the human eye. And nothing should.
Cormac parks among the shadows of old oak trees. "I'll go first with the ring," he says, reaching into his pocket for the small silver band. "Call them and explain the situation."
He exits the car and approaches the water's edge, kneeling to touch the surface. The silver ring catches moonlight as it drops from his fingers, disappearing without a ripple.
I track Cormac's movements, muscles tense. Every second here is wasted.
Astrid is out there. Unprotected.
My plan solidifies. Get to the ranch. Extract information from the elf. Then return to Astrid before dawn. The connection between us throbs like an exposed nerve, my wolf clawing beneath my skin with each mile that separates us.
For a moment, nothing happens at the water's edge. Then a pale hand breaks the surface, fingers wrapping around Cormac's wrist as he leans forward. I catch fragments of their conversation… urgent tones, hushed warnings.
The scent of Cormac's concern reaches me before he does.
"She will return with two more," he says, sliding back into the driver's seat.
Tharin is trembling violently now, his eyes wide with panic. "No—please—"
I turn in my seat to face him directly. "Tharin, look at me." I wait until his frantic eyes meet mine. "I give you my word as a Knight of the Round Table that no harm will come to you."
Something in my tone or perhaps the formal oath seems to reach him. His breathing slows slightly. After what feels like an eternity, he gives a small, jerky nod.
Relief floods through me. I was seconds from simply hauling him over my shoulder, oath or no oath.
Together, we help Tharin from the car. His body trembles like a trapped hare, adrenaline rolling off him in waves. I half-expect him to bolt. His legs barely support him, and I end up half-carrying him to the water's edge, my grip firm enough to prevent any sudden flight.
He stiffens with each step closer to the pond, muscles going rigid beneath my hand. The acrid scent of his terror intensifies.
"Close your eyes if it helps," I suggest.
At the shoreline, the water ripples before we even reach the edge.
Almost immediately, three sirens surface in unison, their opalescent skin catching the moonlight.
The first has hair the color of midnight mixed with brilliant purples, another's is pale as sea foam, and the third's is a burnished copper and bright reds that gleams like fire even in the darkness.
All have eyes that shift color with each blink—blue to green to silver.
Tharin whimpers at the sight of them, his body pressing against mine. The stench of his terror spikes, sharp enough to make my wolf bare its teeth.
"These are our allies," I tell him firmly, grip tightening on his shoulder to keep him in place. "Maris, Nerissa, and Elle. They serve Nimue, leader of the rebellion."
The sirens move closer, each extending their hands palm-up in a gesture of peace. The water barely ripples around them.
"We mean you no harm," Maris says, her voice like distant bells over water.
Cormac steps to the water's edge. "Thank you," he acknowledges with a nod to the sirens.
I urge Tharin forward, still supporting most of his weight. "Keep breathing," I tell him quietly. "It will be over before you know it."
The sirens position themselves—one before each of us—their grips gentle. Tharin's entire body goes rigid, but I’m pleased he doesn't fight as they pull us deeper. The water rises to our knees, our waists, our chests.
"Now," Maris commands, "a deep breath. All together."
And then we're underwater, being pulled down and through. For a heartbeat that lasts both an instant and an eternity, we're suspended. Neither here nor there, neither dry nor wet, passing through ancient pathways that sirens alone can navigate.
Then we break through simultaneously, emerging into the clear waters of the ranch lake.
The night sky above us is the same, but the surrounding landscape has changed completely.
Where the pond was surrounded by dense woodland, this lake sits in a clearing, with the sprawling ranch house visible on the rise beyond.
The sirens release our hands as we step from the water completely dry. Tharin staggers and I steady him with a hand on his shoulder. "We made it," I tell him. "This is the ranch."
The sirens disappear quietly back below the surface of the lake.
The ranch lights glow through the darkness. The sight would normally bring comfort, but tonight all I can think about is that Astrid is out there, alone. And I don’t even really know what’s hunting. Something evil enough Hades sent his fucking dogs…
As we approach the long path to the house, I see figures silhouetted in the windows—Maven, Nari, and others gathering at our arrival. The moment we're close enough, Maven hurries from the porch, her quick, efficient steps bringing her to us rapidly.
"Bring him inside. Quickly."
The main room of the ranch house has been transformed in our absence. The large wooden table is laden with food and drink, and the fire roars in the hearth despite the mild evening. They’ve gone to great lengths to make the large space feel cozier and less intimidating.
I guide Tharin to a chair near the fire, and Nari immediately appears with a steaming mug that smells of chamomile and honey—and something else. A calming draught. Smart.
"Drink," she tells him gently. "It will help."
While Tharin sips cautiously at the tea, the others gather around. Dugall emerges from the shadows of the kitchen, his weathered face grave. Isabella and a few of the brownies hover near the doorway.
"What happened?" Maven asks, directing her question to Cormac rather than me.
"He escaped from the warehouse," Cormac explains, keeping his voice low. "Says they're holding others there. At least a dozen."
Maven's expression darkens. "The same pattern as before?"
Cormac nods grimly. "Seems so."
I pace the edge of the room, unable to stay still.
The distance from Astrid is a physical ache now, the electrical connection between us strained by the distance to the point of pain.
My wolf circles restlessly, pushing against my control.
I take another quick sip of ambrosia from my flask to help take the edge off.
"Fen," Maven says sharply, noticing my agitation. "You need to focus."
With effort, I stop pacing and turn my attention back to our guest. Tharin has some color returning to his face, the tea and warmth doing their work. His eyes dart nervously around the room, cataloging exits, assessing threats. Instincts of a victim.
"You're among friends," I tell him, taking a seat opposite his. "No one here will harm you."
"Friends," he repeats, the word strange on his tongue, as if he's forgotten its meaning. "I—I don't understand what's happening. Where am I? This still isn't my world."
"No," I confirm. "You're still on Earth."
“It is forbidden to be here. Why are we still here?” Tharin says, his tone worried.