Chapter 2
PEACOCKY AS HELL
Ziara
With a deep, steadying breath, I turned to evaluate my surroundings.
At first glance, the scene inside the hedge looked much like the forest outside it.
Nothing but the dark shapes of trees as far as the eye could see.
Needing to get the lay of the land, I tentatively stepped away from the hedge and sought out a tree to climb.
Scaling anything that could hold my weight was one of the first skills Rust ever taught me, and I was damn proficient at it.
It took only a moment for me to spot a massive bigleaf maple with well-spaced branches.
I scurried right up it until I towered well above the ground.
Being up high had always felt natural, and right now, it helped calm my racing heart and ease my erratic breathing.
I took in a lungful of fresh air and slowly expelled it.
It didn’t matter that this plan had more holes than my training dummies because I could think on my feet. I’d prepared for this.
Patches of moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the bizarre world I now found myself in.
The hedge stretched around me as far as I could see, encircling the area.
I was near the end of the tree line, and beyond it, I could make out farmland, gardens, fenced pastures, and outbuildings.
In the center of it all stood the giant castle that held my target.
Mentally mapping out a route that would keep me mostly hidden, I climbed back down the tree and took off on silent feet, careful to stay in the shadows.
I made excellent time skirting crops, gardens, and pastures, but the outbuildings gave me pause.
Like the structures found in my pack’s Seattle territory and along the roads we’d taken to get here, vegetation had overrun the buildings, but there was something different about these plants.
Intrigued, I crept up to what looked like a storage shed to investigate.
Everywhere else, magic-enhanced nature was aggressively eating away at the buildings and reclaiming the land.
This shed was undamaged. The ivy and moss appeared strategically woven around the structure, concealing without destroying.
Fascinated, I touched a vine only to have magic lick at my fingertips and make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
What sort of power would it take to create and maintain such camouflage?
Another shudder clawed up my spine as I winced and snatched my hand away. Unnerving gardening practices weren’t my objective. Needing to focus on my mission, I continued toward the castle.
Hypervigilant, every step cautious and guarded, I crept through the trees and bushes. I’d almost made it to my goal when voices sent me scurrying behind a tree. Crouching low, I willed myself to become one with the deepest shadows, held my breath, and waited.
Two males spoke in a language I didn’t recognize as they approached, their footsteps steady and their conversation boisterous.
At least twenty feet separated us when they passed, heading away from the castle, but I caught whiffs of minerals, earth, salt, and something ancient I couldn’t place. They had to be gargoyles.
Having never seen one before, curiosity nibbled at the edges of my patience, but not enough to risk my life. I didn’t take a single peek. Once they stepped beyond my hearing, I peeled myself from my hiding tree and resumed my careful approach.
Far too soon, I reached the outer ramparts, also camouflaged by vines.
Ignoring the disturbing tingle of magic, I used an especially sturdy branch to scale the massive wall.
On the roof, I stayed hidden in the overgrowth and used the higher vantage point to search for the gargoyles, but they were out of sight.
Blood pounded in my ears as I mapped out my escape route back to the hedge.
Assured of the fastest way out, I mustered up the courage to creep across the flat roof, angling to investigate the massive mezzanine-style rectangle at the castle’s center.
Both stories opened onto an outside courtyard occupied by—I sniffed—fresh water?
An enormous in-ground swimming pool? I squinted and waited.
When no unusual shadows or ripples appeared in the dark depths, I turned my attention to the stone archways separating the courtyard from the dark recesses.
Anything could be lying in wait down there, and my backbone threatened to liquefy at all the potential traps.
Another deep inhale through my nose turned up the scent of roses and more hints of an apex predator.
Still, no eyes glowed from the shadows. There were no scuffling sounds, no flickers of movement, and I was wasting time.
Senses on high alert, and regulating my breathing so I wouldn’t freaking hyperventilate, I climbed down a vine into the courtyard.
When nothing jumped me, I relaxed fractionally and started my search.
Sereana hadn’t given me directions in the traditional sense of the word. Instead, the witch had telepathically sent a series of images to my mind. It was a disturbing ability, but pretty much everything my aunt did gave me nightmares.
Closing my eyes, I imagined the visual treasure map that started in the courtyard. Four sets of unique wooden dragons topped the newel posts of the marble staircases leading to the second story. Fixing on the details of the correct set, I opened my eyes and found the snarling, swooping beasts.
Interesting choice of decor.
Ignoring the inner voice shrieking at me to run away, I slipped up the stairs and into the dark castle. The feral, icy scent grew stronger the higher I climbed, turning each step into a battle against common sense. I knew this way led to death, but I had to keep moving.
I had to try.
The last war had taken my pack to the brink of extinction.
We’d hidden and licked our wounds, burying our dead and pledging vengeance.
My father and his officers spent decades planning and preparing to wipe out our enemies once and for all so we could finally live in peace.
This artifact was the key to everything.
Taking a quick moment to recenter, every inch of me primed to run, I imagined the map again to locate the correct corridor and followed it to the treasure room without incident.
I took a slow, measured breath as the trepidation in my chest grew big enough to consume me. This gig was about to get a lot more complicated.
Stick to the program.
Pausing outside the door, I clicked on the headlamp Velcroed to my baseball cap.
Nothing happened.
Shit. The barrier must have fried that, too.
A setback, but it wasn’t the end of the world since I had a backup plan.
Retrieving a lighter from my backpack, I said a silent prayer and turned the spark wheel.
A small flame flared, followed by the faint stench of lighter fluid.
I nearly cheered as the light reflected off the doorknob and keyhole.
Expecting it to be locked, I gripped the knob and tried it anyway.
A shiver of surprised unease crawled down my spine when it opened.
I tensed as the door silently swung forward on well-oiled hinges, and flashes of light nearly startled a scream out of me.
That would have been both tragic and embarrassing, considering it was my own faint light reflecting off thousands of shiny, glittering surfaces.
The castle remained silent, and my breathing evened out.
I couldn’t stand there holding the lighter all night, so I released the flame and backtracked down the hall to where I’d spotted candle wall sconces.
Plucking one candle from its holder, I carried it back to the treasure room, lit it, and balanced it on the floor, quietly shutting the door behind me before I turned to evaluate the next step of my challenge.
Not even Sereana’s mental images could have prepared me for the splendor of the cavernous room.
Piles of gold coins and gems were everywhere.
A diamond as big as my fist peeked out of an ancient treasure chest. Weapon racks loaded with swords, rapiers, battle axes, and maces—all with gaudy gem-encrusted hilts—covered one entire wall.
A giant-sized medieval suit of gilded armor stood sentry over the mess, strands of every gem imaginable hanging from its arms. I gaped at it, half expecting the monstrosity to come to life and start flinging necklaces at me.
The room was peacocky as hell, and yet I felt an odd twinge of jealousy at the stash.
My hand reached out, almost of its own accord, to snag a nearby emerald-encrusted tiara, but I got a grip just in time and stopped myself.
I’d been warned that the moment I touched anything in this room, the owner would be alerted to my presence.
How? No clue. But there was only one treasure worth the risk of death.
I spotted the wooden box resting atop a pedestal at the back of the room, right where Sereana had shown me it would be. Later, I’d wonder how she’d seen this room and yet neglected to grab the artifact herself, but for now, I had to focus on reaching it without touching anything else.
Unwilling to risk a stroll through unstable piles of potential booby traps, I unstrapped the crossbow pistol from my backpack and gave it a quick once-over.
Deadly up to forty feet, it packed a hundred pounds of draw weight and was as accurate as a full-size model.
Rust had welded an electric reel loaded with thin enchanted rope onto it.
Removing two weighted bolts from my pack, I threaded the rope through one bolt hole and tied it off before loading the crossbow.
With a silent prayer that the influx of magic hadn’t fried the weapon, I aimed at the back wall and fired.
The bolt sailed through the air with a faint whirr and bit into the wall with a thwap.
Relief coursed through my veins, stuttering when a small hunk of plaster broke free and tumbled to the ground with a barely audible smack.
I froze and listened, tension locking up every muscle.
Silence.
Second hurdle successfully vaulted, I sagged in relief for a moment before getting back to business and loading the next bolt, which I shot into the wall beside me, about a foot above my head.
After reattaching the crossbow to my bag, I cut the rope, threaded the loose end through the second bolt hole, pulled it taut, and knotted it, creating a tightrope approximately six and a half feet in the air.
Tugging on a pair of thick leather gloves, I jumped, grabbing the rope to dangle above the treasure piles.
Pulling my knees up to my chest and hooking one heel over the line, I shimmied across the room, careful not to touch a thing, and wishing the camera on my hat was working so Rust could see my cat burglar prowess and know all his training hadn’t been in vain.
I was freaking doing this.
At the back wall, I gingerly lowered myself to the clear square of floor surrounding the box’s pedestal and silently thanked my mentor for all his excruciating training. Turned out the mean old geezer hadn’t just been kicking my ass for shits and giggles.
On this side of the room, the weaker candlelight cast sinister shadows that made me feel as if I were being watched.
Head on a swivel, muscles tense, I peeled off my gloves and stuffed them into a pocket.
When no threats materialized, I turned my attention to the box and immediately had to stifle a gasp of surprise.
Sereana’s memories had shown me a plain wooden box, but there was nothing simple about this one.
A galaxy of stars swirled across the cedar surface. Constellations formed, broke apart, and reformed, each movement creating deep but fluid grooves in the wood; there one moment and gone the next.
Magic.
The realization knocked the air from my lungs and the plan from my brain.
I wanted nothing to do with magic, but when a quick scan around the room turned up no other small wooden containers on pedestals, I came to terms with the fact that I didn’t have a choice.
Mentally preparing for the getaway of my life, I gripped the wooden top and tried to open it.
No luck.
Deciding to take the whole damn thing, I took a fortifying breath, wrapped both hands around the box, and tugged. When it didn’t so much as budge, I braced myself and strained.
What the…?
I’d touched something in the treasure room, which meant the owner was likely heading this way, but I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of my heart.
I also couldn’t leave without the artifact.
Dropping to my knees, I studied the way the wood sat flush against the pedestal but didn’t appear to be connected.
Confused, I drew a dagger and attempted to wedge it between the two, but some invisible barrier blocked the blade.
A thin seam ran horizontally around the box, but there was no visible keyhole or locking device. I tried to pry the lid open with the dagger, sheathing my weapon when it didn’t work.
Sliding one hand over the seam, I dug in with my wolf’s strength. The lip yielded beneath my fingertip, but instead of opening, something pierced my skin. Startled by the sudden stab of pain, I yanked my hand back.
Too late.
I watched with a mix of horror and fascination as my blood trickled into the nearest etched star. The star swirled and moved, spreading blood across the cover and staining the galaxy red.
Blood could be used for countless shady spells, and this box now held mine.
Panic threatened to choke me as indecision locked me in place.
Before I could spiral into a full-blown anxiety attack, the lid popped open.
My hands shot up to shield my face just in case, but nothing happened.
Slowly lowering my arms, I peered inside.
Cushioned on silky golden fabric sat a rock smaller than the palm of my hand.
It was oddly shaped, with one side as sharp and narrow as the tip of a dagger.
It didn’t look like much, but magic wafted off it, charging the air and making my ears ring.
Snapping back to reality, I hurriedly plucked the bloodstone from its opulent nest.
Two things happened.
A warm, tingly sensation seeped into my hand and flowed up my arm.
And the house screamed.
Yes, screamed. The alarm seemed to come from all the walls at once and was loud enough to wake the dead.
My demon wolf tried to jump out of her skin—out of me—but that bitch was locked up tight.
Ignoring the goosebumps sprouting all over my body, I shoved the bloodstone into a pocket in my backpack and hauled ass for the door.