Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
“ N o,” Lila said. “Stop.”
She didn’t raise her voice, but the effect was as swift as if she’d screamed the words. The two hooded figures froze in place, their tattered robes eddying around their feet. Lila swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
Galeeta’s brows raised in question. “Daughter?”
Lila faltered, wondering why she’d spoken—and why she’d used a voice of compulsion. Maybe she didn’t want to witness what her mother would do next.
It wasn’t sympathy for the wolf. He was their adversary, and they both knew it—in fact, now he was giving her a puzzled look.
“Let him live,” Lila said, her cheeks heating beneath his curious stare. “Please.”
“Why do you care?” Galeeta asked, raising her brows. “Did he win your heart with his sad tale?”
“No. His teeth are too sharp for that.” Lila groped for excuses. “He’s got more information. There’s something he’s not telling me. I’m not done questioning him.”
Rafe’s lips curled back, showing teeth that were a little too pointed for his human form. Without a word or sound, he made it clear he would tell her nothing. That kind of bravery only came from someone with little to lose.
After a pointed pause, Galeeta waved a hand at her retainers. “Put the beast in a cell. One he hasn’t broken yet.”
Lila ducked her chin, avoiding Rafe’s eyes. He’d just gambled away his freedom—and probably his life—to protect his friend. This beast was heroic—or stupid—to a fault.
With cool efficiency, her mother’s servants frisked Rafe and found the key fob, silently dropping it into Lila’s palm. Then they dragged their prisoner away. Rafe cast one last glance over his shoulder, which Lila pretended not to see.
Galeeta studied her with a frown. “How did this happen?”
Lila’s hand traveled to her breast pocket. He’d brushed against her for the barest second, but now her cheeks burned at the half-remembered touch. “He’s a thief.”
A distant door clanged, deep as a mourning bell. The wolf was caged again. Both Lila and her mother turned toward the sound to see the servants were on their way back, clawed hands hidden in their sleeves.
“Go search for the vampire,” Galeeta said to them. “It should be an easy task, since she was bleeding just minutes ago. Bring me proof you found her and dispose of the rest.”
The two bowed and moved silently toward the stairs. Although they didn’t run, they moved faster than Lila’s gaze could follow.
Galeeta took Lila’s arm and drew her down the hall at a brisk pace. A frown puckered her brow. “This should not have happened. No one escapes the fae.”
“I’m sorry,” Lila answered.
They stopped before Rafe’s previous cell. The sliding panel at the top of the door was buckled, wrenched open by brute force. The bars were warped, as if they’d been made of putty.
“This wasn’t your fault,” her mother said, running the tips of her long, slim fingers over the damage. “Such a creature is hard to deny.”
A frisson passed through Lila’s frame. Deny how? Her gaze locked on the crumpled metal, mesmerized by such raw strength. Fear rose like bubbles in her blood, but so did fascination.Physical power alone hadn’t opened Rafe’s door. He had brains and courage, too. He’s fighting for the young of his pack, trying to save them from someone he thinks might be us.
“Still,” Galeeta continued, “that can’t happen again. We can’t afford to look weak right now.”
Lila turned away from the ruined door. It was too distracting. “What do you mean?”
“Remember that I’m fighting to save your father.” Galeeta’s lips thinned. “Let’s not lose any more family members.”
Lila looked down, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She’d had four siblings once, not just Sala and Ademar. “No.”
“You spoke with the wolf again. Did you learn anything new?”
“He says the Magician is a light fae.”
Galeeta made a dismissive noise. “Nonsense. He’s holding out on you. How do we make him give us information?”
As they began walking again, Lila replayed her conversations with the wolf. He was a highly skilled fighter. Self-contained. She could tell from the way he held himself, the confident lift of his head, that he trusted his own abilities. He was a loyal friend, based on the fact he’d saved his vampire.
And behind all that bravado, he had the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. Maybe that’s why she’d spared him. She wanted to know why.
“He’s proud,” Lila said as they reached the staircase and mounted the steps. “He knows who he is.”
“Males like that are easy to break,” Galeeta replied with a shrug. “They assume everyone fights fairly.”
Not like a fae , Lila thought darkly.
“In the meantime,” her mother went on, “go assist the others to capture the Undead. If she reaches her Master, word of this place will spread like fire.”
Then all Galeeta’s plans—whatever those were—would be lost. Lila cared only about saving her father, but that was more than enough. “On my way.”
Rafe landed badly, knocking his elbow on the cell floor. Pins and needles swarmed up his arm, but he had no time to think about it. Hoods One and Two flipped him onto his stomach, pinning him down. He writhed, using all his strength, but he was no match for two of them.
Rafe turned his head so he could breathe and caught a glimpse of the closest creature’s face looming over him. The mouth and chin formed a serrated beak that could easily slice through a limb. These had to be gargoyles. That was the only species that made sense, but they weren’t like any he’d seen before. Where in all the Hells had the fae found them?
When the closest monster saw him looking, it opened its mouth to hiss, showing off a wormlike black tongue.
Cold metal slid around his wrists, snapping tight. Immediately, he felt a prickling burn against his skin. Silver. It affected shifters almost as badly as cold iron poisoned fae.
Hoods One and Two abruptly let him go. He rolled over, expecting a rattle of chains, but found his arms free but for a cuff on each wrist. By the time he jumped to his feet, his guards had retreated to the cell door and were leaving. The last one out turned, an unreadable look on its alien face, and studied Rafe before slamming the door shut. The metallic locks clicked into place.
The sound sent a stab of panic through his gut, but he forced it down, putting a paw on its throat. He needed facts. Logic. Discipline. That was how he’d survive .
His first step was to take stock. The whole process, from dragging him here to locking him in, had taken less than a minute. His captors had been brutal, efficient, and impersonal. He had cuts and bruises, but nothing too bad. He flexed his arm. His elbow complained, but it wasn’t broken.
Rafe paced to the wall, then to the door. This cell was identical to his old one, taking exactly the same number of steps to get from end to end. The last few hours had only changed three things. One, it would be far harder to break out of this cell now that they knew what he could do. Two, he had freed Izetta. Three, they had put him in cuffs.
He stopped moving long enough to examine them. They were about three inches wide and perfectly plain. The only blemish on their smooth surface was a tiny keyhole on the edge of each band. Hair prickled at the base of his neck as he thought about who might hold that key. Lila’s mother? The fool he’d bitten? The only reason the fae would create these cuffs was to keep him under control.
His beast rose, begging to be let out, and Rafe discovered the first thing his new bonds did. The power that let him change form slipped out of his reach as soon as it stirred. He was trapped in man form, half of him cut away.
A wave of breathless nausea made him sit down on the floor.
Discipline. Boundaries. Draw a line of ice around your emotions, a perfect box. Your feelings can flow up to that line, but they can’t spill over. What’s outside the line can’t get inside to touch you. Keep yourself separate, and you can weather any storm. The thicker the ice, the harder it is to crack.
Slowly, slowly, he formed the picture in his mind. As he did so, his pulse and heart rate fell to a normal level. He’d learned the technique in the Silent Wolves. They’d given him the combination of freedom and self-mastery he’d needed. Now he was trained, steady, followed orders, and delivered results. For all the harsh words and disappointment heaped on Rafe when he’d left home, he knew he’d taken the right path. The old Rafe wouldn’t have survived a day in these cells.
The therapist—going had never been his idea, but the order had come down after that thing with the rusalka—said he should be careful not to take the ice wall too far. That he had isolated himself. Well, as long as he was around the fae, those walls had better be a mile thick. They pushed every one of his buttons.
And it wasn’t the first time. Rafe had been too young to remember details, but a hunting party of dark fae had killed his cousin, Trevor, while he was running as a wolf. They had speared him for sport, then sent a purse of gold coin to Trevor’s dad. The Alpha—his grandfather back then—had called the money weregild and according to ancient law, the wolves had been obligated to accept the price.
If Rafe had been Alpha, no amount of coin would have bought those fae peace. Laws be damned. That was a big part of why he’d agreed to hunt the Magician. He was sick of his people being murdered by the fae.
Where were the missing wolves of Pack Devries? Old Jasper, too stubborn to let time and rheumatism keep him by the fire? Hot-headed Rand? Alexi and Lars? Those last two were brothers who ran an auto shop during the day and street races when no humans were looking. And there were more. Twelve had gone missing—he was number thirteen. Had the others found the Magician? Was that why they’d vanished?
Rafe got to his feet just long enough to flop onto the hard bed. He stared at the ceiling, repeating the boundary exercise to quiet his thoughts. It mostly worked, but one worry still niggled.
Had Izetta escaped to find help? If not, he was in this cell for good.
Between the drama of the escape and her mother’s worries, Lila had lost track of time. She was a little surprised to find the afternoon light was already dimming when she got outside, the ragged skyline of fir and pine melting into a dark silhouette. A rising wind brought the scent of the woods like a sharp perfume. Lila drank it in, grateful to be free of the way station.
She turned in place, wondering where to begin her search. An escaped prisoner would try to put distance between themselves and their jail, but even a sliver of daylight robbed the Undead of their strength. Galeeta had been right—the vampire couldn’t have gone far.
Lila paused, using her fae senses to scan the forest around her. The servants were straight ahead, their presence prickling at the edge of her awareness. Lila turned in the opposite direction, heading into the deep woods behind the house. She had no desire to meet those two on a dark, deserted path.
The terrain was almost impassable for anyone but a fae—clearly not a well-used route. Insects buzzed a lazy drone as she picked her way forward. The brush was thick, hiding steep boulders and equally unexpected drops. In places, the thickets looked almost woven together. Insects buzzed a lazy drone. There was a faint path hidden beneath the drifts of leaves, but it took a sharp eye and imagination to find it.
Lila used her magic to clear the clinging branches. They lifted with a crackle of twigs, but just long enough to let her slip past. The one time she was slow, she nearly got a face full of brambles. Soon the brush and trees towered above her, blocking out the sky.
The deeper she went, the darker it got, and she was forced to summon a ball of light into her palm. She held it high to see the ground in front of her, but the shadows gobbled up the light’s rays. Instinctively, she stopped, wary. Dead ahead, an extra-thick tangle blocked her way, steeped in a spell she’d not encountered before .
A familiar resonance in the spell said it was fae work, not something their escaped vampire might have conjured. Under normal circumstances, she’d leave another fae’s work alone. Still, the last days—was it even that long?—had burned through any hesitation. Whatever was hidden here might be an answer. At the very least, it was blocking her path.
Unweave. Pull back. Stand aside. Lila infused the words with her will, forming the syllables first in the common language and then in her own native tongue. The magic caught and twisted, pulling on her store of power the way a spinner teases out their wool. The branches shifted as before, but not without resistance. Every inch took force. Pain shot along her nerves, finding each ending from her fingertips all the way to the root of her spine. It seared like lightning, molten and radiant. Lila let out a cry and fell forward, jarring her knees.
She bent over, head to the ground, as a wave of sickness engulfed her. She hadn’t used that much power in years, and she was out of practice. She pressed her palms to the earth, grounding herself with the feel of cool, damp moss.
When she raised her head, a narrow gap had appeared in the underbrush. She got to her feet, awkward with fatigue, and took a tentative step forward to make out what lay beyond the barrier. The scent of freshly turned dirt filled the air.
Lila paused, letting the woods speak to her. Secret. Quiet. Sleeping the long rest below.
She fell back a step, but not before she’d counted six graves. She took two more steps back, then slid to the ground with her back to a tree.
The white moon sails, but our voices are silent. An ice-cold fist gripped her gut. Rafe hadn’t lied. The wolf had come here looking for his pack.
She’d found them.