Chapter Two
Present Day
Sage
I tear down the road, tires screeching, headlights chasing me like hungry eyes in the dark. In the rearview mirror, they're closing in.
I glance at the dash. The gaslight is flashing.
Maine is a forest without a single gas station in sight. Not that I could stop if I saw one. I doubt Darius's goons would wait politely while I filled up.
"Shit, shit, shit," I mutter as rain starts to fall. Because why not make it worse?
Then the car coughs. Once. Twice. And dies.
"No, no, no—damn it!" I slam the steering wheel like that'll help. It doesn't.
The lights behind me pull up and stop.
I throw the door open and bolt out into the trees, into the dark, the cold rain slapping my skin.
Branches snag my pants, my blouse. I rip through them anyway. The fabric tears, it stings where my skin scrapes, but I don't stop.
The forest hums beneath my feet. I can feel life pulsing through roots, moss, bark. The rhythm of it calls to me. For a moment, it almost feels like home.
However, the ones hunting me are forest spirits too. Older and stronger. Whatever edge I might've had here is gone.
I hear them. Branches cracking, leaves rustling, heavy footsteps moving faster now. Voices low and guttural, slipping between trees in that old Slavic dialect that sounds ominous in the dark.
And the forest answers them. Chirps. Howls. Rustling wings and twitching claws. Night creatures giving me away.
Damn leshy and their power. This place bends for them.
Thunder cracks overhead. Lightning splits the sky.
In the flash of light, I see the dark, still surface of a lake just ahead.
I swerve hard, slipping through branches. I nearly slam into him.
He steps out from behind a tree. Broad-shouldered, leather jacket soaked. Piotr.
I twist at the last second, momentum throwing me off-balance. Doesn't matter. He's faster than he looks. His hand fists in my hair and yanks me back. Pain shoots through my scalp. I cry out.
"Stop running," Piotr growls. "She's here!" he calls out.
Footsteps behind me. The other leshy—whose name I never learned, so I just call him Not-Konstantin—appears from the dark.
"Darius just wants to talk, little darling. Only that," he says, voice too smooth to be reassuring.
"Yeah, right," I snap, twisting, trying to pull free.
Piotr chuckles. A low, mean sound. "Might want more than talk after this little stunt."
I snarl and slam my elbow into his ribs. He grunts but doesn't let go, yanking me sideways—harder. Fire streaks across my scalp.
"Careful," Not-Konstantin warns. "You hurt her, Darius will take your head off."
Piotr mutters something in Slavic. Probably a curse or a very creative insult. I don't care.
I can't win this by force, so I go still. Pretend.
"All right, all right. You win," I sigh, sagging just enough to sell it.
Piotr eyes me like he doesn't buy it. But his grip loosens.
Not-Konstantin moves in from the side.
Too close. No room to run. The lake is behind me, down a short drop. Not ideal.
"It's going to be all right," Not-Konstantin says, lifting his turtleneck over his nose as he reaches into his pocket.
I freeze.
No.
I know that smell. Wildbane powder.
He flicks his fingers, releasing a cloud of sharp, bitter dust.
I throw my hand over my face. Too late. The dizziness hits like a wave. Limbs heavy. Vision swimming.
I stumble back. My heel catches a root, and I fall.
Not-Konstantin lunges and tries to catch me, but his fingers slip off my wrist.
Cold crashes over me.
The last thing I hear is Piotr yelling something in Slavic before the lake swallows me whole.
And then—darkness.
Kayden
"Is it time for another Big Brother therapy walk in the woods?" I ask, ducking under a dripping branch. "If so, maybe we postpone it for a night that doesn't feel like the sky's having a breakdown."
"Rain or no rain, it won't change what I'm about to say," Asher replies, calm as ever. Infuriatingly so. "Or are you afraid to get wet?"
I scoff. Snap off a branch as we walk, twirl it between my fingers just to keep them busy. "Lay it on me, Yoda."
I'd be more into the midnight stroll if I thought it was leading to a hunt. But with my monk of a brother, it's always moral lectures and zero bloodshed.
"I know the attacks in the nearby towns weren't from wild animals, Kayden."
He says it like a fact. Because it is.
"Oops." I lift a hand to my mouth, mock-gasping. "Busted."
"We talked about this."
"We did. And I agreed to stay away from this town," I remind him.
He shoots me a side glance—the classic Asher disapproval look.
"To stay away from this town and the townies, not to stir up trouble—that's what you promised me," he says. "There was a body found at the border."
I grin. "He was a straggler. Barely even counted as a person."
Asher stops walking. "Why did you come here, Kayden?"
"Maybe I missed you." I flash a sharp smile. "Maybe I wanted to check out your little kumbaya project. Offer a few notes."
"And?"
"As expected. Pathetic. Naive. Mind-numbingly boring," I say. I'm nothing if not honest.
"Thanks," he deadpans, sarcasm so dry it could start a brushfire.
"If you can't take feedback, Shadow Mayor…"
"You can't leave a trail of bodies behind you," Asher cuts in, his voice low. "I won't keep covering for you."
I laugh, cold and sharp. "You don't need to. Let them try to stop me. I'll enjoy the process."
"Kayden." That one word, weighted down with warning. The kind that usually comes before he tries the whole 'enlightened discipline' talk he brought from Southeast Asia.
But I beat him to it. "Relax. You won't have to deal with me much longer. I'm leaving soon."
He opens his mouth, but then we both freeze.
Movement. Running. Shouts in the distance. The forest stirs—birds, branches, some small creature fleeing fast.
We exchange a look. Then we move. No words needed.
The clearing hits us all at once—wet earth, cold lake, and two bulky figures that reek of shady business.
One stands at the shoreline, arms crossed.
The other is trudging out of the water, soaked to the neck, muttering a string of curses I haven't heard since my hundred-year binge through Eastern Europe.
"You didn't need the powder," the guy on shore grunts. "A good smack to the head would've done it."
"I told you, if Darius finds out we damaged her, we're both dead. Slow and painful," the one from the lake replies, just as I spot her.
A girl. Unconscious. Drenched. Limp in his arms.
"She'll heal before we get her there." Shore guy shrugs, already over it.
That's enough for us. Asher steps forward. So do I.
"Well, well, well," I say, voice loud and cheerful. "It's nice to walk into a scene where the bad guys label themselves."
The goons freeze and turn.
"Piss off before you get hurt, boy," the one on the shore snarls.
Boy. That's cute.
"Hand over the girl, and we'll let you walk away," Asher says, reasonable as usual.
I'm not feeling particularly reasonable. These two don't look like anyone's going to miss them.
"I said piss off!" the guy roars, his voice rolling through the trees like a wave of sound and something worse—ancient and wrong, stirring my gut with an unpleasant feeling.
Then the forest shifts. A rustle overhead. Shadows drop fast.
Something dives—sharp claws, feathers, rage. I catch one midair and snap its neck.
An owl.
Another slams into Asher's shoulder. More coming.
"What the fu—" I curse, barely ducking the next, vaguely thinking that owls don't flock.
After a moment of disorientation, instinct kicks in.
Say what you will about my monk of a brother and me, we might bicker for a few centuries straight, but when it's time to throw down, we don't miss a beat.
I lunge for the idiot on the shore. Asher charges the one clutching the girl.
The big guy moves faster than expected, stepping to the side with a muttered, "Blyat… vampires." He sounds vaguely familiar.
Another bird slams into me. I swat it away, then smack a bat out of the air. Something small and pissed scuttles across the ground and bites my shin.
The forest has officially lost its mind. And I'm pretty sure it's tied to these two walking sacks of rot.
I dash again. This time, I grab him.
But not before his blade drives into my side. The steel bites deep, sliding right under the ribs. The bastard grins like he's proud of himself.
So I step into it. Let the blade sink deeper and grin right back as I rip his throat out with my teeth.
He gurgles. Staggers. Then drops dead.
At the same moment, I see Asher knock the other one out cold and scoop the girl into his arms. The instant the other guy's on the ground, the animals stop, the air stills. The forest starts behaving normally, as if someone flipped a switch.
"She's icy cold," Asher says, checking her pulse. "But alive."
"Good," I mutter, dragging the now-throatless bastard's body closer. I sink my fangs in—more out of habit than hunger.
The taste hits me instantly: grass, sap, and bark.
I gag and spit it out. "Well. Definitely not human," I announce, then casually snap his neck. I do the same for the one Asher knocked out. Just in case.
My brother watches as the body crumples to the dirt.
"Not townies," I say with a bloody grin, feeling much better now that our midnight stroll turned into something actually entertaining. "Doesn't count."
"Sure. Let's get her home before she freezes."
He turns, but I hesitate. Step closer. Lean down to get a better look at our little mystery girl.
I freeze. Recognition hits like a sledgehammer. My entire chest tightens, fire surging beneath my ribs.
I know her.
I know her.
The one who nearly killed me.
"The fuck," I whisper, my voice suddenly razor-sharp. My eyes narrow, fury flaring hot and hungry. "I know who she is."