Chapter 37
Corrompre
CLAIRE
I’d never killed anyone before. Not like that. I knew the image of the light leaving his eyes would haunt me for the rest of my life. I wondered if this was how Mellie felt when she killed Devlinn. There was no one to clamp me in irons. I was left to punish myself.
On the back of a horse far too big for me, and completely unsure of what I was doing, I followed the wolf’s directions, staying on the beaten path.
It led me past a small gathering of brick homes and log cabins.
Smoke rose in ribbons from cookfires. I wondered if this was where the army was amassing.
Pulling on the horse’s reins as I’d seen Bastien do, I came to a hasty stop, then dismounted, nearly stumbling on the way down. I left the horse tethered in the trees and continued on foot, keeping low along the tree line as I surveyed the village.
No one wandered the streets. The wagons sat abandoned on the road. It would have looked vacant if not for the long line forming behind a coach bearing Diana’s moon.
Women stood shoulder to shoulder in the frost-covered grass.
Children were clutched against their hips or clinging to their hands.
One by one, they took their turn approaching the two white-haired women handing out bread.
A third witch with elaborate braids and a thick fur stole moved down the line, pressing folded pieces of parchment into waiting hands.
The women tucked them into aprons without looking down, as though they already knew what they said.
It looked innocent enough, Witches of the Light sharing Diana’s harvest with the poor, but my suspicions rose when I saw the moonstones around their necks.
A gust of wind blew through my hair, and one of the witches stilled. Slowly, she turned her head toward where I was standing. I flattened myself against the tree trunk, pressing bark into my spine and willing my pulse to quiet. This wasn’t the army I was looking for. It was something else entirely.
Chancing a look around the tree, I noticed the witch with the pamphlets was gone. In her place stood a black-furred wolf. Not the half-human kind that had attacked us in the tunnels or at Chastity’s. This was a real wolf.
The same size and shape as my own pair.
She sniffed the air, and I stilled. If I wanted to keep moving unseen, that old draft horse wasn’t going to help me. The only time I’d flown was when I leapt from the carriage, and I had no clue how it worked. I told myself I would learn quickly or be torn apart in the underbrush.
The wolf took one step into the tree line, then another. I dropped to my knees and scanned the forest floor until I spotted a broken branch thick as my palm. It would have to do. I swung one leg over the branch and straddled it.
I closed my eyes and thought of the freedom I’d felt when I’d jumped from the carriage. Of the way I felt like a raven taking flight. The wolves’ shining yellow eyes appeared through the brush, and I knew I was out of time.
Freedom. Freedom. I repeated the word. Along with hurry up.
The air caught beneath me in a sudden rush and lifted me off the ground. Pine needles and bare branches scratched at my arms and legs, catching and tearing the fabric as I soared higher into the air.
A howl pierced through the quiet, as if the black wolf was calling to its pack mates. Alerting them to my presence.
Once I was clear of the trees, high above the forest floor, I could see everything for miles. It was freeing and terrifying, especially when I realized just how far up I was. I wrapped my arms around the branch, clinging to it when I spied a clearing about a mile past the village.
Pointed logs formed a wall around it, but inside, I saw movement.
That’s where Mama was, waiting for me to arrive in a coach, bound and blindfolded, just in time to see her claim an army of wolves.
I knew what unspeakable things she’d do with them when she crossed into the Unified Territories.
She’d start with cutting off the source of dark magick by destroying every demonic relic she could.
I sucked in a shuddering breath. That’s what I’d been sent to do.
This is where I fit into her story. It would be a calculated strike if she already knew their location.
Unlike the Lawless Lands, the people of the Unified Territories didn’t expect war.
Yes, there were thieves, and Mama did provoke retaliatory behavior with her raids on Witches of the Darkness, but no one was ready for this.
Urging the branch forward, I flew through the air, black skirts waving in the wind like a banner.
Somehow, I managed to convince my tree branch to stop beside a thick pine tree that overlooked the fort.
Perched on one of the highest branches, I saw hundreds of weres.
Red fur. Black fur. Silver grays and snowy whites.
All with the same human bodies and elongated snouts.
None of them had moonstones. And I didn’t know how many were Witches of the Light who volunteered for this, and how many were villagers, like the ones I’d seen. Trading an empty belly for this.
This was what happened when powerful leaders fed their people nothing but fear. It turned good witches, good people, into monsters. Drones. An army of wolves ready to attack whoever. Whenever. And for little more than a hot meal and the promise of security.
I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
And there, parading through the lines was Mama. She was walking beside a witch with short-cropped white hair and big gold eyes. She was swaddled in a thick fur cloak. Around her neck sat a moonstone the size of a goose egg.
Where was my sister? Sera had to be here if Mama was.
“Your army is ready,” the woman with short hair said. “The only thing left is my payment.”
My stomach hollowed. I realized this must be Shayla. The witch who’d killed Bastien’s friend, Hector, and sent his severed head to him in a box. Why was Mama with Shayla?
Shayla tossed a dead rabbit onto the ground, and the wolves lunged at the carcass. Fighting and clawing to be the one to gobble it up. I covered my mouth with a hand, while tears pricked in my eyes.
Was this what life looked like for the wolf I’d killed? Locked in a fort, awaiting orders? Ready to do whatever it took to survive?
Carefully, minding my balance, I removed the small shell from my pocket and held it between my fingers. The energy Gorrath had imbued it with thrummed against my skin.
Before I’d seen them, before I’d seen the village and the children, I’d intended on spreading my rot to all of them.
But now, knowing everything I knew, it felt less like justice and more like murder.
How could I kill all of them for the lies of people like Shayla and Mama, the only people who benefited from a system that kept people outraged and afraid.
Who were desperate enough to become these things.
I couldn’t do it, not even for a drop of Mama’s blood, because that could be me, standing down there. Easily.
Sadness sat heavy in my heart. My chest. It lived behind my eyes. I wanted to cry for them, for me, and for all the people who were just trying to do the right thing.
Slowly, I went to put the shell back in my pocket, unable to do what I’d come to do, but a gust of wind slammed against me, and the shell slipped between my fingers and tumbled downward.
“No!” I silently screamed. Watching as it hit branches and bounced off tree trunks, gaining momentum as it fell. Until it ricocheted toward the army of werewolves and landed in the mud between two snarling bodies.
My breath was caged in my chest. I hoped and prayed that no one would notice it. Shayla and Mama were laughing as they watched another group of wolves fight over a dead rabbit. Shayla froze, like a predator who’d caught scent of their prey.