CHAPTER 21
PIP’S DIRECTIONS LED Lenore far from the comfort of society, and eventually onto the clear path of Charie’s scent trail.
The forest was denser here, the tangled tree branches above obscuring most of the sunlight. She walked in the cool shadows, and she would’ve been terrified by that fact alone if it wasn’t for something else that bothered her.
Cold crept through her arm—faint but enough to know it was real. Lenore’s hand pressed close against her pocket, seeking assurance from her small companion. Pip’s warmth kept her anxiety at bay, letting her take one step after another.
If anything happens, just pretend that you were lost, she silently told herself.
The darkness felt different here—alive, almost. As if the shadows themselves were creeping toward her, ready to seize her ankles at any given time and drag her away where nobody would ever find a trace of her again.
Or maybe it was all just in her head.
But the corner of her eye caught flickers of a running black wolf—disappearing as soon as she turned to look. She clutched tightly at her arms. Faint, rasping laughter echoed around her.
A voice reached out to her. The one she dreaded the most.
Don’t be afraid. The whisper threaded through her ears, almost soothing in tone. You’ll be in the company of those you belong with soon.
The chill in her arm grew stronger, warning her before she heard a deep growl behind her.
Lenore whipped around, muscles stiff as she saw a black-haired man a good distance away. The color of his hair and the visceral intensity of his gaze gripped her with fear—the irrational part of her mind screaming that the one who’d turned her was alive.
Fight-or-flight roared through her body, and she could feel herself slipping, disappearing into feral instincts. Her elongating nails dug deep into her closed palms. The man ahead blurred into pulsating red.
Warmth squeezed her leg. Pip was hugging her tightly through her dress’s fabric, consoling her as best as it could.
It gave a few pats for extra measure as she clung to the light with what little of her she had left until she registered that the color of the man’s eyes was different.
Murky brown—one of the werewolves she saw at the pavilion.
Her hands loosened at her sides. Regaining her sense of composure cleared her vision completely, and her heart calmed from its rapid pace.
I really owe you more than one, Pip.
“What is wrong with you?” The irritability in the man’s voice barely disguised the annoyance of having to deal with her. “I haven’t done anything, and you’re trembling.”
“I—” She cleared her throat. “Being growled at isn’t something I’m used to yet.”
His eyes narrowed. “And just what are you doing here?” He took a step toward her. “You have business or something with our Caernith?”
Wait… this is the way to Auden’s residence? Lenore looked around in surprise. Instead of the elegant grandeur she would’ve expected to pave the way to the pack’s leader, it was dense with gnarled roots and thorny thickets that offered little passage beyond the designated paths.
He snarled, and Lenore jolted back, her skin paling. “You going to answer?”
“I was only trying to look for Charie,” she said, fighting through the tremble in her voice. “Someone told me she went this way—”
“Who?!” he snapped back. Wild agitation showed in his widened eyes as he jerked forward. Lenore took another step back, swallowing nervously.
“I—I don’t know? I’ve only been here for a few days now.”
The air felt tense enough to choke on. But to her relief, he accepted the answer.
“Unless you have anything important to say or do for the Caernith, then leave.”
“Right, but is Charie okay? She just left without a word.”
Irritation flashed in his eyes. “She’s fine. There was a time-sensitive issue to deal with.”
“Time-sensitive? Is something wrong?”
“Is that something you need to know? I already said it's time-sensitive.” He sneered at her. His fingers scratched at his wrists, unable to stop fidgeting. “What a stupid question, I’ll tell you that.”
Lenore’s cheeks flushed red. She balled her fists. “I’m only asking because I was worried about Charie.”
“Are you deaf or something, too?” He got into her space, leaning in as Lenore shrank under his harsh glare. Breathing heavily, teeth bared, he hissed out, “I already told you to leave, nicely to boot.”
The sound of running footsteps and short, heavy breaths made them turn. Charie was approaching them, now equipped with a brown satchel slung over her shoulder that wasn’t with her before. Faint glass clinks were heard within the bag as soon as she drew close.
“Hesper—” Charie wheezed. Her eyes darted over to Lenore—shocked—then down to the ground. “Come with me.” She gripped the satchel’s strap tightly. “Sorry, Lenore, something came up. I didn’t mean—”
“Took long enough, you damn runt.” Hesper ran a hand through his messy black locks, growling as he shook his head back and forth.
Both hands scratched at his scalp vigorously.
“Had to be on the day Beren isn’t here, eh?
You chose this day to screw with me, huh?
” The words left him in an uncontrolled rush, edged with aggressive paranoia.
“Hesper, please.” Beads of sweat rolled down Charie’s cheeks. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t give me orders as if I’m lower than you!” A snarl ripped from his throat, his pupils shrinking unnaturally. He lurched toward her, yanking the satchel’s strap as he pulled her close. Charie’s hands instinctively flew to her face defensively, her shoulders shaking in fear.
Spittle flew from Hesper’s mouth as he yelled, “This is your mistake!”
“You... you shouldn’t talk to her like that!” The words flew out of Lenore before she could stop herself, as did her action of gripping the man’s wrist, even as her own hand trembled.
Everything was a dizzying blur as Lenore felt searing pain across her right ear, before a flash of cold followed.
Her mind tried to catch up with her body, stumbling through the haze of pain and what had just happened.
A sharp ringing filled her ears. She placed a hand to the burning cut, then drew back with fingers slick and red.
Hesper’s face tightened—a look of regret that was covered with a string of accusations he yelled out that Lenore barely heard.
Only the brief thunder of paws warned her before a blur of inky blue shot through the forest undergrowth, lunging straight at Hesper. A rush of air whipped past Lenore.
Hesper barely shifted into a wolf before he was caught in a mess of snarls and snapping jaws. The black wolf struggled to fend off the other’s relentless attacks—a blue flash of violence Lenore recognized instantly.
Edmund. Relief flowed through her, drowning out the fear and temporarily nullifying the pain.
The black wolf yelped angrily as he came crashing down, pinned underneath the heavy weight of Edmund’s paws, and a thrilling rush of exhilaration flowed through Lenore.
When she blinked, she was surprised at the wetness of her eyelashes, and quickly she wiped it away with her arm sleeve.
An audible sniffle from her caught Edmund’s attention for a brief moment before he fiercely snarled at the trapped wolf.
“What possessed you to attack one of ours?”
Hesper bared his teeth as he fought to catch his breath.
His eyes burned with wild fury. “Oh, piss off—” A high-pitched yelp halted his words as Edmund sank his teeth into Hesper’s ear, followed by a flurry of pained whines.
The black wolf’s struggle was weak against Edmund’s claws that threatened to dig into his neck.
“AGH—” Pained gasps broke Hesper’s words before he forced out, “Damn it, FINE! I—AH—yield, I YIELD!” Drawn blood dripped from Edmund’s gleaming canines as he lifted his head.
With his paw still pressed against Hesper’s neck, Edmund spat out, “Whatever your reasons were, you lost your spot at the Upper Moon Feast. We’ll discuss this later. Get out of my sight.”
Hesper scrambled up as soon as Edmund let go, panting as he gathered himself together. His gaze locked with Charie, and his muzzle scrunched up, the crest of his neck bristling. Charie swallowed hard.
But Hesper turned and left without another word. He sauntered off into the depths of the forest, head held high until he disappeared.
After a moment of focused watching, Edmund turned away. He spat out blood, then looked toward the women. His gaze snapped to Lenore, and he rushed to her side. “Show me your wound,” he demanded.
Lenore hesitated, her eyes breaking away from the vivid intensity of his stare, unsure how to feel under the pure worry that pooled deep in the depths of his eyes.
Slowly, she tucked back the blood-soaked strands of her hair, revealing the jagged slash across her ear.
Blood continued to drip down, staining her pale skin in messy smears of red.
There was a tremor in her hand as she lowered it to her lap. “How, how bad is it?” she murmured.
She could hear Edmund take a steadying breath. His voice came out rough. “I should’ve torn his ears out.” Lenore felt a gentle gust blow through her hair and tickle at her skin. Now human once again, Edmund reached out, his hand gingerly pulling Lenore’s hair back to examine it further.
“I’ll be okay,” she tried to reassure him. But a part of it was to reassure herself. The pulsating heat of the wound did little to comfort her.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m staring right at your bloody ear,” Edmund growled. “How bad is the pain?”
“Edmund...” Lenore started, then sighed. “It hurts a lot,” she admitted. “But it’s manageable.”
“Why did he hurt you?”
A phantom cold prickled at her scar. She grasped her right arm, frowning as she thought back to Hesper’s restless movements and the unsettled emotion in his eyes.
Her stomach churned in discomfort. “I... I overstepped my rank, I think,” she said quietly.
Edmund’s brows drew tight, and it was obvious he didn’t think that was enough of a reason.