Wolfsbane (10 page)

“Is Vail.” Ethan pushed his chair back and went to the far side of the room, apparently no longer able to tolerate my presence.

Tess shook her head at him, but he ignored her, drinking his coffee in solitary silence.

I decided that giving Ethan a wide berth was probably my best bet. Whether he trusted or liked me didn’t matter. I hadn’t come here to make friends.

I was here to save my pack.

I turned back to Connor. “So where are we exactly?”

When I asked the question, I had to hide my own shudder; if we were close to the Keepers, how safe could we be?

Lydia answered as she and Tess joined us at the table. “We’re in a warehouse in Denver. Weavers open doors from here to our strike sites. Strikers come and go according to their assignments.”

“And we Reapers sojourn alone,” Isaac said, looking mournful.

Tess clucked her tongue. “Are you saying I’m not good company?”

“Not if it means you’l stop cooking for me.” Isaac flashed a grin at her.

“He’s got you cooking for him now?” Lydia asked.

“You’re much too nice.”

“Don’t ruin my arrangement, woman!” Isaac protested. “Plus I do the dishes.”

“He does,” Tess said.

I took a sip of my coffee, trying to keep up. “What are Reapers?”

“There aren’t many Searchers left in the world.”

Lydia’s voice had a hard edge. “Most stay at the Academy teaching or training; they only head out for missions on an as-needed basis. But those who are stil fighting the good fight day-to-day live in outposts like this one. Our teams always have the same distribution of members: groups of ten, specific assignments for each member. The Reapers gather supplies and run valuable goods through the black market, maintaining our cash flow in contemporary world currencies.”

“Black market?” I frowned, a little nervous.

“Don’t worry, Cal a, we don’t deal in nasties, like human organs.” Tess giggled, shaking her head.

When I laughed uneasily, she hurried on. “It’s mostly art and antiquities. Stuff we know how to find that other people wouldn’t have access to.”

“She’s trying to tel you that Reapers are smugglers,” Connor said. “But nice ones.”

“Connor, you know we trained long and hard for this work,” Isaac said.

“Longer than you,” Tess added.

“How long?” I asked.

“Standard training for Searchers is two years of general skil s and another year of specialization for assignment,” she said. “Reapers do an additional two years.”

“To learn how to smuggle?”

“Look what you’ve done now, Connor.” Tess shook her head. “No, that’s not how it works.

Reapers know art history, language, and classics backwards and forwards. That’s in addition to their combat training. Reaper work is almost more dangerous than the Strikers’ duties.”

I cleared my throat nervously. “And the Strikers are?”

“The Strikers are your counterparts,” Lydia said.

“They’re trained to be the first line of offense against the Keepers. They execute hits against designated enemy targets. But that mostly means they kil Guardians.”

“Great,” I said, feeling my canines sharpen at her words. “And Weavers open doors. And Monroe, he’s your—”

I tried to remember what they’d cal ed him.

“Guide,” Tess offered. “He’s our Guide.”

Ethan came forward, slamming his empty cup on the table. “Now that preschool is over, can we get moving? Anika had a point. We only have a few hours of daylight left.”

“Ethan!” Tess was on her feet.

“Easy, girl.” Connor stood up too. “He’s right. We need to head out.”

Lydia looked at me. “I’m sure you stil have lots of questions. I’m sorry we can’t answer them al right now.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I rose from my chair, muscles humming. The caffeine buzz and the thought of getting into the forest had me itching to run.

It was time for this alpha to find her pack.

SIX

THE DOOR ADNE OPENED
this time revealed a landscape I’d known my whole life. The snow-covered slope sparkled under the afternoon sun, cut at intervals by the shadows of towering pines.

“That’s the eastern face,” I murmured. The need to run, to track my packmates and bring them to safety was overwhelming. I ground my teeth as I fought for control.

“Yes,” Adne said. “Wil this work? We have the rendezvous point set nearby. Grant’s on a snowshoeing trail about a half mile away; it’s in the park reserve that runs up against the edge of your patrol routes, but he shouldn’t draw the wolves’

attack . . . hopeful y.”

“I hate winter,” Ethan grumbled, lacing up his boots.

“I can’t wait to make a snow angel,” Connor replied as he strapped on a pair of snowshoes.

“Sometimes I real y don’t like you,” Ethan said, reaching for gloves, but I could tel he was trying not to smile.

Lydia laughed and continued to put on her own winter gear. “Cal a, Ethan and I are going with you to track down your packmates. Connor is heading in the other direction to meet up with Grant.”

I nodded, though I silently wished it were Connor coming with us rather than Ethan. It didn’t help that Lydia took point as we headed into the portal with Ethan bringing up the rear. I worried that having my open back in range of his crossbow might prove a little too tempting.

“I’l be waiting,” Adne said, closing the door. She leaned against the tree. “Don’t take too long. I think even my twenty layers might not hold up at this elevation. It’s freezing.”

Her comment pul ed me back from thoughts of running wild through the snowdrifts. “Why don’t you just wait inside?”

The Searchers stared at me. I stared back, not understanding why they were frowning. When a door was open, you could see the other side of a portal. It was blurry, but not that blurry.

Ethan grumbled something under his breath. Adne glanced at him before offering me a quick smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “We forget you don’t know al the rules. Portals are never left open.”

“Never.” Ethan stamped the snow. “And Weavers never join an actual strike—they stay at the outer edge of any mission zone.”

Adne scowled, but Connor shook his head. “You know why it’s necessary, peaches.”

“Shut up.”

Lydia placed her hand on Adne’s shoulder.

“Weavers are the most powerful and valuable instruments among the Searchers. We try to keep their risk minimal.”

“But that’s my point,” I said, frustrated by how much I stil didn’t know about my supposed al ies. “If she’s on the other side, she can just close the portal at the first sign of danger.”

“No matter how careful a Weaver is, we stil make mistakes.” Adne’s eyes were like knives.

“Something could get through.”

“I thought you said Keepers can’t do portals,” I said.

“Keepers can’t create portals,” Adne said. “They can stil go through them. So can their beasties.

Guardians, wraiths, whatever.”

“And if the Keepers ever got their hands on a Weaver,” Lydia said, “if they forced a captive to open doors, we’d never see them coming. That’s why portals stay closed and Weavers can’t be Strikers. They work outside the danger zone . . . as much outside it as we can manage, at least.”

Adne looked like she’d bitten into a lemon.

“That’s why if anything comes that isn’t us, you get back to Purgatory,” Connor said to her.

“I know the protocol,” she said. “Graduated, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Connor smiled, blowing her a kiss before tramping off through the snow.

“Okay, Cal a,” Lydia said. “You’re obviously the best tracker. Lead the way.”

I grinned, shifting forms and bounding through the snow. The crisp winter air poured into my nostrils. I longed to howl. A rabbit dashed from beneath scrub brush and my mouth began to water.

“Cal a!” Lydia shouted.

I skidded to a halt, snow rising around me like a veil of white mist.
Oops.

The thril of running on the mountain had made me forget I wasn’t with other wolves. Humans were slow.

I wheeled and ran back to Lydia and Ethan, shifting forms when I reached them.

“Sorry.”

“You can scout ahead, but don’t lose us,” Lydia said.

Ethan adjusted the crossbow on his back. “If we think you’ve gone too far, I’l shoot you in the tail.”

Lydia glared at him.

“Kidding, I was kidding,” he replied, but the grin he flashed me wasn’t friendly.

Back in wolf form, I managed to range ahead of the Searchers but kept them in my sight. The fresh snowfal wasn’t helping us. It smothered scents, muting new traces, erasing older scents.

The door Adne had opened was southwest of Haldis Cavern. I headed toward the perimeter that I would have expected Guardian patrols to be running at this point in the afternoon. Adjusting to my new al ies wasn’t easy. Our inability to communicate was tedious at best, terribly frustrating at worst.

Whenever I wanted to speak to them, I had to run back, change form, and then head out again. It only made me more desperate to get my packmates back. I tried to remember what it was like making this trek with Shay when he’d stil been human. I’d been patient with his climb, and the Searchers were proving more than able to move quickly over the snowy terrain. Though it wasn’t an ideal partnership, I knew it could work. I kept that thought in focus as I plunged through snowdrifts.

Pawing through snowdrifts to reach frozen earth, lifting my muzzle to test the air, I did everything I could to locate evidence of my packmates’ trail. But I couldn’t find anything. No tracks, no scents. Nothing.

Where are they?

My hope was dropping as low as the sun on the horizon when Lydia cal ed to me again.

“Anything?” She was looking at the looming shadows that spread like spil s of ink along the snow.

“No,” I said, kicking the snow. “This stuff is burying the scents. I haven’t picked up any trails other than game.”

“Wouldn’t your packmates have broken fresh trail up here during their patrol?” Ethan asked.

I frowned. He’d pinpointed the very thing that had nagged me as we’d progressed over the perimeter.

Even if the route had changed, I should have seen some sign of Guardians crossing this part of the mountain. We were too close to Haldis Cavern for the patrols to miss it completely. Except . . . except . .

. we’d stolen the object hidden in the cave and the Keepers knew it. Our school had reeked of their fear, their tension after Shay had found the strange cylinder, claiming it for his own. Haldis no longer needed protection. There would be no more patrols.

And the only reason wolves would be ranging the sacred perimeter was to wait for . . .

“Oh no,” I said, smacking my gloved palm against my forehead. My blood felt icy.

“What?” Lydia asked.

I didn’t want to tel them. I felt like such an idiot.

How could I have forgotten something so important?

My cheeks burned because I knew why. I’d been so caught up in the possibility of finding Mason or Ansel, even a grumpy Fey, of reuniting with my pack that I’d fal en into the expectations I’d always had as an alpha. This was where we ran patrols. This site had been the focus of my whole life. It hadn’t even occurred to me to consider other options.

But why hadn’t Shay said anything when we were making this plan? He knew Haldis was missing. He had it in his possession.

“Cal a.” Lydia spoke again. “What is it?”

As I grasped for an explanation and an apology, something caught my eye. It was a figure about one hundred yards away, coming at us fast.

“Heads up,” Ethan said, aiming his crossbow.

“Wait.” Lydia put her hand on his arm. The figure was on two legs and it was looking at us, waving its arms frantical y. “It’s Connor.”

He was moving impressively fast for someone in snowshoes—the Searchers must have trained rigorously for winter combat.

“Come on,” Ethan said, heading in Connor’s direction.

When we reached him, he bent over, resting his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.

“He’s dead,” Connor said between gasps.

“Grant’s dead. His throat was torn out.”

Having been raised to create violence, I’d never thought death would unnerve me. But the image of awkward and kind Mr. Selby, lying in a pool of blood and mangled flesh, made me shudder.

“Damn.” Ethan bowed his head.

Lydia closed her eyes. “That’s a shame. And it means we need to get out of here. If the wolves are stil hunting, they won’t have any trouble tracking us . .

. or sniffing out Adne.”

Connor nodded but looked at me. “Did you find your packmates?”

“No,” I said, stil thrown by the news of Mr. Selby’s sudden demise. “And I just realized that—”

The howl swal owed my words. The second and third howls raised the hair on the back of my neck.

“That’s not my pack,” I whispered.

“They know we’re here,” Ethan said. “Let’s move.”

“Stay close,” Lydia said to me, taking up the lead once more.

We started back, but Lydia took us on a zigzagging path unlike the straight line we’d traversed on our way out. She broke new trail, heading in Adne’s direction while avoiding the path we’d created on our trek out. In wolf form I doubled back, retracing our steps, constantly testing the air, listening for any sign of the wolves that had howled, trying to discern whether they were tracking us. But the approach of dusk brought an unsettling silence with it, and I remembered how snow swal owed sound as wel as scent. A gust of wind lifted the top layer of snow, washing our faces in icy crystals, blowing in the direction the howls had come from.