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.
“Will 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 . . . hopefully.”
“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 really
don’t like you,” Ethan said, reaching for gloves, but I could tell
he was trying not to smile.
Lydia laughed and
continued to put on her own winter gear. “Calla, 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’ll 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 pulled
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 all 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 still didn’t know about my
supposed allies. “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 still 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 still 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, Calla,” 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.
“Calla!” Lydia
shouted.
I skidded to a halt,
snow rising around me like a veil of white mist. Oops.
The thrill 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’ll 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 snowfall 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 allies 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 still 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 called to me
again.
“Anything?” She was
looking at the looming shadows that spread like spills 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
tell 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 fallen 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.
“Calla.” 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 frantically. “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 still 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, still
thrown by the news of Mr. Selby’s sudden demise. “And I just
realized that—”
The howl swallowed
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 swallowed sound as well 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.
Not good. We were
upwind of the Guardians. They’d be able to smell us, but I wouldn’t
catch their scent until they were almost on us.
The howls rose
again, much closer.
“I don’t think we’re
getting out of here without a fight,” Ethan said.
“Just keep running.”
Lydia’s breath came out in white puffs.
We were closing in
on the place we’d left Adne when a shadow dropped down from a tree
branch above us.
Lydia wheeled,
dagger in her hand.
“It’s me!” Adne held
up her arms.
“What were you doing
up in a tree?” Ethan asked, peering into the branches.
“Hiding.” Adne
brushed snow off her legs. “I heard the howls and thought I’d
better play it safe.”
“Good call,” Connor
said, clearly relieved to see her unharmed.
“What happened?” she
asked.
“They killed Grant,”
Connor said.
Adne paled. “Oh
no.”
My ears flicked up,
drawn to new sounds in the woods behind us. The scrape of paws on
ice. I didn’t want to change forms, so I barked at the Searchers.
It was enough.
Ethan readied his
crossbow. “Adne, open a door.”
I stalked forward,
scanning the forest. A flicker of movement appeared. A russet wolf
slipped between the trees. My heart leapt. It was a Nightshade.
Sasha—Fey’s mother and one of my mother’s patrol mates. I dashed
toward her.
“Calla, no!” Lydia
called, but I kept running.
I barked again, this
time calling to Sasha. Her form flashed between two tree trunks and
I sent a thought chasing after her.
Sasha! Sasha, wait!
The red wolf
wheeled, heading toward me. She was running at full speed, not
slowing at all as she drew closer, snarling.
Welcome home, Calla.
My mind reeled as
her body crashed into mine and we rolled through the snow. I
twisted away, jumping to the side as her jaws snapped at my
shoulder.
Stop! What are you doing?
She didn’t answer
but lunged at me again, her eyes filled with
bloodlust.
My instincts kicked
in and I struck back, snarling. My teeth sank into her chest, but
the taste of pack blood in my mouth shook me to the core. Nothing
about this fight felt natural. I was attacking one of my own, the
mother of my packmate. It went against everything I’d ever
known.
I tried to reach her
again.
Please, Sasha. I’m here to help you.
I barely escaped her
next strike.
Foolish girl.
The cold truth
settled under my fur. Sasha was trying to kill me and if I wanted
to survive, I would have to kill her. I was desperate to find
another way out of this disaster.
This time when Sasha
lunged, I rolled to the side, pivoting in the snow and clamping my
jaws onto her hamstring. She squealed when my teeth cut through her
tendons. I tore at the muscle and she yelped again, twisting and
snapping futilely at me. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be able to
give chase, I released her leg and dashed back toward the
Searchers. I could see the shimmering portal through the trees. But
I heard the shouts of battle as well. I pushed harder, picking up
speed.
“Calla!” Adne waved.
I made a beeline for her. She was only ten feet away when something
hard and heavy slammed into me. I rolled over and over, breath
forced out of my lungs. On unsteady limbs I struggled to my feet
and turned to face my attacker.
The huge wolf’s fur
was mottled gray and brown. He stared at me, snarling.
I thought my heart
had stopped as my eyes locked with those of Emile
Laroche.
The Bane alpha had
been hunting us.
Fear paralyzed me as
events crystallized in my mind. Sasha had been hunting with Emile.
With Emile. It didn’t make any sense. Sasha was my mother’s hunting
partner. She was a Nightshade. Nightshade wolves answered only to
their own alphas, my parents: Stephen and Naomi Tor. Nightshades
and Banes despised each other and avoided contact as much as they
could. The packs had only ever cooperated by direct order from the
Keepers.
But now Emile
Laroche, the Bane alpha, was leading Nightshades. I bristled,
snarling at him even as I fought my own disbelief. Everything about
the reality laid stark before my eyes was wrong, unnatural. Why
would Sasha follow Emile? Why had she attacked me? Where were my
mother and father? Where was my pack?
Spittle dripped from
the Bane’s jaws as he stalked forward.
Come to beg forgiveness?
My limbs were
shaking.
His muscles rippled
when he shook his ruff.
I think you may find it’s too late.
I growled. If Emile
wanted a fight, I’d give him one, even though the idea felt
hopeless—Emile had made his reputation among Guardians as a killer.
He was an immense, powerful beast and had many more years of
fighting at his back than I did.
I’m not sorry for anything.
I braced myself
against the ground, waiting for his lunge. Even if I couldn’t beat
Emile, I could still make him hurt. A lot.
He crouched down,
his growl almost like a throaty laugh. That’s
exactly what your father said.
My father?
I was still feeling
the shock of his words when he yelped, twisting his head to wrench
the dagger from his side. He rolled along the snow, leaving a trail
of crimson in his wake as a second dagger sailed past
him.
“Calla! Get to
Adne!” Lydia shouted. She was running at Emile with two more
daggers in her hands.
I scrambled up,
dashing toward the portal.
“Go! Go!” Connor
screamed even as he tackled another elder Bane, a few feet from our
escape route. Guardian and Searcher tumbled through the snow,
leaving a cloud of sparkling white dust in their wake. I caught the
flashes of Connor’s dagger in the sunlight with each slash at the
wolf. The Bane’s fangs snapped, searching for flesh but missing as
Connor twisted and writhed, keeping himself beyond the reach of its
jaws. As I ran past him, he parried the Guardian’s gnashing teeth
with the flat edge of one blade, deftly running it through with
another. He kicked the wolf’s limp body off his sword and followed
on my heels.
Out of the corner of
my eye I saw Ethan covering Lydia’s attack with a suppressing fire
of bolts from where he stood alongside the portal. I shifted forms,
gasping for breath but needing to ask what came next.
“Come on!” An arm
reached through the glimmering doorway and Adne jerked me into the
warmth of Purgatory’s training room while Connor shoved me forward,
both of us tumbling out of the snowy forest.
“Lydia, we’re
clear!” Ethan shouted. “Get back here!” He had taken two steps
toward her when four more wolves emerged from the forest, tearing
toward the Bane alpha.
“Lydia!” Ethan
shrieked, firing off more bolts.
She took her eyes
off Emile and saw the approaching Guardians. Hurling two more
daggers at the new assailants, she managed to take one down, slow
another. But as she whirled and tore through the snow toward the
portal, Emile sprang at her, sailing through the air.
The full force of
his leap brought her down, flattening her against the snow. The
three remaining wolves reached him as his jaws locked around her
neck.
“No!” Connor
shouted, pushing past me toward the other side of the door. But
Ethan was there, blocking his path. Ethan shook his head, then
looked at Adne.
Connor swore but
didn’t argue.
“She’s gone, Adne,”
Ethan said, not turning to see Emile tearing Lydia’s body apart.
“Close the door.”