Wolfsbane

  I clasped my fingers over my chest, remembering too well how quickly Ethan’s bolts had lodged in my chest. He glanced at me, nodding. “If you can’t hit Guardians fast and often, you’re dead.”

  Connor was eyeing Ethan’s bow disdainfully. “I’d get bored as hell using that thing.”

  “Brute force isn’t the only way to fight,” Ethan replied.

  “You’re just afraid of getting your hands dirty.” Connor pulled one of the kataras from his belt. His fingers wrapped around the handle, which ran horizontal to the short, wide blade.

  “Bloody,” Adne said, gazing at the weapon. “The word you’re looking for is ‘bloody.’”

  Connor cast a sidelong glance at her, drawing the other katara. In the blink of an eye his body blurred. He leapt through the air, twisting around the dummy, landing on the balls of his feet in a crouch behind the target.

  Shay whistled, staring at the lacework of deep gashes Connor had left on the practice target in the few seconds he’d been near it.

  I coughed. “Ninja.”

  Shay looked my way, sparing me a thin smile.

  “Show-off.” Ethan laughed. “Couldn’t you tell it was already dead?” He held up the bolts he’d just pulled free of the dummy.

  “You two aren’t the ones who are supposed to be showing off,” Adne said.

  “What’s this?” Ethan asked.

  “Shay needs practice.” Adne swirled the whip so that it coiled and uncoiled like a metallic serpent.

  Shay scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit uneasy. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

  “Aw, come on,” Connor said. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. And I’m dying to blow off steam before we do this crazy business in a few hours.”

  “It’s a thought.” Shay rolled his shoulders back. “I’m kinda edgy too.”

  Ethan laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the referee and make sure these two don’t play dirty.”

  “You’re no fun at all,” Connor said, swapping the kataras for his usual swords.

  “Are we ready?” Adne asked.

  “Always.” Connor grinned.

  Shay nodded, eyeing the two Searchers who’d slowly begun to circle him. I could see the veins in his throat pop up, beginning to throb as they neared him. Adne’s whips reached him first, flying low, striking at his ankles. Shay dodged the blow as easily as if he were skipping rope. But as he landed again, Connor came at him, his sword blades no longer moving in a casual dance but whirling with such speed I could barely see where one blade ended and the other began.

  I started to move forward, my instincts screaming to throw myself between the gleaming steel and Shay. My body tried to follow the call for blood. I felt like I was suffocating, pushing down the weight of the wolf that was desperate to claw its way out of the human prison that held it back. But I couldn’t interfere. Shay needed this. It was time for the Scion to fight on his own. I just hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be for me to let him go. Backing against a wall to put more distance between myself and the fight, I jumped forward when the spikes of a hanging mace pressed against the skin of my back.

  Shay’s eyes locked on Connor. Their swords met, the clang of blade on blade bouncing off the walls and ceiling. As the two young men focused on each other, Adne stalked Shay from behind. The whips flew toward his unprotected back. I gasped as Shay suddenly forced Connor’s blades down while launching his own body into the air, flipping over Adne and landing just behind her. Connor shouted, crashing to the floor as he barely escaped catching the sharp points of Adne’s whips on his chest. Shay grabbed Adne around the waist, drawing her back and resting the blade of one sword against her throat.

  “Yield?”

  Her face was frozen in a mask of shock. She swallowed, nodding carefully so as not to press her neck against the sword.

  “Holy shit.” Connor was laughing as he rolled back onto his feet. “I get it now. The Scion is chosen because he has eyes in the back of his head. If you just shave that mop off, we’ll see them, right?”

  Adne was breathing hard as Shay lowered his sword, smiling when she craned her neck to gaze at him.

  “How did you do that?” she asked.

  The same question was ringing in my own mind. I’d never seen anything like what Shay had just done. I was stunned. My hand pressed into my chest as I tried to catch my breath, fingertips vibrating with my racing heartbeat.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just knew you were coming. I could feel you behind me.”

  Ethan remained silent, but he and Connor exchanged a glance.

  “Okay,” Connor said, raising his swords. “First round to you. Two out of three?”

  “Adne?” Shay asked.

  “You won’t pull that move on me twice,” she said, playfully shoving him back to free herself.

  “Let’s see.” Shay grinned.

  I couldn’t take any more. Watching the ferocity of the fight, listening to the easy banter between them, all of it made me feel like an outsider. Neither needed nor wanted. Their strength, fluidity, and laughter were all barbs digging into me. It was as though none of what had been revealed in the kitchen mattered. My mother was dead, my pack forsaken, and they’d already moved on. I would grieve alone.

  As sadness dragged my mood into a tar pit of self-pity, I thought of Ansel. How much worse must all of this be for him? Guilt grabbed hold of me, reminding me that I wasn’t the only one who’d lost a loved one. Naomi, our mother, had been ripped away from us, but that wasn’t all Ansel had lost. His wolf had been taken from him and destroyed. I could grieve, but I was still whole. Still a Guardian. There would be no return for him.

  No one noticed when I turned away, sidling toward the door, as Connor hurled himself at Shay, startling him into dropping one sword.

  “Hey!”

  “You think you get a warning after that last match?” Connor barked. “Adne, take him down!”

  “With pleasure.” She laughed, entering the fray.

  Shay ducked, rolling along the floor to avoid Adne’s swift kick. “Not happening!”

  The ringing of steel on steel trailed after me as I slipped from the room.

  SEVENTEEN

  A SPEAR OF YELLOW light cut through the hallway from a room at the top of a stairwell I’d discovered when trailing Ansel’s scent, the door open just a crack. I quietly pushed the door back, peering inside.

  “You’re killing me, kiddo.” Isaac rubbed his temples as he faced my brother. “What else can I say?”

  I knocked on the door frame. Isaac turned and Ansel glanced up, only to duck his head low again the moment he saw me.

  “You the relief team?” Isaac asked, coming to the door.

  I nodded, watching Ansel sit on the edge of the bed and stare at his shoes.

  “Glad you’re here.” When Isaac approached me, he lowered his voice. “Tess is way better at this stuff than me. She always handles our houseguests.”

  “I didn’t know there were bedrooms in the outpost,” I said, looking around the small, spartan room.

  “When strike teams come in, they sometimes need multiple days to stage a mission,” Isaac said. “These are the quarters they use when they aren’t staying at the Academy. Plus the Reapers live here.”

  “Right,” I said, before asking, “How is he?”

  “He’s says he’s not in pain,” Isaac said. “But the kid is clearly distraught. I couldn’t get him to eat. I warmed up a stew for him. It’s on the nightstand. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  “Thanks for staying with him,” I said.

  “No problem,” Isaac said. “If you’re okay here, I should get back downstairs.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, already walking past him.

  I sat next to Ansel on the bed. He didn’t say anything. He was staring at his hands, which were cupped around something I couldn’t see.

  “So you won’t eat?” I said, gesturing to the untouched bowl of stew.

  “I’ll eat when I’m hun
gry,” he mumbled.

  “I’ve been eating their food,” I said, trying to lighten my tone. “I swear it’s not poisoned.”

  He didn’t laugh, but his hands opened as he shoved whatever he’d been holding into his pocket. It looked like a crumpled slip of paper.

  “What’s that?” I frowned.

  “Nothing.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want?”

  “You’ve been through a lot,” I said, giving up light conversation. “You need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

  When I reached out to touch his shoulder, he jerked away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Why not?” I asked carefully. “I’m so happy to see you, An. I’ve missed you.”

  He laughed, but it was that awful tinny sound again. “Have you? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  I didn’t know what could relieve the painful gnawing in my gut spurred by the hollow sound of his words. “I had to leave.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I had to. They were going to kill him.”

  “They killed Mom,” he whispered.

  “I know,” I said, choking on the words. “But the ceremony, An. They were going to make me kill Shay.”

  “How many times are you going to tell me that?” Ansel asked softly. “It doesn’t make what happened to us right. You don’t know what they did. You weren’t there.”

  He was dragging his fingernails over his wrists. I leaned closer and saw the raw red tracks he’d made. I grabbed his hand, jerking it away.

  “Stop that!”

  He laughed again. “Why should I?”

  “I might not have been there, but I can see how much they hurt you.”

  He shuddered, clutching at his stomach as though he were about to be ill. “It’s like I can still feel them tearing it out of me. I can’t stop remembering how they took it.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. “I can’t live like this.”

  “Ansel, your life isn’t over. You’re still you—and I love you.” I gripped his hand in mine. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

  I couldn’t say that it didn’t matter that he’d been unmade. It would have been a lie. I knew what losing the wolf meant.

  “We’ll find a way to make it better.”

  “The only people who could make me whole again are the Searchers,” he said. “And they’ve already said they won’t. And the Keepers . . .”

  “What they did to you is horrible, but you can’t give up. Please. You have to be strong for me. For Bryn.”

  He scowled. “Even if Bryn isn’t dead, she’d be better off without me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “She deserves someone who can be with her. If she were with me, she couldn’t be her true self. She needs a Guardian.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” I said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “It hasn’t always been that way,” I said quietly.

  “What are you talking about, Calla?” He looked at me, angry in a way I’d never seen before. He feels like he’s lost everything that matters.

  “Because I found out that Searchers and Guardians have fallen in love before.” I squeezed his hand gently. “You don’t have to be a wolf to be worthy of love.”

  He stared at me, disbelieving.

  “It’s true. A long time ago,” I said. “We were allies . . . and sometimes more.”

  “A long time ago.” I watched his eyes go flat, saw him giving up again.

  “But I also know because I loved Shay.” My voice began to shake. “Even before I turned him.”

  Ansel gazed at me. For a moment the dull cast of his face changed and I was looking at my brother again. “I knew it.” He almost smiled.

  “I know you did.”

  “I guess that’s worth something.” He sighed. “I did tell you I’d run away for Bryn. Maybe this is all my fault.” The corner of his mouth began to curve up. Then he frowned at me. “Did you ever love Ren? I thought you might. I mean, you guys obviously had a connection of some sort. Was it only because you’re both alphas?”

  I shivered as raw, frightening emotions scampered down my spine. “I—”

  Images danced in my mind, memories of Ren’s laugh, his face, his touch. I’d only admitted my love for Shay when I thought I would lose him. Now Ren was the one in danger. Was my need to save him about love too?

  And then it was as if he were there, whispering to me. This is only about love. I could almost feel his breath on my skin.

  When I didn’t answer, Ansel shook his head. “Never mind.”

  He crawled across the bed, lying down. “So do you trust them?” he asked.

  “The Searchers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think so,” I said. Not as much as I’d like.

  “What will you do next?” he asked. “If you reunite with the pack tomorrow, what then?”

  “Then we help Shay,” I said, still slightly lost in thoughts about Ren.

  “Help him do what?”

  “Save the world.”

  “Is that all?” Ansel laughed, and this time it sounded real.

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “That’s all.”

  We both fell quiet for several minutes.

  In the silence of the room my heartbeat was deafening. “Ansel, I think we should try.”

  “Try what?”

  “Turning you,” I said. “The Keepers always lie. They could be lying about this too.”

  I watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed. “Do you really think so?”

  I didn’t know what I thought, but I hoped with every ounce of my being that they had lied about this.

  “They always lie,” I whispered.

  He turned his head to look at me. “Okay.” His body was trembling.

  When I shifted into my wolf form, he winced. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was to watch my transformation, so effortless, so natural, when that power had been robbed from him.

  Ansel scooted up on the bed, watching me. I slowly lowered my muzzle to his forearm, ears flicking. I glanced up at him and he nodded. I bit him, fast and deep. He drew a quick breath. I caught the acrid scent of his fear.

  I shifted back, reaching out to lift his chin so his eyes met mine.

  “Bellator silvae servi. Warrior of the forest, I, the alpha, call on thee to serve in this time of need.”

  All I could hear was the sound of our breathing, shallow and fearful, as I waited. I closed my eyes, hoping for the surge of power to move from me to Ansel, linking alpha and packmate. Squeezing my eyes tight, I spoke again; this time my voice shook.

  “Bellator silvae servi. Warrior of the forest, I, the alpha, call on thee to serve in this time of need.”

  Nothing. No magic twined in the space between us.

  When I opened my eyes, Ansel was shaking his head. His own eyes were closed. A tear slid down his cheek.

  “Bellator silv—”

  “Stop,” Ansel croaked, his reddened eyes meeting mine. “Don’t.”

  I didn’t know what to say. They’d really done it. Ansel’s wolf was gone, and I couldn’t bring it back. In that moment I hated the Keepers more than I ever had.

  “Let me give you blood.” I choked on the words and realized that I was crying too. “You’re still bleeding.”

  “No.” Ansel pulled off his shirt, tying it around the puncture wound in his arm. “I don’t want it.”

  “Ansel—” I reached for him.

  “I don’t want it!!” The fury in his gaze paralyzed me.

  He slid down on the bed. His face had emptied of emotion, but his blank expression was more frightening than his anger.

  “You should go,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “You’ll need to sleep before tomorrow.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled paper.

  “Ansel, what is that?” I asked, trying to get a better look.

&nb
sp; “Leave me alone.” His eyes rested on the dirty scrap for a moment before he gripped it in a tight fist, pressing it against his chest. “It’s from Bryn, okay? I managed to hang on to it while the Keepers had us separated.”

  “Oh.” She must have written him a poem. My heart pinched and my eyes were burning. Did she have anything of him with her? My brother and my best friend, whose love I’d wanted to hide from the Keepers. Maybe it would have been better if they had run away together. Could that have led to anything worse than what was happening now?

  Ansel rolled over, facing away from me. “Just go.”

  I stayed at the edge of the bed, knees tucked up under my chin. When his long, steady breaths assured me he’d fallen asleep, I stretched out, careful not to touch him, resting my head on a pillow, still watching my brother sleep.

  After a while he started to make sounds, soft mewling like a young animal in pain. It went on and on as he quaked and trembled next to me, stirring but never waking. I finally drifted to sleep, still listening to the soft cries manifested by whatever nightmares clawed at Ansel’s mind.

  EIGHTEEN

  “CALLA,” SHAY WHISPERED, gently shaking my shoulder.

  The sound of his voice drew me from dreams haunted by cries of anguish and slithering shadows that threatened to engulf me.

  For a moment I couldn’t remember where I was. I only heard the warmth of Shay’s voice and caught the subtle allure of his scent. I started to lean forward, aching for his closeness.

  He looked puzzled when my fingers traced the line of his jaw. “They asked me to wake you. It’s time.”

  The sweetness of the moment was driven away by the sudden cold slap of knowing where I was and what I was about to do. I blinked sleep away, sitting up quickly and then regretting it when Ansel stirred. He didn’t wake fully but continued to mutter, restless in sleep as he had been all night. My mood plummeted even further when I remembered that I’d tried to help him, but couldn’t.

  “Come on,” Shay said. “The others are waiting downstairs.”

  We left the room quietly.