SEVEN
TESS LAY IN A CRUMPLED heap on the floor while Connor
spoke softly to her.
“We’d better take
her with us,” Ethan said to Isaac. “They can send another Reaper
out for the time being. I’ll keep working point until Anika’s
sorted this out.”
Isaac
nodded.
As Adne wove a door
to the Academy, I sat at the table, trying to make sense of what
had just happened. Lydia was dead. I’d barely known her, but the
way she’d died haunted me. Nausea rolled through my gut, making me
shudder. I buried my face in my hands.
I couldn’t shake the
thought that I’d brought this grief down on my new allies. Tess was
sobbing, and each cry was like a razor slicing my skin. I’d run to
Sasha. I’d assumed any Nightshade would be an ally. I couldn’t have
been more wrong. My poor judgment had cost Lydia’s
life.
Someone touched my
shoulder. I lifted my head to see Adne gazing at me.
“Door’s open,” she
said.
I followed her to
the shining portal. Tess cried into Isaac’s shoulder when he hugged
her, murmuring good-byes, before Connor put his arm around her
waist and led her through Adne’s door.
When I passed Ethan
on my way to the door, I reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his
coat. I might have been wiser to pick someone else, but words
wanted to climb out of my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I
whispered.
He shook my hand
off, but his gaze was more sad than angry. “Don’t be. This is who
we are.”
I could see that
truth at work. With the exception of Tess, the Searchers shouldered
their grief and moved on in a way that was brutal and
beautiful.
“Send an update when
you can,” Ethan said.
“We will,” Adne
said, and gestured for me to pass her.
Anika was waiting
for us. The Arrow’s eyes were fixed on Tess, who was struggling
against her tears.
“Lydia?” Anika
asked. Tess broke down again and Anika bowed her head.
“And our operative,”
Connor added.
“Tess, you should
retire to your quarters in the Haldis wing,” Anika
said.
Tess nodded. When
she was gone, Anika approached Connor.
“What
happened?”
“Can’t be sure.”
Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “When I reached the drop point,
Grant was dead. He’d bled out at least an hour before. His body was
already frozen.”
Anika frowned,
turning her eyes on me. “And the pack?”
I shook my head,
wondering if I should tell them about Haldis and my theory that the
patrol routes had been shifted. About the horrible miscalculation
I’d somehow overlooked. In light of what had just happened, I
decided against it.
“The wolves we
encountered attacked us without hesitation,” Connor
said.
Working past the
dryness in my throat, I said, “Something’s changed.”
“What?” Connor
looked at me sharply.
“One of the wolves
that attacked us was a Nightshade,” I continued. “Not one of my own
pack, but an elder. And she was being led by the
Banes.”
“Are you sure?”
Anika’s eyes had narrowed.
“I am,” I said,
forcing my own voice to remain steady. “The wolf that killed Lydia
was Emile Laroche.”
“What did you just
say?” Monroe was standing in the doorway, Shay at his
side.
Adne was already
crossing the room. She put her head on Monroe’s chest.
“We lost Lydia,”
Connor said, watching as Monroe put his arms around his daughter.
It was the first time I’d seen them behave like parent and
child.
“And it was Emile?”
Monroe asked, running his hand over Adne’s hair. “The Bane
alpha?”
“Yes,” I
said.
The group of
Searchers near Anika had closed in around her in a tight circle,
hurried words in low tones passing between them.
Shay started toward
me and I walked to meet him. I didn’t hesitate when he stretched
his arms out. My head was spinning. Things had happened in Vail.
Things I couldn’t understand. I leaned into him, letting his scent
pour over me, steadying me.
“Are you okay?” he
whispered.
“I’m not hurt.” I
kept my voice low. “But things happened.”
His arms tightened
around me. “What things?”
“Not here,” I
murmured.
He kissed the crown
of my hair.
Monroe looked at us,
face grim. “We’ll need to discuss this with Silas.”
Anika nodded. “He
should be in his study.”
Adne had already
pulled out of her father’s embrace, wiping away tear tracks from
her cheeks. “I’ll come with you.”
“You should get some
rest.”
“No.” Any
vulnerability had vanished, replaced by her usual rebellious
expression.
“Then I’ll come
too,” Connor said. He was watching Adne. I saw questions flickering
through his eyes, anxious.
I wondered why he
was being so protective. Adne struck me as nothing less than
ferocious, and she was holding up remarkably well considering . . .
oh. Connor’s scrutiny suddenly made
sense.
That had been Adne’s
first mission as the new Weaver, her first time out with the Haldis
team, and they’d lost two people. Was she really taking it in
stride like the other Searchers, or was it just for show until she
was alone?
“This way,” Monroe
said, though he frowned at Adne before leading us from the
room.
Rather than turning
down the hall, he pushed through the glass doors. The air in the
courtyard was frigid, but Monroe didn’t show any reaction as he
strode on the walkway. I glanced down at the barren earth. I could
see twisting paths and empty fountains far below us. No one spoke
as we walked. Our breath filled the air with tiny white clouds. The
courtyard was massive. We’d walked half a mile by the time Monroe
opened the doors on the opposite side of the Academy.
While the
architecture of the hallway we entered mirrored that of the Haldis
wing, its design was startlingly different. Haldis—from the walls
to the dark woods of the tactical room—was filled with warm, rich
ochres, crimsons, mahoganies.
The space we’d
entered glittered as though it had been carved of ice. Frosty blue,
lavender, silver, and gleaming white washed over the walls. The
colors swirled and rippled, accompanied by a quiet rustling like
the softness of a steady breeze.
“Where are we?” I
asked. The constant shifting of colors on the walls made it seem
like the building around us was moving.
“This is the Tordis
wing.” Monroe glanced over his shoulder. I realized he was still
walking and I’d fallen behind the group. As stunning as this space
was, the Searchers—and even Shay—must have seen it before. They
didn’t seem to notice its beauty, or if they did, they weren’t
moved enough to comment.
“How many wings are
there?”
“Four,” Monroe said
as I caught up to him. “Haldis, Tordis, Pyralis,
Eydis.”
“Earth, air, fire,
and water,” Adne murmured.
“The four elements.”
Shay was sneaking glances at the walls as well. Maybe he hadn’t
seen it before. “Tordis is air.”
Monroe nodded. “Each
element has specific characteristics. We need the qualities of all
four to survive, but each Searcher specializes when they enter the
Academy.”
“What’s
Haldis?”
“The earth makes
warriors,” Connor said, pinching Adne’s cheek. “We’re
grittier.”
“You wish.” Adne
punched his arm. “Besides, Pyralis makes Strikers too. Haldis is
known for its Reapers . . . and Guides.”
She glanced at
Monroe, who inclined his head slightly.
“What about you?” I
asked her. “You aren’t trained by Haldis? But you work with
them?”
“Like I said.”
Monroe stopped in front of a narrow, intricately carved pine door.
“We need all four elements to survive. Weavers train with each
division—creating doors requires the use of all the elements in
concert.”
“Wow,” Shay said,
raising an eyebrow at Adne.
“It’s not as
impressive as it sounds.” She threw a dark look at her
father.
“Sure it is.” Connor
ruffled her hair and she stuck her tongue out at him.
“But most of us
remain in a single division.” Monroe knocked on the door.
“Tordis—air—is the element of intellect. Scribes train here and
live here.”
The door swung open,
revealing Silas. His arms were full of scrolls.
“What?” He scowled
at Monroe. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“We lost
Grant.”
The scrolls tumbled
to the floor as Silas’s face went white. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” Monroe
pushed past him, gesturing for us to follow.
Silas was still
frozen in the doorway when I stepped past him.
“Uh . . .” Shay was
staring at our surroundings. “This is a study?”
It was a good
question. The room we’d entered looked like all the dictionaries on
the planet had come here to die grisly deaths. The floor was
carpeted by paper. Towers of books swayed precariously like
monuments about to collapse.
“Don’t touch
anything.” Silas, apparently recovered from his shock, shoved me
aside and picked his way back to a desk—or what I could guess was a
desk buried beneath more paper and maps—like someone treading
through a minefield.
Connor strode
straight across the room, kicking books and piles of notes out of
his way.
“Damn it, Connor!”
Silas shouted. “Now I won’t be able to find what I
need.”
“Not my problem,”
Connor said, dropping into a chair after he’d tipped more books off
its seat. “Like I give a rat’s ass about your wunderkind special
privileges. Just ’cause Anika babies you doesn’t mean I’m going
to.”
Monroe walked across
the room with a little more care, followed by Adne and Shay. I
decided to take the path Connor had already cleared.
“Any other chairs,
Silas?” Adne asked.
“This is my office,”
Silas sneered. “Not Tordis’s archives. I don’t usually have
company.”
“You can sit on my
lap.” Connor winked at Adne, slapping his thighs.
“What a gentleman,”
she muttered, leaning against Silas’s desk.
“We’ll be fine
standing,” Monroe said.
“Are you going to
tell me how we lost an operative?” Silas was shuffling through
mounds of scrolls. When he located a pen and a blank piece of
paper, he began scribbling.
“We’re not sure,”
Monroe said, glancing at me.
I stared at him for
a moment, then realized that he wanted me to take the lead.
Well, that’s who I am, isn’t it? I
stood a little taller, surprised but pleased that Monroe
acknowledged my place as alpha.
“Something’s wrong
with the Guardian packs,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s happened,
but the patrols I knew aren’t in play anymore.”
Silas pursed his
lips, then nodded for me to continue.
“Emile Laroche was
leading Nightshade wolves,” I said, my shoulders tightening at the
memory of fighting Sasha. “I still can’t imagine how that’s
possible.”
When I spoke Emile’s
name, Monroe’s jaw clenched.
“The Bane alpha was
patrolling with Nightshades?” Silas didn’t look up as he
wrote.
“Not patrolling,” I
said, feeling cold as I spoke. “Hunting. They were hunting
us.”
The pen slipped from
Silas’s fingers. His eyes were wide when they met mine. “You think
they knew our team was coming?”
“If they didn’t
know, they weren’t surprised,” I said. “I think they were waiting
for us to show.”
“They might have
gotten information from Grant before they killed him.” Silas
sighed.
“I don’t think so,”
Connor said. “I found him. Looked like he’d been ambushed, killed
instantly.”
Silas frowned. “They
must be getting it from their own sources, then.”
“You mean spies
here?” Shay asked. “You think you have a mole?”
“Of course not.”
Silas snorted. “Our people aren’t turncoats. I mean
hers.”
He pointed at me.
The air went out of my lungs. It took less than a second for me to
shift and leap onto his desk, snarling. My fangs snapped inches
from his face. Silas yelped, tipping his chair over backward, and
rolled across the floor.
“Calla!” Monroe
shouted.
I shifted back,
still crouched on the desk.
“What do you mean
mine?” I glared at Silas, who was brandishing a letter opener at
me.
“You do know she’s
not a werewolf, right?” Shay smirked at the Scribe. “That silver
thing’s not gonna be worth much.”
“Monroe!” Silas’s
eyes bulged as I perched on the edge of the desk, ready to
spring.
“Calla, please,”
Monroe said.
I didn’t look at
him. “Just tell me what you meant, Silas.”
He swallowed hard.
“I only meant that your packmates are the most likely source of
information about you and Shay. They’re probably being
interrogated.”
My limbs trembled
and I almost lost my balance.
They’re being held for questioning.
“But—but they don’t
know anything,” I stammered. “Only Shay and I knew . . . Oh
God.”
“What?” Connor
leaned forward. I could feel the blood draining from my
face.
“Ren,” I whispered.
“Ren knew.”
“How much did he
know?” Monroe’s voice cracked.
“I told him about
Corrine—that the Keepers had executed her,” I said, struggling with
the fog of memories from that night. “I told him Shay was the
Scion.”
“Shit,” Connor said.
“There goes our alliance.”
“Why?” Shay
asked.
Silas was slowly
rising, eyeing me all the while. “Because they’ll have those young
wolves under lock and key until they’re sure where their loyalties
lie. We won’t be able to get to them.”
Monroe’s hands were
covering his face. He swore and swung a fist, sending a tower of
books crashing to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Adne
said to her father.
He didn’t
answer.
Connor stood up,
carried the chair to Monroe, and set it down in front of him.
Monroe nodded gratefully, sat down, and rested his elbows on his
knees, lost in thought.
“Since that option
is out,” Connor said, “what now?”
I slid off the desk,
ignoring the way Silas cringed when I walked past him.
“I don’t want to
give up on my pack,” I said. “We can’t just leave
them.”
I’d known Ren was at
risk, but the thought of Bryn and Ansel being interrogated was even
worse. They hadn’t known anything. Whatever had happened to them
fell at my feet alone. My secrets alone put them in
danger.
“We won’t,” Monroe
said, staring ahead. “But we’re looking at a rescue mission now.
Not an alliance. At least not right away.”
“And we need more
information before we can even think about a rescue,” Silas said,
backing against a bookcase when I glared at him.
“He’s right, Calla,”
Adne said. “We can’t go into Vail blind. It might just be Ren
they’re questioning, but it might be all your
packmates.”
I looked at Shay. He
nodded reluctantly.
“Then what?!” I
snapped. “We just wait?”
“No,” Monroe said.
“Waiting isn’t an option.”
“It’s time to go
nuclear.” Connor smiled at Silas. “Right?”
“That is the worst
metaphor I’ve ever heard.” Silas went back to his desk, whimpering
as he lifted papers I’d shredded.
“What are you
talking about?” Shay frowned.
“Haven’t you figured
it out, kid?” Connor cast a sidelong glance at him. “We’re talking
about you.”
“Me?” Shay
blinked.
Monroe looked up.
His eyes were bloodshot. “Silas, it’s time.”
“Time for what?” I
asked. My mind was still on my pack. On Ansel and Bryn. My chest
was burning as I tried to fight off images of all the things that
could have happened to them. That could still be
happening.
“For Shay to learn
who he is,” Monroe said.
“I know who I am,”
Shay said.
“Wanna bet?” Connor
laughed. “You’re in for a surprise . . . or a hundred. I’ll give
you two-to-one odds.”
“Leave him alone,”
Adne said.
“Do you want the
story or a plan?” Silas asked.
“A plan,” I snapped.
“What can Shay do that will help my pack?”
“He can’t do much
yet,” Silas answered. “First we have to gather the
pieces.”
“Pieces?” Shay
frowned at the Scribe. “What pieces?”
“The pieces of the
cross,” Silas replied in a congenial tone, as if that explained
everything.
“The pieces of the
cross?” Shay’s brow creased further.
One eyebrow arched
and Silas leaned forward, an almost accusing question jabbed at
Shay. “How much of The War of All Against
All did you read, exactly?”
I came to his
rescue. “Look, Professor, we were running for our lives as soon as
we realized the Scion was going to be laid on a sacrificial altar
at Samhain. And I understand if we hadn’t gotten here, you lot
would be stuck trying to save him and probably failing. Watch
yourself.” I bared sharpened canines at him.
A shocked ripple
moved through the room. Connor snorted, laughing as Silas reached
for the letter opener again.
Monroe held up a
hand. “She’s right, Silas, not everyone has the luxury of devoting
their lives to study as you do. We’re fortunate that they are here,
and chastising them for not managing to gather the full story
before they fled is useless.”
Silas shuddered like
he had to force himself not to be sick, but after a moment he
looked sullenly at Shay. “Sorry.”
Shay offered a weak
smile. “We only read bits.”
“Okay, then.” Silas
took a deep breath, like he was trying to break a record for
underwater swimming. “Each of the sacred sites has a piece of the
cross. You need to bear the cross like the prophecy says. It’s the
only way we can win.” After the words were out, he let out the rest
of his breath explosively and ground his teeth.
“Writing SparkNotes
would be a bad career choice for you, Silas,” Connor muttered. “No
appreciation of abridgment at all.”
“Or sanity,” Adne
murmured, and smiled at Shay, who laughed but tried not to meet
Silas’s injured glance.
“Abridging is
blasphemy,” Silas said.
I leaned forward
hesitantly, not wanting another chastising remark. “I don’t get it.
Shay already bears the cross. He has the tattoo.”
Connor laughed.
“Man, I wish you’d taken that bet.”
Shay and I exchanged
a confused glance.
Silas looked like a
goose ready to lay a golden egg.
Shay frowned at him.
“Well?”
“The tattoo is just
a marker of who you are, a signal for those who sought you. It’s
not the cross.” The gleam in the Scribe’s eye was almost too bright
to look at it, particularly because it was so smug.
“Then what is the
cross?” I asked quietly.
Monroe didn’t look
at me; his brown eyes focused on Shay. A sober, almost regretful
sigh emerged from his throat.
“It’s a
weapon.”