Page 90 of Shadows of Perl

The grave is no longer filled. A hand rises from it, clawing its way up and out of the ground. A boy lifts himself, breathless and trembling. I’m trying to release a tight breath when a blur rushes past me.

Snapping growls collide with shrieks.

The boy hollers again; an animal’s whimper follows. The scene at the foot of the oak has changed. The boy and the beast wrestle, tumbling one over another. I look around again, waiting for help to step in, but there is no one. Toushana streams through the air, connecting with his hands. A shrill shriek tears from his throat as he pins the wolf. He brings a rock down on its head so hard it doesn’t move again. Back on his feet, he charges at the wolf pack, his own teeth bared, darkness thrashing in his grip. I look away just before they slam into one another.

A vicious bark.

Howls of pain.

Whimpers.

Then silence.

I dare look, and the boy’s knees hit the dirt. He’s covered in blood. Four wolves lie around him, unmoving. I feel sick. He pulls himself back up to his feet. His clothes are ripped to shreds and he limps away. Still, no one slips from the shadows to help. Either they’re awful at their jobs or Beaulah lied. The guesthouse. Charlie lying. But my legs are like lead.

Adola will never survive this.

I groan and race off through the forest in the direction the men went. I want many things, and her surviving this is one of them.

* * *

I’m out of breath and everything hurts by the time I find them. Adola stands between an empty grave and a mountain of dirt. Just beyond her, I can faintly make out the pointed eaves of the guesthouse. My heart skips a beat.

“No!” Adola holds the shovel overhead. Then she swings it at the one who is supposed to be burying her. I chew my lip, moving through the forest around the unfolding scene. The guesthouse, the answers I want, are right there.

He yelps, narrowly skirting the blow. “You’re supposed to cooperate.”

“Get away from me!” Adola swings again, and this time the spade slams into his leg. He stumbles, dropping his sack of bloodied meat. It spills on the ground.

“You’re nuts!” He scurries up and dashes off.

I check the surroundings. I know what’s coming. She has seconds to get away. And I have a choice to make. I don’t know if Beaulah realizes how unprepared her niece is. How close help needs to be. But I’m not going to sit and watch while someone who is trying to find the courage to be okay with being different is killed. I turn my back on the guesthouse and run to her.

“Adola!”

“Quell?”

She drops the shovel and bursts into sobs. Wisps of toushana are on her hands. She holds them out to me.

“I’m trying,” she sobs. “I swear, I’m trying—”

“Listen, you have to—”

Low growls snap our mouths shut.

Adola’s eyes widen.

“Run!”

She hesitates. “No, I can’t. You—”

A wolf bounds toward us and leaps. It slams into Adola, knocking her to the ground. I draw the deathly magic to my hands, and my palms fill with darkness. I grab the wolf by the scruff of his neck and lock my arm around his head. His fur burns away, my toushana turning it to wisps of nothingness. Then I bear down on his throat. When a burning smell hits my nose, he tries to jerk away. I release him and he runs off, tail between his legs.

“Go! Get to the finish line. I will draw them out.”

“Quell!” Adola balls her fists.

“You’ve much worse odds than I do.”

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