Page 26 of Hidden

Discipline. Boundaries. Draw a line of ice around your emotions, a perfect box. Your feelings can flow up to that line, but they can’t spill over. What’s outside the line can’t get inside to touch you. Keep yourself separate, and you can weather any storm. The thicker the ice, the harder it is to crack.

Slowly, slowly, he formed the picture in his mind. As he did so, his pulse and heart rate fell to a normal level. He’d learned the technique in the Silent Wolves. They’d given him the combination of freedom and self-mastery he’d needed. Now he was trained, steady, followed orders, and delivered results. For all the harsh words and disappointment heaped on Rafe when he’d left home, he knew he’d taken the right path. The old Rafe wouldn’t have survived a day in these cells.

The therapist—going had never been his idea, but the order had come down after that thing with the rusalka—said he should be careful not to take the ice wall too far. That he had isolated himself. Well, as long as he was around the fae, those walls had better be a mile thick. They pushed every one of his buttons.

And it wasn’t the first time. Rafe had been too young to remember details, but a hunting party of dark fae had killed his cousin, Trevor, while he was running as a wolf. They had speared him for sport, then sent a purse of gold coin to Trevor’s dad. The Alpha—his grandfather back then—had called the money weregild and according to ancient law, the wolves had been obligated to accept the price.

If Rafe had been Alpha, no amount of coin would have bought those fae peace. Laws be damned. That was a big part of why he’d agreed to hunt the Magician. He was sick of his people being murdered by the fae.

Where were the missing wolves of Pack Devries? Old Jasper, too stubborn to let time and rheumatism keep him by the fire? Hot-headed Rand? Alexi and Lars? Those last two were brothers who ran an auto shop during the day and street races when no humans were looking. And there were more. Twelve had gone missing—he was number thirteen. Had the others found the Magician? Was that why they’d vanished?

Rafe got to his feet just long enough to flop onto the hard bed. He stared at the ceiling, repeating the boundary exercise to quiet his thoughts. It mostly worked, but one worry still niggled.

Had Izetta escaped to find help? If not, he was in this cell for good.

Between the drama of the escape and her mother’s worries, Lila had lost track of time. She was a little surprised to find the afternoon light was already dimming when she got outside, the ragged skyline of fir and pine melting into a dark silhouette. A rising wind brought the scent of the woods like a sharp perfume. Lila drank it in, grateful to be free of the way station.

She turned in place, wondering where to begin her search. An escaped prisoner would try to put distance between themselves and their jail, but even a sliver of daylight robbed the Undead of their strength. Galeeta had been right—the vampire couldn’t have gone far.

Lila paused, using her fae senses to scan the forest around her. The servants were straight ahead, their presence prickling at the edge of her awareness. Lila turned in the opposite direction, heading into the deep woods behind the house. She had no desire to meet those two on a dark, deserted path.

The terrain was almost impassable for anyone but a fae—clearly not a well-used route. Insects buzzed a lazy drone as she picked her way forward. The brush was thick, hiding steep boulders and equally unexpected drops. In places, the thickets looked almost woven together. Insects buzzed a lazy drone. There was a faint path hidden beneath the drifts of leaves, but it took a sharp eye and imagination to find it.

Lila used her magic to clear the clinging branches. They lifted with a crackle of twigs, but just long enough to let her slip past. The one time she was slow, she nearly got a face full of brambles. Soon the brush and trees towered above her, blocking out the sky.

The deeper she went, the darker it got, and she was forced to summon a ball of light into her palm. She held it high to see the ground in front of her, but the shadows gobbled up the light’s rays. Instinctively, she stopped, wary. Dead ahead, an extra-thick tangle blocked her way, steeped in a spell she’d not encountered before.

A familiar resonance in the spell said it was fae work, not something their escaped vampire might have conjured. Under normal circumstances, she’d leave another fae’s work alone. Still, the last days—was it even that long?—had burned through any hesitation. Whatever was hidden here might be an answer. At the very least, it was blocking her path.

Unweave. Pull back. Stand aside. Lila infused the words with her will, forming the syllables first in the common language and then in her own native tongue. The magic caught and twisted, pulling on her store of power the way a spinner teases out their wool. The branches shifted as before, but not without resistance. Every inch took force. Pain shot along her nerves, finding each ending from her fingertips all the way to the root of her spine. It seared like lightning, molten and radiant. Lila let out a cry and fell forward, jarring her knees.

She bent over, head to the ground, as a wave of sickness engulfed her. She hadn’t used that much power in years, and she was out of practice. She pressed her palms to the earth, grounding herself with the feel of cool, damp moss.

When she raised her head, a narrow gap had appeared in the underbrush. She got to her feet, awkward with fatigue, and took a tentative step forward to make out what lay beyond the barrier. The scent of freshly turned dirt filled the air.

Lila paused, letting the woods speak to her. Secret. Quiet. Sleeping the long rest below.

She fell back a step, but not before she’d counted six graves. She took two more steps back, then slid to the ground with her back to a tree.

The white moon sails, but our voices are silent. An ice-cold fist gripped her gut. Rafe hadn’t lied. The wolf had come here looking for his pack.

She’d found them.

CHAPTER 9

Lila mounted the stairs to the way station’s upper floors, the scent of the woods still clinging to her clothes and hair. Where there should have been nothing but the tang of moss and cedar, now she caught the faint whiff of acrid decay. Was it real or her imagination? She couldn’t tell. Her nerves were twisted tight, afraid of what those graves meant.

For the last hundred years, the fae had lived in uneasy peace with the other supernatural communities. Humans, for all their weakness, were a challenge that united the others. But that newfound harmony was far from guaranteed. Those graves could ignite a wildfire of enmity and bloodshed between shifters and fae.

Lila could pretend she hadn’t found them, but there was too much at stake to take the easy road. Truth was the only way.

She reached the top of the stairs and started down the corridor, her feet silent on the thick carpet. The house was quiet, no other footfalls disturbing the deep hush. Lila’s gaze searched the shadows, as if her unanswered questions lurked in the doorways. Had her mother’s servants caught the vampire yet? Would there be more wolves coming? What would happen to Rafe?

The image of the wolf—his generous mouth and sad, intelligent eyes, rose in her mind. An uneasy flutter of guilt quickened her pace. Surely this new information would influence his fate. At the very least, he deserved to know what had happened to his kin.

When she finally heard voices, they came from Ademar’s room. Had a physician come? Had he taken a turn for the worse? With a surge of alarm, she broke into a run, the graves momentarily forgotten. The door stood open.

“Ademar!” She sprang through the door, then barely skittered to a stop before she crashed into the foot of the bed. She finally grabbed the bedpost and stood gaping.

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