Page 81 of Hidden

She pulled her necklace from beneath her shirt. The electronic fob for the cells still dangled from the long chain. She swiped the fob and punched the code into the keypad, praying this door used the same number sequence she knew.

When the metal panel slid open and she peered inside, she saw the room was full—not of men, but of beasts huddled together on the floor. She’d heard shifters changed to their animal forms to heal, and it made sense their bodies would try to throw off the spell. Unfortunately, this wasn’t an injury that their natural magic could cure.

There were too many furry backs to be sure of the number. Five? Eight? Gray and brown, black and white, they were all huge, even lying down. Every wolf was deeply asleep with a stillness that suggested they were under the same type of sleeping spell Ademar had used.

Lila pushed the button that unlocked the cell door, wincing at the mechanism’s loud clank. The sleeping wolves didn’t stir as she stepped inside. The floor was full of paws and tails and she was forced to tiptoe around the edge of the pile. Werewolves were larger than their animal cousins, though they shared the same lean, long-legged grace. Closer examination revealed six individuals, all breathing. Rafe would be overjoyed to know at least some of his missing kin still lived.

If only he were here. With some effort, she could break the spell, but she was fae. She was one of the enemy who had trapped them, not to mention selling poison to their young. They could tear her to shreds in an instant if she didn’t handle this just right. Memories of Ademar’s injury flooded back in vivid shades of red.

It was possible to wake sleepers by administering a sudden shock, usually pain combined with a sundering of the magic that bound them, but that was as likely to kill as cure. For one thing, the spell’s victims were usually weak from thirst and hunger. Even against a ticking clock, she wouldn’t put them through more distress. Not even if her method held a degree of personal risk.

She found the wolf who was the oldest, judging by his gray muzzle, and sat cross-legged on the floor beside him. Hopefully, age meant he was a leader who could help with the rest. She pulled his head into her lap and began stroking his fur, all the while searching for the spark of his consciousness. As expected, it was sunk deep in the spell’s void—just a pinprick slowly drifting toward oblivion. Lila’s throat ached with grief, making her swallow hard. There was a wanton cruelty to simply switching off another being and letting it waste away like a forgotten toy. The dead wolves most likely died of starvation, and that was nothing short of evil.

She murmured soothing nonsense, running her fingers through the wolf’s thick fur. Touch belonged to the here and now, where she wanted him to be. At the same time, she sent a thin thread of healing toward the spark in the void. It was important not to overwhelm that ember, but to coax it back to the surface one sip of energy at a time.

Her vision softened as she worked, her gaze fixed on the contrast of thick brindled fur against the hard, featureless floor. The repetitive movement of her hands, petting and soothing, relaxed her as much as her patient. The spark caught and flared, drawing in her healing power. She gave the wolf enough to survive, enough so that he could hunt for himself. The yellow eyes opened and with a thrash, he struggled free of her embrace and got to his feet.

Lila stared up at the creature. A wolf shifter was as much wolf as human, and vice versa. She could see both forms of intelligence in his gaze. She could also see very large teeth as he lifted his lips in a growl. She strained to keep her panic in check.

“Hello,” she began. “My name is Lila. I’m a friend of Rafe’s.”

The wolf kept growling, though the sound grew fainter. He was giving her a chance, but not a big one. She thought of all the things she wanted to say—explanations, instructions, apologies on behalf of fae kind—but discarded them all. Whatever she had to say, the wolf deserved more.

“If you promise not to bite me, I’ll wake your friends.”

Rafe swore under his breath, a sense of dread sinking like a rock inside his chest.

The last thing Ademar did before vanishing into the guts of the dungeon was unlock a door to the outside so that Teegar could escape. It was up a short flight of stairs and opened almost directly into the forest. Given that this place had a hidden prison and secret passages, it made perfect sense that it would also have an emergency escape route. The way station’s creator had a seriously paranoid turn of mind.

Still, escape route or not, Rafe experienced a truckload of reservations as he’d ushered Teegar through the door. Not only was the fae disoriented by the spell, he seemed more intent on running than carrying a message for Rafe. It would be just his luck if the last hope for rescue bolted like a scared bunny.

Rafe yearned to go, too, and lose himself in the sweet-scented forest. But Lila was here, in need of protection. Once outside, he wouldn’t find an easy way to get back in. He didn’t have her talent with fae locks and hidden passages.

Instead, he retraced his steps through the dungeon. He steeled himself, pushing down a tsunami of thoughts and feelings. It was time to refocus. He’d carried out the mission he and Lila had started. Now he would find her and keep her safe until help arrived. If Teegar failed, there was still a chance Izetta had survived to summon aid.

He’d been walking only a minute when he caught the scent of wolf. Imagination. False hope that I will see the pack again. But then … then he saw them rounding the corner in a river of loping fur. He heard the pant of their breath, the click of their nails on the hard floor. His uncle, Jasper. Rand. Alexi. Lars. He knew them all: cousins, friends, and allies gone missing in the hunt for the Magician. But they are here. Not all of them were lost.

They swarmed him, Uncle Jasper first, and then the others—jumping and nipping but silent as hunters had to be. They looked thin and ragged, but they were alive. Rafe buried his fists in their ruffs, felt their hot tongues washing away his grief. The urge to be with them in wolf form nearly buckled his knees, but none of them were safe. Not yet.

“This way.” He ran ahead, as swift as the beasts.

Jasper and Alexi flanked him and the rest streamed behind, as if they moved with one mind. In a way, they did. They were pack.

Rafe ran up the steps and opened the door to the forest again, waiting as his wolves hurtled past. They brushed against him with shoulder and tail, reminding him by touch and scent where he belonged. When the last went by, he moved one foot to follow, but something made him look back. Lila stood in the corridor, gazing up to where he stood at the top of the short flight of steps.

“I found the wolves and woke them,” she said. “I warned them about the perimeter. They know they should hide in the woods until we break the spell keeping them here.”

She woke them. His mouth went dry at the enormity of what she’d done. She’d saved lives. Probably saved the pack.

He had to say something, thank her, acknowledge it somehow, but the words wouldn’t come. “I found Teegar and freed him,” he blurted instead. “Your brother helped, believe it or not.”

“He did?” Her brow furrowed.

She didn’t sound certain. He didn’t blame her, given what he’d seen of Ademar. Then he remembered he had promised the fae to keep her safe. Rafe glanced back toward the wolves. Jasper stood at the edge of the trees, yellow eyes turned his way.

“You should go with them,” Lila said softly. “You’re free now.”

“I know. You set me free as well.”

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