Page 64 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

“Black Widow silk?” Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a legend.”

The female Sídhe laughed, her voice like bells. “If you like.” She allowed. “But as that legend says, if you stare into the silk, you can see your future.”

“What are Black Widows?” It was hard to pull my eyes from the silk.

“Fíodóir Máthair.” The female Sídhe placed her hand on her chest with reverence. “Descendants of Mother Spider. It was said they were the first in the Forest of Beasts.”

“Because they ate everyone else.” Mitchell snorted.

The female fae ignored him. “The first Weavers.” She eyed the fabric. “I can give you a good price. If you like. Most walk past the spider silk. It reflects potential. It doesn’t show its beauty for just anyone.”

I bit my lip. “I shouldn’t.” My chest echoed with discordant grief as I turned away from the fabric.

The female Sídhe gave me a sad smile. “You may call me Fionn.” She said. “If you change your mind, just ask for me.”

When he joined us on the path, Dean had done his own shopping, carrying a hessian sack. We had begun our journey back to the forest when I spotted a stall filled with different potions and herbs.

I thought of Kaleb’s blistered hands, and a surge of guilt twisted my stomach. I grabbed Dean’s sleeve, directing him toward the apothecary, and he followed without argument.

Like Fionn and the Huntsman, the woman behind the stall had pointed ears; she wore an apron with more pockets than stars in the sky.

Ignoring Dean and Mitchell's inquisitive stares, I asked for a cream for burns.

We didn’t speak as I had paid for my salve and started back on the road to the forest.

We didn’t see the soothsayer’s cottage on our journey back from the market, though we returned the way we came.

As the trees parted to reveal the lawn, a question niggled at me, but I didn’t speak until the kennels were in sight.

“Didyoutell the Huntsman about the stag?” I stopped, turning to Dean.

A sour look crossed his face. “No.” He said simply. I didn’t know why, but I believed him. “Why do you ask?”

I knitted my hands together. “The Huntsman...” I lifted my bag and gestured to the salve. “He hurt Kaleb’s hand.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “It’s part of the bargain between the Huntsman and the wolves. We cannot hurt him.”

I reached up, brushing my fingers against my swollen cheek. “But he can hurt us?”

“Feels like a rotten deal, doesn’t it?” Mitchell gestured to the scars on his face.

I nodded in agreement.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for not telling me you’re a wolf.” Mitchell jabbed a finger in my direction. “Why lie?”

“Habit?” I answered, but it was a question. “My grandmother… she was a hard woman. She told me that I had to keep it a secret. The herbs manage my magic. Allow me to have more control, but they suppress my wolf side. Honestly? I don’t even consider myself a wolf. Not really.”

“The Huntsman doesn’t need to ask for your help.” Dean glanced toward me. “He can force you. If he so desires.”

I sensed the question in his words.

“He forced me to come here but hasn’t done anything untoward.”Not yet.I shivered. “He said he wants to close the Gate.”

“Do you believe him?” Mitchell quirked a brow.

Dean shot Mitchell a warning glance. It didn’t escape my notice that Dean had said the exact same thing.

“He is Sídhe. He can’t lie. Not directly, at least.” I sighed. “Some part of him wants to close the Gate.”

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