Page 43 of Hellfire to Come
“Good for you. You’re marked by her,” the man said, glancing at me now. “The land knows it. The wolves know it, too.”
That truth sank deep. Not just into my ears, but into my bones. I wasn’t just with Brooklyn. I was bound to her, claimed not only in body, but in presence. And whatever magic lived in this place, it could see that.
Warmth spread through my chest, and I had to hold myself back so I didn’t take my mate into my arms. “You’re saying they trust me… because I am her mate?”
“I’m saying,” he said, voice like roots cracking stone, “they won’t tear you apart. Because she won’t like that.” A smirk grew on his smug face and I debated for a split second if I should wipe it with my fist.
Before I could do something entirely too stupid, he gestured toward a structure ahead. A low, cedar-framed house, its windows glowing softly from within. Smoke drifted up from a chimney, carrying the scent of juniper and something older. Protective wards were carved directly into the lintel, sharper, more personal than the ones at the boundary gate. Not mass deterrents. Personal defenses.
We reached the fence and the closed gate. The man knocked once on it.
It opened.
She stood there, shorter than I expected. Braids laced with feathers and bone, a robe of layered wool and dusk-colored fabric that didn’t cling, but flowed with a weight of purpose. Her face was lined by age, but not weakened by it. Her gaze struck me harder than any blow I’d ever taken in a fight. Eyes so dark there was no pupil to be seen accessed Brooklyn from head to toe.
Laughing Crow.
Her name felt too small for the presence in front of us. She didn’t look at me first. Her eyes locked on Brooklyn like twin daggers unsheathed.
“She came,” the man said behind us.
Laughing Crow didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Her presence was like standing in front of a storm, still, but brimming with coiled energy.
Then, after an eternity, she stepped aside.
“Enter,” she said. Her voice was smoke over stone. “And speak your truth. But know this. If you lie, you will not leave the way you entered.”
Brooklyn nodded and walked past the threshold like a queen entering her trial.
And I followed.
As always.
I will go to death for my mate.
Chapter Seventeen
BROOKLYN
To say I was unprepared for stepping into the shaman’s home would be the understatement of the damn century.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, something ancient stirred, like a knife pressed gently to the underside of my ribs. Not a threat, exactly. Not yet. But a warning. Some primal instinct, buried so deep in my bones it predated language, snapped to attention, hissing like an animal too long caged.
With herculean effort, I smothered it. Wrestled it down where it writhed beneath my skin.
But she saw.
Of course, she did.
Laughing Crow’s eyes, too black, too wide, like obsidian moons carved into the hollows of her face tracked my every twitch. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched as my feet faltered on the threshold and my fingers curled instinctively before I forced them still.
“Which way?” I asked, hoping she’d walk ahead so I could study her back instead of feeling her eyes scour mine like truths being etched from bone.
She didn’t answer. Just tilted her chin toward the narrow hallway pulsing with warm light.
Subtle, clear. I didn’t miss the message.You know where to go. Go.
And fine. She wasn’t wrong. The direction was obvious. I just didn’t like her witnessing my every misstep like she was tallying my worth in real time.
