Page 24 of Wolf Hunted (Rejected Moons 1)

The images are done carefully, as though someone knew it was important to get them just right. And I can’t deny that I feel curious about them.

“What do you think these are?” I ask Nate.

“I’ll tell you what they are,” he says. “Blood sigils.”

“Blood sigils? What is that?”

“They drew them in blood. Look.” He points to the wall.

“Are you sure?”

He looks at me. “You can’tsmellthat?”

Now that he mentions it, I can. I was focusing more on the acrid, ashy smell of the recent fire because I thought it was more telling. It let me know that whoever had been here probably left only a few hours ago.

But now I sniff again and take in the aroma of rust and bitterness, and yes, I’m looking at blood. Someone has painted on these walls with blood.

“What the fuck?” I murmur. “Who would do this?”

“Moon Casters,” Nate says. The disgust in his voice is clear. “There’s nothing they won’t do. Sap the magic from the moon, kill all the humans so they can have more power. Of course they would bleed their enemies to draw their little pictures. They probably feasted on their flesh afterward. I bet that was what the fire was about.”

I shudder. There was a time I would have engaged in morbid speculation about Moon Casters just like he’s doing, but can I really do that now? Knowing that I’m one of them?

On the other hand…what if what he’s saying is true?

“Moon Casters aren’t cannibals,” I say. “That’s what Ravagers do.”

“Like there’s a rule only one of them can do it?” He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here. This is fucking creepy.”

“Hang on.” I look around the room. There were pens and paper on the floor below.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“I want to copy those down.”

“Are youserious? You can’t write that shit down. For all you know, it’ll make the building catch fire if you do that.”

“I mean, we know that those signs don’t make the building catch fire,” I say. “Because they’re already written on the wall, and the building isn’t on fire.”

“You know what I mean. They’re some kind of weird magic. You can’t touch that shit.”

“They probably have to be written in blood to do whatever it is they do,” I say. “I really doubt it’s going to do anything if I write them down inpenonpaper.

He groans. “You really do have to have your own way about everything, don’t you?”

“Why would I do things someone else’s way?”

“Not very pack-minded of you.”

“I’m notina pack,” I remind him pointedly. “And neither are you, and it’s because you didn’t want to listen to people who told you what to do.”

He groans and pulls out a pen from his pocket. “I don’t have paper.”

“That’s fine.” I uncap the pen and hold up my forearm against the wall.

“You’re not going to put those things on yourskin?”

“Relax.” I copy the shape of the first one, but instead of drawing the X shape perfectly, I create it as hash marks with gaps in the middle. I show Nate what I’ve done. “See?”

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