Snakeroot (9 page)

Despite her lack of visible injuries, Ren said, “Talking doesn’t usually involve bleeding.”

“You speak of things you can’t begin to understand,” Bosque told Ren. “I don’t wish to hurt Ariadne. Quite the opposite.”

“Leave her alone.” Ren didn’t care what Bosque had to say about his intentions or Ren’s inability to attack him. He took a menacing step toward the Harbinger.

Bosque laughed quietly. “Your loyalty to her is remarkable, considering how very recently you learned that you share blood. As to your . . . request, you presume to know what’s best for your sister. You don’t.”

“And you think you know anything about her?” Ren asked.

“I know more than you ever could,” Bosque replied. “I’ve walked between worlds for eons. You’ve only just begun. Make yourself useful. Show loyalty to me as you do to your sister and I will teach you great things.”

He stepped away from Adne and gestured for Ren to approach her. “My business here is finished. I’ll leave you to see to her.”

Ren almost objected. How could he offer any help to Adne? He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t call out for help.

Bosque was gone before Ren could say anything, but the Harbinger’s absence brought nothing but relief. Whatever danger Adne might be in now, Ren had no doubt that Bosque posed a far greater threat.

Kneeling in the snow beside Adne, Ren reached out to take her hand. As he expected, his fingers passed through hers as if he wasn’t there.

I’m not here. Not really. I’m a restless spirit who walks between worlds. And according to Bosque, I’m a worthless novice at that.

The sudden, creeping feeling that he was being watched took hold of Ren. Frowning, he turned and saw shadows milling about in the forest at the edge of the gardens. A single shape broke from the group and came toward him, passing out of the woods and into the open.

A wolf. A brown wolf with green eyes.

Shay approached cautiously, his ears pinned back and his fur bristling. Ren shifted forms and Shay stopped. His defensive posture eased and he regarded the charcoal wolf with interest.

Reaching out with his mind, Ren hoped that Shay could still communicate the way Guardians had.

Shay, I need you to help Adne. Bosque did something to her.

The other wolf continued to watch Ren, ears flicking in curiosity, but Shay’s voice never sounded in Ren’s mind.

He’s a wolf now,
Ren reminded himself.
Not a Guardian. I don’t know how it is that the pack came at my call, but they’re still wolves.

Ren padded around Adne, whining to share his anxiety. Shay joined Ren at Adne’s side. The brown wolf sniffed at Adne’s limp form and nudged her with his muzzle. Adne gave no sign of response.

Shay whined again. He looked at Ren and then at the towering outline of the mansion.

Yes,
Ren thought.
He can take her to shelter. Or at least to a place where someone is more likely to find her.

Ren barked at Shay, then pawed at Adne, showing the brown wolf the way his paw passed through Adne’s body without effect. Shay snarled and whined. Barking once more, Ren trotted around Adne and then barked at the mansion.

If holding his breath would have meant anything, Ren would have done it as he waited for Shay’s next move. The brown wolf closed in on Adne, bent his head, and carefully grasped her shoulder in his jaws. With slow, steady progress Shay dragged Adne through the garden. Ren followed behind them, encouraging Shay to continue despite the wolf’s clear discomfort at being in such close proximity to human habitation. Adne’s body made furrows in the snow beside Shay’s paw prints.

When they drew close to the mansion, Ren bounded ahead, guiding Shay to the servants’ entrance at the rear of the structure. Shay had just released Adne when Ren heard voices. A Searcher patrol was approaching.

Shay heard them too and immediately wheeled around, bolting away from the mansion and back through the garden. Ren watched him go but didn’t attempt to follow. He belonged here, with Adne. Once Shay rejoined the pack, they’d return to the mountainside.

Ren waited for the patrol to discover Adne, and when they did, he followed them inside. He listened as the healers from Eydis discussed Adne’s condition. He stayed with her until he felt certain that no serious damage had been done to her. The situation perplexed the Searchers as much as it did Ren. Adne was unconscious but otherwise seemed fine. Despite the cold, she didn’t even show signs of exposure. Of course, the Searchers were also buzzing about the wolf tracks they found in the garden, but those weren’t a mystery to Ren.

Satisfied that his sister was being well cared for, Ren returned to the gardens. He padded through the snow, partly looking for signs of what had transpired before he arrived but mostly lost in his own thoughts.

Ren had learned much that night. Both Logan and Bosque asserted claims on him, but through their spellwork the Keeper and his master had imbued Ren with more power. The Haldis pack had answered his call.

Somehow the magic at work meant the rules of Ren’s existence were changing. If he could figure out why and how, he might be able to take control of his own life. Or rather, his own afterlife.

SARAH’S BREATH
fogged the window as she watched the wolf with golden brown fur drag Ariadne’s limp body through the snow. When Sarah thought of Shay, she usually imagined the boy she knew, a toddler of three with chubby fingers and wide green eyes that matched his mother’s. Sometimes she remembered the Shay who freed her and Tristan from the painting that had been their prison. A tall boy, nearly a man, but with the same eyes.

Sarah never allowed herself to recall her son as a wolf. But that didn’t stop her from recognizing him. Though she blocked it out whenever it threatened to surface, the memory of Shay transformed into a beast had been seared into her memory. She didn’t want to remember the way he’d bristled at the sight of so many humans near him. How he’d bounded out of the rubble filling the library and into the winter night while Sarah shrieked and sobbed.

Since that terrible day—a day that should have been a triumphant, joyful reunion—Sarah had been returning to Rowan Estate. It wasn’t difficult to persuade Weavers to let her come to the mansion with the daily contingent of Scribes and tour guides. A grieving mother, she usually inspired pity, or else she made them uncomfortable enough that they hurried to move her along, making her someone else’s problem. Tristan hated it when Sarah didn’t return at the end of the night, but Sarah often found it too difficult to leave Rowan Estate. She spent many nights in Shay’s room, rarely sleeping, but going through her son’s belongings. Trying to recall him through objects, to piece together the years of his life that she’d missed. None of it was enough, and with each passing day the dull ache in Sarah’s heart grew sharper, its pain insistent.

Pressing her fingers to the cold glass, Sarah fought the urge to rush downstairs and fling herself out into the winter morning. Shay was here, but he was still a wolf, and Sarah’s sudden appearance would surely startle him.

But he’s pulling the girl along the ground, bringing her to the mansion. Why would he do that?

Sarah knew enough about wolves to immediately dismiss any suspicions that Shay had attacked Ariadne. The pack’s range was well away from populated areas, high on the mountain slopes. Something other than instinct had drawn Shay to Rowan Estate.

He wants to come back. He knows this is where he belongs. It has to be. What else could draw a wild animal to this place?

A surge of hope traveled through Sarah’s limbs like an electric charge. She remained at the window, watching as Shay left Ariadne near the mansion’s rear entrance. She stayed until the brown wolf bounded away from Rowan Estate, through the garden, and disappeared under the cover of pines.

Though Sarah hadn’t known she was waiting for it, she realized this was the sign she’d needed. A sign that Shay hadn’t forgotten who he really was. That he wanted to return to his family and that he needed her help to do so.

Filled with a new resolve, Sarah turned away from the glass and went to find a Weaver. She had to get back to the Academy as soon as possible. Anika would help. Now that this had happened, how could she pretend that Shay belonged in the woods with those other beasts? How could anyone deny that the boy belonged with his family?

Her son had saved the world. Yet somehow everyone else has forgotten him. Sarah whispered a promise to Shay: “I’m going to make them remember.”

CONNOR ROLLED
over and drowsily stretched his arm out to hook Adne around the waist and draw her against his chest. His seeking hand found only rumpled sheets, long bereft of Adne’s warmth. Connor’s body tensed, his chest constricting with disappointment. He rolled onto his back and stared at the night sky that seemed to pour down on him through the crystal ceiling of the Roving Academy.

They never talked about it. How often this happened.

The first few times Adne had stirred in the middle of the night, Connor had woken with her, wanting to reassure her that whatever demons had dragged her from a restful sleep inhabited only the dark recesses of her mind and could do her no harm in the waking world.

Presuming that Adne’s nightmares must be tied to her grief, having so recently lost both her father and a brother she’d just found, Connor had urged Adne to talk about Monroe and Ren. He’d expected reluctance, but Adne didn’t hesitate to share the pain she still felt at Monroe’s absence and her sense of failure when it came to Ren’s death.

And so they’d talked. And talked. So many nights’ sleep interrupted and sunrises greeted with broken memories and tears.

From those conversations, Connor felt confident that Adne was dealing with her grief. At least when it came to Monroe. The blame she wrongly took upon herself about Ren’s death remained a touchy subject, and Connor didn’t press her too hard on the topic. Adne would deal with that loss when she was ready.

They were talking about it. That was a good first step. It was at least something.

But despite that something, which Connor wanted to believe wasn’t a small something, he continued to wake in the middle of the night having lost the lover he’d taken to bed.

Connor tossed out a variety of unsatisfying answers to the puzzle of Adne’s insomnia. Perhaps she’d always been a restless sleeper. After all, only in recent weeks had Connor been in a position to make such observations. Or maybe Adne couldn’t quite get comfortable sleeping in Connor’s room. But anytime he suggested they spend the night in Adne’s room, she insisted that she preferred Connor’s bed to her own.

If she wants to be in my bed so much, why the hell does she always leave?

Chastising himself for what he deemed a selfish reaction, Connor sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Adne didn’t always leave. But more and more nights Connor woke to find her gone.

He wasn’t angry about it—admittedly he sometimes indulged a burr of resentment—but Connor was afraid for Adne. Something was off and he couldn’t pin down what it was. The more he tried to coax Adne into revealing the source of her restlessness, the more reticent she became.

Throwing the covers back, Connor swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He grabbed the T-shirt he’d tossed on the back of a chair, pulled it over his head, and went to look for Adne.

The halls of the Roving Academy were shadowed and silent as Connor padded through the Haldis living quarters. Even as he approached Adne’s door, Connor wondered if he shouldn’t turn around and go back to bed. Adne had always been independent. Maybe he was crowding her. And wouldn’t stalking after her in the middle of the night push her to seek even more space from him? What if she simply needed to come and go as she pleased? Maybe nothing was wrong at all and Connor just couldn’t handle how much he wanted Adne with him. Every day. Every night. Every moment. Every breath.

Standing in front of her door, Connor’s fists clenched. He’d begun to suspect that his long avoidance of a romantic entanglement with Adne had been for none of the reasons he’d claimed. Not the seven-year age difference between them. Not that Adne’s father had been Connor’s commander. Not the risk of loving someone in a life filled with violence and loss.