Wolfsbane (12 page)

The space we’d entered glittered as though it had been carved of ice. Frosty blue, lavender, silver, and gleaming white washed over the wal s. The colors swirled and rippled, accompanied by a quiet rustling like the softness of a steady breeze.

“Where are we?” I asked. The constant shifting of colors on the wal s made it seem like the building around us was moving.

“This is the Tordis wing.” Monroe glanced over his shoulder. I realized he was stil walking and I’d fal en behind the group. As stunning as this space was, the Searchers—and even Shay—must have seen it before. They didn’t seem to notice its beauty, or if they did, they weren’t moved enough to comment.

“How many wings are there?”

“Four,” Monroe said as I caught up to him. “Haldis, Tordis, Pyralis, Eydis.”

“Earth, air, fire, and water,” Adne murmured.

“The four elements.” Shay was sneaking glances at the wal s as wel . Maybe he hadn’t seen it before.

“Tordis is air.”

Monroe nodded. “Each element has specific characteristics. We need the qualities of al four to survive, but each Searcher specializes when they enter the Academy.”

“What’s Haldis?”

“The earth makes warriors,” Connor said, pinching Adne’s cheek. “We’re grittier.”

“You wish.” Adne punched his arm. “Besides, Pyralis makes Strikers too. Haldis is known for its Reapers . . . and Guides.”

She glanced at Monroe, who inclined his head slightly.

“What about you?” I asked her. “You aren’t trained by Haldis? But you work with them?”

“Like I said.” Monroe stopped in front of a narrow, intricately carved pine door. “We need al four elements to survive. Weavers train with each division

—creating doors requires the use of al the elements in concert.”

“Wow,” Shay said, raising an eyebrow at Adne.

“It’s not as impressive as it sounds.” She threw a dark look at her father.

“Sure it is.” Connor ruffled her hair and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“But most of us remain in a single division.”

Monroe knocked on the door. “Tordis—air—is the element of intel ect. Scribes train here and live here.”

The door swung open, revealing Silas. His arms were ful of scrol s.

“What?” He scowled at Monroe. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“We lost Grant.”

The scrol s tumbled to the floor as Silas’s face went white. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” Monroe pushed past him, gesturing for us to fol ow.

Silas was stil frozen in the doorway when I stepped past him.

“Uh . . .” Shay was staring at our surroundings.

“This is a study?”

It was a good question. The room we’d entered looked like al the dictionaries on the planet had come here to die grisly deaths. The floor was carpeted by paper. Towers of books swayed precariously like monuments about to col apse.

“Don’t touch anything.” Silas, apparently recovered from his shock, shoved me aside and picked his way back to a desk—or what I could guess was a desk buried beneath more paper and maps—like someone treading through a minefield.

Connor strode straight across the room, kicking books and piles of notes out of his way.

“Damn it, Connor!” Silas shouted. “Now I won’t be able to find what I need.”

“Not my problem,” Connor said, dropping into a chair after he’d tipped more books off its seat. “Like I give a rat’s ass about your wunderkind special privileges. Just ’cause Anika babies you doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

Monroe walked across the room with a little more care, fol owed by Adne and Shay. I decided to take the path Connor had already cleared.

“Any other chairs, Silas?” Adne asked.

“This is my office,” Silas sneered. “Not Tordis’s archives. I don’t usual y have company.”

“You can sit on my lap.” Connor winked at Adne, slapping his thighs.

“What a gentleman,” she muttered, leaning against Silas’s desk.

“We’l be fine standing,” Monroe said.

“Are you going to tel me how we lost an operative?” Silas was shuffling through mounds of scrol s. When he located a pen and a blank piece of paper, he began scribbling.

“We’re not sure,” Monroe said, glancing at me.

I stared at him for a moment, then realized that he wanted me to take the lead.
Well, that’s who I am,
isn’t it?
I stood a little tal er, surprised but pleased that Monroe acknowledged my place as alpha.

“Something’s wrong with the Guardian packs,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s happened, but the patrols I knew aren’t in play anymore.”

Silas pursed his lips, then nodded for me to continue.

“Emile Laroche was leading Nightshade wolves,” I said, my shoulders tightening at the memory of fighting Sasha. “I stil can’t imagine how that’s possible.”

When I spoke Emile’s name, Monroe’s jaw clenched.

“The Bane alpha was patrol ing with Nightshades?” Silas didn’t look up as he wrote.

“Not patrol ing,” I said, feeling cold as I spoke.

“Hunting. They were hunting us.”

The pen slipped from Silas’s fingers. His eyes were wide when they met mine. “You think they knew our team was coming?”

“If they didn’t know, they weren’t surprised,” I said.

“I think they were waiting for us to show.”

“They might have gotten information from Grant before they kil ed him.” Silas sighed.

“I don’t think so,” Connor said. “I found him.

Looked like he’d been ambushed, kil ed instantly.”

Silas frowned. “They must be getting it from their own sources, then.”

“You mean spies here?” Shay asked. “You think you have a mole?”

“Of course not.” Silas snorted. “Our people aren’t turncoats. I mean hers.”

He pointed at me. The air went out of my lungs. It took less than a second for me to shift and leap onto his desk, snarling. My fangs snapped inches from his face. Silas yelped, tipping his chair over backward, and rol ed across the floor.

“Cal a!” Monroe shouted.

I shifted back, stil crouched on the desk.

“What do you mean mine?” I glared at Silas, who was brandishing a letter opener at me.

“You do know she’s not a werewolf, right?” Shay smirked at the Scribe. “That silver thing’s not gonna be worth much.”

“Monroe!” Silas’s eyes bulged as I perched on the edge of the desk, ready to spring.

“Cal a, please,” Monroe said.

I didn’t look at him. “Just tel me what you meant, Silas.”

He swal owed hard. “I only meant that your packmates are the most likely source of information about you and Shay. They’re probably being interrogated.”

My limbs trembled and I almost lost my balance.

They’re being held for questioning.

“But—but they don’t know anything,” I stammered.

“Only Shay and I knew . . . Oh God.”

“What?” Connor leaned forward. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

“Ren,” I whispered. “Ren knew.”

“How much did he know?” Monroe’s voice cracked.

“I told him about Corrine—that the Keepers had executed her,” I said, struggling with the fog of memories from that night. “I told him Shay was the Scion.”

“Shit,” Connor said. “There goes our al iance.”

“Why?” Shay asked.

Silas was slowly rising, eyeing me al the while.

“Because they’l have those young wolves under lock and key until they’re sure where their loyalties lie. We won’t be able to get to them.”

Monroe’s hands were covering his face. He swore and swung a fist, sending a tower of books crashing to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Adne said to her father.

He didn’t answer.

Connor stood up, carried the chair to Monroe, and set it down in front of him. Monroe nodded grateful y, sat down, and rested his elbows on his knees, lost in thought.

“Since that option is out,” Connor said, “what now?”

I slid off the desk, ignoring the way Silas cringed when I walked past him.

“I don’t want to give up on my pack,” I said. “We can’t just leave them.”

I’d known Ren was at risk, but the thought of Bryn and Ansel being interrogated was even worse. They hadn’t known anything. Whatever had happened to them fel at my feet alone. My secrets alone put them in danger.

“We won’t,” Monroe said, staring ahead. “But we’re looking at a rescue mission now. Not an al iance. At least not right away.”

“And we need more information before we can even think about a rescue,” Silas said, backing against a bookcase when I glared at him.

“He’s right, Cal a,” Adne said. “We can’t go into Vail blind. It might just be Ren they’re questioning, but it might be al your packmates.”

I looked at Shay. He nodded reluctantly.

“Then what?!” I snapped. “We just wait?”

“No,” Monroe said. “Waiting isn’t an option.”

“It’s time to go nuclear.” Connor smiled at Silas.

“Right?”

“That is the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard.” Silas went back to his desk, whimpering as he lifted papers I’d shredded.

“What are you talking about?” Shay frowned.

“Haven’t you figured it out, kid?” Connor cast a sidelong glance at him. “We’re talking about you.”

“Me?” Shay blinked.

Monroe looked up. His eyes were bloodshot.

“Silas, it’s time.”

“Time for what?” I asked. My mind was stil on my pack. On Ansel and Bryn. My chest was burning as I tried to fight off images of al the things that could have happened to them. That could stil be happening.

“For Shay to learn who he is,” Monroe said.

“I know who I am,” Shay said.

“Wanna bet?” Connor laughed. “You’re in for a surprise . . . or a hundred. I’l give you two-to-one odds.”

“Leave him alone,” Adne said.

“Do you want the story or a plan?” Silas asked.

“A plan,” I snapped. “What can Shay do that wil help my pack?”

“He can’t do much yet,” Silas answered. “First we have to gather the pieces.”

“Pieces?” Shay frowned at the Scribe. “What pieces?”

“The pieces of the cross,” Silas replied in a congenial tone, as if that explained everything.

“The pieces of the cross?” Shay’s brow creased further.

One eyebrow arched and Silas leaned forward, an almost accusing question jabbed at Shay. “How much of
The War of All Against All
did you read, exactly?”

I came to his rescue. “Look, Professor, we were running for our lives as soon as we realized the Scion was going to be laid on a sacrificial altar at Samhain. And I understand if we hadn’t gotten here, you lot would be stuck trying to save him and probably failing. Watch yourself.” I bared sharpened canines at him.

A shocked ripple moved through the room.

Connor snorted, laughing as Silas reached for the letter opener again.

Monroe held up a hand. “She’s right, Silas, not everyone has the luxury of devoting their lives to study as you do. We’re fortunate that they are here, and chastising them for not managing to gather the ful story before they fled is useless.”

Silas shuddered like he had to force himself not to be sick, but after a moment he looked sul enly at Shay. “Sorry.”

Shay offered a weak smile. “We only read bits.”

“Okay, then.” Silas took a deep breath, like he was trying to break a record for underwater swimming.

“Each of the sacred sites has a piece of the cross.

You need to bear the cross like the prophecy says.

It’s the only way we can win.” After the words were out, he let out the rest of his breath explosively and ground his teeth.

“Writing SparkNotes would be a bad career choice for you, Silas,” Connor muttered. “No appreciation of abridgment at al .”

“Or sanity,” Adne murmured, and smiled at Shay, who laughed but tried not to meet Silas’s injured glance.

“Abridging is blasphemy,” Silas said.

I leaned forward hesitantly, not wanting another chastising remark. “I don’t get it. Shay already bears the cross. He has the tattoo.”

Connor laughed. “Man, I wish you’d taken that bet.”

Shay and I exchanged a confused glance.

Silas looked like a goose ready to lay a golden egg.

Shay frowned at him. “Wel ?”

“The tattoo is just a marker of who you are, a signal for those who sought you. It’s not the cross.”

The gleam in the Scribe’s eye was almost too bright to look at it, particularly because it was so smug.

“Then what is the cross?” I asked quietly.

Monroe didn’t look at me; his brown eyes focused on Shay. A sober, almost regretful sigh emerged from his throat.

“It’s a weapon.”

EIGHT

“A WEAPON?” SHAY’S
question emerged hushed, but not fearful.

“Technical y it’s two weapons,” Silas said brightly.

“But they’re meant to be used in concert. As a single force.”

“Two weapons?” I asked.

“Yes,” Monroe said, his voice stil quiet. “Two swords.”

“Swords?” Shay frowned.

“The Elemental Cross,” Silas said. “One sword of earth and air, the other of fire and water. If you look closely at the mark, you’l see that each bar of the cross has one pointed end. They’re sword points.”

“Swords,” Shay said again. He sounded frustrated and a little disappointed.

“What is it?” I asked.