Page 59 of The Girl in the Forest

“Won’t be.”

I recognized the rasp of a zipper, followed by the rush of urine as it hit the leaves a few feet away from my face, splashing into a sloppy puddle. When the wind shifted, the urine smell had me pressing my nose against Grayson’s shirt—and there, in his chest—the faintest lift of laughter.

I pinched him. Grayson’s amusement increased as the irritated man swore.

“Blue hell, Banks. You’re worse than a damn horse.”

“Gimme a minute, will ya? I got a condition. Medical.”

“Plug it.”

But the stream carried on, lifting the browned, fallen pine needles as it snaked downhill, passing our burrow and barely missing our feet. When finally, the stream lessened, I sucked in a small breath and peeked. But seeing the pink jiggle through the leaves had me snapping my eyes closed—while amusement rolled through Grayson again.

We waited until the huge man seemed satisfied enough to zip and hike toward his companion. They remained on the path, refusing to leave even though the pissing was done, and I forced myself into stillness.

Grayson seemed in no hurry to move. I looked up. His stare devoured me, dredging up those moments when I’d surrendered to the vampires. I’d wanted their hands to be his hands, and I could have sworn he knew it too, because his body pressed against mine.

A lick of heat stroked across my skin, chasing the chill of the rain.

I pushed at his weight, squirming to the side. “The witches,” I mouthed.

“I know.” He barely spoke the words. “They’re dead.”

“For a long time. Mummified. But a third witch was there.”

I felt him go still.

“She hid in shadows like the wolves at the Gathering. But I saw her.” I pressed my lips together, then whispered, “We can’t stay here.”

He bent close to my ear, his breath warm. “Can you hold on a little longer?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ten more minutes,” he murmured. “The Alpen are between us and the passage. We’ll need to take a longer route.”

“I’m not safe to be around.” My voice wobbled more than I’d hoped. “I can’t tell real from unreal.”

Grayson studied my face. “This.” He stroked a finger across my forehead, down the curve of my cheek. “This is real.”

My eyes closed… a shiver trembled through me. Followed by the questions that needed answers. And those I was afraid to ask. But while I didn’t know whose magic fueled the illusions in that cave, I knew it hadn’t come from the Gemini Witches. They’d been dead long before I dropped a coin into their horrid little collection box.

But who—or what—was powerful enough to kill witches who were also seers? Wouldn’t they see the danger long before it approached?

And why kill them, unless there was some secret to protect?

Grayson wouldn’t talk while the Alpen were close, and his ten minutes passed like an eternity. When he finally pulled me from the leaves, he brushed away the debris on my clothes with gentle hands. I tried to speak. He hushed me with fingers against my lips.

“Not here.” Taking my hand, he led me deeper into the forest. Bruised shadows battled with storm light, but at least the rain had stopped, and the sooner we found the passage home, the safer we would be.

He remained silent, although not out of anger this time. I drew on that small comfort, fighting the urge to disappear down the mental rabbit holes, fall into the dark places, where I would think about his sigil twitching again, and his voice whispering through my mind.

Perhaps I’d imagined those things, the way I’d imagined my hair loosened, when it remained in a messy braid.

Perhaps I hadn’t collapsed the cave or needed rescuing, and the lingering anxiety that crawled along my spine was the test of fear.

I rubbed the black rune. When it remained silent, I focused on the piney scents mixed with wet, moldering leaves. My feet slipped the way Banks had slipped. My heart jolted. I missed my bow and the weight of the quiver on my back. I wanted to go home. Be warm and safe and far, far away from witches in Alpen territory. Away from the eerie prophecy that clung like gray mud, smothering every thought.

The rain started up again, sporadic, chilling, spiky in a tormenting wind. Grayson had my backpack slung over his shoulder, and I consoled myself with the hope that the backpack was waterproof, and once we got through the passage, I’d have dry clothes.

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