Page 87 of The Girl in the Forest

I found Burn with Miranda, curled up beside the fire, and when I came into the room, he unwound himself, rising on unsteady legs to lean against my knees. Bending down, I pressed my forehead against the top of his knobby brow, cupping my hands behind his ears for a scratch, and tried not to let the tears flow.

They did, though.

“Such a good boy,” I murmured. “Run through the forest soon. I’ll run with you.”

His tail thumped. He probably understood the truth as well as I did.

When Grayson returned, he said nothing. We drove one of Owen’s pickup trucks, and it seemed odd to me, sitting on a bench seat, listening to the thrum of tires and the engine roar. After moving around through so many passageways, the time to cover the distance the human way dragged and seemed too loud.

The noise bothered me, kept me nervy and reluctant at the same time. I wanted information, but information also brought the decision closer to being made.

Grayson drove with the same efficient confidence that he did everything. His powerful body remained relaxed, with a control that made it hard to remember the man he became when we made love. A man at the mercy of passion and ecstasy. I doubted my heat could burn him now. He was lost in thought, and I couldn’t reach him. When I tried, I came up against obsidian. Stroked against it and felt the slightest tremor before I pulled away.

We drove to the watchtower house. It was the first time I’d actually been on the road leading there, and while I waited to see if the trees moved to conceal access, nothing in the landscape changed. Perhaps, after everything that had happened to Azul and Sentinel Falls, the secrecy was pointless.

Grayson parked near the edge of the wildflowers. He slid from the truck with an easy assurance while I found the moment awkward. Then he smiled, offered his hand, and I took it as if it was the easiest thing in the world for me.

I could find happiness with him, if there weren’t a thousand lurking obstacles between us.

When we entered the house, Mace and Fallon were already there. And thus began the next phase of planning and strategy on how best to rescue the girl named Brin.

Julien’s information was more detailed than I’d expected, and I wondered how much it cost him to provide what came perilously close to a betrayal. He’d said a few sires had been hunting failles. They were part of a secret cult, opposed by the majority. Julien had no list of members, but suspected who they were. He said the bounty offered on failles was high enough that fakes had fallen into vampire hands, unfortunate girls with silvered hair. Or those who’d been tampered with deliberately for the profit.

They were dead, now. Those girls. But there were rumors of others… not dead. And whispers about hybrids. Wolves turned into vampires. The depravity didn’t really surprise me. But it worked in our favor. Because of the fakery, and the risk of discovery, the cult now hid girls in isolated locations. An advantage for us.

“The girl we’re looking for is in a secluded farm house,” Grayson said as he pinned a map on the wall. Beside it was the detailed floor plan of a small building, with thick outlines for the rooms, and a smaller rectangle with horizontal lines showing stairs.

Mace stood beside Grayson as they studied the pinned images, while Fallon and I remained at the table and studied the same images printed out on copy paper.

“She’s not in good shape,” Grayson continued. “Julien didn’t think she’d last much longer. They’ve been trying to turn her, but she hasn’t been… cooperative.”

“What happens to the uncooperative?” I asked, even though I suspected.

Fallon reached out and squeezed my hand. “They’re used as feeders.”

I held her gaze.

“It’s a blessing, Noa,” she whispered. “Usually over in days.”

“No one should be that depraved and get away with it.” But they did. “And why even try to turn them?”

I didn’t think werewolves could turn into vampires.

“Hybrids are more deadly than either species,” Fallon murmured.

“If they survive the process,” Grayson said evenly.

“There must be some advantage with a faille, if the vampires are paying bounties.” Fallon pulled the floor plan closer and traced a finger like she was working through a maze. “They won’t give her up easily.”

Mace turned back to the map. “The house looks fortified, with these walls, here—and here. Basement level would be the most secure.” He looked at Grayson. “I’ll construct a replica in that old warehouse. Work out the various assault routes. Change up the obstacles. Practice the timing until she gets it right.”

Grayson’s jaw was taut.

“A small force,” Mace continued. “Less than five. Anything larger triggers the wards in Carmag, tells them we’re coming.”

“Anson won’t be happy.” Fallon leaned back as she studied Grayson. “We’ll be sneaking into his territory without telling him. Shouldn’t we give a courtesy warning?”

“No warnings.” Grayson was resolute. “He’ll want to be involved.”

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