Page 28 of Night Fae
A shadow path. Not fully manifested, but close to the surface here.
Zev knelt, examining the ground around the shimmer. Runes had been carved into flat stones arranged in a circle.
Beyond the stone circle lay other evidence: a leather-bound journal half-hidden beneath fallen leaves, strange instruments of copper and silver, vials of what appeared to be earth and water samples.
Zev retrieved the journal, leafing through pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. The wolves were documenting changes in the shadow path's behavior. Fluctuations in energy, instances where objects disappeared or reappeared. One entry mentioned a tree that had vanished overnight, replaced by a metal pole bearing strange symbols.
A road sign from Earth.
Zev set the journal aside.
These wolves were scientists, not threats.
But it wasn't for him to question his orders.
The mark on his arm pulsed painfully, reminding him of his chains.
And the wolves must know the danger they were inviting by coming here.
Foolish mutts. Everyone knew how touchy the Night Court got over the shadow paths.
Zev's ears caught a distant sound—voices approaching. The wolves were returning.
For one wild moment, Zev considered stepping into the open, warning them, scaring them away. But the mark burned again, reminding him that his betrayal would come at a cost.
No good options. Only terrible choices.
Zev replaced the journal exactly as he'd found it. He tucked himself into dense underbrush downwind from the clearing, concealed from sight.
There, he let his training take over.
Emotion by emotion, thought by thought, he constructed the void inside, a perfect hollow where pain couldn't reach. The assassin's mindset.
By the time the werewolves entered the clearing, Zev had become something else. Something cold and calculating. His body perfectly still, his breathing shallow and controlled.
The werewolves were talking as they came into sight.
"—changed again. The energy signature is stronger today."
"Could be the phase of the moon. We need more data."
They were two males. One tall and broad-shouldered, the other leaner with dark hair covering his arms even in human form. They carried packs and what appeared to be more measurement tools.
"The alpha won't like this," the taller one said, kneeling by the stone circle. "The path shouldn't be this close to the surface."
The leaner wolf removed instruments from his pack. "It's not just here. Kara's pack reported the same thing near the western border. Something's happening to all the paths."
Zev watched them work, cataloging weaknesses, planning his approach. Information flowed into his awareness—the taller one favored his left side, the leaner one remained more alert, scanning the treeline periodically. The void inside Zev expanded, consuming whatever hesitation might have remained.
The wolves continued their work, oblivious to his presence.
"The Court must know something they're not telling anyone," the taller one said, adjusting one of the stones.
"Would they tell werewolves if they did?" The leaner wolf snorted. "We're just animals to them."
The conversation continued, but Zev stopped listening to the words. Their voices became mere sound as he calculated trajectories, angles, the quickest path to complete his task.
The mark his grandmother had placed on him lusted for blood.
