Page 27 of A Dose of Agony
Janet leans forward. “How do you have dryad blood?”
“When my ancestors first claimed the land, they took a small pocket near the dryad’s place of worship, near where the largest battle took place. Many wolves were superstitious about those parts out of fear, so even though it was a desirable plot of land, any other packs were driven out by signs of dryad spirits. My pack was stubborn and remained, despite the hauntings. Turns out, though, there was actually one young dryad who was orphaned during the battle hiding there, leaping between trees for many years, raised by the spirits left behind. Our people found her but left her be. They allowed her to stay, even though technically, she was a risk to the pack. When other wolves came through, they protected her and kept her secret. She was an innocent, and they had no reason to harm her. Well, many years later, she fell in love with one of the pack members. They had children together. She was my great-great grandmother. After many generations, hints of her magic still remain in our blood.”
“That’s an incredible story, actually.” I find myself wondering if Manuela knows it. It would probably make no difference in her perspective. The wolves are still the oppressors. One exception doesn’t absolve them of the guilt. But perhaps it does give them a bit more even ground than she realized. I don’t know.
“We haven’t even heard much about dryads in our day and age. We feel and see the spirits in the forest, but they don’t affect us much, except a few nights a year. It hasn’t exactly been a central part of our experience.”
“But that war eternally affected the dryads.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “It was a stupid hope. I’m sorry I put you at risk for some lofty dream.”
I sigh but then nod. “Apology accepted.” I point at him. “But you’re on probation.”
One side of his mouth tilts up.
“Listen,” he says in a soft tone, “you don’t have to do anything else to try to help me. If Jarron is ever able, I’d appreciate his assistance, but otherwise, it’s my responsibility to protect my pack. I’ll—I’ll take care of it.”
“Yeah, you will,” Lola says, arms crossed and chest puffed out.
“Okay,” I concede. “The only other option I had was Auren. I suppose you could handle approaching her?”
“Yeah,” he says, but the light has left his eyes.
11
A Dream or a Nightmare
Heavy wings scrape along stone tiles.
The rumble of a powerful monster crackles through the air.
The smell of magic is so palpable it sends a shiver through my whole body.
My eyes fly wide open, heart already pounding.
This time, though, the darkness of Jarron’s bedroom is not still.
The rumbling does not stop.
I grip the cool silk sheets of Jarron’s bed tightly against my chest.
The shadow of the monster falls over me, and I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
I wait, wondering if this will be it. Mr. Vandozer has found me and will carve me into pieces to spite Jarron.
The sounds halt.
My whole body clenches. Heart skips a beat. Eyes press closed.
Moments pass, but nothing happens.
Finally, the pressure of the magic washes away. I suck in panicked breaths, and they come out in puffy clouds.
I sit up, heart still hammering. The room is pitch black but entirely still.
I could feel it so clearly—that dark magic pressing down on the whole room—that it’s very clear the threat is gone.
What in the world?
