Page 86 of Hunted in the Shadows
Gwen squinted her eyes open, looking relieved for the distraction as she turned the weathered sheet over in her hands. “A fucking monster grocery list?” she scoffed. “Can’t say I’ve seen anything like it before.”
“But we have,” Cliff said gravely. “There was this little church way out in the boonies. Basement looked like some sort of freak show lab.”
I could see how Sylvia bristled at the mention of the place as she recited the healing spellwork. Pulling my phone out, I found the picture I’d taken of the charred sheet in the church basement.
“See that?” I held the screen beside the sheet for Gwen to examine. “Same logo at the top.” The corporate, circularEemblem.
“What the hell has the outpost gotten itself into?” Gwen muttered, pushing the paper back to me. “Sounds like I’m getting the hell out of dodge at the right time. I don’t want anything to do with whatever shitthatis.”
Although I’d scanned the paper dozens of times, I couldn’t help but let my eyes trail over it again. The sheet was structured like a purchase order, itemized requests and all. There were columns forDescription, Quantity,andCondition Upon Receipt. The gruesome specificity set my teeth on edge.
A few had been checked off.
Ahools (juvenile). 12. Alive, wings intact.
Vampire. 1. Sedated, breathing.
Basilisk. 1. Taxidermied, no visible scarring.
Werewolf pelts. 3. Fully flayed.
Apparently, Rhett was still short on manticore quills, kelpie hearts, and a live banshee. However, he had penciled something into one of the empty rows at the bottom:Siren. 1. Alive, hydrated, bronze sedation.
I tried not to imagine what he would have added to the next row if yesterday had a crueler end:Fairy. 1. Deceased, fully intact.
Sylvia finished up the spell, ousting the gentle cerulean glow between her palms. The room seemed darker in its sudden absence.
“How do you feel?” she asked, searching Gwen’s face intently.
It was like nothing had ever happened; Gwen’s amber skin was smooth and seamless, all traces of the wound erased. Gwen pressed a hand over the area, testing if it was real. Her gaze was wide, lips parted as she met Sylvia’s gaze.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Sylvia smiled—and I loved the light in her that surfaced when she healed someone. SofteningGwento that point was a triumph in and of itself.
Sylvia turned back to me, her expression darkening on the paper still clutched in my hand.
“Something’s not right out there, Jon. I want to investigate what I sensed by the wreck,” she said, brushing her hands on her leggings. “And with those local legends… It sounds like glamour.Faeglamour.”
I caught her eye, recognizing that look. “You think it could be another village out there?”
“We owe it to ourselves to find out.”
The bayou hardly had the same hearty location of the lakeside willow grove that Elysia called home. Unlikely, perhaps—but certainly not impossible.
I glanced at Gwen. “Any chance we keep the Accord on loan for another day?”
“Those fuckers at the outpost will be looking to put your heads on a platter,” Gwen said, gingerly touching her healing bullet wound as though she expected the mended skin to be an illusion. “And Rhett’s sure to be leading the charge. You saw that back there—they listen to him.”
“Yeah, can we talk about that? Who died and put Crazy Eyes in charge?” Cliff asked.
I pursed my lips, stifling a snort at the nomer. “Money talks, I guess. Who knows how much he makes from fulfilling even one of these orders.”
“To think his fortune might be from the bones of my people,” Sylvia said, shivering a little as though imagining Rhett’s hand around her. With the spell complete, she seated herself on the edge of the sofa’s armrest with her legs dangling over. “If there is a fairy village nearby, we have to warn them that he’s on the hunt for our kind. We have time and general location on our side—thewreck was miles west of the outpost. Even if Rhett did send out scouts to find us,they’d be spread thin.”
I let my eyes settle on her, tracing the way the sunlight illuminated her rust-covered wrap top, perfectly contoured to her body with the faintest shimmer embedded where embroidered vinework of the same shade crawled up the sleeves. Why was her discussion of stealth strategy a littlehot?
That pull surfaced again in my chest. Wanting her to be mine—fighting that burn that Ishouldn’twant her.
