Page 37 of A Little Red
Liam shifted, clearly undecided. He wanted to go, but something was holding him back. Paxton tried to think of the right thing to do. He felt stupid. Liam was always the one with a plan, the one who knew what to do.
“Tell him we’ll bring Scarlet,” said Paxton.
Derek nodded which was odd in wolf form and gave everyone the brain twist of communicating in multiple languages and multiple shapes. Then he turned back to Liam. Paxton watched carefully and then moved closer and reached for Scarlet. Liam whined but moved away from her, letting Paxton haul her up off the ground and over his shoulder.
“Devin, grab her knife out of that warlock. Sweep the area and then let’s go.”
“On it,” said Devin, nodding and already moving to follow orders. Paxton felt a tiny loosening of his shoulder muscles to know that the pack was following his orders, but it wasn’t until they were all in the van and driving at a cautious and law-abiding speed away from the scene that he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Put your pants on,” said Conner, his eyes glued to the road.
“What?” asked Paxton, startled.
“Nothing says guilty like driving around naked.”
Paxton looked down at himself. “Right,” he said, reaching down onto the floor for his clothes. He had just pulled on his shirt when a cop car zoomed by, heading toward the area where they’d left the warlock bodies. Paxton acted casual until they were in the rear-view mirror and then pulled on his pants, bridging in the seat to pull them on. When he was done, Devin handed him his socks and boots from the backseat.
“How’s he doing?” asked Paxton, taking his foot gear, and looking back to where Liam was laying down next to the still unconscious Scarlet.
“I don’t know,” said Devin.
“I’m not sure about her either,” said Derek. “I think we need to get them both back to Clodagh.”
Paxton nodded. He hoped the pack’s healer would know what to do because he sure as hell didn’t.
“We’re in such deep shit,” muttered Conner, hunching over the steering wheel.
“Yeah,” said Paxton. “I know.”
Episode 20
The Homestead
Scarlet
Scarlet regained consciousness in jolting waves of memory and sensations. They had been chased and she had run to the nearest wild place she could find, but the vacant lot hadn’t contained much she could use. They had fought. Some other men had pulled up in a van? She wasn’t sure. She remembered cutting into one of their attackers, but nothing after that.
She sat up with a groan. Her head ached and the bruise from the previous day throbbed. She was in a bedroom. On a bed. With a worn green quilt. She swung her feet over the edge and tried to stand, but then seized the tall, carved bed post as her knees failed to hold her. She stayed there for a long moment and only when she could stand reliably did she move her hand to see what kind of sharp and pointy carving she was grabbing. It was a wolf’s head, his mouth open, frozen mid-snarl.
“Well, that’s a pleasant thing to sleep with,” she muttered.
She staggered to the window and looked out. It was a pastoral scene. Eighteenth century out-buildings, a wide lawn covered in snow and nothing but trees in the distance. She turned back to the room. The furniture was all antique and made of oak, marked with a heavy patina. She saw herself in the wavering mirror over the dresser and winced. She had blood smeared on one side of her face and mud on the other. She tried to wipe it off and smooth down her hair, then she went to the door, determined to find out where she was.
The door was locked.
Scarlet stepped back and considered her options. She wasn’t particularly sure of her magic right at the moment, and iron was always hard to work with. She was about try the window when she heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock.
A woman entered, carrying Scarlet’s backpack. She was tall with only a few silver strands threaded through her dark hair and she was wearing a long, loose gray dress.
“We have sent for a car,” she said, dropping the pack on the bed as if it were disgusting. “You will return to your home when it arrives.”
Scarlet scratched her head, puzzled.
“All right. But who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter,” the woman said firmly. “You will leave and you will forget you were ever here.”
“That seems unlikely,” said Scarlet. “Where is my wolf?”
