Page 38 of A Brighter Yellow
“Uh…” said Ochre, and Anna looked up, feeling herself blush bright red.
“Sorry. Uh… the shit just stinks, and you smell good. I wanted to…” She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how socially unacceptable rubbing her face all over someone was.
“Do I really smell good?” he asked, a smile lighting up his face.
She shook her head. “Shut up. You know you smell good.”
“I actually don’t have any idea how I smell.” He raised his arm and sniffed it, then shook his head. “I think I just smell like me.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t know what he smelled like. She assumed, like any wolf, he had just been rubbing his scent on her to make sure everyone knew that they’d been fucking. And then probably also feeling smug because she wasn’t washing it off. She looked into his face. His smile said he was slightly confused. The man had no clue.
“You smell good,” said Anna. “Like really fresh, growing things.”
“I think that’s possibly one of the nicest things someone’s ever said to me,” said Ochre, looking quite pleased.
“Yeah,” said Anna. She cleared her throat. “Um, can you disable the spell?”
“Oh, uh. Yeah, I think. This kind of spell has physical anchor points. If we can find one, I can disable it and basically create a hole in the fence.”
“OK,” said Anna. She reluctantly raised her face into the wind. “Smell is stronger over that way.”
“Lead the way,” said Ochre. Anna did as he asked, following her nose out of the wooded thicket and into a grassy field. A series of low hills blocked their view of the bunker entrance. She could see why the warlocks had set a ward. From this vantage point, the view was obstructed—an early warning would be beneficial to the Warlocks.
“When do the spell pills kick in?” asked Ochre. “I suppose I ought to know if they’re going to have an effect.”
“About thirty minutes after we took them,” said Anna, checking her phone. “So… soon. They shouldn’t affect any of your powers. They’re based on a cleansing spell but super concentrated. They should make it harder for warlock magic to latch onto us if we get hit with something. And if we bump into this barrier, they should give us a little bit of cushion before it detects us.”
“Cool,” said Ochre, looking impressed.
“We’re close,” said Anna as they plowed through the knee-high grass.
“OK,” said Ochre. “Let’s split up and move carefully. We’re looking for an object. Probably something that wouldn’t attract too much attention or couldn’t be relocated on accident. A rock, a stump, or something like that.”
Anna nodded and went left as Ochre went right. She moved slowly, scanning the ground ahead of her. She felt the prickle of the sun’s heat on her head, but it felt like watching eyes. If they misjudged this, they’d have warlocks down on them in a matter of minutes. She was about to give up when she was hit with the overwhelming stink of warlock magic.
“Found it,” called Anna, glaring down at the stone embedded in the ground. It was a large-ish rock about the size of her head. The only thing unusual about it was the magic leaking out from under it. Ochre joined her in staring at the rock. He passed his hand over the space above it, and she saw the air ripple.
Ochre gave a grunt of annoyance and knelt down in the grass. He dug a small trench around the rock with his fingers and made increasingly unhappy noises. The more of the rock that became exposed, the more of the spell she could feel—it was definitely out of her league.
She pressed the heart charm and watched Charlie’s heartbeat in tiny flashes of yellow light. It might have been a little more yellow today. She wasn’t sure. But otherwise, it held steady. So far, Charlie was all right.
“This is going to take me a minute,” said Ochre, apparently having completed his assessment.
“Only a minute?” asked Anna. “That would take me about halfway to never.”
He laughed. “It’s actually rooted in something similar to the one you put up at the keep.”
Gingerly, Anna put a finger into the corona of the spell. It buzzed unpleasantly. “Um, if you say so.”
“I do say so. You could work this,” Ocre said confidently.
“I’m not so sure,” said Anna. “I don’t think wolves are really meant to do magic.”
“That sounds like some bullcrap your father would say.”
“That’s because it is something he’s said,” she admitted.
He looked up at her from where he knelt on the grass. “I’m sorry,” he said with an unhappy frown.
