Page 31 of A Heart of Crimson Flames
“Sweet Moon,” I murmured. “This might actually work.”
Kian’s music stalled for a second as he crinkled his nose.
“No, no, no, don’t!” Navin called, racing past me to get his brother.
It happened all at once: Kian sneezed, the music stopped, and the earth around us exploded.
I SCREAMED, WET EARTH FLYING INTO MY MOUTH AS FIVEvisturongs flew up from their hollows, snarling and snapping their jagged teeth.
Shit.
I shifted instantly. Knives alone weren’t going to save us. Kian commenced playing again and the others started singing the accompanying tune, but by now, it was no use. There were too many of them to control, the sounds of trees cracking and earth tearing crowding out the sounds of the songs.
I launched forward at the first visturong that aimed forNavin. I sunk my teeth into its giant forearm, the taste of its flaking ashen skin making bile rise up my throat, but I tore and tore until bitter black blood came oozing from its wound. The creature squealed and retreated.
I howled and the creatures seemed to freeze at the sound.
The pact.
The visturongs had made a pact with the Silver Wolves to stay in their hollows, to never harm the pack in exchange for their lives. Perhaps they remembered my ancestors and the agreement they had made thousands of years ago. Maybe they would bow to my own songs.
I howled again and the front three retreated another step, but the last two still battled against the pull of the magic.
“Don’t stop,” Navin shouted to the Songkeepers, leading them in their trembling tune, growing stronger at the sight of three of them held at bay.
I prowled forward toward the nearest one, howling and snapping. Those scarlet eyes landed on me and then past me, searching the forest. My stomach sank when they found no pack behind me—a lone Wolf. I didn’t know what they communicated to the others, but one minute they were retreating and the next, they were screeching, launching forward at us.
I growled and yapped, trying to pull the beasts’ attention on only me. Maybe I could lead them through the pines and away from the others. But the creatures scattered in every direction, chasing down the musicians.
The Songkeepers broke rank, turning and fleeing into the forest. I heard Navin shout my name as a spindly limb collided with my side, sending me flying. The ground shook, jostling me over the uneven terrain as the visturong skittered toward me, its bloodred eyes hungry. I scrambled to get my feet back under me.
Then more music came flying through the forest. It was the sharp trill of a metal pipe. I whipped around to the sound, my eyes landing on a figure on the hill.
Ora.
Their power was immense, clearly greater than the other Songkeepers, the sound so hypnotic, it pulled me in, too. I moved forward, entranced.
“Go home,” the song told me. “All is well. There is no danger. Go home.”
It was an impossible sort of calm. My racing heart instantly slowed. I started moving toward Highwick, feeling the overwhelming urge to go back toward the city of my birth.
“Sadie?”
Home. I needed to get home. All the sounds faded to that one notion: go home. I faintly heard Navin shouting for Ora to stop.
When the song stopped, I felt like a puppet with its strings cut.
Navin appeared in front of me, unfazed by my Wolf. He held a hand to my chest. When I snarled, he retracted it. He whipped off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Shift, Sadie,” he murmured just for me to hear. And his voice cut through all else as if he knew how to speak directly to my soul.
I shifted. Bones popping, muscles stretching, and then I was there, crouched in my skin with Navin’s coat draped around my shoulders. Navin stood close, shielding me from the others while I buttoned up his coat. When I was covered, I gave him a nod. Only once I reassured him I was okay did he turn and embrace Ora.
They hugged for a cathartic moment, two long-separated friends reunited once more. “It’s good to see you in one piece,” Navin said, clapping Ora on the shoulder.
“You have no idea.” Ora chuckled. “I’m not sure what was worse, the Damrienn dungeons or being stuck on a fishing boat in choppy waters.”
Ora still looked a little green, eyes weary. They didn’t wear their signature painted lips, but their clothing was just as colorful as ever—a mishmash of fabrics and patterns that made them look ready for any stage, as if their entire life was one long show.
