Page 16 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers

We stick to the shadows of the street and try not to look even more suspicious than we already are. Keeva stays a few feet ahead, glancing over the shuttered town house windows.

“This way,” she says, ducking into a small lane twisting left off one misty, dark street.

There aren’t any windows in the private lane, narrowing around us as I follow—just gray stone walls and a faint scent of moss growing through cobblestone cracks. The lane snakes between the backs of two tall stone town houses to my left and right and leads us back, farther and farther from the wider street behind us.

A chill clings to the stones around me, and I shiver.

Keeva glances back at me and nods ahead.

At the end of the narrow lane, a three-story town house of gray stone rises out of shadows. Just two narrow windows glare down at us—one from its second level and one from its third. The front door is plain and unassuming with a heavy brass knocker set into the worn black wood. As we step up close, the air shimmers, and I can just make out the faint carved silhouette of a serpent with a pair of curled wings.

Keeva stops there, her face drawn. “Let me do the talking. If Finn knew I brought you here…”

My throat tightens. “If this doesn’t work, she won’t know you brought me here anyway.”

Sorrow darkens her soft eyes. “You think I don’t know that, Maeve? That I don’t know exactly what will happen if this doesn’t work?”

Regret sours on my tongue. The sting of my impulsive words hangs between us.

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” Keeva says with a heavy exhale. She tugs at her flowing tunic like she’s suddenly nervous. Her hand smooths over the linen, and she straightens to her full height. “Let’s just get in and out as quick as we can.”

She grabs at the heavy brass knocker. Keeva raps it once, twice, three times, then once more. The only sound in the lane is our tense breathing, but my mind plays tricks and imagines the growing hammer of gardai feet marching up the stone.

My pulse leaps at the creak of old hinges.

The door swings open, and an older woman in a navy cloak so dark it’s almost black steps out into the mist curling up the stone walls. Her black eyes flash in what seems like recognition, darting over Keeva.“You.”Then her narrowed eyes scrape like blades on my skin. “And who is this?”

“She doesn’t matter.” Keeva’s words sting, but I know her well enough to guess what she’s doing—trying to keep the focus off me. “I need a favor.”

The woman barks out a laugh. Her grin reveals teeth filed into points sharp enough to rip out my throat. “A favor? And here I was, thinking you’d come to grovel for forgiveness. You swore an oath, girl, and—”

Keeva cuts her off: “I was in the streets. I saw what happened. And I know… I know it’s my fault.”

How could any of what the gardai did possibly be her fault? That’s absurd.

“Of course it’s your fault,” the woman snarls, one hand in her pocket. A strange, static taste gathers around us and makes my teeth ache. “We warned you this could happen and you kept selling to her anyway, vial after vial. If you think any of us will help you now, you’ve wasted a journey.”

“I sold to her to helpyou.” Keeva speaks lower than I’ve ever heard from her. “We risked our lives to help all of you. So Old Ones help me, you shut that door, and I’ll—”

The scent of static thickens and every hair tingles on the back of my neck.

Keeva stiffens, her nose twisting at the scent as the woman draws one hand from her pocket, and a strand of… what is that? A tendril of viscous black liquid swirls like a bracelet around her wrist, vanishing up into the arm of her cloak. The woman bares her sharpened teeth. “You’ll what, exactly?”

In the shadows, I swear her eyes flash pure black.

Keeva’s breath catches in her throat.

The woman smirks. “Get home safe, both of you.”

Her words sound more like a threat than a well-wish.

She retreats, sliding back into the shadows behind the door. When I hear the hinges creak, panic races through me. She’s our last chance, and if she slams that door on us…

“Wait!” The word rips from my lips, and the door stills.

“Maeve, no.” Keeva reaches for my arm.