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His footsteps clanked on meshed metal floor, and I could see the shadowy recesses of a tight corridor. Wherever we were, the place had the feel of abandonment with crumbling brick walls and light fixtures long since dead. When we crossed through a door and into dusky forest, I caught glimpses of the dilapidated building and new worries crowded my mind. It was tall and old, covered in vines, with high windows all broken in places.
There didn’t appear to be any trails in the forest, or if there were, he wasn’t following one. Branches snagged at my hair and arms, and at one point a thorn scratched deep into the skin above my elbow, blazing a trail of pain in its wake. I pulled my arm in, but my fingers were still clumsy as I tried to cover it. I felt blood on my fingertips and was craning to inspect the injury when Malcolm abruptly turned, taking us down into a steep ravine and then splashing through a creek.
When he finally slowed there were dizzy lights speckling my vision, which became more pronounced when he lowered me to my feet. I swayed, gulping in unencumbered air, and it was only his grip on my shoulders that kept me from falling over. He tilted me toward a tree until my back rested on rough bark, and then carefully removed his hands from my shoulders.
“You will be all right, Miss Grayson, just breathe.”
Fear lodged in my chest, but I nodded. “Thank you.”
He gave a rueful smile and scanned the darkening forest. “Don’t thank me yet. Something is hunting us.”
“More wolves?”
His voice took on a thoughtful tone. “No. This is something else. Something worse.”
I shuddered. “What could be worse than warlock traffickers?”
Malcolm slanted a look at me that said everything I needed to know about our current circumstances, and I hugged myself. Whatever it was, Malcolm hadn’t stopped to fight it and by his stance, I imagined he didn’t mean to. He was coiled and ready to run again, and I had to wonder what creature could make a wolf this nervous.
My elbow stung and I checked it, noting the half-inch tear in my skin with a distant sort of alarm. It wasn’t terrible, and it only stung, but it was bleeding and that made the little hairs on my neck stand on end. Hunters tracked by scent, didn’t they? The animal kind did, anyway.
“So that’s what Derrick is after, hm? Warlock traffickers? And you were the bait? Because he seems to have lost you.”
Sensing he was fishing, I gave him what I hoped was my best glare. Now was hardly the time for interrogations or further threats, but he seemed undeterred by the danger. Which I supposed made sense. He had already located the trafficking ring – a feat that Derrick hadn’t managed – and taken out at least one trafficker when he put Henry down. So they were not a threat that bothered him and if he wanted a little information about it, could I really keep it from him?
He glanced out at the forest around us again, blue eyes clear and intent, but after a moment his shoulders relaxed, and his gaze returned to me.
“What could possibly entice a woman like you to put herself in the way of traffickers? I know Derrick is charming when he wants to be, but I never imagined he would deliberately place a woman in harm’s way.”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“Are you engaged?” he asked.
Startled, I made an affronted sound and scowled up at him. “What? No! We just met.”
“Stranger things have happened, Miss Grayson.”
“I can assure you that I am not the sort of woman who would get engaged after less than a week.”
He looked thoughtful and nodded, ceding the point. “I suppose not. A counselor would need to maintain at least a pretense of a healthy lifestyle, and that would not fit, now would it?”
I was about to tell him that I didn’t need a pretense for anything when a branch snapped somewhere on our left. Malcolm turned, his face gone serious, and he inhaled deeply. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out sounds though I tried desperately to listen.
Wind set the branches to creaking and there was the rustle of leaves high overhead. But there was no birdsong, no insects. There was only the wind and my own galloping heart.
I looked to Malcolm for a sign or a command, anything to break the stillness. His eyes had gone very blue, the color of the sky on a cloudless day, and the first traces of grey fur sprouted along his neck and up his jaw. He was changing right in front of me, his bones popping in places as they elongated, his chest broadening with muscle so that his shirt strained and tore. In the heartbeat before his face changed, he met my eyes.
He whispered a single word and my stomach plummeted as though the ground had given way beneath me.
“Run!”
Chapter Seventeen
I turned and fled. Behind me, Malcolm let out a horrible growl and for a heartbeat I feared it was all a game and maybe he was hunting me, but then came the crash of two forces colliding and I knew that wasn’t the case. My legs were still unsteady, and it was everything I could do to keep upright as I raced through the forest. Full night had descended, and a bright moon shone through the canopy above, speckling shadows across the forest floor so thick I couldn’t see the next tree until I was nearly on top of it.
Still no birds or insects, not even a frog, and fear made a vice of my chest, which was already under strain.
My shin bashed into a felled log, and I went sprawling, pebbles and twigs scouring across any bare skin they could find. I heaved in several deep breaths, desperate for air, and scrambled to my feet.
