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She didn’t bother responding to me, and it was an effort to keep walking so I didn’t try to goad her further. The tunnel wasn’t overly long and in short order I smelled open air, the sweet scent of fresh rain on forest floor. Within moments we were at what appeared to be a dead end, the tunnel blocked off by many gnarled, bulbous roots coiling around each other. They looked a bit like the black vines that had attacked the safehouse, but they were missing the curved thorns and slithering movement, and on closer inspection I could see that they were, in fact, a mundane root system for some large tree.
Mariana spoke to the roots. “Open.”
Magic poured from Mariana, cold and unfamiliar, and I realized with a start that I had severely misinterpreted the situation. The roots began to unfurl, trailing dirt and moss from where they had once been happily buried beneath ground, and my heart picked up speed. Wolves could change form, could fight and bite and claw their way to victory, but they could not access magic. Not without runes like Derrick, and even then I doubted Derrick had a rune for commanding nature itself.
“You’re not a werewolf,” I whispered.
Mariana’s smirk was deep and malicious. “I never said I was.”
Maker save me, there were two sluaghna, not one.
With the passage open, she drew us both outside. Dusk had fallen, a thin tracery of light barely visible on the horizon. Moonlight slanted onto a rough path cut into the mountain, speckling trees still in the midst of the autumnal shed. A chill breeze promised a storm wasn’t far off, rushing through leaves high above to loose them from their moors and send them spiraling through the air. There was no sign of the manor, no visible city lights, and I felt at once small and alone, cut off from the greater world.
Mariana released my hair, sending a spike of tingles across my scalp, and I straightened. Without another word, she grabbed the juncture of my cuffs and resumed her walk. The path led upward, around a rough hill of craggy rocks full of fallen leaves and moss. We should have been single file, but Mariana was unconcerned and forced us side by side, keeping me on the far edge that plummeted several feet into a gorge below. A small creek snaked its way along the gorge’s bottom, no doubt heading toward the lake.
The lake!
I considered throwing myself down the gorge. I’d break a bone or two – hopefully not my leg – but I could follow the creek to the lake and then toss myself in. I wasn’t sure how Derrick opened the Middling, but I was willing to give it a try. Assuming Mariana didn’t simply catch up to me.
It was still light enough I could see the path we were taking and began to plan my plunge. There was a spot where the path curved around the hill, and I determined that would be the right moment. But before we could reach it, Mariana diverted, taking us on a sharp, uphill climb over loose shale. It was a struggle to keep up with her and I was panting by the time we crested the hilltop.
We paused long enough at the top of the hill for me to get a good view of where she was taking me and all the blood in my body curdled at once.
Eight towering boulders made a rough circle in an oak grove, their height dwarfed only by the oaks themselves. Each massive tree stretched high above, their branches wide and full, their leaves strangely untouched by the autumn chill. A fire burned in the center of the stone circle, casting shadows that seemed to reach and claw into the forest itself, and sitting beside the fire, propped in a crude wooden chair, was Janice.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Janice didn’t notice me as I was summarily thrust toward her. She didn’t blink when I went to my knees beside her, and she didn’t smile when I touched her knee with my bound hands. She was as ever, gazing at the fire, miles away, her mind locked from the rest of the world. Her lips were chapped, and she was an unhealthy shade of grey, but otherwise she appeared unharmed.
“You’re late,” said a gravelly voice on the other side of the fire.
It was Montgomery Leslie, bent over a large, leather-bound book that had gold-capped corners. He did not look up from its yellowed pages as he spoke but kept his finger roving over whatever script was inside. Beside him stood Delilah, clad in pants and blouse much like what Mariana wore, but Delilah lacked the fuller figure, and the getup made her look more boyish than anything else. At her feet was a gagged and bound figure.
It took several seconds to make out his bruised face and my heart stuttered when he became clear. Brock was unconscious and there was something pitiable about his masculine frame slumped there on the ground, hands tied behind his back. The gag was tight, biting into the sides of his mouth so that blood made a trail over his chin.
My heart ached for him, remembering the way he looked at Delilah, the confusion, and the familiarity as he’d called her Dells. Whatever they had been to each other once, there must have been trust, if not some level of affection. And Delilah had used that trust, just as she had used Derrick to get me here.
But why? Derrick was right, it made no sense for her to demand an outside counselor if all she meant to do was drug them and run off. Whatever Bright creature the Leslies kept on retainer for counseling might not be a warlock, but she certainly hadn’t been desperate for our parts either. Not with that cabinet full of jars.
Mariana sauntered into the circle. “The little idiot wasted almost the whole of our storage of eyeballs.”
At this, Montgomery looked up, his spectacles perched precariously on the edge of his nose. “Eyeballs were not on the list.”
Mariana paused to touch one of the towering boulders, pressing her palm onto its granite surface, and heaved a sigh. “I know. She took the jar and smashed it onto my head.”
Montgomery grunted in disapproval.
“Are you all right?” Delilah asked.
Mariana sent the girl a wink. “Just wounded pride.”
“Did you get the clippings? And the skin?” Montgomery asked.
“No. We’re going to have to use what they have.”
All eyes turned to Janice and myself, and I realized with a chill what she meant. Whatever the original plans for us had been, I may have greatly sped up the timetable for our demise. Swallowing down a lump of terror, I straightened to my feet, turning so that my body blocked Janice from their view. Fear trembled through me, and I clenched my fists to stop shaking.
“You know I hate the noise it makes,” Montgomery said, slanting his gaze back to Mariana.
