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The Constables had not come. I checked the tree line one more time, praying there might be movement, but there was nothing.
Straining against the cuffs, I hunted for something to pry them open with, but there didn’t appear to be locks on them like normal handcuffs and anyway, they were probably enchanted against tampering. The only way I was getting out of them was with outside help, and Janice was gazing into nothing, rocking herself back and forth while clutching her wounded hand.
Montgomery gestured once and the runes drawn in the dirt flashed red. A familiar rumble shook the ground and I let out a shaky breath. There was no more time.
A new set of vines burst from the earth, sending pebbles and dirt flying through the stone circle. Montgomery seemed a better hand at this magic because the vines did not have to search. Their thorny lengths went straight to Brock, wrapping around his wrists and ankles in a blink.
The third vine hooked Brock around the waist and began levering him off the ground.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying for one more minute. Brock was coming awake, his brow furrowed in confusion, and I thought maybe if he could undergo the change, turn full werewolf, he might have a chance.
When Montgomery still didn’t respond I said, “I want to know the name of the man who’s going to kill me.”
“Oh, you’re not going to die today. You saw to that when you depleted my stock of parts,” said the sluaghna. He glanced over at me, a scathing smile twitching at his mouth. “That wasn’t entirely wise, I think.”
“Why is that? It bought me time.”
“Oh, it bought you time, all right. A good deal more than I think you bargained for. Because now I have to make you last.”
The prospect of a long, torturous captivity hadn’t crossed my mind and I tightened my hold on Janice. The woman made a soft humming sound and patted my forearm, but her gaze was distant. Swallowing hard, I tried to tell myself that Derrick wouldn’t let that happen, that he and his Lieutenant and Constable Cade were all hunting for us that instant, but my hope was thinning by the second.
Delilah stirred.
Or, not Delilah anymore. Mariana wearing Delilah’s face. She blinked several times, then lifted a hand to peer at it, flexing her fingers slowly, testing her movement. Then her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed.
“Someone’s coming,” she said.
Something about her voice was off, as though the creature inside her wasn’t quite used to the new vocal cords, and I suppressed a shiver.
Releasing a breath, I scanned the shadows for movement, hope surging through me once more. I found him a moment before he stepped into view, hands raised as though in surrender, and my heart stuttered.
“Someone’s already here,” Derrick said.
Scanning the shadows behind him, I tried to see if anyone else was there, but it seemed Derrick had come alone. I caught Derrick’s gaze for a heartbeat and my stomach pitched anew. The empath in me sensed his turmoil, his guilt, his fear, and it was all I could do to breathe.
Montgomery scowled. “I don’t have time for this. Take care of him.”
Delilah rose with a huff, though it seemed a laborious task. “I just got this skin. I don’t want it ripped.”
Derrick stopped at the edge of the circle and raised his voice; “Wait. I come with an offer.”
This made Montgomery look up from Brock, one bushy eyebrow elevated. “An offer?”
Derrick kept his hands raised as though in surrender and for a conflicted moment he took a breath. The expression on his face was determined and everything in me locked up, fear prickling at my gut.
“Let everybody go and you can have me,” Derrick said. “My mother, Nora, Brock, all three, and I’ll lie down on whatever that thing is, and you can take me.”
“A bit vain to think that you’re worth three people,” Delilah said.
I shook my head, horrified that he would even consider submitting to these creatures. He hadn’t seen Mariana inhabit Delilah’s body. He hadn’t seen Delilah’s light go out, hadn’t felt that moment of desolation. He had no idea what these creatures would do to him.
“Derrick, you can’t!”
“It’s all right, Nora,” he said, but his gaze remained on Delilah. “And it’s not vanity.”
“No, it’s not,” Montgomery said, sounding curious. “He knows he’s not that important.”
“But my tattoos are.”
