Chapter 8

But it wouldn’t be that much of a tragedy if she died, would it?

Was I being callous…?

No, I was only acting in defense of my pack and my business. She would understand, and if she didn’t, it was no loss of mine. Besides, I was already sticking my neck out more than I was comfortable with, helping Grandbay survive. If anything, she should be grateful I was here.

And yet, even as I busied myself for the rest of the morning, visions of the wildfire in our shared Moondream haunted me. My forest was crumbling. My world alighted. She would be the one to set it all ablaze, of this I was certain.

After meeting with the supplier, still unaccustomed to the discomfort in my chest and trying not to be bothered by the lack of follow-up from Aislin, I called Taylor, curious about what he might have overheard. But there was no answer from him either. That didn’t bode well. Knowing where he had parked, I drove the ten minutes from Eastpeak to the outskirts of Dalesbloom, toward the heart of the forest where the manor sat. Driving through Dalesbloom wasn’t the dangerous part. It was stopping, setting foot on the asphalt that they laid claim to, that could get me in trouble. It didn’t used to be this way. Years ago, David would have welcomed me into his territory, but I understood the decision I made had placed me on bad terms with the Hexen Alpha. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have made an enemy of me regardless, if he’d dominated Grandbay and then found himself greedy for more.

Up the road, I spied Taylor’s dark blue van pulled onto the shoulder. The driver’s door was wide open. My heart stuttered, but I rationalized that maybe Taylor was just sitting inside, grabbing something from the passenger seat. As I pulled up behind the van, I expected him to pop his head out, but there was still no movement even after I parked. The moment I stepped outside, the omen in my chest worsened. Blood scent saturated the air, and so did traces of the Hexens. “Taylor?” I called, but received only silence.

My hair stood on end as I followed the scent off the shoulder, venturing through the ditch and into the forest on the other side. I wasn’t the type of person to leap to the worst conclusion. There could have been a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Then I spotted a body among the broad ferns at the base of a tree, assuring me that it was as bad as I feared it was. Taylor lay among the foliage, breathing hard and bleeding out.

“Shit. Taylor!” I called to him, stepping quickly through the bushes until I reached his side. My friend was curled up, khaki shorts and grey t-shirt tattered and stained red. Deep gashes crossed his neck and arm, and the jaw-shaped arcs of bite marks were torn out of his abdomen. I knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. It’s me, I’m here,” I urged him.

Taylor rattled to life, turning his head to look up at me. The steely grey clouds above began spitting rain, small drops dotting his cheek as he moved his hands underneath himself and tried to sit up. “Fuck, man,” he said hoarsely. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you. Was just taking a rest before heading back.”

Had I not known Taylor my entire life, it would have astounded me that he could be so mellow about having the shit beaten out of him. “What happened? I smell Hexens. Dragons, too.”

“Yeah, they caught me hanging out in the van,” said Taylor, accepting my hand as I helped him to his feet.

A growl brewed in my throat. “How?”

“I saw David drive past in his truck. He must have recognized me in the driver seat because he drove past a second time, then about twenty minutes later, he showed up with Colt and a few dragons,” Taylor explained. “They pulled me out of the van, dragged me out here, and kicked my ass.”

Guilt was next to follow as I wrapped my arm around Taylor’s back to support him. “Do they know about the bug?”

“Not as far as I know,” said Taylor, limping along beside me. “They didn’t go into my van, I don’t think. When they asked me what I was doing, I just said I had a flat and was waiting for someone to bring me a spare tire.”

“And they believed it?”

“They were more concerned with sending a message, I think.”

“And what message was that?”

Taylor laughed dryly. “That Eastpeak has made an enemy out of Dalesbloom for siding with Grandbay.”

“Of course.” David was ever the opportunist. After hearing about how he’d slain his own packmate, Joseph Nym, I was surprised—and relieved—he hadn’t gone so far as to do the same to Taylor. “He’s threatening us,” I said.

“Did it work?”

I caught Taylor’s eye, but we both knew that it would take more than David lashing out to ward us off. Taylor was far too loyal to let David’s intimidation tactics dissuade him from our plan. “Show me what you’ve got from the bug so far. Then we’ll take you back to my place and get you cleaned up.”

Taylor nodded.

Returning to the van, we found Taylor’s phone and earbuds tossed onto the passenger seat. He had accessed the data from the mic on his phone and was listening in to the live feed while analyzing the audio levels from what the mic had recorded up until then. Where the levels were flat indicated no noise; a higher volume suggested the mic had picked something up, and we listened to about ten minutes of audio—predominantly footsteps, David on his way from his office to the front door—before a car driving past caught our attention. We both recognized the person driving as another one of David’s packmates, most likely sent to check Taylor’s van.

“We should get out of here,” I decided. It wouldn’t look good for David to find me here in the heart of his territory, but at least I had an alibi, if they believed Taylor was merely waiting for a spare tire.

“Wait,” said Taylor. He climbed into the back of his van, wavering from the dense injuries across his body, then returned to his seat with another phone and a dark green plastic bag. “We can record at least a few more hours with this. I’d been planning to set it up before I left. Hopefully the rain doesn’t damage it.”