Voices and clatters distracted me; I glanced around. Somehow, I’d lost track of time. The witch was gone, leaving only the battered folding chair behind. The ropes of garlic and the spikes of rosemary—the herb of memory and nostalgia.
A body bumped into me; the man offered a muffled apology before hurrying away. Across the space, an overhead light swayed, casting wild shadows. The Farmer’s Market closed in with pressure I wasn’t entirely sure came from the crowds, all jostling toward the open doors.
Anxiety seeped through raised voices as if people weren’t sure what to do. Bodies thumped and shoved. I kept pace with the flow, letting the mob take me out into the night where the cool air was clarifying. I needed to think, put what I’d learned into perspective, everything from vampires tracking me through ruined runes to the crystal turning into ash—the same bitter ash I’d always tasted around Amal’s creatures. Was the witch connected to Amal in some way? Like the vampires who sided with her?
But the concerns around me were more immediate. My footsteps faltered as whispered conversations caught my attention.
“We should go inside,” a worried female said, gripping the arm of her blonde companion.
“We should go look.”
The blonde tugged her friend along the sidewalk. Around me, the groups from the Farmer’s Market thinned. Couples walked toward the housing districts. The single men and women turned toward the docks, where the clubs would be wild and noisy. The central Court District was brightly lit against the settling dark, and another press of people edged the street.
The parked car had all four doors open and the beeping from the alarm system was annoying. The headlights were on, illuminating the snow dirtied by all the footprints. Color came from the yellow tape marking a perimeter. Security teams talked between themselves as they worked the scene. A female technician swabbed blood from the car’s bumper. Another collected debris from the metalwork, using tweezers, chatting as he put the samples in small capped bottles.
Two lanky teenagers stood on the sidewalk. One had his arms crossed as he rocked side to side. The other was answering questions. He raked a hand through his brown hair. Dragged his palm to cover his mouth.
“Were you speeding? Drinking? Drugs?” The uniformed officer’s jaded tone meant he’d asked similar questions a thousand times.
“No.” The boy who answered was probably the driver; his knee jerked every time he shifted his weight. “We borrowed the car from my parents. They’ll kill me.”
“As in borrowed without asking?”
“Look, we were keeping to the limit and that… thing… jumped in front of the car.”
A snicker rippled before a few people turned away. The blonde was standing on her toes, craning around to get a better view. Her friend had her arms wrapped tight to her waist. I picked up on a foul scent in the air. Nearly jolted when Hattie bumped my arm.
“Noa—did you hear?” Her voice wavered. “They hit something on the road outside of Westvale. A starving wolf, but twice the normal size. Ribs caved in, legs oddly long. Strange in the headlights. They drove right over it and kept going until they got here and called for help.”
“It could have been anything,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure why I was keeping my voice low, other than the wolves didn’t need more agitation.
“The technicians were talking.” Hattie leaned in and whispered, “It isn’t normal—what they’re finding. The strange blood and fur. What if it’s hybrids, moving this far south? Shouldn’t we get inside?”
“I’ll walk you home, Hattie.” I glanced at her grocery bags; she gripped the woven handles hard enough to turn her knuckles white, probably from the weight of canned goods and fresh produce.
I took one bag from her. “Where’s Oscar?”
“Watching some game show on television. Noa—” She studied my face. “Maybe you should stay.”
She meant until morning, daylight. But the drawing in my back pocket felt more important. I wanted to go home, see if the nymphs were back from their visit with Aine. The walk to the Ironstone District was short, with a quick turnaround to Anson’s compound, and if anyone beyond failles could sense danger, wolves could. They cluttered the street, enjoying the usual nightlife, while I sensed nothing more than Hattie’s apprehension. After what she’d been through, I didn’t blame her for feeling alarmed. The attacks from Amal’s shock troops had come out of nowhere, ripping apart normal days. Was it any surprise now that Hattie’s trust did not survive?
I put an arm around her. “Let’s get you home,” I said, avoiding the argument. “Westvale has rings of wards and enchantments. If hybrids were near, believe me, that security team wouldn’t be kicking tires and asking about the speed.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I don’t feel any threat,” I offered to reassure her. But I glanced over my shoulder as I walked Hattie home. Her apartment was small, tidy with comfortable furniture, and after promises of more time together, I made my way back outside. Arms crossed against the cold, head down, I huddled in my coat and ignored the damp hint of snow. If I hurried, I’d be in my apartment before the storm hit. I’d be warm, see if the nymphs had returned. Check in with Laura.
The mental list ran through my head until I reached the Dock District with its neon and thumping music, the noisy crowds, where the urge to look up overwhelmed me.
And as I focused on one face out of the many… agitation became a flash-freeze against my skin.
CHAPTER 13
Noa
Seeing Ago was a visual punch to the gut. The black oily hair. Gold chains glittering at his throat. He was turning away, searching the crowd, and I stumbled backward, breathing in the stench of overheated males and sickening perfumes. The scents of alcohol and sex, of onions and garlic—gods, what good was the fucking garlic?
Gods-damn vampires were in Westvale. Despite Anson’s wards.
