Her father was determined that they leave, no matter what.
Perhaps the only real negative about leaving was the thought of abandoning her gran's headstone.I have her things and have her necklace packed. I can take all of that with me. She wouldn't want me to stay here, nor Oliver. She always pushed for mother and father to leave... I just wish I didn't have to leave her tombstone.
With thoughts of her grandmother, Rem took off her cooking apron, hung it up, and turned around to face the hearth. She needed to ensure that the soup was simmering rather than boiling. Oliver had a tendency to stack too many logs in the fireplace.
But as she turned around, a throaty cry escaped her.
Standing in front of her was a pale man she had never seen before, and his eyes were the color of bright amber.
The color of a shifter.
"No, no, no," Rem muttered. "No, this can't be happening," she moaned in agony. "No! I won't go with you!"
Someone placed a hand over her mouth, pulling her in with a strength that was beyond human. She shivered, hating the sudden contact, and thrashed. Her fight only added more pain as the shifter clamped down his grip. The pale one in front of her sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair.
In her ear, and with an accent she couldn't quite place, the shifter holding her said, "Did you think we weren't coming for you, Silver?"
She breathed through the hand and shook her head, a firm grip pinning her arms at her side. She licked and tried to bite the salty hand over her mouth, shaking her head while muffled cries escaped. Nothing worked. She was like a toddler being held down by an adult—she'd never win against these creatures.
Tears burned her eyes. She didn't know what to do. This felt entirely premature. The hunters confirmed they were coming for her and that she was going to live in their giant cities.
Rem couldn't be takennow.
The one that she initially witnessed stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. "My name is Deacon. Come quietly, and the little bear doesn't get hurt," he warned.
Rem froze and narrowed her gaze on the shifter who was dressed so differently from the villagers—wearing refined clothes, leather bracers, and laced boots—as she replayed what he said. Her heart thrummed so hard it pulsed in her neck.What does he mean, little bear? Not Oliver...
The hand was removed from her mouth. She couldn't see herself, but she knew she was a mess of slobber, hair stuck to sweat on her forehead, and a disheveled dress.
Quickly and quietly, she asked, "What have you done?"
The pale one named Deacon said, "Listen to me. You're in more trouble than you know. The witches here aren't your friends, and neither are the hunters, but I cannot say more. You need to come with us."
She didn't believe a word he said, darting her gaze around, stepping aside when she remembered one was behind her. She had never been so fueled by so much adrenaline. Panting, she ran over the options in her mind, searching for the kitchen knife.
"How did you get in?" Rem asked, trying to buy time.
Rem jumped when she saw another shifter, although this one was older—mucholder—enter through the back door, moving with a stiffness in her spine that reminded Rem of her gran. The female shifter wore red robes, her face round and as stern as a witch's. The dim lighting of the setting sun only added to the suspense.
"Knock her out," the shifter said.
"No, wait! Don't do that!" Rem cried out, frantic.
The older one said, "You are coming with us, Remara. You can either go quietly, or we can incapacitate you—"
"We found the boy," another said, walking through their hallway, carrying a limp child in his arms.
Oliver.
Rem nearly screamed, but a prick in her thigh distracted her, glancing down to see a porcupine quill sticking out of her leg.No... No, gran used to say they covered these in sedatives...
She tried to speak, but as she glanced back at Oliver, she lost consciousness.
2
THE COLLATERAL
R E M
