Elsie’s teeth flashed in the dying light, a quick, cruel smile. ‘I don’t care about the money. Bryce promised me the Wulver’s pelt. I’ll take it one way or the other.’
The air rushed out of Cam’s lungs.
The Wulver’s pelt.
They knew it wasn’t a werewolf? Bryceknew.
‘And…’ Elsie stepped forward, so the crossbow bolt was only inches from Cam’s face. She smiled again, sweetly, and aimed the crossbow over his shoulder. ‘I’ll take the little loch monster, too.’
‘No!’
As Cam yelled, his feet were ripped from under him. Roots wrapped around his ankles, jerking him away. He glimpsed Lachlan also yanked to the ground, dark vines coiling fast around his face and arms. Logan loomed over him, hauling a large and heavy net.
Cam lost it. Lost all thought and sense and feel as the fire welled up from his core. He screamed, his mind surging along with the flames as they poured into the ground. He was briefly hit by the cold of the snow, sucking some of the flames away—and then they barrelled on through, melting the ice and penetrating the earth until they seized upon the roots being controlled by the tattooed hunter.
Fire erupted from the wet soil, racing along the living tendrils. The auburn-haired hunter shrieked in pain. The vines holding Meredith and Lachlan dropped suddenly before being engulfed in flame. They became writhing, fiery snakes on the ground, and as the growing blaze illuminated them Cam could see they’d snuck inside the Teapot itself. An enraged howl suggested the Wulver had also been briefly ensnared and was now trapped behind a small inferno.
But Cam couldn’t stop the fire from continuing to travel. To burn every last squirming root until they all shrivelled and died. Blurrily, he tried to pinpoint the positions of Lachlan and Meredith. Logan was smacking his net onto the ground in an effort to dowse the flames that had caught it. The kid controlling the roots was sobbing in a ball on the ground. And Elsie… she was striding forward, mouth drawn into a furious snarl as she raised her crossbow… at Lachlan.
Cam severed himself from the fire roaring beneath the ground, hissing with the effort, and fired a sharp burst towards her from his Scorched fist. She gave a shout of agony as the crossbow jerked in her hands, then dropped from them. She cradled her blistering fingers with horror.
The crossbow bolt thudded wetly into something behind Cam. He began to turn in dread, the fire surging once again. Was it Lachlan? Had she hit—?
He was shocked by a pair of strong arms thrown around him, one encircling his torso and the other folded tight across his collarbone.
‘Hold on, Cam,’ Lachlan breathed in his ear. ‘Hold on. I know you can fight it. You’re so strong, Cam. So much stronger than I am. Fight it.’
His crushing embrace was like an anchor. Cam grabbed on. Let it moor him. Sought stillness within the raging inferno.
It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
He sank against Lachlan’s body, drawing the fire back into him. Extracting it from the smouldering earth. The roots were left as desiccated husks lying limply on the charred soil.
His muscles gratefully relaxed, no longer strained to breaking point in fight mode. He turned his cheek to graze Lachlan’s forehead. Was met by his lips instead.
‘See?’ Lachlan whispered shakily against his cheek. ‘I knew you could do it.’
God, Cam wanted to kiss the life out of him. How many times could this man save his life and act like it had been Cam’s doing all along?
Before he could say anything, Cam’s eyes widened at the sight beyond. The purple sign of The Lucky Teapot was in flames. Black smoke belched from the doorway. ‘Lachlan, your home—!’
That wasn’t all. Two figures were silhouetted against the spitting blaze. Logan, crawling away, dripping blood from a deep claw-mark gashed in the side of his face. And the Wulver, on his knees and swaying, with a silver bolt sticking out of his chest.
Cam tore apart from Lachlan, frantically searching for Meredith, calling her name.
‘I told her to run,’ Lachlan said, catching hold of him again. ‘Down the hill. As far as she can get. She’s safe for now.’
Cam nodded, his throat going hoarse. They still had to deal with the hunters.
But they were on the retreat, backing away down the far side of the hill. Logan was dragging the young hunter by his hair, viciously hurling him into motion even though he was still bent in pain. Cam caught Elsie’s eye, saw a spark of grim respect in it. They disappeared into the growing darkness.
‘Fuck,’ Cam exhaled in a rush. He remembered the Wulver and sent Lachlan to heave him away from the fire. ‘I’ve got a trauma kit on my bike!’ he yelled, racing around the side of the building.
High overhead a windowpane exploded, raining down glass in a tinkle of shards. The air tasted of smoke. Cam covered his head and hurriedly grabbed what he needed.
Lachlan had pulled the Wulver to the edge of the firelit circle and was applying pressure around his wound. Cam felt sick at the sight of the bolt sticking out of him. He had no fucking clue what to do about that. He was vaguely aware that you shouldn’t remove an object from an open wound—but there was no hospital that was going to accept a goddamn wolfman on its wards.
The Wulver beckoned to him. ‘Deal with this,’ he rasped, waving at the bolt.
