“Yes.” He says the word like it’s filthy. “The Fae use them to make lights, which are traded and used through all the worlds, except Earth. We use them for all types of mundane things. They store energy. They’re everywhere.”
"Fuck." So they’re not hard to obtain.
"Fuck is exactly right. We'd have better luck trying to empty the siren oceans with a teacup."
The wolf claws at my insides, howling for its mate. My canines lengthen in my mouth, and I taste blood where they've cut into my lip.
I reach for the flask again, but it's empty. Fuck. This is not going to be an easy trip.
The Sirens take us close, but not inside the Fae capital. We step out of a creek in the forest just outside the walls of Vandimoor. The moonlight filters through pine branches overhead. The earthy scent of decomposing leaves and pine sap fills my nostrils, almost—but not quite—masking scents that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Cat. Goat. And reptile. Chimera.
I stop abruptly, hand raised to halt Cormac and Arik. "The Chimera are here."
I scan the tree line, eyes picking up movement where there shouldn't be any. A flash of tawny fur. The glint of multiple eyes through the foliage. A row of three on each.
"There," I point and growl, the words barely human as my own vocal cords begin to shift.
I feel the change trying to take me. Bones cracking beneath my skin, muscles burning as they attempt to rearrange. With a snarl of pain, I wrestle it back, hands trembling with the effort. I don’t think I could control my wolf if I changed right now. My vision pulses between human clarity and the wolf's heightened perception, the world alternating between normal colors and the predator's less varied hues.
Cormac's hand moves to the knife at his belt, his other reaching toward me uncertainly. "You're certain? Fen, your eyes..."
"I know what I saw." I fumble for another flask, finding only empty containers. My control slips further with each passing second.
I move toward the tree line, following the scent, but the shapes withdraw deeper into the forest. I catch another brief glimpse. A strange blend of lion, goat, and serpent in a single body. The curved ram's horns glint in a stray beam of moonlight. One turns its head, and all three pairs of its eyes lock onto me with predatory intelligence.
My wolf strains against its bonds, urging me to give chase.
"Fen." Arik's warning cuts through my focus, sharp as a blade. "We can't."
I ignore him, pushing into the underbrush. Branches scrape against my arms, leaving scratches that heal almost instantly. Their scent grows stronger.
"Fenrir." Cormac steps directly into my path, hand pressed against my chest. "If the chimeras are here, we need to report it to Hawke, not chase them unprepared."
Logic battles instinct. The strategic part of my brain knows he's right, but the predator in me wants to hunt. "Very well," I say and turn back to them both.
We continue through the forest toward the city of Vandimoor, my senses hyperalert for any sign of movement. The Chimera's don't show themselves again, but I can't shake the feeling we're being watched. Why would the Chimera's be here… in Avalon?
My fingernails have darkened into claws that won't fully retract. The muscles in my back spasm and crack as they fight to reshape themselves. Stop.
My legs buckle beneath me as another wave of transformation surges through my body. I drop to one knee, digging those traitorous claws into the forest floor, anchoring myself to something solid as my bones threaten to shatter and reform.
Hunt. Track. Find them.
The wolf's thoughts crash against mine, not in words but in primal urges and images. The scent of Chimera still lingers, pulling deep at my wolf’s instincts.
No, I growl internally. Not here. Not now.
"Fen." Arik's voice comes from what seems like miles away. "You need this. Now.”
He presses a jar into my hands. Not another small flask, but one of the large jars from the ranch pantry. I open it and swallow desperately, letting the sweet liquid flow through me. Half a jar later the urge to shift finally subsides.
Relief floods through me like cool water on burned skin. My bones settle back into place, the fire in my veins subsiding to embers. I draw a full breath without pain for the first time in hours, savoring the momentary peace. Each dose buys less time than the one before. Without Astrid, I'm just postponing the inevitable.
“Better?”
“Much. Thank you. Where did you get this?” I ask.
