‘They might be expecting us but I don’t think they’re ready,’ Lydia said, tossing her head and whipping up a miniature tornado in the palm of her hand. Only minutes since her Becoming and her magic was already sharp and precise.
‘Doesn’t matter if they’re ready, all that matters is that we are. You know the plan, you have everything you need?’
‘Get in, get Jackson, get out,’ she repeated for at least the hundredth time that day. ‘Leave the rest of them to you.’
Without the opal ring, I was able to track Jackson exactly. Whatever magic Astrid was using to hide Wyn, the Weres didn’t share it. The pack had convened down by River Street, moving along Factors Walk, where they’d held Jackson in the Cluskey Vaults for most of the day before moving to the park atsundown. I felt sick at the thought of it. Those vaults had dark histories of their own, not only used to hold the goods that came in from the merchant ships, but enslaved people. The wolves most likely couldn’t know that, they couldn’t hear the screams and cries that called out to me. It was a dark and cursed spot in our beautiful, complicated city, and only served to set the scene for the ugly night ahead.
Lydia and I stalked through the fading twilight as the moon moved higher in the sky. Between us, it was easy to convince people to stay indoors. There was an ever-present threat of thunder, the suggestion of a nightmarish storm. Leaving the house did not make sense, I whispered as we passed by home after home; probably best to stay away from the windows too, close the curtains. Maybe turn in extra early.
‘We still don’t know where Astrid is,’ Lydia said as I opened the door to the empty Pirates’ House, all staff and patrons having abandoned ship after the manager became convinced of an unexpected threat of flooding. ‘Or what she’s done with Wyn.’
‘If she’s planning to attack tonight, she knows where I am,’ I replied. ‘No reason why the plan won’t work on her the same as it’ll work on the others.’
‘And you’re sure it’s going to work?’
I gave her a look as we opened the door to the pirates’ tunnels, a maze built for crimping, tricking men into drinking too much and taking their gold then dragging their unconscious bodies down to their ships, long gone from land by the time the men awoke. These tunnels had literally destroyed lives. Tonight, I only hoped they could save some.
‘Sure as I can be about anything,’ I said, leading the way.
When the hard-packed ground under our feet shifted to an incline, I patted myself down one last time to check everythingwas where it needed to be. A healing poultice blended just for Wyn, another for Jackson, and in one zipped pocket, the silver and moonstone pin I’d used to kill Cole. Perhaps not the wisest move, bringing the murder weapon to my own trial, but the verdict was in and I’d decided it was better to be armed than not. There were other crystals, other herbs in my pockets and woven into my braid. Protective spells mostly: agrimony for shielding, white willow bark for amplifying lunar magic, and angelica, the herb that bore my mother’s name, for protection and courage and more importantly to remind me of the love that brought me into the world when someone else was trying their best to take me out of it. I wore her locket around my neck, the diamond snowflake pendant from Lydia, even Catherine’s aquamarine ring. All I’d left behind was the arfvedsonite, the black crystal given to me by my ancestor months ago. Whatever happened, tonight would be something to remember, not forget.
‘They’re close, I can sense them,’ Lydia whispered, slowing her pace and pressing her hand against the roof of the tunnel. ‘This is wild.’
‘We still don’t know exactly how your magic is going to manifest,’ I replied, just as quiet. ‘Ideally we’d be testing this out at home.’
‘Don’t worry about me, I always do better in exams than essays. What is it they say? Pressure makes diamonds?’
‘We already made diamonds.’ I pointed to my necklace and she reached for its twin around her neck. The same locket, the same snowflake and, beside them, her mother’s opal ring, humming now with a different kind of magic. For twenty years, it hid Alex from my family. Now, infused with hyssop and wormwood and loaded with aconite, it hid my family from the Weres.
‘Can you feel how many of them are up there?’ I asked.
‘No,’ Lydia admitted, scrunching up her face. ‘Jackson isthere. Other than him it’s not entirely clear. Three, maybe four others? I must be wrong, there must be more.’
‘There are more.’ I pressed my own palms against the roof, the wooden supports soft and decaying with age but holding together just for us. ‘Something is off.’
‘You think Jackson kicked their asses?’
Her optimism might’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t so afraid. There were at least a dozen more wolves above us but their energy read so weak, I could barely feel it.
‘No way to know exactly what’s going on until we get up there,’ I said, facing the door with determination. ‘Remember, do not let them bite you.’
Her ring wasn’t the only thing dosed with aconite; our clothes were still damp to the touch from the hours they’d spent soaking, and Virginia had stitched so much silver thread into the fabric I could see Lydia sparkling even in the dark, but I didn’t relish the thought of having to heal a mortal injury we didn’t have the time or energy for.
‘That’s a general rule I like to live by,’ she said, testing the two-hundred-year-old door to the riverside. ‘On the count of three?’
‘On the count of three,’ I agreed. ‘One, two—’
‘Three.’
So much for the element of surprise.
The doors flew open and a rough hand grabbed me by the hair. I gripped the wrist, yelping in pain, yanked out of the tunnel and tossed across the park with too much strength to be human. I landed beside the Waving Girl statue, striking my head on her metal plinth. Stars sparked in front of my eyes as Lydia rolled to a stop by my side, coughing in pain, and crying out when a stained desert boot kicked her in the ribs. Squinting, I tried to focus. All I saw were worn jeans, a soft grey T-shirt, golden tanned skin and wavy, dark ash-coloured hair.
I’d been prepared for everything but this.
‘Wyn?’ I groaned as he dragged me up to my feet.
‘Not quite, witch.’
