I give her hand a playful squeeze. “So will you and Julio.” Her jaw drops and her face breaks into a wide smile. She uses her free hand to splash me with a spray of cold water, and we erupt into a fit of shrieks and giggles. The more time I spend with her, the more I see why Julio’s so crazy about her. “I’m glad he has you,” I say when our laughter quiets.
Her face sobers. Deep worry lines cut into her brow. She looks down at the water. “I’m glad he has you, too.”
She waits for me, lost in her thoughts as I wash my hair. When I’m finished, we stumble over the rocky bottom back to the creek’s edge and drag fresh clothes over our chilled, wet skin. Apopechoes through the forest as I tug on my jeans.
Amber and I freeze. The wind carries an acrid bite.
“Gunshot,” she whispers.
We rush to pull on our shoes and take off running.
Leaping fallen logs, we hurtle through the dense undergrowth toward the coppery smell of blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the white flash of Julio’s sneakers sprinting from our campsite. Fear seizes me when I don’t see Jack behind him.
Amber’s faster, stronger than the rest of us. She tears into a clearing and pulls up short in the middle of it. Wind stirs the high grass. The smells of blood and winter are everywhere.
My eyes snap to the far edge of the clearing. To a boy holding a rifle loosely in his hand. Not a Season. He reeks like panic and sweat—human smells, mortal smells. His eyes widen at the sight of us and he takes off running. Amber charges after him.
Rage and instinct kick in. I reach for him with my mind. The ground in front of him surges and shudders. A root breaks free, spraying him with dirt and knocking the rifle from his hand. Another lashes around his ankle and jerks him viciously to the ground.
Amber snatches up the rifle. The next second, she’s on top of him. She raises the barrel. Aims it at his head.
“Where is he?” Her voice shakes.
“It was an accident!” the boy cries. “I thought he was a deer. I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear.”
My heart stutters. Amber stumbles away from him. Her stricken eyes find mine and suddenly I can’t breathe. The world swims as I call Jack’s name. Amber’s shouts fade into the background. I’m only distantly aware of the pull of the boy’s limbs against my roots, of the blunt smack of the rifle stock against flesh as I follow Jack’s scent to a depression in the weeds.
My breath catches. Jack’s on his back, his eyes closed and skin pale, a small hole darkening his shirt. A red stain’s spreading between his chest and his shoulder. I sink to my knees beside him.
“Jack.” I brush back his hair. Pat the side of his face with shaking hands. “Jack, wake up!”
His eyes flutter open. Struggle to focus on me. Panic grips me when they drift closed again.
I spin at the sound of the rifle being cocked. “If he’s dead, I’ll kill you!” Amber screams. “I’ll burn you! I’ll—”
“He’s over here!” I shout.
Julio speaks to Amber in a low voice, wrapping his arms around her and prying the gun from her hands. I keep a firm hold on the root, pinning the boy down by his ankle as Amber and Julio sprint toward me. Julio shoves the rifle into my arms. He kneels in front of Jack, pulling aside Jack’s collar with a muttered curse. Jack’s head rolls as Julio and Amber hoist him up, his body hanging limp between them.
“Get him to the car,” I say with a forced calm. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“What are you going to do with the kid?” I know exactly what Julio’s thinking. There is no easy cleanup here. No ley lines or magic. No ash in the wind. He’s human. Messy.
“I’ll figure it out. Just go!” Julio and Amber bow under Jack’s weight as they carry him back toward camp.
I stalk through the high grass and find the hunter where Amber left him, tangled in my roots. His unkempt bangs hang low over his eyes and the oversize jacket he’s wearing hides a coltish build. His nose and mouth are bloodied, his jaw swollen. He’s groaning, in too much pain to focus on me.
I stand over him, the rifle cold in my hand.
Julio was right. He’s just a kid.
And no matter how badly I want to look him in the face and see Hunter or Névé staring back at me, this is different. He wasn’t trying to kill Jack. He’s not a threat to us anymore.
Unless he survives and reports what he saw.
My finger trembles on the trigger. One call to authorities could reveal our location to Chronos. But taking a life to cover our tracks andease our escape feels like crossing a line—a line I could never come back from.
I reach into the pocket of the boy’s jacket and find his phone. He recoils, his breath hitching on a sob as I smash it under the rifle’s butt and toss its guts as far into the trees as I can throw them. As I run back to camp with his rifle in my hand, all I can hope is that I’ve made the right choice.
