I look at Villeneuve. He meets my gaze, and I read the deference there.Your call.
The words tickle inside my mind. With the wolves, psychic communication feels comfortable already, familiar. Villeneuve’s voice is a register my thoughts haven’t quite learned to accommodate, but it’s not unpleasant exactly, just… new.
I don’t trust Vyse. Not even a little. But I need to know if he can actually help or if he’s just playing games.
“Fine,” I say with a nod. “Show him.”
Vyse’s smile widens. “Wonderful. Lead the way.”
The room where Killian lies is exactly as I left it this morning. Stone table, sigils carved into every surface, the faint blue glow of the stasis field making his black fur shimmer like he’s underwater.
He’s still in wolf form. Still fighting something I can’t see or touch.
Vyse circles the table slowly, his head tilted at an angle that shouldn’t be comfortable. His eyes have gone distant andunfocused, like he’s seeing something the rest of us can’t. They glow slightly, but only in certain light.
“Impressive work,” he murmurs. “Multiple stasis fields, layered wards, energy dampeners... someone’s been thorough.”
More confirmation that Villeneuve is as much of a threat magically as he is in his dragon form. Thankfully we have him on our side.
For now.
“Can you help him or not?” Micah’s voice is tight with impatience.
Vyse ignores him. He extends one hand toward Killian, fingers spread, and makes a strange plucking motion in the air. Like he’s tugging at invisible strings.
“The pack bonds are strong,” he observes. “Four distinct connections, all feeding energy into the same central point.” His fingers move again, and his expression sharpens as his gaze lands on me, like he’s tracing the path of those invisible strings. “Siphons really are something special.”
“Of course,” he continues, “one might say it’s a waste. A siphon being bonded to four creatures with no inherent magic of their own.”
“You’rea waste,” Micah mutters, not quite under his breath.
Rowan elbows him, but I can tell he agrees.
Vyse ignores them, his long, elegant fingers plucking at something else in the air.
And then he stops.
His hand hovers in the air, fingers wrapped around something I can’t see. His eyes track the invisible thread from where it connects from me to?—
Villeneuve.
Vyse’s smile goes sharp. He fucking knows.
“Oh,” he says softly. “What’s this?”
The tension in the room ratchets up a notch. I feel the wolves’ confusion through the bond, their attention shifting between Vyse and Villeneuve, as if trying to understand what just happened.
Vyse’s eyes meet mine. The question is clear. Do they know?
I give the tiniest shake of my head, silently begging him not to be the one who outs that secret. Not here, not right now.
His smile widens. “Interesting,” he says, and lets the invisible thread drop. “Very interesting.”
“The bite,” Villeneuve says. His voice is steady, but I can hear the warning underneath it. “Can you help with it or not?”
Vyse moves on as if nothing happened. He circles back to Killian’s shoulder, where the wound is still visible beneath the stasis field. Dark and angry, even frozen in time.
“This is not a normal werewolf bite,” he says finally. “If there can be such a thing. You’re right, it has necromantic energy attached to it.”
