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I entered the bedchamber I’d shared on a few occasions with Ensley and scanned so as not to be caught off guard. Nothing was amiss. Following the dark corridor to the stairs, I descended on silent feet, hearing sharply attuned to any noise outside the ordinary. I scented the air and scanned the ground for traps.
The parlor and kitchen remained untouched, so far as I could tell. The broken door to the cellar hung ajar. I descended, convinced the hunters Valerius had hired were amateurs. If that was the case, extracting Iulian might be easier than I feared.
Unintelligent, maybe, but they’d known enough to compromise my soil.
I felt it before I approached the wooden crate. A hum under my skin. A poisonous itch that slithered through my veins. The same sensation that had accosted me at the front door. From several feet away, I peered into the crate, expecting it to be filled with the Eucharist, but it appeared visibly untouched.
I knew better. The repulsion told me so.
If I had to guess, they had doused my soil with holy water, rendering it useless. Simple wafers could have been removed. It would have meant employing Ensley’s aid, but they didn’t want to take that chance, likely suspecting he was working with me.
Disappointed and frustrated, burning with the need to rejuvenate or feed, I left the mansion the way I’d come. Taking to the air, I headed for my next destination.
On the eyot, I spent an hour observing three men on guard by the trapdoor that led underground. More garlic blossoms littered its surface. The trip wire I had missed on my first excursion was fixed, a fine, barely visible fishing wire that stood out with my enhanced vision. I would not trigger it twice.
Perched in a tall evergreen, in an inconspicuous form, I considered my options and how long I had until the next group of hunters arrived. Dense trees surrounded the clearing. When I tried to raise a wind to push the pungent scent of garlic in a different direction, I did not succeed. I had no hope of blowing the blossoms from the trapdoor’s surface.
Although spread across the entrance, the foliage did not cover it completely. Enough gaps existed around its edge that I could slip between one and enter. It would require transforming into mist or shadow, an event that a skilled hunter would be trained to anticipate and watch for.
On the other hand, skilled hunters would know that sparsely scattered garlic blossoms were not enough of a deterrent. I did not sense the discomfort of a holy seal. They likely thought it would be too much work to fill the cracks each and every time they had to enter or leave.
What I needed was a distraction, something inconspicuous enough it wouldn’t alert the hunters to my presence. Something that would keep them busy for long enough I could slink below and see what I was up against.
An owl hooted from a distant tree, giving me an idea. I relocated to the ground a distance from the trip wire barrier and reassumed human form. Pressing my hand to a tree, I reached for the same sub-audible frequency as I’d done at the mansion over a week ago and sent out a series of vibrations.
Surrounded by forest, their preferred habitat, the response was immediate. I heard them coming from a mile away. A gentle murmur at first before it accumulated and grew louder. Their beating wings were a sonic pulse radiating through my skin and singing in my bones. The disturbance grew as did their numbers, and I witnessed the moment the first hunter registered an approaching commotion.
“What is that?” Frowning, he craned his neck and peered into the treetops. “Do you hear it?”
His companions didn’t have to answer. Frantic chirps and caws breeched the island, a layered wall of sound advancing like a tidal wave. The deep, resonant rumble grew in intensity as they approached. The atmosphere vibrated. The few remaining leaves in the trees shivered as a sudden, sharp burst of wind disturbed the air.
Then, they burst from the dark sky and descended on the clearing, a murder unlike any Owen Sound had ever seen.
Dozens of crows, fifty, sixty, a hundred or more. Screeching and blustering, dipping and diving.
One of the hunters shouted in alarm as the flock circled his head, close enough that a wing smacked him in the face. Another shouted as a sharp talon tore his clothes. The men lifted their arms, protecting their faces, swatting at the assault.
It was exactly what I hoped for.
Chaos.
The panic of countless birds disturbed the play of moonlight on the ground, making it possible for me to slip through unnoticed.
I liquified, turning into shadow form and slithered under the trip wire and to the entrance of the underground cell where my uncle was being held. Although intensely uncomfortable that close to garlic blossoms, I found an unprotected edge and melted through the crack until I was inside.
The birds would give me a short reprieve. The subterranean chamber was all but soundproof—to humans anyhow. Their companions would be none the wiser.
I found myself ten to twelve feet underground in a narrow cavern with walls of cracked and dripping bedrock. The air was thick and suffocating, tinged with a harsh chemical scent I couldn’t identify, and another I could. More garlic. It burned my skin and eyes, but it wasn’t strong enough for a retreat. Not yet.
The passage sloped at a gentle downgrade, and although the initial tunnel was swamped in darkness, a blazing light emanated from a short bend up ahead.
It would knock me from my shadowed form in an instant, so I reverted to human. The ceiling was low. The walls were close. I proceeded cautiously, ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble. Senses alert, I was prepared to absorb as much information as possible.
Voices rose from somewhere in the distance, their tone light and bantering. Three men, relaxed after an uneventful night, not nearly as alert as they should have been. They relied too much on poor layers of protection, not realizing I was already in their domain.
I followed the descending tunnel to the slight bend, stopping midway and gagging on the overpowering scent of garlic permeating the air. It was steadily growing worse. It originated from whatever room lay ahead. Not a good sign.
Fighting through the inborn urge to retreat, I continued, remaining in shadow as I peered around the corner to see what was beyond. It took a full minute to absorb what I saw.
