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My pulse quickened as I glanced from the burned parchment to the journal we’d already uncovered. In a criminal trial, it was possible it would be enough to convict someone. But Chief Gorem? Would he be able to explain why he was using the same code name as the letter we found in Elvira’s grimoire? Would he also be able to explain why he’d hidden away Hans’s notes on portal construction?

There were still too many holes. Why was he working with Elvira in the first place? And why was he trying to disassemble the portal at all?

A loud voice rang out, and I stiffened, my head whipping up toward the sound. It was very close—likely inside the manor with us.

Either the guard I’d attacked had woken up, or the other sentries noticed one of their own was missing.

We were out of time.

Forty-One

THE WITCH

Alaric grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the window. He wrenched it open, then flattened himself against the wall when a guard’s voice sounded from the other side.

“Someone broke in!”

Dread pooled in my gut as I exchanged an alarmed look with him.

“What do we do?” I asked through our bond.

“Let me provide the distraction this time,” he said.

I was about to protest, but he crouched down, hands pressed to the floor and his eyes closing. The ground rumbled as shadows spilled from his body, coiling in the air and slithering through the window like serpents.

Shouts rang out, and my blood ran cold. Through the glass, I could make out dozens of shadowy forms sprinting across the grass.

Wolves. Alaric had just created wolves made of shadow. My jaw dropped, and I felt the blood drain from my face as I watched one of the wolves leap onto a guard, bringing him crashing to the ground.

At the look of horror on my face, Alaric said, “The wolves won’t hurt them. Only chase them.”

Storms. Was this what his magic looked like? It was utterly terrifying. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to still my racing heart.

Alaric rose to his feet and gestured to the open window. I started to climb through, and his hands came around my waist to assist me. When my feet landed on the grass outside, I turned to help him. But he went rigid, brows creasing as he let out a strained grunt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, panicked.

“It’s just… a bit draining. I’m fine.”

He climbed out the window, and we sprinted for the forest. When we reached the cover of the trees, I glanced over my shoulder, my stomach churning at the sight of Alaric’s wispy wolves tackling the guards.

“Cerise, are you all right?” Alaric breathed, jolting me from my haunting thoughts.

“Call them off,” I whispered. “Please.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. He closed his eyes, kneeling to the ground and pressing his fingers into the soil. I turned and stared through the trees as the shadow wolves sank into the earth. One of the guards was on the ground whimpering, clutching his injured arm.

I suppressed a shudder. I didn’t want to be afraid of Alaric’s magic. But there was something unholy and frightening about it.

“We should shift,” Alaric said. “It will be faster.”

Before I could react, he transformed, and Tavik’s huge furry black form appeared.

I smiled and affectionately scratched behind his ear before sliding out of my robe. I tucked the scrap of parchment inside the book of Hans’s notes, then wrapped my robe around the book and tied the strings tightly. “Sasha, are you ready?”

“Yes,” came her reply.

I closed my eyes as I let the transition sweep over me. My body shifted and stretched, my awareness shrinking to that tiny window of sight. I distantly registered Tavik scooping up the black robe bundle between his teeth.