The stars were bright in the sky above the farmhouse. The moon was hidden behind a fat cloud, casting everything in shadow. Malik stood near the porch of the house. He put a finger to his lips as I approached, jerking his head toward the house.
I nodded in response. I was curious about this. About what he wanted. Why it had to be such a secret.
He began to walk away from the house toward an empty field.
I followed him.
I kept a few feet between us. I’d heard three separate, slow heartbeats from the house, so I knew his pack was sleeping and not lying in wait. I didn’t know this man, but I didn’t think he was stupid enough to try to start something. Not if he wanted to avoid bringing down the might of the Alpha of all on his pack.
In the distance, far from the house, a large structure rose at the opposite end of the field. It was an old silo, and he led me toward it.
He moved quickly and quietly, not quite jogging, but his legs were longer than mine, and I had to hurry to keep up.
The cloud moved away from the half moon. My skin thrummed. I jerked my head to the right, sure there was another wolf running beside me.
There wasn’t.
We were alone.
He stopped about three hundred yards from the silo in the middle of the field.
A breeze blew through the tall grass. It sounded as if the earth was whispering.
He asked, “Can I trust you?” again without looking at me.
What the fuck was going on? “Yes.”
“What I am about to show you will stay between us. Do I have your word, wolf?”
I hesitated, but it was brief. “Yes.”
“Your first instinct will be to shift. Don’t. Your second instinct will be to speak. Don’t. You’ll stay still. You’ll stay quiet until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Quiet as a mouse.
I thought I heard my mother laugh.
“As we get closer, you’ll feel magic. You’ll….” His shoulders slumped. “It’s there for a reason. No one can know. Not any of your wolves. Not your Alpha. Not even your witch.”
Magic? How the fuck was there magic? “I don’t know if I can—”
He whirled on me, eyes blazing. His hand was around my throat before I could take a step back. “You must,” he growled at me. “Many things depend on it. If you speak even a word of what you see, then all the death that follows will be stained upon your fangs and claws as if you were the one who dealt the killing blow.”
I didn’t struggle. I brought my hands up and circled his wrist. “Okay, I get it. Christ. Let me go.”
For a moment he didn’t. Instead his hand tightened around my neck. I flashed my eyes at him, a bright beacon in this dark field.
His own eyes faded back into darkness.
He let go and stepped back.
“Why is there magic? You don’t have a witch.”
“No,” he said. “We don’t.”
He turned and began to walk toward the silo.
I stared after him for a long moment. And then I did the only thing I could.
I followed.
We were close to the silo when I felt it.
The magic.
It bowled over me, and I staggered at the strength of it, taking in a great gasping breath. It rocked through me, and my head snapped up toward the sky, back arching as if I was electrified. There was something familiar about it, something just out of reach. It was bright and all-consuming and green, there was so much green, green like a forest alive and ancient.
But there was blue in it too, shot right through the middle, cutting the green cleanly in half. It was mourning and sorrow, deep and wild. A tear slid down my cheek as I gritted my teeth.
“Ah,” Malik said. “I see. So it is.”
The magic loosened its hold on me, and I took a lurching step forward, struggling to breathe as I hunched over. “What did you do to me?” I panted.
“Nothing you weren’t ready for. Not another word until I tell you. Stay there. I’ll let you know when you may enter.”
I wiped my face with the back of my arm, unsure why there was a goddamn lump in my throat, why I felt filled with so much grief that I could fucking taste it.
Malik was at a door at the base of the silo. He didn’t look back at me. He knocked once. Twice. Then three more in rapid succession.
He said, “Hello, little one. It is I. Malik. I am here. You are safe. I promise.”
It was only then that I heard it.
Another heartbeat.
It was quick, like the flutter of the wings of a bird. It felt small somehow, and as Malik opened the door, I was hit with the scent of another wolf.
A child.
But something was wrong. It didn’t feel like any other wolf I’d felt before. I didn’t know what it was, but it felt like something close to sickness, like a fog that reminded me of how humans smelled when they were slowly dying. It wasn’t quite there yet, but it was close.
Too close.
Malik disappeared into the silo, leaving the door open behind him. I heard him speaking in soft tones, saying “Hi” and “Hello” and “Were you sleeping? I’m so sorry to wake you, little one. But I promised I’d return. It’s just for tonight. Just to be safe.”
“I know,” a small voice said in response, and my chest hitched.
“I’ve brought a friend,” Malik said. “He is good. Not like the bad wolves. He’s important.”
“He won’t hurt me?”
“No. No one will ever hurt you again. I won’t let it happen.”
I waited.
Then, “Okay.”
I was startled out of a daze when Malik said, “Robbie. Come. Now.”
I didn’t want to.
I wanted to run in the opposite direction.
Find Ezra.
Get in the car and leave this place behind.
Forget we ever came here.
I took a step toward the open door as a dull light switched on somewhere inside.
It wasn’t too late.
Just turn around.
Turn around.
I reached the door.
Looked inside.
The silo was mostly empty. A battery-powered lantern sat on an old crate off to one side, barely casting enough light to illuminate the silo floor.
Malik stood in the middle of the silo. A dusty old tarp lay off to one side.
At his feet was a wooden hatch.
And from between the slats came thin fingers reaching up with tiny claws at the tips.
The silo creaked around us.
“What have you done?” I asked quietly.
“The only thing we could,” Malik said. “To keep him safe. There are things at play that you can’t possibly begin to understand. This is your first lesson about the great wide world outside the walls of your compound.”
He bent over and lifted the wooden hatch. The hinges were rusty, and they screeched as it opened.
At first there was nothing.
I didn’t move.
“I can smell him,” the child said from the hole in the floor. “I can smell him.”
“Good. What do you smell?”
There was a hissing growl in response. “It’s dirty. Unclean.”
“Look underneath. Find it.”
“I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t—”
I took a step back.
A boy burst from the darkness. He moved almost quicker than I could follow. He was thin but clean, and half-shifted, hair sprouting along his brow as his face elongated in a furious snarl. He landed against the side of the silo, the claws from his hands and feet piercing the metal, holding him in place. He turned his head toward me and roared.