NEITHER MERCY OR LEYDA said a word as they walked deeper into the woods and away from town. Mercy let Leyda lead, but she couldn’t help the nervousness she felt at walking through the forest. The last time she was here she was nearly food for the werewolves, and before that she had been chased by Carter and nearly killed. Now it was daytime, with birds chirping, and beautiful beams of sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees. The summer crickets were gone, and the forest floor was littered with piles of leaves. A wind raked through the forest, not quite cold yet, but still, Mercy shivered.
The world had moved on. That was the painful truth of it. The world didn’t stop turning, the seasons continued to plow forward, and the trauma of that day had been swept beneath the leaves. Mercy took a deep breath of the breeze, let it fill her lungs, and then let it out. She had to move on too. She couldn’t live forever in the past. Dad was dead. Nothing would change that. Mitchell too, and Carter would likely never have his mind again. The woods of Kanta were safe despite her urge to run back to town.
Only once Kanta was no longer visible behind them and the forest had swallowed them whole did Leyda finally speak. “You handled that officer well,” she said. “I expected you to need more help. I thought you might bring him outside to talk.”
Mercy wasn’t sure why she bristled under Leyda’s words. Perhaps it was being back in the woods, or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was still being underestimated. “I’m not as sheltered as everyone assumes I am. I can handle my own when I’m given the chance.”
“Hmm.” Leyda glanced back, her eyes crinkling in a smile. “How old are you again?”
“Thirteen,” Mercy answered.
Leyda scoffed and shook her head. “Old enough to know better but not old enough to listen.”
Mercy glared at her. “There’s no need to be rude. You were thirteen before too, weren’t you?”
Leyda went silent. Not that it was a surprise. Anytime Mercy tried to bring up something about her background, Leyda clamped quiet. If it wasn’t talking about tearing off Thomas’s arms, then she didn’t like to talk about it.
“You know,” Mercy said, feeling aggravation creep into her voice. “If you had told me we would be signing up to be licensed werewolf hunters, I would have jumped at the opportunity. I always wanted to be a werewolf hunter when I was little. My father was grooming me to join his work.”
Leyda stopped and leaned against a tree, shaking her robe to cool off her body. “Such arrogance. You would be hunting my kind. People who don’t deserve to be hunted and killed. Surely you’re not so naïve to still be excited by such a cruel concept?”
Mercy pursed her lips. When she thought of werewolves, she thought of the creature she had faced in the woods, or the vicious beasts tethered to the grinders in the mill. Even though she had encountered many who were relatively docile, it was easy to forget that they were still people and not monsters or animals. They were either dosed with Liquid Lead and relatively docile, or they were out to kill her. It was hard to conceive of anything besides that, but Leyda was right. They were human despite what had become of them. Without intending it, her old prejudices still emerged from years of living under Dad’s roof and his rules. She once considered him an expert werewolf hunter. She wondered if she would ever shake the indoctrination of growing up as a hunter.
She looked around at the trees as they moved deeper into the forest. They weren’t randomly walking, they were following a vague path, one that looked like it had been taken before. The further they walked, the more clear the path became.
“Where are we going?” Mercy asked.
“To see some old friends of mine,” Leyda said, pulling her mask down to drink from a waterskin.
“They’re werewolves, aren’t they?”
Leyda frowned at her as she closed her waterskin. “Why yes, Mercy, they are. How astute of you.”
Mercy looked up at the sun almost directly above them. “If I had known that, I would have brought more weapons.”
Leyda’s eyes went wide as she spun around, far too fast for human reflexes, and aimed a gloved finger at her. “If you dare draw a gun on my friends during the light of day, I will tear your throat out myself!”
Mercy froze. Part of her knew she deserved the threat. She was wrong to say that, to even think it. The other part of her still quaked under Leyda’s fury just as she had when they first met.
Leyda wiped at her jaw. “I thought you had potential, but you get excited at signing a werewolf hunting license. You talk of wanting to kill my friends! I should have left you scrubbing the walls at the mill rather than trust you with such a delicate mission.”
Mercy threw her hands up. “Look, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that, you’re right. But you talk down to me all the time! I’m here trying to learn, trying to do better, and always trying to prove myself to you. I was groomed by a werewolf hunter, and what I was taught was wrong. It’s going to take me some time to get used to all this.”
“Your anger is worse than your father’s.” Leyda snarled.
Mercy winced. “I’m sorry, but you keep pushing me. You keep me in the dark all the time. I can’t just blindly follow you into everything. I need you to talk to me.” She pointed back to the path they had taken. “You needed my help back there at the jailhouse. Fortunately I fooled them and there wasn’t a problem, but if you don’t tell me anything, how am I supposed to help? What if it doesn’t go so well next time?”
Leyda snorted and shook her head. “You think too much of yourself. I could have handled the pompous fool without your aid.”
“Jacob? Yeah sure, but you would have passed out in that building, and then what?”
Leyda snarled, curling her fingers at her sides. “You aggravate me, child.”
“And you terrify me.” Mercy’s voice rang out amid the trees. Leyda blinked, as though taken aback. Mercy took a moment to catch her breath and keep herself from unloading on Leyda. It was too easy to say the wrong words. Finally she continued, “If I do something good, you rarely thank me. If I do something bad, you threaten to kill me. How do you honestly expect me to learn anything from you?”
Leyda took a step back, avoiding Mercy’s gaze. They were both in the wrong, but Mercy felt she had at least apologized. She doubted Leyda would give her anything close to an apology. All she could hope for was a respite from constantly being insulted, berated, or threatened.
“You have to trust me and I have to trust you if this is going to work. It has to come from both sides. Otherwise we might not make it to your friends today.”
Leyda didn’t respond. Instead she glowered, as if her gaze alone could cause Mercy to spontaneously combust. It was going to take more than words for Leyda to give her another chance.
“You don’t trust me still, I understand. If you want, I can leave my gun here.” Mercy unsnapped her holster and pulled out the pistol.
Leyda shook her head in absolute confusion.
“Or I can give it to you if you want. If that would help.” Mercy held the gun out with both hands and waited for a response. Leyda couldn’t be silent on this. She had to choose something. She had to put some trust in Mercy or take it away entirely. She couldn’t just resort to anger and threats. She had to prove she was going to try. If she took away the gun, then there was no point in either of them trying to work together any more. Mercy might as well return to the mill and go clean out cages. But if she let her keep the gun, then maybe they did have a chance. It was a big risk.
Leyda watched her for a long moment before reaching out and pushing the offered gun away.
“Keep it, just in case. You are a sheep traveling into a den of wolves. I should keep your fear in mind and maybe cut back on my threats to you. However despite what you say, you are quite sheltered and speak out of turn. You need proper lessons in manners, not the vile teachings of a bloodthirsty werewolf hunter.”
Mercy holstered the gun. “Maybe you can teach me that too?”
Leyda barked a laugh. “I don’t think so, child. Some battles are not worth fighting.”
Mercy nodded, trying not to laugh. “Thank you for giving me another chance. I’ll try not to disappoint you again.”
Giving a deep sigh Leyda turned back to the path. “You should care less about disappointing people and more about what is right. Otherwise you’ll be doomed to repeat mistakes.”
THE PATH that was once clear dwindled the deeper they went into the forest. Moving slowly, they picked their way through thick underbrush and tall weeds. The path wasn’t as well maintained or perhaps as well traveled this far away, which seemed strange. Leyda leaped over a decaying log with hardly any effort, but Mercy had to climb over it instead. Leyda had to give her a hand as she got back down to the ground.
“Thank you,” Mercy whispered.
Leyda silently nodded before pulling out her waterskin again. “Thomas had another breakthrough after Carter’s transformation. Surely you noticed.”
“He told me it didn’t work as he planned. He said he was back to square one, and that his mixture only made Carter feel more pain during the transformation.” Mercy pulled out her own waterskin and pulled down the wrappings around her mouth to drink. She was careful not to talk of Thomas’s offer, of the possibility that he would let her assist with his work. Considering their earlier argument, Mercy thought that would be unwise.
Leyda studied her with an intense gaze. “He told you that?”
Mercy gave a short nod, trying not to show her shock at Leyda’s response. Had Thomas told her more than Leyda expected? She put away her waterskin and waited for a response.
Finally Leyda gave a short nod. “Regardless of whether it was successful or not, it was a breakthrough. That was one failed direction, but it means another will open up. We are one step closer to a cure, a real cure, not this pathetic half-life I have.” She balled her fists at her side before closing her eyes, taking a breath, and unfurling her hands. “He only needs one more volunteer in order to find a final solution.”
Mercy continued forward, forcing Leyda to walk beside her side. “Do you really think he’s that close, or do you think he’s leading you on?”
Leyda grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Mercy gave a cry more out of surprise than pain, and suddenly she was staring into Leyda’s dark eyes.
“Don’t you dare bring that talk to me, child. His work is all that I have left. I won’t let you waltz in and take that glimmer of chance away from me. He is close. He told me as much.”
Mercy gaped at her, trying to pull her arm away, but Leyda wouldn’t let go. “I’m sorry, please. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Again she had said the wrong words, and again she had angered Leyda.
“No, of course you didn’t, werewolf hunter.” She snarled then released Mercy’s arm and took a step back, never withdrawing her gaze.
Rubbing at her arm, Mercy kept her mouth shut. Despite her attempt to force Leyda’s trust earlier, it clearly hadn’t worked. Everything Mercy said was wrong and instead of building a relationship or even starting a conversation with the woman, she seemed to only make things worse. Perhaps it was better to watch instead of speak for awhile. Otherwise Leyda might desert her in the woods with no way of finding a path back home. Come nightfall, she would be as good as dead.
She thought back her encounter with Thomas that morning. She hadn’t missed the exhaustion in his eyes. He hadn’t had a breakthrough like Leyda hoped. He had been beaten down. The new test subject would likely not be the last, and yet Leyda clung to every scrap of hope she could, desperate for relief from her cursed existence. Was Thomas actively lying to her, or did Leyda know and just not care? The more Mercy got to know these two, the more confusing they became.
They traveled in silence until the dense trees began to open up. In the distance sunlight beamed through a canopy and once again a clear path was visible. There were odd signs of life of more than just animals. An old jacket littered with holes was barely visible in the tall grass except for a single sleeve that stood up, flapping in the wind. Farther in, a broken whiskey bottle buried in the dirt, its neck stuck out and its label no longer legible. She realized the clearing ahead was larger than she expected.
Was this the destination Leyda had mentioned? Deep in the woods, farther than most hunters would dare to tread, it seemed the perfect place for werewolves to make their home.
The noonday sun shone through the trees and the wind picked up. Mercy tried to brace herself. She had never met werewolves in the wild during the day. Would they be living as animals? Or like humans?
She had no idea what to expect.
AS THE PATH TURNED to a soft moss, Mercy couldn’t suppress a gasp. Of all the things she had expected, she never thought there would be so much blood.
Great red blotches spilled in puddles on the forest floor. Bloody handprints clung to the trunks of trees and trails of blood extended out in all directions from their small path. It couldn’t have possibly been done by one werewolf, but many. Clouds of flies clung to the areas like an oasis. The blood smelled old, as though it had sat there for days under the bright sun. Mercy put the back of her hand to her nose to help block out the scent.
No wonder they had to make camp so far away from Kanta. Any dog would smell it if they lived any closer. What a horrible way to live. It had to be done from the prey the group dragged back to the campsite every night. That was the only reason she could think of.
“Are these—is all this blood from their victims?”
Leyda shook her head. “No, not their victims, child. The transformation to and from a wolfish form every night is not a clean, pretty sight. It is messy and grotesque. This is the blood of those who live here, the blood of the werewolves, the blood of your fellow Kantans. The hunters back in Kanta think the beast itself is the monster, but we know better. The monster is in the disease. Thomas understands that now. Hopefully you will too.”
She glanced at Leyda in confusion at that last remark, but before she could ask what she meant, gun shots rang through the air. Mercy jumped and cried out, resisting the instinct to flee back into the woods. Leyda dropped to the ground and Mercy followed her example, shaking from head to toe.
Another shot rang off, closer this time. Mercy jumped again and put her head down into a clean patch of fresh-smelling moss as she covered her head. Her heart pounded in her chest. This couldn’t be normal. Had something happened to them? Was something wrong? Mercy swallowed down the panic, half expecting Mitchell to come running toward her or to hear Carter calling for her deep in the woods, but that wasn’t possible any longer. They were gone. She had to stay focused, stay present, and not be caught up in her terror from the past.
“Stop wasting ammunition, you idiots!” Leyda cried. “It’s Leyda! I brought a friend, but this is a terrible way to greet her!”
The silence stretched for far too long and Mercy consciously tried to slow her breathing to listen and to learn.
“She smells like a human!” A man called back and Mercy clenched her teeth. She thought of Leyda’s words earlier: a sheep entering a wolf’s den. She thought Leyda was merely being melodramatic earlier, but now she knew better.
“That’s because she is a human!” Leyda got to her feet, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Now quit firing at us, or I’ll snap that rifle in two.”
“We’re taking precautions.” The man grunted in annoyance. “Too many wander out this way these days. Too many people looking for fresh hunting grounds.”
Leyda gestured for Mercy to get to her feet. It took a few moments for her to be able to. Her legs wobbled beneath her and her disguise felt unbearably warm. The breeze helped her steady herself. She followed Leyda and they approached several men armed with rifles. They looked like they had barely survived a wild animal attack. A large man with pale skin and red hair gave them a nod. Both of his arms were covered in black and blue bruises. He put the hilt of the gun on the ground with practiced ease. Leyda went up to him and pulled him into a hug.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said.
“Henry, you look terrible.”
Henry shrugged, giving a half smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s been rough.”
She turned to the other guard and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Andrei!”
This guard was younger and didn’t look much older than Mercy. He had dark brown skin and a bandage wrapped over his left eye.
“What in the world happened?”
Andrei shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up without it one morning. It doesn’t hurt anymore though. I think it might be growing back, so that’s good, right?”
Leyda put a hand on his shoulder and spoke to them as though they were her brothers. Both of them looked terrible. They were clearly malnourished, exhausted, and sported bruises and injuries more numerous than Mercy ever expected. Leyda told her that the disease was the true enemy in Kanta. She hadn’t fully understood what that meant. Until now.
Father had taught her that werewolves were always vicious, regardless of whether it was day or night. He said the only way they could be gotten rid of was to kill them. At the time, Mercy had believed and agreed with everything he said. It was hard to shrug off the teachings she had once believed completely, but she couldn’t deny the facts before her.
The ridiculous amounts of spilled blood on the outskirts of their encampment, the physical abuse she could clearly see on their bodies, and Leyda’s insistence that Thomas was her only chance to ever be free of lycanthropy. Regardless of whether Thomas was able to help them or not, Mercy had to admit that the plight these people faced was horrid. Father used to say werewolves were disgusting creatures and they would instantly turn on their friend or family at any moment. To him that proved they were vicious and cruel beasts, nothing more, but Mercy felt a growing remorse for them like she had felt when she first spotted the grinder at the mill and saw the werewolves who were chained to it.
What she had always been taught to believe was simply not true.
Leyda asked, “How is Rose? Is she still with you? Is she safe?”
Henry put a hand on Leyda’s shoulder. “She’s fine. Don’t worry so much.”
Andrei looked to Mercy with a curious gaze. “And who is this one?”
Leyda turned as though suddenly remembering Mercy was standing there. Her demeanor changed instantly. “This is Mercy. We rescued her. She’s staying with us at the mill now, helping out.”
Andrei put a hand out and Mercy shook it. “Good to meet you,” she said, not attempting to hide her high-pitched voice.
He grinned. “You too. I’ve never seen a girl my age before. I didn’t think the traffickers allowed them to exist in Kanta for long.” He gave a warm grin that made a flush rise in her cheeks. She was grateful for the bandages hiding most of her face.
Before even thinking about whether it was a smart idea or not, she said, “I escaped a pair of trappers with Leyda’s help. She helped me and now I’m trying to help her.”
Mercy locked eyes with Leyda who looked shocked by her words.
Andrei crossed his arms, looking between the two of them. “She seems honest enough, but can we trust her, Leyda? We’ve never let humans past the boundary. Is it a good idea?”
“Then make an exception,” Leyda countered. “I’m vouching for her. I’ve already warned her that if she pulls a gun on any of you, I’ll rip her throat out. She seemed to take the hint.”
Mercy winced.
Henry laughed and shook his head. “What’s your name? If you survived coming all the way out here without Leyda killing you, then that’s a good enough reason for me to let you pass.”
“Mercy Pinkerton,” she said with a nod, but both Henry and Andrei exchanged a look.
“Wait a minute. Pinkerton?” Henry said, “As in Solomon Pinkerton? Are you related to him?”
Mercy considered lying but realized that did her no good here. They trusted her into their secret camp and she had to trust them not to judge her family too harshly.
“He was my father. Two werewolf hunters who were actually trying to sell me off gunned him down in the woods. They left me for dead until Leyda and Thomas rescued me.”
Henry gaped at her. “He was a ruthless man. I’m surprised they got him like that.”
“I grew up training to be a werewolf hunter,” she admitted, trembling from head to toe. “But I’m learning the truth. I’m learning what’s really been happening here in Kanta all these years and how naïve I was. I want to help. I want to stop all of this and find a way to end this disease. If you want to leave me out here, I can do that. But if you’ll trust me, I really would like to help if possible.”
Henry didn’t look convinced. Maybe he had known her father once, or maybe he had lost friends to her father’s work, but there was a hesitance in his gaze that wouldn’t leave. Mercy wondered how many others would also be wary of her name like this. She should have called herself the Wolf of Kanta again, that would have at least gotten some laughs.
“I didn’t bring her all the way here just to wait on the doorstep,” Leyda muttered. “If you want to change perceptions, you can’t lock everyone out. That only makes us look more like monsters.”
“I like her,” Andrei stated. “I say we let her in. What’s she going to do? She’s just a human.”
Henry huffed. “You don’t even know the Pinkertons. Her father brought in more of our kind to Thomas than any other hunter in Kanta. And you want to let her waltz in?”
“Sure, why not? She’s not her father, Henry. None of us are. Leyda knew the risks bringing her here, and she’s vouching for her. Quit being stuck in the past. Solomon is dead like she said—my apologies, by the way. If the traffickers are brazen enough to take him down, then they’re tearing our town apart.”
Mercy blinked at him. Even though they lived so far out in the woods, exiled and afflicted with a terribly destructive disease, they still considered Kanta to be their home. Even though they might never see it again. It was heartbreaking.
Henry sighed and dragged his fingers through his red hair. “I guess if Leyda is vouching for her, it’s fine. You two are way too pushy.”
Leyda glanced to him, “That’s because we don’t have all day. The sun won’t be in the sky forever and I need to get Mercy home before it’s dark.”
Henry’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Mercy. I didn’t even think about that. Of course, you two can come in. Just be mindful of the time. I don’t want you to get hurt. Leyda can take care of herself but you—er…”
“Thank you,” Mercy said with a smile. “Yes, I know the risks. I’ve been working around werewolves for weeks, believe it or not.”
Henry blinked at her.
“Come on,” Andrei said, leading the way. “Let me show you around. Oh, and it might be a good idea not to mention you’re a Pinkerton.” He lowered his voice, “Not everybody is as easily persuaded as Henry is.”
Mercy nodded.