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Gemma and Lyle stayed on the path another ten minutes before the narrow trail began to open up again. This part was obviously more well-traveled, boot prints and animal tracks crisscrossing in the damp earth.
And then, a tuft of red-tinged white fur.
Gemma’s steps slowed, her eyes on the fur. Was that blood? Her heart hammered in her chest. Was some poor creature attacked right here?
Could they be next?
“What’s wrong?” Lyle said, stopping next to her and looking from her face to the fur on the path. “Oh.”
He took a step closer and knelt next to it, touching the edge where the fur still shone bright white. Then, he examined the dirt around the tuft.
“Well? Do you know what it is? Or what happened?” Gemma said.
I am a mighty siren, she comforted herself. I can handle whatever is out here.
“Probably a rabbit,” Lyle said, rising to his feet and adjusting his backpack. “It’s hard to say what got it, but rabbits have a lot of predators. Could have been a fox. Maybe a wolf.”
“Wolf like werewolf, or wolf like wolf?”
Lyle shrugged. “Either.”
Gemma nodded. Just a rabbit. The natural order of life, right?
“We should keep going,” she finally said.
Lyle nodded, and they set off past the rabbit fur, but Gemma couldn’t quite shake the chill that had descended with the appearance of the murder scene. Could it be a hint at Wilhelmina’s state? Or was it just chance?
The sun played hide-and-seek for the next segment of the walk, ducking in and out of the clouds so that the landscape constantly shifted from the golden of dusk to a cold gray. It reflected Gemma’s own confidence perfectly—torn between surety that she could handle anything out here and fear of whatever it was she didn’t know.
Especially after all the comments about unsavory strangers in the woods. Gemma could really use a distraction.
She cleared her throat, eyes on the path ahead of them. “So, you’re in high school? Or college?”
Lyle glanced at her, tightening his hand on his backpack’s strap. “College.”
“Do you like it?”
He shrugged. Well, this was a helpful conversation. Her fault for asking yes or no questions. Time to try a different approach.
“What are your favorite subjects?” she said. “When I was in school, I loved art and history.” She laughed. “Neither of those fits well with the bakery, except maybe art a little.”
She got a half smile for that one. “I like English,” he said. “Literature and poetry, really.”
“Oh yeah? Do you write?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and she slowed her steps, watching him. He looked a little uncomfortable, his cheeks flushed the lightest pink.
Finally, when she’d about given up hope he’d respond, he said, “I really like writing poetry. I dunno if I’m any good at it, but... It’s like, when I write, I have a form I can give to my thoughts. Like I can make myself heard without just blurting everything out. Like art, I guess.”
Gemma resumed her pace. “Yeah, I’d agree with that.” She paused, turning his explanation over in her head. She’d never really thought of it like that before, but it felt like it fit her own work, too. “I think that’s how I feel about baking. It’s not as concrete an objective as poetry, and I know it’s nothing like baking emotions into food like they do at Pie-Jinks, but baking gives me a voice, I guess. Something I never really had at home.”
They exchanged a look, understanding passing over his face. “I get that. I have five brothers and sisters. It’s easy to get lost in the crowd. Even if I am technically an adult now.”
Gemma smiled. “I only have one sister, but she’s loud enough to be five. She causes all kinds of problems. Last we talked, she was on her way back home, dragged along by her tailfin. Our father was not amused by her antics, and it might actually land her in jail this time.”
Lyle blinked, eyes wide as he took her in, as if he were seeing her in a new light. “Jeez. None of my siblings have that problem. Yet.”
They both laughed at that. The air around them thawed as they relaxed into each other’s company. Maybe they were kindred spirits of sorts, destined to meet on this path, to share their stories with each other. It made the path a little less lonely.
And then a wolf’s howl pierced the silence of the forest.
Gemma froze, her blood turning to ice in her veins. “What was that? Wolf or Lycan?” she said as quietly as she could.
Lyle pressed his lips together, listening to the lonesome sound. “It’s hard to say, but it sounds Lycan.”
The howl cut off abruptly, and the forest fell into a dead quiet. Not even a bird or insect broke the stillness. Gemma peered into the space between the trees, searching for movement, for a glimmer of anything threatening, even though the sound had been far enough away that it was unlikely they’d see anything. Her heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears the only thing she could hear.
No other sound, no movement.
Eventually, the birds took up their singing again, and the sun poked back out, its light much dimmer than when she’d set out. It would be gone soon. A shiver raced down her spine. She didn’t want to be here after darkness fell, but it was looking more and more like that’s what would happen.
Lyle let out a long breath. “Should we keep going? I don’t really want to be out here.”
Gemma nodded, afraid to say what she really thought. That something had attacked that wolf.
That whatever it was would be coming for them next.
***
GEMMA CHECKED HER GPS on the phone. The little mermaid icon smiled at her from the screen, showing her that they were not far from the old Lycan’s house now. At their current pace—even with stopping every so often to investigate sounds and scenes of animal murder—they should be there within the next fifteen minutes. Sundown was only twenty minutes away.
Yup, Gemma was definitely going to be walking home in at least dusk, probably dark.
She sighed and tucked the phone back into her jeans pocket, then readjusted the red cloak. Nothing had come after them, and they hadn’t seen more than a squirrel. Yes, the woods were creepy. But she wasn’t alone and there was no reason for her to be so freaked out.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
They continued another five minutes in quiet conversation, trying to distract themselves from the approach of night and their own fears of the forest. Lyle told her more about his poems, and Gemma told him about the fine art of baking cinnamon rolls. She even offered him one from the basket, which he heartily accepted, fawning over the rich, warm spices and sticky sweetness of the icing. Gemma couldn’t help but smile as her food brought joy to yet another person.
Something crashed through the underbrush to their right, snatching them out of the shared joy of food. Then, there was a yelp. Whatever it was, it was maybe a quarter mile out, no more. Much closer than the wolf’s howl had been.
Gemma’s heart was in her throat, and she squinted ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the cottage through the trees. She thought she could almost make it out.
“How do you feel about running for it?” she said, voice shaking.
Lyle’s face was pale. “Pretty good. I feel pretty good about that.”
Without another word, they took off along the path, matching pace with each other while trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and where they had been standing.
Something whizzed past Gemma’s ear, and she instinctively ducked. Her foot caught on a rock jutting from the path, and she tumbled, the cloak billowing around her like the dust from the trail. As she tumbled to a stop, she searched for the source of the sound—only to find it inches from where she’d been: an arrow quivering in a tree trunk, its point gleaming silver in the evening light.
An arrow? Seriously?
Blood pulsed in her ears, almost drowning out her ability to hear the forest around them. She followed the path of the arrow back the way it had come, resting on a figure half hidden in the shadows. Instinctively, she raised her hand to her ear to contact Forrest, but the earpiece was gone.
Right. She’d dropped it when she ran from Lyle.
She pulled herself to her feet, instinctively stepping in front of Lyle. “Who are you?” she called, raising her voice to carry over the distance between them.
The figure didn’t respond. It was like running into Lyle all over again. Except this time, she could clearly see them raise their bow for a second shot, the silver tip of the arrow pointed directly at her. Was this person after her? Or Lyle?
Before she had time to think or dodge or do anything, the arrow released from the bow with a whoosh they could hear even at this distance. Gemma ducked, pulling Lyle down with her as she turned her back toward the approaching arrow. It hit her back with a hard thunk, but then merely bounced harmlessly to the ground.
Rianne wasn’t kidding about the protective qualities of this cloak. Gemma had hoped it wouldn’t be put to the test, though.
Gemma straightened and turned back to their attacker. The figure held the bow halfway up, as if confused that the arrow hadn’t found purchase, confused that Gemma was still on her feet.
“Why are you doing this?” she tried again. Her magic vibrated on the edge of her throat, ready to spring forth at the barest hint of a command.
“Out of the way!” the figure growled in a voice that almost sounded wolfish. But no air of Lycan magic emanated from him like it did from Lyle. “You’re messing with my shot!”
Lyle. He was after Lyle.
Gemma’s heart thrummed. Lyle was practically a kid. Why would someone want to kill him?
Wait. The arrows seemed to be tipped in silver. Was this person a... werewolf hunter? Her stomach dropped. If this was a werewolf hunter, could he have something to do with Wilhelmina’s silence?
Gemma dropped her voice so only Lyle could hear, though she kept her eyes on the hunter. “Do you trust me?”
She heard him swallow behind her. “You stopped an arrow for me.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. We’re going to walk to the cabin. Stay behind my cloak at all times. It will keep us safe. But if he comes at us, I may need to use my voice. It will affect you too. I don’t want you to be alarmed if it happens, but I promise I won’t misuse it.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. Then, he said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
