Chapter Fifteen

My grandmother had always told me about the Weavers Code and about sacrifice.

She often said that Weavers dealt in persuasion—convincing the universe that your reality superseded all others.

When I'd asked about glamour, and the ability to make one thing look like another, grandmother had told me that glamours weren't reality. Glamours were beautiful fiction. Believable, until you scraped away the tarnish.

I'd often wondered why my grandmother wished I wasn't part wolf and why she hadn't rewritten reality to suit her needs.

Grandmother Eva had been deep in hiding from the Huntsman.

I had been her greatest liability, and yet she kept me. Taught me the best she could while hiding our magic. She hadn't been loving, but she had been fair.

I'd often wondered if I'd chosen Joel because I hadn't understood being seen . When a speck of attention came my way, I'd folded like a house of cards.

Was I still the same person, desperate for any crumb of love? I wondered.

I'd slept with Dean, taken comfort in him because I'd felt something I hadn't been able to deny. My attraction to Dean was a punch in the gut, demanding to be listened to. Dean might have been a behemoth of a man, but he had shown me he could also be gentle. An Alpha, a leader, and a protector.

Kaleb... I truly didn't understand.

Perhaps he had given in to my affection because he was bored. Maybe I'd pushed for his attention because I was desperate to be liked. Even loved. If I couldn't earn his respect, I could earn his body, even for a night.

Kaleb had stood between me and the Huntsman, but I felt the wall he put between us both. Kaleb was trying to distance himself, and I didn't really know why.

I hadn't slept much, too frightened that Donovan would follow me back to the kennels. I'd used the time to weave a bracelet from the leftover embroidery thread as a thank you to Dean.

My room didn't have a lock inside, so I'd placed the small bedside table in front of the door for security. I'd focused so much on the Huntsman that it hadn't crossed my mind that another wolf could be a threat to me.

Finally, in the early morning, I slept for what felt like a blink.

The sound woke me, echoing through my skull like I'd donned the liberty bell as a hat.

I'd hidden in my room, forgoing dinner, because I did not want to see Donovan, but as the sound grew louder and made my teeth twist, I knew I was being summoned.

My feet dragged as I made my way from the kennels, the bells chiming in my skull. The longer it went on, the more it hurt. There was no escaping the summons.

As I stepped onto the lawn and made my way to the staircase like I was five martinis deep, I spotted Dean, then Kaleb waiting at the bottom of the steps. Someone called my name, and I glanced over my shoulder, finding Mitchell with a shit-eating grin and his arms wide as if he planned on hugging me. Wyatt rolled his eyes at the other man's behavior. As we headed toward the castle, I realized we had all been summoned.

The Locket pack.

Did the Huntsman know I'd stolen the journal?

I hadn't even bothered to read it, too frightened that Donovan would come to my room or that the Huntsman would somehow know I'd taken the book.

The Locket pack had been with me for my first shift. The same wolves that had seen the Horned Lord and my failure to catch the stag.

As soon as my foot touched the staircase, the chiming stopped. Every muscle in my body relaxed, and I rubbed the skin between my brows to ease the pain that refused to go away as fast as the bell.

None of us spoke as we walked through the castle, though my eyes lingered on the red cloak displayed by the front doors.

Kaleb hung back until he walked in step with me. His shoulder brushed against mine, but he made no apologies; he pretended not to notice.

His presence helped my nerves as we made our way to the hall. The space was too large and empty with just the five of us.

Our footsteps echoed against the floor as we approached the platform. The Huntsman was nowhere to be seen.

Wyatt jammed his hands in his pockets and let out a low whistle. "So, anyone doing anything interesting after this?" He joked.

Mitchell snorted a laugh.

The door at the far end of the room opened, and the Huntsman emerged from the shadows. His steps were calm and measured as he made his way toward us.

"We have a Manticore. Some place named the ‘city of angels.' " The Huntsman adjusted the lapels of his velvet coat. "This hunt must be discreet. Too many humans and too high a risk."

The Locket pack exchanged glances.

I knew what they were thinking. Why had I been chosen? Each man around me was strong and undoubtedly had something to bring to the table—I'd been a wolf for less than a few days. I was a Weaver, but that didn't mean much without something to weave.

The Huntsman turned to me, and I froze under his regard. "I trust that you'll be able to track the Manticore." He sneered. "As you so readily found the Horned Lord."

The Huntsman lifted his hand, and with a flick, the wall behind the platform dissolved into mist.

"I—" I opened my mouth and closed it.

"No shifting?" Dean asked brusquely.

The Huntsman shook his head. "The manticore is in a densely populated area."

The Huntsman stared at us with an alien psychopathy as he waited for us to enter the misty portal.

Kaleb reached out, knitting his fingers with mine, and I was too frightened to pull my hand back.

"Only a few more days," Kaleb whispered, but his words did little to comfort me.

With his unblinking eyes, the Huntsman watched us as we disappeared through the portal back to the human world.

I'd never been to Los Angeles before, though, like every person living, I'd seen films.

I'd spent my life in Locket, TN, and never set foot outside the state.

The portal spat us out in a bricked alley beside a locked dumpster, surrounded by garbage bags and old newspapers. The smell of sun-baked rotten food filled the night air, making me vaguely sick.

I wasn't sure what I had expected. Maybe the Hollywood Sign in the distance, designer clothing stores ala Pretty Woman, but whatever delusions of grandeur died as I noted the puddle of human piss a few feet from my leather slippers.

"What's a manticore?" I asked. "Shouldn't we have weapons or something?"

Each man pulled a different knife from their pockets, from a switchblade to an ornate dagger. It seemed that I was the only one unarmed.

"A manticore is a rather large monster," Kaleb informed me. "It has the body of a lion and a scorpion tail."

"An almost humanoid face, though, to be sure." Dean shuddered.

"You've encountered one before?" Wyatt cocked his head to the side.

"Nasty things," Dean muttered, adjusting his shoulders as if preparing to be attacked.

"My training offer isn't looking so bad now, is it?" Mitchell snickered. "We have more than our share of monsters in Locket. That's why the Huntsman had stationed us by the Gate."

"Is there something special about the Locket Pack then?" I asked, eying each of the males. Dean, Kaleb, Mitchell, and even Wyatt.

"Bloodlines." Kaleb blurted out.

"Skills," Mitchell interjected. "We're the ones the Huntsman sends when things look dicey."

"Special forces," Dean grunted. "He sends us in when he wants a job done quick."

I chewed my bottom lip. "I can't fight," I admitted. "I don't even think I can run very far."

The Huntsman was officially insane, or he was trying to get me killed.

My vote was for both.

"Do we have a strategy?" I asked hopefully.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'll stick close to Mallory. Make sure nothing hurts her."

Kaleb hid a smile. "Mitchell will be on the offensive. Wyatt, you try to distract the durrach. You're the fastest."

"Watch out for the tail," Mitchell warned. "Scorpion venom ain't nothing to sneer at, and from what I understand, a manticore might be a helluva lot bigger than a regular scorpion."

I shuddered. "What about you, Kaleb?"

"I'll be with you upfront. Tracking." He said simply. "Two noses are better than one."

"Um..." I shifted from one foot to the other. "I don't think I can track with my nose. I don't even know what a manticore smells like."

Kaleb gave me a funny look. "How did you track the Horned Lord then?"

I rolled my tongue over my front teeth and answered, even though I didn't want to. "The sparklies."

"Sparklies?" Wyatt chuckled.

"Sparklies," Kaleb repeated dryly.

Dean growled. "Don't make fun of her. Let her explain herself."

"I think it was magic?" The statement came out like a question. "I kind of followed it? And found the stag."

Dean nodded, accepting my explanation, though the others looked skeptical.

"It must be a Weaver thing." I shrugged.

"We should walk around." Mitchell scratched the scar on his cheek. "Wait until Miss Mallory spots some sparkles."

"Sparklies." Wyatt corrected with a giggle.

"If you're all finished making fun of me, maybe we should start. I don't want to be trapped in LA all night with no money and a bunch of wolves that don't know how to cross a road without getting flattened." I crossed my arms over my chest.

Mitchell hooted. "She's got you there."

"Got who?" Wyatt shook his head.

Mitchell looked down the alley, his brow furrowed. "We're burning time. Come on."

Though I'd said the same thing, they all listened to Mitchell instead of me.

The buildings were too tall, and the streetlights too bright. Even though the sun had set, there wasn't a star in the sky. There were too many people on the street. In Locket, the roads were quiet once the sun set, except when the bars closed and people poured home.

I wasn't expecting how dangerous it felt; even walking down the street surrounded by four men, every long look from a passer-by made me feel oddly exposed.

I stopped walking, staring at the golden dragons held up by scaffolding perched across the street. I'd never seen anything like it. There was a single Chinese restaurant in Locket, but Joel had always refused to go in, citing something called MSG.

A red smear blurred at the edge of my vision. I rubbed the corner of my eye, wondering if the bright street lights were getting to me. The trail of red lights danced down a side street. The sparkly color bunny hopped, hanging in the air.

The sign read ‘ Chinatown' . The entrance was built like the front of a pagoda, with swooping lips at the roof's edge. Hundreds of red paper lanterns hung from invisible strings, forming a canopy over the street.

I'd stared at the Golden Noodle on Main Street for years and wished I could eat there. I'd never realized that LA had an entire neighborhood of restaurants that made the Noodle look like a hole in the wall.

I wasn't an adventurous eater, but we passed a window with printed pictures of various dishes. Colorful rice and different buns. My mouth watered.

I drew a few looks; maybe people thought I was a celebrity with bodyguards—surrounded by four men who looked ready to attack anyone who looked at me the wrong way.

Or maybe they thought we were a cult. After all, we all wore the same shapeless linen clothes.

The trail stopped in front of a statue of Bruce Lee. Surrounded by a barrier and some tape to keep tourists away. I turned on the spot, trying to see if I could spot the manticore—not that I would know what to look for. I'd never seen something part lion or part scorpion before.

How had the durrach made its way through the street without causing a riot?

None of it made any sense.

"What do you see?" Kaleb stepped up to my side.

"The trail finishes here." I frowned. "I can't see anything else."

Kaleb tapped his nose. "I'll take over. Dean, you stay here with Mallory." He turned to the other two wolves. Mitchell and Wyatt. "Split up. It can't have gotten far."

The other wolves nodded before melting into the crowd.

Soon, it was just Dean and me.

"You bought the embroidery floss," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed on the humans passing by. "How did you know?"

He chuffed a laugh. "You spent almost half an hour at the stall."

"You chose well. It's good quality thread."

"You're welcome." He said, responding to my unspoken thank you. "I see you've gotten to work already."

I brushed my fingers against the ferns sewn into the collar of my shirt. I bit back a smile and pulled the woven bracelet from my wrist. I held it out. "It's not much, but I'd like you to have this," I told him. "I felt like myself for the first time in...a while. Because of you."

Dean's smile was tentative. Shy. He reached for the bracelet, and though it was just a braided piece of thread, he studied it like a fine piece of treasure. I wasn't sure it would fit. His wrists were bigger than mine. But I needn't have worried, as it slipped over his large hand and sat snug without complaint.

"Mallory," Dean reached out and placed his hand over mine. "I—" Dean's attention snagged on something in the darkness. "We need to get out of the open." He growled, eying the rooftops and the neon glowing signs in Chinese characters.

The hairs on my arms lifted, and the world washed crimson with magic, like a filter over my vision. I nodded my agreement as Dean took my hand and pushed through the crowd—past a jazz club, restaurants, and shop windows. We reached a painted wall with scaffolding and construction materials visible from the other side. Dean bent down, knitting his fingers together to form a step.

My cheeks burned, and my breath came hard and fast, unused to the exercise. Dean boosted me over the wall, and though the drop hurt my knees when I hit the ground, I was relatively unscathed, save for the red coating of my vision.

A moment later, Dean landed at my side.

I blinked, unable to see through the darkness save for the odd shadows of the scaffolding. I stepped forward, and a floodlight sensed the motion, bursting to life—revealing concrete foundations and rebar.

I waited for an alarm, but none came.

Complete silence.

It leaped from a pile of bricks, like a house cat stalking through the night, though its face was oddly human. Serene. Its tail lashed once, cracking like a whip as it hit the dirt.

Dean maneuvered himself in front of me.

"Who has been hunting me?" The beast purred, its lips peeling back, to reveal an unholy amount of teeth. "Do you seek to become my prey?"

Dean held up a hand. "You don't have permission to be here. The Arch-Fey have declared a bounty on your return. We are here on behalf of the Huntsman."

The lion-bodied beast sat, kicking up dirt with the weight of its colossal rump. It lifted a paw and licked it, the motion cat-like, though the monster wore a human face.

"But the Huntsman let me through the door." The Manticore's blue eyes flashed in the darkness. "Why else would he have a portal amid the Forest of Beasts? So inviting, so promising, the taste of human flesh."

I shuddered. "Dean?"

"Mind the tail," He whispered. "And run for the trailer over there. Bar the door, and don't come outside. Not for nothing."

The manticore laughed. The sound was like broken glass and razor blades. "Volunteering to go first?" The monster crooned. "Or do you hope my stomach will be too full to eat your mate when I'm done with you , Wolfkin?"

" Now ." Dean snarled as he leaped forward, meeting the manticore with his fists raised.

The thing was ten feet long, and though Dean was the tallest man I'd ever seen, the monster had the body of a lion .

I burst into action, kicking up dirt as I skidded to the right, racing for the trailer at the edge of the site. Running in a straight line was almost impossible as I darted around the piles of rubble and still machines. My vision was red with the magic in the air, blinding me to the finer details. I tripped over fallen debris, and my toes screamed with every stunted step.

The beast let out a screech, a brutal thunderous roar mixed with a shrill human cry of pain. I didn't dare look back.

I flung myself onto the steps, grabbing the door handle. I jammed it down repeatedly, looking over my shoulder in panic. My hair clung to my face, and my heartbeat was so loud I felt it in my skull.

Locked. Fucking locked .

I hit the door with my open palm, cursing. I turned just as the beast swung its body, knocking Dean clear across the construction site.

A gasp lodged in my throat as the wolf hit the crane's base. The giant machine loomed over the site, disappearing into the night sky unaffected by the blow. I waited for Dean to move, but he didn't. Face down in the rubble, his arms and legs spread where he had fallen.

The monster turned toward me, his mouth growing in size until the jagged teeth took up more than half its face. His blue eyes flashed, the color unnaturally bright in the darkness.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

"Will you scream when I tear into your flesh, little wolf?" The manticore licked its lips.

"No." My voice shook.

I wasn't going to die.

I looked around for anything I could use to protect myself. A brick or even a rock.

A sledgehammer sat six feet from the bottom of the steps, its handle sticking in the air, just waiting for me.

The manticore grew closer, its segmented tail dragging on the floor. The sharp pincer on the end snapped in anticipation. Its tail was twice as long as its body. I had to be quick.

Before my mind caught up, my body was already moving, sliding across the dirt. I grabbed the sledgehammer like wrenching the sword from the stone. I didn't think twice as my hand gripped the handle, and I pulled it up on a swing.

A sickening crunch filled the air as blood sprayed over my face—the smell oddly like vinegar.

I left my body behind, watching overhead as I lifted the sledgehammer and brought it down again on the top of the manticore's head. A hole and bloody goo leaked out of its oddly humanoid face. I kept going, even when the beast stopped moving. Letting out every inch of weakness and fear I'd carried with me since I met Joel.

Finally, when the head was smeared on the dirt, I rested the sledgehammer on my shoulder and turned to Dean. The adrenaline quickly left my body, and my teeth began to chatter. The sledgehammer, which had been so easy to wield a moment before, grew too heavy, and I let the tool drop onto the floor as I staggered forward.

Dean wasn't dead.

He'd pulled himself to standing without a scratch on him.

His mouth moved, but I didn't hear him as he ran toward me, his expression one of horror and fear.

Was I so frightening? Had I done something wrong?

"Move! Mallory, move !"

The Manticore's tail lashed out, a reflex of death. The sharp end of the pincer went directly through my stomach, right through my belly button from the other side.

Blood bloomed across my shirt, staining the cream fabric. All that embroidery ruined , I thought, as the ground raced up to meet me.