20. Catriona

20

CATRIONA

" W hat's the basket for?" Felix asks as I walk down the stairs and into the shop.

I lift it up, frowning at it. "Mushrooms."

"Right." He smiles and then nods toward my dress. "That looks warmer."

My cream-colored blouse is long-sleeved, and my skirt and matching sleeveless bodice are burgundy wool. Paired with my boots and shawl, I should be comfortable enough.

We leave the shop and walk down the street. It's quiet today, few people out and about after the attack. I'm afraid someone will question us for trying to go into the woods, but we don't pass anyone on our way out of the village.

The walk through the hills is pleasant in my warm dress, with the orchards nearby and the golden forest ahead. A breeze blows through the wild grass, making the long, dry blades roll like ocean waves.

Most of the birds have flown south, but a few persistent sparrows remain. They keep us company as we walk, flying between the dry stalks of the wild sunflowers as they search for seeds. A few of the flowers continue to bloom, but most are spent for the season, and soon, a hard frost will come, and there will be no more blooms until next year.

Frida's ceramic monsters are easily spotted this time of day, but they're still disconcerting. They peek from the long meadow grass and around bushes and trees.

"I still don't know how she makes them so lifelike," I say as we pass another, about to enter the grove of aspen trees that welcomes us into the forest.

"Perhaps we'll package one and send it to Benjamin." Felix laughs to himself, probably imagining the look on the executive director's face when he opens the box. "Ask him to look into it for us."

"Maybe we should," I muse. "I've never seen a monster run from a human the way the redcaps fled from Frida."

"Greg, are you awake?" Felix calls when the mountain path becomes rocky.

It's a pleasant trek during the day, the woods serene, the path lined with fallen aspen leaves and pine needles.

" I'm here ," he says.

"How are you feeling?" I ask the dragon.

" I don't think I'll eat again for a week. "

"You shouldn't eat for a week," Felix points out. "You must give your stomach time to digest the copious quantities of food you've stuffed into it."

Ignoring that, Greg asks, " Did anything interesting happen last night? "

"We were attacked by redcaps, and our werewolf murdered a man here in the woods," Felix answers, his tone accusatory.

The dragon is silent for a moment. " So, you're saying it was a bad night for me to gorge myself on a third deer? "

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

" Are you both in one piece? "

"Catriona got hurt."

Greg's answering growl is hot and protective, and I know if I don't soothe him quickly, he might do something rash. Though Greg is just over thirty years old, he's still a young dragon and sometimes prone to a fiery temper and impetuous behavior.

"I'm fine," I assure him quickly. "I took a claw to the cheek is all."

" I'm sorry, Cat."

It's easy to forgive him when he sounds genuinely remorseful.

"I'm afraid it would have been difficult for you to save me from the redcaps anyway, at least without burning down the village."

It happened once—cost the guild a grand amount of money. Benjamin still gets huffy when it comes up.

" The man who was killed—who was he? " Greg asks.

"A peddler, not particularly well-liked from the sound of it," Felix answers.

" And you still think it's that rat fellow? "

"Why do you keep calling him a rat?" I ask.

" That's what Felix said he looks like. "

I shoot my apprentice a look, but Felix only laughs to himself, not chagrined in the slightest.

"We're not sure," I say. "We have multiple possible suspects."

And that list just keeps growing.

" What about a motive? "

"Werewolves don't need a motive. There's no rhyme or reason to their actions, except they're careful to never reveal their true identity to anyone they don't expect to kill. So they target the easiest prey—people alone, most often at night. And those who trust them enough to follow them into a private place."

"In other words, a werewolf won't go wolfy in the middle of a town square," Felix says.

"Correct."

A twig snaps behind us, and we whirl around. A light breeze rustles through the aspens, pulling leaves off the trees and swirling them in the air until the wind dies down.

Like the other night, I suspect we're being followed, though I don't see anyone. But Felix must. Suddenly, he swears under his breath and takes off at a dead run.

Realizing he's been spotted, a young man darts from the cover of the bushes, racing into the woods.

He's lean, verging on scrawny, wearing a loose tan shirt made of coarse material. His hair is brown and cut short, and though I've only seen him once before, I recognize the back of his head as he tries to escape us.

I'm on the men's heels in an instant, terrified Cyril will shed his human form and turn on Felix.

"Stop!" Felix commands as we push into the dense forest, navigating around thick brush, leaping over boulders and fallen trees.

Familiar with these woods, the hunter is fast. He's gaining ground until Felix pulls a dagger from his hip and throws it.

It happens so quickly; I barely have time to register what my apprentice has done. One minute, Cyril is getting away from us, and the next, he's pinned to an aspen tree's white and black trunk.

I gasp when I realize the blade sliced through the young man's shirt and not his flesh. Just as he yanks the dagger free, Felix tackles him, pinning him to the ground.

"I'm not a werewolf!" he cries.

"Why are you following us?" Felix demands.

"I wasn't!"

Felix yanks him to his feet, holding another dagger to his throat to ensure he won't try to take off again.

"All right, I was," he admits, breathing hard as he shies away from the sharpened edge of the blade. "But only because I heard you talking the other night."

I barely register his words because my eyes are on my apprentice. Felix just chased a man down, pinned him to a tree with a dagger , and then tackled him to the ground. Easily. Without so much as breaking a sweat.

"What did you hear?" Felix demands.

"That you're monster hunters, sent by the Alliance. That you think there's a werewolf in Braunwin, and you're trying to track him."

Felix looks at me, silently asking what I want to do.

Forcing myself to focus on the situation and not Felix's fast reflexes, I step forward. "So, you know we're hunters. Why would you follow us?"

Felix was wrong. The young man doesn't look like a rat. His face is a little gaunt, and he's in need of a few good meals, but he's not rodent-like. His hair verges on red in the sunlight, and his face is heavily freckled. With a little meat on his bones, he'd be pleasant-looking, wholesome even. But right now, he looks desperate.

"I was curious," he answers, avoiding my eyes.

"He's hiding something," Felix says. "You want me to get rid of him?"

He's bluffing, but Cyril doesn't know that. "I was hoping to see your dragon!"

" I'll eat him if you like ," Greg says.

Not wanting to draw attention to the dragon, I ignore that and ask Cyril, "What in the world made you think we have a dragon?"

"You keep talking to something, and whatever it is eats deer. You said it would take him a week to digest them. Only a few beasts use telepathy. Unicorns don't eat meat, and the owl gryphons we have in Staulus are too small to consume something that large. That leaves a dragon."

"How long have you been following us?" Felix demands.

"Since that first night you came into the tavern," he admits, still trying to shy away from Felix's blade.

"Were you the one moving Frida's statues?" I demand.

"No, that was the redcaps. They do that."

"What do you want to do with him?" Felix asks me.

"We need to make sure he's not our wolf."

But considering the way he's cowering from Felix's blade, I doubt he is. Unless he's worried he won't be able to kill us both, and he's protecting his cover.

"How do you do that?" Cyril asks warily.

I level him with a stare. "We take you to Greg."

"Your dragon?" He gulps.

"Is that a good idea?" Felix asks me. "Greg already volunteered to eat him, and he'll be sick if he does."

Cyril's eyes fly wide. "You're talking about your dragon eating me, and your concern is with his stomach?"

"We like Greg more than we like you," I say, and then I walk back to the trail.

"How much farther?" I ask Greg.

" You sound close. Keep going west. "

"Did you have to pick a spot so far from the village?" Felix asks.

" I have specific requirements for my comfort and wellbeing. I'm sorry if that inconveniences you. "

We finally emerge from the trees and discover what those requirements are. Greg suns himself on a large, flat rock. There's also a shallow, rocky pool nearby, fed by a small creek that's just large enough for a dragon to soak in. Steam wafts over its surface, telling me Greg somehow found a hot spring.

"This is very cozy," Felix says wryly. "Are we on holiday?"

"Anything can be a holiday with enough optimism," I tease my apprentice, using his own words against him. "Greg is apparently a master of your philosophy."

Wryly amused, Felix sends a smirk my way. Our temporary hostage, however, stares at our dragon. His eyes are as wide as his gaping mouth.

Greg sits up to get a look at him, stretching his massive wings. He looks like a giant bat for a moment, but I keep that thought to myself.

"He's enormous," Cyril whispers.

" The rat is not a werewolf, " Greg says after a moment of bored scrutiny.

"Can you be sure from over there?" Felix asks. "Maybe you should come closer and get a better smell."

Making a vexed noise that's between a growl and a sigh, the dragon leaves his rocky throne and lands directly in front of us.

Cyril lets out a horrified yelp, struggling against Felix. "I'm not a werewolf, I swear! You can't let him eat me!"

"Hold still," Felix says impatiently, having no difficulty restraining him.

Greg lumbers forward, huffing smoke out his nostrils. Then he opens his mouth, showing off his wicked teeth, and lets out a roar that would knock over most men. Felix was prepared and manages to stay upright. Cyril, however, either falls or his knees give out due to sheer terror.

"Stop playing with him." Felix yanks Cyril to his feet. "Is he a werewolf or not?"

Cyril whimpers as Greg sniffs him.

" He's not a monster, but he could use a bath. " Finished with his assessment, Greg takes several steps back and sits on his haunches like an oversized cat, glaring at the young man. " What are you going to do with him? "

"Congratulations. Greg has confirmed you're not a monster." Felix releases Cyril and gives him a light shove. "But you still followed us."

Cyril rubs his neck, eyeing both the dragon and us. "So, you two…you're actually monster hunters?" His gaze lingers on me like he's having trouble believing it. "Who do you work for?"

Not seeing any harm in answering a few of his questions at this point, I say, "We're guild hunters."

"What guild?" he asks, perking up.

"GHOST."

His eyes go wide, and his hand falls from his throat. "You're from GHOST? In the capital?"

Felix sends me an amused look. "You've heard of us?"

"Is there anyone who hasn't?"

Felix rolls his eyes, looking mildly annoyed by the praise.

"How does a person become a monster hunter?" Cyril asks. "Is it expensive? What kind of training do you need? Do you have to be titled, or can anyone apply?"

Felix crosses his arms, studying the young man. "You want to become a monster hunter?"

"I'm a good tracker—you didn't notice me for days. And everyone around here hates me. Take me to Valette with you when you leave. I'll apprentice you, carry your weapons. I'll do almost anything to get out of this wretched village."

"I already have an apprentice." I nod toward Felix. "And we're not taking trainees this year. You may apply next year if you'd like."

He gives me a skeptical look. " He's the apprentice?"

"Careful," Felix warns, looking like he's trying not to laugh. "If you do get into GHOST, Catriona's our trainer."

Cyril flashes me an incredulous look, obviously thinking Felix is toying with him.

" Do you want me to eat him? " Greg asks.

"He's not worth the indigestion," I reply.

Cyril whips his head toward the dragon, wary. "What did he just say?"

Ignoring the question, I cross my arms. "Hand to hand, no weapons. Let's see how you fight."

He turns his attention to me and blinks. "I can't fight a woman."

"Then you can't train at GHOST. I'm what stands between you and your certification." I stretch my neck. "You want to become a monster hunter? Fine. Show me."