As they squawked and flapped around like big idiot birds, I took a moment to study Reagan’s bloodied shoulder. Not dislocated, but . . . I pulled away from Sebastian’s grip, stomach protesting as I hopped to the branch she was perched on. I slid an arm behind her, trailing my fingers over the bumps of her spine. And closed my eyes as I focused.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Taking care of my girl.” I pushed the dregs of my healing magic toward her raw skin. And used every last drop.
—
“Tarik’s gonna pass out.”
I wrenched my eyes open. “No, I’m not.” My voice came out weak. I grimaced.
“We can’t stay up here forever. If we fall asleep in the trees, we’re gonna fall and go splat.”
“Thanks for the image, Micah.” Seb rolled his eyes. He looked at me again but I glanced away. The decision was his. We both knew traveling on foot with those creatures down there would be risky, but so could flying. While we waited for Akeno to get back from his scouting mission, the trees were the safest place to be.
Half an hour later, Akeno alighted on the tree next to mine. “Three miles north of here, I saw lights. A small town or village, I’m guessing. We could rest there for the night.”
Silence followed while we all eyed each other. So far, this realm had been less than welcoming. Should we chance being seen? But we were tired, Micah had a broken wrist, and I was . . . well, about to pass out. Safety in numbers sounded appealing. Besides, we had come to Daranil to form allies. Some risks had to be taken. I nodded my assent at Seb and his shoulders visibly relaxed.
We took to the sky with Caspar carrying his backpack, mine, Reagan’s, and Micah’s combined. He looked like a pack mule. Despite the reprieve, I struggled to stay aloft, knowledge of the creatures below my only incentive to do so.
After landing in the woods near our destination, we hid our supplies in the thick brush just beyond the town. While many of us quickly changed into fresh clothing not spattered with my blood, Malachi insisted on marking the spot with rocks in an arrow shape pointed directly at the bushes. Rolling my eyes, I scattered the rocks as we made for town.
The first thing we couldn’t help but notice was the ten-foot-tall sturdy wooden wall surrounding the entire area. Akeno pointed the way toward the entrance. It was locked. Sebastian pounded on the thick wood gate for a good ten minutes before a curly head poked over the top.
“State your purpose.” The nasally accent was so strange that Micah started to snicker. I elbowed him in the ribs, then wished I hadn’t as heat scorched my stomach.
“We’re looking for a place to sleep,” Seb replied. Smart. Better than we’re looking for a place to hide.
The head of what appeared to be a little man cocked sideways. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, we’re not,” Seb admitted, shuffling his feet. “But we’re Fae. Do you . . . like Fae?”
A loud snort came from the curly head. “What kind of question is that? It’s more ludicrous than asking if I like shoes.”
“Do you? Like shoes, I mean.” Caspar had to ask.
The man sputtered, then sighed greatly. “I’ll show you where the inn is. Come on inside.” He disappeared, and after several clicking noises, the gate swung wide. As we trudged past the gatekeeper, I took a moment to stare longer than I should. It couldn’t be helped. He was short. Shorter even than Reagan. Maybe only four feet tall tops. And he was wearing . . . silver shoes?
“Haven’t you seen a Dwarf before, tree trunk?”
Dwarf? I blanked at the foreign word. And the nickname. Tree trunk? I think I prefer ScarFae.
Micah burst out laughing, then winced and adjusted his makeshift cast. I shoved my way through without comment. Passing up a ripe moment to snark hurt my soul, but black spots were obscuring my vision again. I could barely walk let alone flap my mouth. As if she could sense my sadness at a missed opportunity—or maybe she noticed I was having trouble walking—Reagan came up beside me, looping an arm around my lower back. After a moment’s hesitation, I accepted her help, dropping an arm over her shoulders.
With dawn still a few hours away, the streets were empty, the town’s occupants tucked inside their homes. A few old-fashioned bronze-and-iron street lamps lit our path to a three-story inn. Over the door, a wooden sign with the words The Silver Stake creaked on rusted hinges. Odd name for a place to dine and rest.
Inside, a roaring fireplace took up one whole wall. I shivered, my bones suddenly desperate for warmth. But the curly-haired Dwarf with silver shoes led us to a long bar. Now this looked familiar. My mouth dried. What I wouldn’t give for a stiff drink right about now.
“Tam, you have guests.” The Dwarf rapped a knuckle on the low bar counter. Another short fellow popped his head around a back door, eyes rounding at the sight of us.
He pushed wire-framed glasses up his bulbous nose and bustled in. “Welcome, welcome. It’s been a spell since we’ve serviced Fae here. And Shapeshifters? As I live and breathe.”
How did he know what we—?
Reading my confused expression, he said, “Your auras,” and circled a finger in the air. “I can’t see them like I used to, but there’s still a faint trace of it around each of you. Helps us Dwarves detect the crazies.”
Auras? Crazies?
His voice was even higher than Curly’s, and Micah unsuccessfully hid a smirk. I sighed, lowering myself onto a stool the height of a regular chair. Reagan took a seat next to me, brow furrowed as she touched my arm. I cracked a weak smile that slipped a second later.
Not being able to heal myself sucked.
“So, how can I help you fine folk this evening?” the innkeeper asked, his red lips twitching into a cheery grin.
Sebastian remained standing and studied the room’s night-owl occupants before replying, “We could use a meal and a place to sleep for the night.” At the mention of food, my stomach lurched. I gently pressed on the makeshift bandage hidden beneath my dark shirt. Blood still leaked from the jagged wounds. They needed stitches.
Fast.
But I didn’t say anything. No use scaring the innkeeper. “What’s wrong with your companion?” I heard him say. Crap. Did I really look that bad?
“Funny story,” Caspar drawled, and before I could stop him, he described the attack in vivid detail. When he finished, the room was silent. Deathly silent. The hairs on my arms rose.
“Wendigo,” Tam breathed, lightly touching his forehead, then his chest. “Where did it go?”
Caspar shrugged. “We hid up in the trees, then hightailed it out of there. Don’t know where they went.”
“They?” Round eyes swung my way, searching.
“Yeah,” Caspar continued conversationally. “First there was one, and then, out of the blue, two more showed up.”
The Dwarf hissed, whipping a silver knife from his belt. Or a stake. A silver stake. Normally, I would have reacted to the sight of a weapon, but I simply stared at the gleaming tip. “Wendigo duplicate themselves when they injure their prey. Is he injured?”
“Well, yes. But—”
“Do any of you smell something peculiar?” He backed up a step, inhaling sharply. “Like an alluring scent. One you can’t resist.”