Fear tightened her throat, but Ren brazenly raised her weapon. “Reconsider,” she commanded them.
They crouched, coiled to attack.
She forced herself to take a threatening step forward. “You know of this knife. You know of me. Reconsider.”
The pair shared an unnerved look with their sliver-pupil eyes, but remained poised to strike.
“Scent the blade,” she told them. “You’ll detect Lykae blood from the ancient one I just beheaded.”
They raised their faces, flicking the air with forked tongues—then shot into the brush, hissing over their shoulders.
Relief weakened her knees, but she pressed on toward the outpost’s small cabin. When it came into view, the interior was silent and dark. By the flares of lightning bolts, she saw that the ground all around the structure was torn up.
The newlings had already been here.
Ren clenched her blade. Did any linger nearby? Though more might attack at any second, she had to check for survivors and radio a warning to the circus.
She skirted the scouts’ truck, approaching the cabin. The front door was missing, the hinges twisted. Knife at the ready, she entered.
The earthen floor glistened with blood. Two rifles had been snapped in half, and body parts lay strewn across the space. A severed hand clutched the shredded radio receiver.
Even after all her years hunting, the carnage shocked her. These had been good, brave men.
Warmth hit her face. Blood? She craned her head up . . .
Gasped at the sight. Bits of ragged flesh were stuck to the rafters. She whirled around and sprinted for the truck, her pulse pounding in her ears.
The pack’s tracks led west, which meant they would have to scale that high ridge to reach the circus. If she took the shortcut between the mountains, she might beat them there.
But the battle would happen tonight. The safety of her people depended on her outrunning the newlings.
She hastened to the front of the truck, gripping the crank handle. Would the combustion draw the pack? She held her breath and turned the crank. The engine rumbled to life! And died. “Damn it.” She spun the crank handle again.
Rumble. Rumble.
She snatched open the door and hopped behind the wheel. Mind in turmoil, she shifted into gear and jerked down on the accelerator lever. The road was a muddy track, and rain came down in bursts. Driving as fast as she dared, she gripped the steering wheel with one hand, operating the windshield wiper with her other.
For what felt like hours, she powered along, fighting the wheel, working the wiper. All the while, her mind kept returning to those poor men.
This is why we hunt monsters. Yet she’d nearly been seduced away from Jacob by one? Her gaze flicked to her wedding ring. Passion wasn’t everything. She could live without it, but she couldn’t live without trust.
At last the fairgrounds came into view. She yanked the brake lever, ditching the truck before it’d skidded to a stop. As she ran for the big top, anxious voices sounded from within.
“Jacob, we cannot go back out there like this,” Puideleu said. “We must get into position!”
Björn added, “And we don’t know where it took Ren.”
Jacob snapped, “Then I’ll scour the entire bloody forest for her!”
Puideleu said, “The Lykae won’t hurt her, son. She will want us to meet this foe and save the villagers.”
Ren ran inside, found all of her hunters gathered. “Jacob!” A makeshift sling supported his right arm. Mud covered his suit, and bruises marred his dear face. “What happened to you?”
“Ren!” Brows drawn, he limped over to her. “I got tangled up with two ghouls. They barreled over me and sank me into a patch of mud.”
“Scratches?” She swallowed. Not Jake. Not him.
He shook his head. “No, no. Got lucky.”
She threw her arms around him, shuddering with emotion.
“Ren, I thought I’d lost you! Did the Lykae hurt you? Your dress . . . ?”
“No, he didn’t hurt me. He wanted to protect me.” To make me his own.
“Thank God.” Jacob leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
She poured all her relief into that kiss, all of her hopes for a future with him. Make me forget the wolf.
Yet Jacob’s kiss was as chaste as a brother’s compared to the toe-curling chemistry she’d experienced with Munro.
Someone cleared their throat.
As she and Jacob drew back, her heart sank; they’d parted as easily as two opposing magnets.
Even his expression was puzzled. “How did you escape? Did you take down the wolf?”
Guilt flared as she recalled her questionable actions in that cave, right up to her last decision: Kneeling over him, the blade handle clenched in her white-knuckled grip . . .
When she nodded, Jacob didn’t look relieved—just the opposite. “We got a radio dispatch from the scouts. The newlings had them surrounded. The pack is on its way here tonight.”
“I know. I was at the outpost. The scouts are dead.”
“You shouldn’t have come back!” He gestured with his bad arm, wincing. “If that Lykae didn’t intend to hurt you, then you were safest of us all.”
She frowned at him. “I’m not missing this battle.”
Björn crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “There won’t be a battle. Too many to fight.”
“How many?” She gazed from one hunter to the next.
Jacob finally said, “The scouts counted thirty.”
Even with the promise of grenades, she’d worried about eleven! Those creatures must have turned unsuspecting humans. Or perhaps more of their number had arrived from the portals in the forest. Maybe Munro’s roar had brought more into that pack.
She considered not mounting a defense, testing the theory that newlings weren’t inherently vicious. But even if her hunters possessed the nerve to refrain from running or fighting, the villagers wouldn’t.
We have to stop our foes here.
Her battle plan had depended on a clear night, flames, and restocked ammunition, not a surprise tripling of enemy forces. But plans often changed, and circumstances flipped. Dynamic hunters lived to fight another day. So what could they manage with limited grenades, bullets, and time?
She addressed the crowd in a raised voice. “The number doesn’t matter as long as our defense is solid. This is what we’ve trained for.” Ren pointed to Björn. “The pitfall traps are finished across the field?” He nodded. “Can you get the trench fire to light in this rain?”