I don't know when the numbness had settled over me, but I couldn't even feel the heat of the camp's bonfire as Fenn and I sat together, trying to persuade ourselves that life could continue as 'normal'. Two nights had passed since our expedition to The Hallowed Head. The hysteria which I'd felt at Milbank had faded and the bravado which I'd faked while interrogating Ronen had failed me. Between Lex's prediction of my pale-eyed son and the realisation that Osgar and Osier may have joined forces, hopelessness was beginning to burrow deep into my soul. It was too much. Our adversaries were too strong and I had no idea how to find or defeat any of them.
Gunner was trying to find any scrap of information he could on Haltwhistle. I knew he was dedicating his time to unencrypting the suspicious files he'd found on BritVaC's servers, but as of yet, he'd discovered nothing we could use against the traitor. Nor had we discovered any way to locate Osgar or Osier. It was frustrating, especially as another video, another recording of Will slaughtering mortals, had been released to the wider world.
He hadn't resisted in the second film. He'd killed as soon as he was released among the humans. I didn't know what Osgar had done to him to brush aside that last fragment of rebellion which he'd displayed previously. Imagining the horrific possibilities was more than I could bear because too many ran through my mind, most of which I'd experienced personally.
The torture was what the humans didn't understand as they ranted against the cohort and its 'murderous' Sires. The videos depicting Will's suffering had been sent privately, for our eyes only, but the footage of him killing had been streamed globally. Everyone could see the killer. No one outside of our immediate circle saw what had been done to create the creature Will had become. The creature I'd been for a millennium.
Rubbing my eyes, I lowered my head, feeling defeated. Already I was tired again. Although I'd rested well at Milbank, two nights of nightmares and insomnia had followed, much to Fenn's distress. I needed a break. A long break. In a remote paradise where someone would serve me vodka and chocolate on demand.
"Wiðercorra?" Fenn asked, his hand rubbing up and down my back in a gesture which was comforting, even though it couldn't resolve my many worries. "Are you ok, love?"
"Fine. Just tired again. I'll be alright. I just want everything over with, however it's going to end. I'm tired of the uncertainty. If Tiw and Valhalla is all I have in front of me, then so be it, but I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of trying to hope when I could lose everything so easily. I want closure, even if fate is cruel."
Pulling me against his side, Fenn's anxiety increased. "Don't talk like that. Like accepting defeat is more palatable than fighting on. You're just tired. You need more sleep."
It was true. Exhaustion would be my undoing, but I didn't want to face the nightmares again. Thankfully, I was saved from facing that debate again by Aethelwig's approach. My relief didn't last long as I took in Fenn's second-in-command's expression. She raced towards Fenn, her feet pounding over the grass and her face drawn with anger.
What now? What new disaster had befallen us?
"You need to come to the farmhouse, there's a news report... Chief, they've killed one of ours. Wildclifer. The mortals... They've sacrificed him... to Tiw."
My heart sunk further and I wondered if it would ever fall so far it would hit rock bottom. The dead wolf's name was unfamiliar to me. It was possible that he'd lived in one of the other camps and that I hadn't met him, but that didn't detract from the impact of his unnecessary demise.
Fenn was on his feet immediately, heading in the direction of the house.
Why were we always behind? Why did we always have to learn of the deaths from the news, rather than being granted an opportunity to protect our people? The question repeated in my head, echoing in my skull as I raced after Fenn. Even if I could push away Conn's emotions and open up my gift, the most I'd feel would be cohort deaths. There'd be no warnings, no way to help, especially not to help the pack. Our helplessness bothered me as much as it did our demoralised people.
