I caught myself mentally touching my thread again. The strand of magic, as near-insubstantial as spiderweb, stretched from the center of my chest tighter than it had the last time we'd made camp, almost tugging now. I didn't dare tug back, didn't dare risk alerting whatever was waiting on the other end. Even as a child, I'd known better.
It was just a lot fucking harder to ignore now. The caravan seemed headed right for whatever demon I was bonded to. We might even pass it today... If we got moving anytime soon.
I squinted out from beneath the threadbare blanket draped over my and my sister, Naomi's, heads. She'd kept pace beside me, as uncomplaining as anyone would expect from one of Lyon's hunters—even at eight months pregnant. The worst of the day's heat was a few hours behind us, and the sun still lit the sky a rich blue. And yet, the trucks and travellers ahead weren't moving.
Naomi and I glanced back at Arden. My sister's husband still had the frame of someone stretched too tall, all bones and lean muscle, but he'd cultivated a wild look---long beard, tousled hair, piercing blue-gray stare---that kept people wary and respectful.
He caught our eyes the second we turned and that was all the communication needed: the three of us moved toward the front of the caravan. We wove past the few dozen frightened men, women, and children who made up the caravan and the handful of small trucks able to weather the dips and rises of the plains. Refugees. A day and a half wasn't nearly long enough for the term to sink in, especially when nearly half the caravan was made up of other people from Thisten.
Most of them held back when they saw us heading to the front of the line, content to let the demon hunters deal with it. Others joined in, knowing that even now, they wouldn't talk to people like us. Best not to risk the taint.
At the head of the caravan, I caught the broad grizzled outline of Willie Greer and his even broader right hand men, Lox and Reggie, and tried to ignore the rising goosebumps along my neck and arms. I hadn't heard much from them, but I'd heard mentions of it peppered throughout the caravan: veteran witch hunters.
Part of me—hell, most of me—itched to break off from this caravan and travel like we always did: a little pack, as half feral and self-sustaining as the man who'd found us orphaned and coiled with rare gifts worth honing. But even three demon hunters wouldn't fare well against hundreds of miles of scorching days and bitter nights and bandits. Not with the eastern rift gone. Demons had probably already infested every settlement from Thisten to Novatten, tearing past flimsy homes to feast on human flesh.
Better to risk the witch hunters, at least until we found another caravan.
We didn't need to approach Greer personally. A little crowd had gathered around him, asking the same question: why had we stopped? Greer looked out at us, his heavy silver-streaked beard adding to the weight of his frown.
"We've spotted demons."
Scattered cries erupted from the group. More than a few eyes jerked in our direction.
"Are they mara?" A woman asked the question, and it hushed the crowd. Naomi shrank half an inch closer to me, and I resisted the urge to grip her hand. Again, all eyes pinned to Greer.
"No," he said with some force. "No, we haven't sighted any of those abominations, thank the Highest. And they don't have any business flying this far west—not so soon."
What he didn't say lay bleeding between the lines: the mara were too busy rounding up people in the unprotected towns to the east. Why fly all the way out here when most humans had remained huddled in their homes, praying that the rifts would come back like a fucking power flicker?
The witch hunter turned back to the brittle fields before us. "Scouts found wargs circling up ahead. They're not mara, but they're too powerful and keen to risk trying to pass by, so we'll make camp for the night. If they're still there tomorrow morning, we might have to go through the mountains for a while."
My heart beat faster. It was a miracle that we'd made it a day and a half without running into anything nastier than a pack of famished coyotes, but we also didn't have time to waste picking our way through the mountains. Naomi had chosen the worst possible time to be eight months pregnant.
I looked at Arden, but Naomi spoke first, gripping my shoulder so I faced her.
"No, Tessa. You don't need to go out there. I can handle the mountains."
"No you can't," I said, gesturing both hands at the globe of her belly. "Even if this journey went freakishly right, it'd take at least two weeks to reach Novatten. If we have to travel through the mountains, you'll probably go into labor before we're safe."
She touched a hand to her belly, as if stroking the child inside, and shut her eyes.
"We have a bed in one of the trucks. I'll be fine."
I crossed my arms. "Yeah, if we don't have to ditch the trucks because the mountain paths are too narrow. It doesn't matter what they promised if they think it's the best way forward."
Naomi frowned the way she always did when I started to get too real for her liking. "I don't think they'd do that."
I didn't follow my usual script; I didn't have time. "A woman in labor and a newborn are risks to their survival, to their loved ones' survival. Are you willing to bet your and your child's lives that these people will risk their own safety for you?"
Arden tensed beside Naomi, his jaw taut. As usual, he was weighing the urge to snap at me for giving Naomi something else to stress over with his own urge to protect his wife and unborn child. The latter won out. He put a big hand on Naomi's shoulder. She scowled at him.
"Not you, too, Arden."
He held her blue eyes with his calming grays. "We shouldn't risk it if we don't have to."
"I'll be careful," I promised. I took my sister's hands and squeezed, communicating the bits we didn't dare say out loud—that the demons weren't the biggest danger to me. My powers could mean my death if our Witch Hunter leaders or other, more noose-happy individuals found out about them.
Humans didn't have powers without forming a pact with a demon. Humans bonded with demons were wicked, compromised, dangerous. I'd never take the risk of telling anyone outside of our little pack that I'd never agreed to bind myself to whatever lay on the other side of my thread, had been too young to remember it happening. Too many people wouldn't believe me. Too many wouldn't even give a shit.
Naomi squeezed my hand back with a force that reminded me of her own strength, pregnant or not.
"It's frustrating to not be able to come with you."
I smirked. "Even old Lyon wouldn't make you do that."
Arden squeezed Naomi's shoulder, then turned back toward Greer and his men. "Well, let's see what Greer has to say about our offer, shall we?"
I frowned. Arden met my expression with a level, challenging stare, a little lift of the brow.
"Don't you dare tell me that I'm supposed to leave my sister to fend for herself against demons and you-know-what hunters."
"She knows better," Naomi said, fixing me with that same look we'd all given each other at one time or another over the past decade and change. It was the you-know-the-rules look: no going on missions without backup, no noble sacrifices, no leaving the pack. Even with romance and marriage and a baby on the way, Arden and Naomi had never wavered on that promise. For that, no matter what I thought of the rest of humanity, I would stick out my neck a thousand times to keep them safe.
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go talk to Greer."
***
Greer and his men had put the most nervous refugees to work helping set up camp. As Arden and I approached, the head witch hunter paused in his work and straightened, giving us a tight smile. Maybe I only imagined the wariness behind it.
I managed not to look away from the hardness in his eyes. They were gray like Arden's, but where my brother's resembled deep, calm seas, this man's reminded me of honed metal—impenetrable and cutting.
"Our finest hunters," Greer greeted. "What can I do for you?"
Arden gave a better impression of a smile than I did. I didn't like the fact that Greer recognised us as anything in under two days, even if we were hard to miss with a pregnant woman. And maybe I'd been a little overzealous with the hunting yesterday, eager to show that we were worth a cot down the road.
"We're concerned about our alternate plans," Arden said. "My wife—the sooner I can get her to Novatten, the sooner I can rest easy."
Before Greer could waste time with false reassurances, I added, "Based on what you said earlier, the wargs are probably disturbed by something. We can look into it, see if it's something we can fix or bypass."
Greer turned his attention fully on me, smiling lightly. I couldn't tell what his expression meant—maybe nothing. Maybe he just wanted to take me in more closely. I couldn't remember my mother or her death well, but I remembered it well enough to make myself nothing to look at. Any curves I had hid under a well-worn jacket and loose shirt, baggy pants, and boots, all the color of dirt. I kept my curls, bleached dark brown by the sun, cropped just above my shoulders.
But I could tell it wasn't physical attraction that had Greer staring. It made my skin prickle all the same, and despite myself, I looked away.
"Well, you are the demon hunting experts, aren't you?" Greer gave a derisive little chuckle that made me clench my teeth. I shouldn't have given him the satisfaction of looking away. "I'll gather some men and we'll see what we can find while we still have some daylight."
"Thank you, sir," Arden said before I could insist on going alone. I swallowed and gave the curtest nod possible to the witch hunter, who, with one last steely stare, turned to do as he'd said.
"It would be faster with just the two of us," I said. "And I don't like the way that bastard was looking at me."
"There's no way he knows," Arden said just audibly enough for me to catch. "And it'll be safer with more men. "
"Yeah," I said, "I know."
But I didn't feel safer. I reached for my thread again, and somewhere on the other end, I thought I felt the faintest of tremors, and for one fleeting moment, it comforted me. It was the kind of feeling I didn't share with Naomi and Arden, the kind that hinted that maybe I should have my throat crushed by a noose after all. Just in case.