A rush of air shivered through my hair as I jumped a rotting tree. Moss and gold lichen grew over its carcass and red-capped toadstools sprouted through blades of grass nearby. Though it had stopped raining half an hour ago, droplets still fell from the canopy above, splashing upon my head and shoulders and running down my forehead in icy rivulets. In the distance came the sounds of creaking trees and croaking frogs and forest animals scuttling through wet leaves.
An hour ago, while my mind reeled from what I was staring at and what it meant, I'd wiped the sticky web from my hand against the furled bark of a tree trunk. The tacky threads tugged and stretched like elastic, eventually releasing their grip on my fingers. A deep sense of foreboding had dragged through my limbs, tainted with fear. Tabitha Catt had webs caught in her hair and on her raincoat. Not spider webs. Krekenn webs.
The forest wasn't their natural habitat either. They preferred dark lairs, like the caverns beneath Ascendria, where prey was easy to find on the rabbit-warren alleyways of the broken underbelly of the city and dragged down to their nests and slowly consumed. So how the fuck did a swarm of krekenns find themselves in the Hemmlok Forsest?
I'd spent the last hour, shivering and wet and miserable, shoving through the forest. My senses picked through the different smells of flora and fauna, trying to detect Tabitha's unique scent, but the rain had poured down harder and washed her trace away, her footprints too. I'd been able to track her path through the forest from the odd broken branch and pink threads from her scarf caught on the thorny tips of stems. Tabitha had traveled even deeper into the forest than where I'd originally found her sitting on a broken tree trunk reading her book.
Briskly rubbing my freezing arms, my teeth chattering, I waded through the bushy tussock. The twisted trees were draped in a blanket of creeping vines, which stretched across the canopy and hid the sky above, but at a spot near a cluster of broadleaved saplings, the wild grasses had been flattened by footsteps.
Squatting down, I pulled back the foliage and found a metal cage hidden behind layers of leaves and thin branches. The reek of dead animals wafted from inside its metal belly. Peering through the crisscross of steel, my gaze landed on a small pile of slitted squirrels and gutted rabbits—the kind of bait that would tempt a fox.
A fucking fox.
I'd already found a snare set up for a rabbit, and two other metal cages. One with fresh slices of apples for opossums, and the other had an egg to entice a hedgehog. It seemed whoever had set the traps, and I was pretty fucking sure it was Tabitha, was after any forest critter small enough to be carried.
A rustling came from the undergrowth and an otherworldly creature, a tiny Brunnie with big bat ears and spindly limbs, peered from beneath the shadows of a sprawling fern, its round eyes glowing a deep russet-orange while it chewed on plump larvae, watching what I was up to.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I ran a hand down my face, swearing low.
Courting Tabitha Catt just got a whole lot fucking harder.
There were only two possibilities—Tabitha had accidentally come across krekenns, perhaps not realizing how close to danger she'd come to being attacked by a swarm of them. Or, and this was the one I felt was true, she was catching forest animals to feed the krekenns. If so, where the hells did she keep them? More importantly, why the hells would she be keeping krekenns? They weren't exactly some sweet domesticated pet. They were deadly otherworldly creatures.
I knew she was in trouble, but I didn't know what kind of trouble. I prayed to Zrenyth it had nothing to do with Sirro and the Kinslayer if indeed it was the same scent the Horned God had detected at the Deniauds' the morning after the Servants' Dance.
Rising, I straightened and jogged on the spot to keep my core temperature up, but I was bone cold. I needed to get back to the mansion and get warm before I caught pneumonia. Deciding to go back and regroup, and figure out what to do, I started moving, leaving the trap behind, and relocated the old path I'd been running down when I'd come across Tabitha's footsteps over an hour ago. It seemed to be curving toward the Deniauds' so I carried onward while thinking about my dilemma. What the hells was I going to do? How was I going to confront her about this?
I broke into a run, and in places, I had to be careful of the ruts gouging the earth. As I pounded along the path, feeling returning to my frozen, numb fingers, an edgy feeling that itched the back of my mind. A rutted path.
What did it remind me of?
Where had I seen this before?
Slowing down to a jog, I sifted through my memory, when the abandoned path suddenly narrowed to an abrupt end. The gouges in the earth curved off and headed right into the forest. Following the grooves almost hidden beneath fallen leaves, I pushed through the bushy understory. Jagged branches poked at my broad shoulders and raked my sides, and I stepped out onto the running trail I'd originally run down first thing this morning.
My ears pricked. In the distance, I heard the gruff sound of an engine.
Picking up my pace, I followed the wider trail which was well-used with the odd gouge similar to what marred the old path I'd just left. The spaces between the trees grew wider and murky light lifted the gloominess of the forest. Drawing closer to the Deniauds', my mind kept ticking over, trying to figure out what was familiar about those furrows in the ground. As I approached the end of the running trail, I finally unearthed the memory.
Almost a week ago Valarie and I had been sent into the Hemmlok Forest on a mission for Sirro. We'd left the hole in the ground, after discovering the lingering afterlife—the Kinslayer—had escaped, and headed back to the Szarvases to get into cell phone range so I could inform Sirro of what I'd learned. I'd stumbled to a halt to catch my breath, my muscles burning and my exhausted body on the verge of collapsing, when I realized I was standing on an old abandoned path that had been strangely rutted.
Holy Hells-gate...
The answer clanged through me.
Mud churned beneath my sneakers as I skidded to a stop, turning around in astonishment to look back the way I'd come, at the line of bushy trees, staring in the direction of the old path I'd left not long ago. I was willing to bet that it was the exact same path I'd come across last week.
Sirro's polished voice floated through my mind.
There are old paths through the forest that connect all the estates, though hard to find.
It had to be one of the paths Sirro had spoken about that connected the Lyon, Deniaud, and Szarvas estates. And by using it, anyone could travel to another House undetected.
Turning around I started walking along the running trail, thinking of all the mysteries at hand. There was Tabitha Catt and the enigma surrounding her; I needed to follow the old path at some point to confirm if it did lead to one of the other estates and which one: the Lyons or the Szarvases; and I also needed to start the hunt for the Kinslayer within the Deniauds' mansion.
The sound of an engine grew louder as the running trail opened out onto a grassy lawn. It seemed I'd circled the Deniauds' and had come out on the western side. Ducking beneath the heavy boughs, dipping low, their lemony leaves skeletal, I spied the servants' car park. My gaze swept over the lines of neatly parked cars and locked in on a silver Vespa, its engine putt-putting and its exhaust blowing out stacks of dirty smoke, as it was ridden around the car park.
A motorbike.
The engine putt-putting clicked in my mind—click, click, click—and I suddenly understood what I was looking at. Exhilaration crashed through my veins. A motorcycle had the right kind of narrow wheel that would have left those particular ruts in the path.
The rider slowed down and braced their feet on the ground as they brought the Vespa to a standstill. A loud bang exploded across the car park a moment before the bike's engine died, sending frightened birds shooting upward to soar across the dark sky.
Kicking the bike stand down, they got off. The rider, tall and willowy, removed her helmet and ran a hand over her dark blond hair, tied up into a low bun. She was dressed in comfortable attire for a bike ride. Warm rain jacket, jeans, and leather boots. The silver helmet dangled from her fingers as she started to walk toward a couple near a bright red car.
Standing beside the tall and gruff-looking Chef was Tabitha Catt.
My chest swelled with warmth, and my heart squeezed like a motherfucker to see Tabitha there, especially so soon after she'd left me alone in the forest.
Chef pushed into motion, striding past the woman swinging her helmet, and murmured something to her in passing that made her laugh. The delightful sound of her laughter was so much like Tabitha's, it startled me. She joined Tabitha, and this had to be her aunt. There was a resemblance between them, similar in the way that family was to one another. Tabitha fell into her aunt's arms, both of them smiling and chatting in excitement, looking back over their shoulders at the parked Vespa where Chef was crouched down, looking over the bike. From the black smoke churning from its exhaust and the engine's choppy sound, the bike hadn't been ridden in some time and needed maintenance.
Her aunt bopped Tabitha on the nose and then pretended to steal it, enticing a bright laugh from her niece.
I straightened, wet skeletal leaves raking the top of my head, as I realized, belatedly, that Tabitha had changed. She wasn't in her House uniform. She had to have a day's leave off work. She was wearing a cheery blue sundress and yellow shoes. Her hair was down and gathered into a low-side ponytail with a red scrunchie, the deep lustrous blond flowing down the front of a navy peacoat—the only concession to the chilly day.
Over her shoulder was a large leather bag, and it hung heavily as if something big was inside. She leaned a hand against the red car, a boxy Honda City, twirling a set of keys around her forefinger as she spoke to her aunt, angling her chin at Chef with a cheeky grin.
With a parting wave, she strolled to the driver's side, opened up the door, and slid inside. The car's engine started half a minute later and she carefully and excruciatingly slowly backed out. With a series of tiny tinny toots from her car horn to her aunt and Chef, she drove away.
Where the hells is she going? Ascendria perhaps?
My gaze shot to the bike and its narrow tires before landing on Aunt Ellena, beginning to walk back to Chef and her silver Vespa.
I frowned while thinking about it, watching the older woman crouch down beside Chef, leaning a gloved hand on the bike's leather seat. Tabitha had been raised at the Szarvases while her aunt belonged to the Deniauds'. Could Tabitha's aunt have been the one to ride down the old path connecting the estates?
Making a rash decision, I backed away, spinning around to burst into a blur of speed, dashing back along the running trail that hugged the forest's gnarled tree line. I erupted free of it, crossed the vast lawn in seconds, and blew into the mansion, startling servants as I barrelled down hallways and up staircases.
Within five minutes, I'd showered the mud and sweat off my body in the tiny girls' bathroom, sighing in relief at the scalding water spraying my body and its glorious heat warming my freezing limbs, dried and changed into a suit, and was hauling ass out to my car to hunt her down.
This time, I really was going to intentionally stalk Miss Catt.
***
Swiftly shifting through the gears, I pushed the Bugatti fast. Though the tumbling storm clouds were beginning to dissipate and weak sunlight poked through their gaps, the road was still slick with rain, and the car's tires splashed through icy puddles, spraying water and dead leaves. A blustering breeze trembled the scraggly branches that arched over the dim narrow road that cut through the Hemmlok Forest.
Anxious to catch up to Tabitha, I powered around a hairpin corner and abruptly slammed my foot on the brake. The sports car skidded along the road, coming to an ungainly halt. At the other end of the long straight was Tabitha's car. The brake lights were glowing red as she slowed down before pulling carefully over to the roadside. I quickly pulled over too. The car jostled and rattled over stone and grass as I edged it in between a couple of tall maple trees, their leaves blazing a brilliant strawberry red.
Quickly getting out of my car, I stealthily crept out, peering down the road.
The distance between us was considerable but I saw Tabitha clearly with my sharpened sight. She got out of her dinky car and headed to its rear and popped open the hatch. The white and navy striped tote bag she pulled out of its depth looked casual with twined soft rope for handles, a bit like a bag someone would take to the beach. She fussed around inside of it and dug out a large plastic bag, flicking it so it gaped open. Leaning inside the back of her car she picked up something else that had me mentally scratching my head. A spade.
Curious as to what she was up to, I watched her glance around, I assumed to make sure she was still alone and that no one else was approaching in a vehicle, before striding purposefully down the road toward where I'd hidden. For a stupid moment, my heart erupted into a panicked pace, thinking she'd spotted me. Relief chased soon afterward, soothing my heart to a calmer beat, when she headed out into the middle of the road, stopped, and started to shovel up something.
Flattened roadkill of all things, an opossum.
It had been squished, its guts and insides had long been picked away by scavengers, and now all that remained was bits of fur and dried skin, albeit moist with the rain. She tipped it into the plastic bag and hurried back to her car, avoiding puddles. Putting the plastic bag filled with dead opossum inside the beach bag, she placed the shovel inside the back of her car, slammed the hatch down, got back behind the wheel, and drove away.
My hair ruffled when I shook my head, mystified, standing there for a bit longer, wondering what the hells was she up to collecting roadkill.
Getting back inside my own car, I followed Tabitha at a cautious distance. She did the same thing three more times, stopping to shovel up remains of dead squashed animals before she left the country road and joined the main thoroughfares that led to the freeway and Ascendria.
***
Tabitha Catt drove like a Grandmother. She drove exactly five miles below the speed limit and didn't budge from her self-imposed restriction no matter how many drivers slammed their fists on car horns, blaring their irritation at her to speed up. And when she parked her Nana car she inched back and forth—back and forth, back and forth—until it was perfectly aligned in between the two other vehicles. I was pretty sure if I'd taken a measuring tape, I'd find she'd have parked precisely dead center.
We'd reached Ascendria several hours ago. The storm clouds were gone above the city and the sun blazed down with warmth. Tabitha had been on the go from late morning all the way through to mid-afternoon. She drove from one side of the city to the other, picking up all sorts of shit from different stores. Comforters, an armful of magazines, a fat book of fabric swatches, bags of coffee beans and boxes of tea, a handful of flyers from a bakery, and an enormous box filled with whatever the fuck from a wedding shop. My stomach pitched when I realized a few of the shops had a theme running through them—weddings. I reassured myself quickly that my kiss had been Tabitha's first, and she hadn't even dated, prior, of course to the one I intended to take her on, even if it meant me hoisting her over my shoulder and dragging her to it, kicking and screaming.
Tabitha had to be running wedding errands for someone else.
She ate a sandwich on the go too, something she'd brought from home because I hadn't seen her stop to pick anything up for herself. There was one stop-off that was obviously for herself, and I made a mental note of it as I sat in the Bugatti, idling in the car park across the road from the gardening center. I watched, smiling as she dawdled through the open nursery, fussing over shrubs and autumnal blooms, taking her time talking to the gardeners and leaving with several new plants.
I followed at a reasonable distance as she drove around the lakeside, the thoroughfare busy with traffic, loud with engine's growling and the smell of fumes. She glanced often, not at the silvery water beyond, but at the stately gardens that edged the waterside.
As I kept the same ridiculous speed limit as her, giving the guy behind me honking his horn in frustration the finger, my Brick burst into life. The muffled sound of its ringtone came from inside the glove box. I leaned over, one hand on the steering wheel, popped the compartment open, and pulled the cell phone out. Pushing the square receive button, I answered, "Yeah."
I regretted it instantly the moment I heard her voice crackling down the line. "Var, baby. How are you doing, fiancé?"