Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(64)

This time, although he was prepared for it, he nearly yelped when the girl disappeared from sight. His grip on Dreya’s hand was tighter than death as every fight-or-flight nerve in his body began to fire. He was going the wrong way. If he kept walking, he was going to die. The little girl wasn’t one of the Witches—she had been sent to capture them. To kill them.

Devon disappeared.

Tenn knew if he stepped through that invisible wall, he’d be torn apart. Fear welled up in his throat, fluttered in his chest as Dreya disappeared, as that blankness came for him.

Another step.

A wave of nausea rolled over him, stronger this time. The forest churned around him, sloshing from side to side as he stumbled. Even the twins were unsteady on their feet, staggering as the girl led them onward.

“Only one more,” said the girl. She walked calmly, smoothly. “This is always the worst.”

There was no mistaking it now. He needed to turn and run. He couldn’t go another step, and yet the girl dragged them forward. On the other side of that invisible veil was Matthias, waiting to burn them alive. He could practically hear Jarrett’s voice in his head, yelling at him to stop, to turn around, to flee. Dreya’s nails dug into his skin.

The girl slipped from sight.

Then Devon.

No.

No.

No.

Dreya vanished.

He closed his eyes and bit his tongue to keep the screaming in, to keep his heart from exploding in its frantic beat.

Electricity rolled across his skin in a tingling wave. Pleasant, almost. And when it cleared, the panic was gone. He opened his eyes and gasped.

The trees had given way to a clearing roughly the size of a city block. A stream split it down the middle, and campers and trailers radiated out from a central bonfire like spokes on a wagon wheel. The crackle of fire and scent of wood smoke filled his head, along with the murmur of conversation. He paused. How the hell is this possible? He hadn’t sensed any of this from the outside.

The girl didn’t give them any time to ponder. She released Devon’s hand and turned to them.

“Mother will see you now. You’ve kept us waiting.”

Then she turned and walked toward the trailers.

The three of them paused. Dreya looked to Devon and took a deep breath. Devon nodded and squared his shoulders, looking for all the world like he was about to go into battle. They began to follow, but Tenn reached out and grabbed the sleeve of Dreya’s coat. Although the panic from before was gone, there was still the gut-deep fear that came from knowing that, at any moment, the forest was going to be overrun by Howls and necromancers bent on their destruction.

“Are you sure we’re safe here?” he asked. And the unspoken question: Are they safe from what we’ve brought toward them? He glanced back to the trees. He fully expected to see shadows darting through them, for people to start screaming as the nightmares leaped forth. But the woods were silent.

“We can trust their magic,” Dreya said. She gestured to the trailers. “They have clearly been living here for some time.”

And she was right. Camper wheels were covered in dead vines and weeds. Some trailers were propped up on cinder blocks or nestled in the earth.

“I guess,” Tenn said, though he didn’t really buy it. He kept a light touch on Earth, just in case, constantly scanning the woods for any sign of movement. He could feel the Howls and the rest of the army swarming against the edge of the trees, but they didn’t come any farther. They just darted around it, swarming like ants around a stone. Was it true? Were they somehow magically hidden from the Howls and the necromancers? It seemed impossible. After the Academy, the illusion of safety set him on edge.

The girl led them over to a tan trailer that looked fairly generic—a few curtained windows, an awning slumped with snow. The only thing that set it apart was the amulet hung over the door: a seven-pointed star resting in the curve of a horned moon. She opened it without knocking and stepped inside, leaving Tenn and the twins to follow behind. The twins didn’t move. After an awkward moment of standing there, being stared at by a few passersby, Tenn took the lead and stepped in.

Inside, the trailer was warm and cozy, filled with draped fabric and flickering candles. It was simple: a kitchen table in a small kitchenette, with a large tapestry hiding the rooms beyond. The girl was already sitting at the table, a mug of steaming tea in her hands. A woman stood by the stove, stirring a pot of soup that smelled like carrot and ginger. Everything in the trailer had the taste of home, and it was so perfect, so inviting, that Tenn’s nerves immediately fired into defense mode.

Nothing in the world could feel this safe. Not unless it was all about to be torn away.

“We don’t usually welcome Hunters in our midst,” the woman said, not turning away from the soup. “Even if they do know our code.”

She rested the spoon on top of the pot and wiped her hands on her apron. She was tall and slim, with long brown hair flecked with gray. Her gaze took in the twins and finally settled on Tenn. She didn’t smile; she looked like she was appraising them, and for a split second he wondered if she would kick them out. He wondered if this was why the twins had been wary of the Witches: in the woman’s eyes, Tenn felt his sins laid bare.

“Though perhaps we can make an exception for the ones the spirits told us to wait for.” Her lips quirked into a small smile at Tenn’s obvious shock. “You must be Tenn.”