“Let’s go,” Sigurd said, unsheathing the sword and shield he’d been carrying on his back. Wylder recognized them immediately. They’d been hanging on the wall in Sigurd’s bedroom since Wylder was a little boy. He’d never actually seen his uncle wield them, though.
With a low spoken word from Sigurd, the blade of the sword erupted into blue flame.
“Look,” Lenette said, pointing to a path entrance that was now visible among the trees the Hunt had been standing in front of. “Find Maren. We’ll hold them.”
“Aye.” Sigurd nodded at her. “Wylder, stay between Silva and I. No arguing. They’ll only be down for a moment, then the others will have their hands full.”
Even as he spoke, the Hunt were getting back to their feet.
“Go!” Kerak shouted as he, Lenette, and Bellicent, in her gargoyle form, swept across the empty space, bringing the attack to the Hunt.
Sigurd started forward, flaming sword in front of him. Wylder didn’t hesitate to follow right behind him, and he didn’t have to look back to know Silva was on his tail, both swords at the ready.
The forest they entered felt just like the one they’d left behind. Cool, dark, and powerful. Sigurd kept them on the narrow path, jogging at a fast clip. That much was at least easier with a worn path to follow, and Wylder was grateful.
He swept his eyes from side to side, ready for someone orsomethingto jump out at them from the shadows. Unlike the other forest, the trees were close here, spaced at intervals that felt like they were forming a wall. The message was coming through loud and clear:stray from the path at your own risk.
Ahead of Wylder, Sig slowed his pace until he’d stopped entirely. The broad expanse of his back kept Wylder from seeing what lay ahead. His stomach dropped when his uncle’s quiet voice reached him.
“Oh, Sis, what have they done to you?”
Wylder went up on his toes, trying to see around Sigurd. He could make out a brighter area ahead where it looked like the path started to widen.
Suddenly, Sigurd started forward again, so fast that Wylder could barely keep up with him. The path got brighter and brighter as the width of it grew. Finally, it widened enough for Wylder to adjust his stride and see beyond Sigurd’s frame. Up ahead, a circular clearing had been cut into the forest. Even the canopy. Brilliant sunlight shone down on intricate markingscarved into the ground. In the center of the circle, lying on her back, closed eyes facing the sky, was his mother.
Wylder lost complete control of his feet. He tripped before catching himself and rushing forward without a thought, trying to push past Sigurd. Arms banded around his waist, holding him back.
“Let me go! She needs help!”
“And she’ll get it,” Silva said, right beside his ear. His mate’s voice calmed the rapid-fire beat of his heart. “Wylder, we’re not leaving here without her, but you’ve got to let Sigurd break the circle.”
Taking a deep breath, Wylder made his eyes focus on the rest of the clearing. It wasn’t large, maybe twelve feet across in all directions. The markings carved into the ground had been painted. Whites, blues, and reds interlocked around his mother’s prone form. Arching and overlapping in an elegant dance that left no path from the outside of the circle without crossing one of the lines. From each of the three colors, a single line branched from the perimeter of the circle and disappeared beneath his mother’s body.
“How do we break it?” he asked.
Sigurd knelt down along the edge of the circle, not touching the markings. His gaze followed the patterns all the way around and back. “This is a siphoning nexus.” He stood and pointed down at the circle. “See the white lines? Those are keeping her unconscious. The blue ones are siphoning her magic, and the red…using that magic to fuel a death spell.”
Slowly, Silva released his hold on Wylder. “Then Kerak was right.” Silva stepped up beside Wylder and took his hand. “She’s casting the spell killing Reid. She just doesn’t know it.”
Chapter
Seven
DEADWOOD, 1876
Reid
Reid didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to tell Kerak that his brother had told him to leave? The thought of leaving Kerak made his chest hurt, but the thought that he was just aplaythingto Kerak brought bile up the back of his throat. He didn’t want to believe it.Couldn’t.
He took another deep breath as the afternoon dragged on. If patterns held, Kerak would be there any moment with a meal for Reid. He’d sit on the stool at the end of the bar, tell Reid about his day, and keep him company until the end of his shift.
And after…
God. Reid couldn’t think aboutafter. If every kiss and every touch had been a lie, he was glad they hadn’t moved on to more.
Like clockwork, Kerak stepped through the door of the saloon, a small basket in one hand. He paused only a moment, like he always did, gaze locking on Reid behind the bar before he moved toward his usual stool. The smile on his face was the same onehe always wore when he arrived. To Reid, it had always seemed warm and sincere. Reid swallowed hard. He really didn’t know what he was going to do if it’d all been a lie.
“Reid?” Kerak said, steps slowing.
