Page 101 of Inextricably Tied

The woman scoffs. “Trust me, we would know if somebody was in our territory. They wouldn’t be hiding anything for long.”

Flint doesn’t belabor the point. “That may very well be our mistake. Would it be ok if we came inside? I don’t mean to intrude, but we’d love to ask Diction some questions to see if he can point us in the right direction. Maybe toward the Conifers? Their territory butts up against yours, doesn’t it?”

The woman gives them a long look before she steps back from the door, leaving it open for them to follow. She calls over her shoulder as she makes her way into the kitchen on one side of the open floor plan. “Diction’s out right now, but he should be back in two shakes.” From the fridge, she pulls out a large pitcher of lemonade, pouring two glasses as Flint and Harbinger wait beside the counter.

“Sorry I’m not the most welcoming.” She averts her gaze with a nervous smile. “We don’t get a lot of strangers up here, but if Lev sent you, then we’ll do our best to help.” One of her yellow wings sweeps toward the long dining table, fitted to seat fifteen people. “Have a seat. I’ll see if I can answer any of your questions.”

Harbinger and Flint sink down on the bench facing the kitchen. The woman deposits the glasses on the table and places a hand on her hip. “Now, what’s this about someone hiding something?”

“Was your pack familiar with the Vestals?” Harbinger asks. “Lev mentioned you weren’t involved with the recent revolt.”

The woman’s eyes narrow, but she forces a tight smile. “We had some other things to deal with. Interpack conflict.”

“But you knew about them?”

The woman laughs as she moves back to the kitchen. “At the end? Every pack in the Break knew about them. They didn’t exactly go about things quietly.”

“So you know their leader was a phoenix.”

The woman nods, washing her talons and drying them on a dish towel before she reaches for a jar of beetle snacks.

“Are there any other phoenixes in the area?” Harbinger asks. “Or any place known for storing phoenix fire?”

“Not that I know of.” The woman flours the counter, plopping dough before she rolls it out. “They aren’t common creatures. And phoenix fire isn’t easy to get a hold of.” She takes a bite of a beetle and glances toward Harbinger. “Aren’t you thirsty, sweetheart?”

With a clap, the back screen door swings open on a massive white werebear who drops keys in the bowl on the end table.

“Oh, Char!” The woman sets the rolling pin aside. “I was about to come looking for you.”

Char scuffs his feet on the mat. “Yeah? For what?”

“We have visitors.” She gestures to Flint and Harbinger. “These two are doing an investigation. They want to meet with Diction.”

Char looks up from the mat. “Oh, yeah?” As he moves into the kitchen, he pulls a brown bottle of alcohol from beneath the counter. “What are you investigating?”

“Phoenix fire. Do you know of anywhere nearby that might show signs of it being used?”

With a slow sip, Char leans back against the counter. “No. But, maybe… Can you —?”

“Already on it.”

The woman bustles out of the kitchen as Char takes a final swig. “Hold on. We might have something for you.”

He follows the woman into the foyer. Harbinger pulls off her glove and presses bare fingers to the table.

“What is it?” Flint asks. She shakes her head, trying to follow the threads in her mind.

“They switched seats?”

Before Flint can ask what she means, there’s movement out the window. A toady woman and an elk centaur scurry around the side of the building. They seem…familiar. Flint pushes up from the table to get a closer look before his eyes catch on a crack in the chimney beside him. Memory guides his hand toward the misshapen brick, claw digging behind one corner until it clatters to the ground.

Trinkets spill into his hand: charm bracelet. Lipstick tube. Concert wristband. Beaded friendship bracelets and brooches and lanyards with bright pops of color.

Trophies of the girls they’re looking for.

“Har-”

Flint’s neck pricks — three times. He swats it, scattering metal darts tipped with blue and yellow feathers. Harbinger slumps against the table, hand falling from her neck as her voice slurs.