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I feel the refreshing weight of her gaze as it slides to me, and when I glance back at her, she’s smiling. “Me too.”

The night is quiet around us. Almost too quiet for the thickness of the surrounding woods. Though what wildlife would remain in an area dominated by predators far more adept at hunting and killing than any other foes they’ve ever faced?

We walk side-by-side, the backs of our hands brushing with every step. Our voices fill the eerie silence as Rory peppers me with questions about creatures and whether or not the stories she heard were true.

“Hybrids!” she gasps. “Is it possible for a werewolf to become a vampire?”

“As far as I know, no.”

“Do sirens really lure men into the deep to feast on them?”

“They lure men and males,” I say, thinking of Cora’s hungry grin. “Anyone with a cock, really.”

Rory snickers. “And what of witches? Do they truly come into their power at first bleed?”

“Yes.” I pause and add, “And warlocks truly come into their power after their first heartbreak.”

“I didn’t know that,” she says sadly. “That’s… awful.”

“Indeed it is.”

Her questions cease a short while later as the village finally comes into view, and it’s… seriously worrisome.

What greets us is more of a settlement than a full-fledged village. There are several lamb-skin tents and two wagons overflowing with all kinds of goods and wares. Have they just arrived or are they leaving? Smoke drifts toward the sky in thick trails of black from the bonfires that have been hastily smothered throughout the campsite.

My stomach knots with tension as I share an uneasy glance with Rory.

“You’re sure this is where Nerissa said to meet them?” Rory asks, brow furrowing. “It seems⁠—”

Suddenly, she draws still as death, eyes shifting from the color of honey drenched in sunshine to a glittering, albeit creepy, moonlit white.

“Rory?” I ask.

No reply. No recognition I’ve even spoken her name.

Fear ferments within me.

“Rory,” I try again.

The color of her eyes snaps back in a burst of gold, and she shakes her head, blinking rapidly.

“Heaven and stars eternal,” she gasps, hands trembling at her sides.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I-I don’t know. I think…” Another shake of her head. “Quill, I think I just had a vision of the future.”

My eyebrows lift skyward. “A vision?”

“It was so surreal. I saw⁠—”

Her mouth snaps shut.

It doesn’t matter what I saw. Her voice echoes in my mind. Something is watching from the tree line. We must tread carefully, Quill.

My gaze drifts into the darkness, and even with my enhanced vision, I cannot spot whoever or whatever is lurking in the shadows.

Rory slips her hand in mine as she tugs us forward, side-stepping bundles of wood and suspicious piles of leaves as if she knows precisely which ones to avoid. Only when we draw near to the closest tent does she pause, back stiff, teeth digging into her lips.