Page 49

He darted between fallen logs, slipped beneath thorn bushes, and crossed deer trails so narrow even I might have overlooked them.

Every so often he stopped to make certain we were still behind him. The moment he caught sight of us, he flicked his tail impatiently and continued.

"He is..." I frowned. "...leading us."

Poppy smiled. "I told you."

"Cats do not guide infernal hunters."

"This one apparently does."

I chose not to argue. Mostly because she was becoming increasingly difficult to prove wrong. Reggie scrambled over a moss-covered boulder. I vaulted it. Poppy climbed it considerably less gracefully.

"I heard that," she muttered.

"I said nothing."

"You were thinking loudly."

"I was."

The cat yowled again. This time there was urgency in the sound. Gone was the perpetual irritation that seemed to define his existence. This was... a warning. I lengthened my stride. So did Poppy. Reggie burst into a narrow clearing before skidding to an abrupt halt. Every hair along his restored tail stood on end. His back arched. He fixed his bright green eyes on the darkness beyond the trees. Not once did he retreat. Not once did he hiss. Instead... he let out the loudest, angriest cry I had ever heard from any creature. It echoed through Hollow Woods. Then he looked over his shoulder at us. For one impossible moment... I could have sworn the menace was saying, finally. You're here.

He stepped calmly to one side of the path. As though yielding it to us. I slowly drew my sword. Infernal fire rippled along the blade.

"He senses it," I murmured.

Poppy knelt long enough to scratch behind his ears. "Good job, buddy."

Reggie accepted exactly one scratch. Then stalked several paces behind us, his eyes never leaving the darkness ahead. Even the cat knew. Whatever waited beyond those trees... had finally awakened.

Poppy moved beside me. Her hand found mine. I looked down at our joined fingers. She didn't seem to notice she'd done it. Or perhaps she did. Either way, she held on. I tightened my grip. "You stay right next to me and when I say run, you run straight into town."

Something in my chest, ancient and thoroughly unaccustomed to alarm, thudded harder at the simple point of contact than it had at the sight of any approaching army.

She tilted her head, and I knew she was lying when she said, "Of course."

We entered the woods. The frost thickened with every step. It crawled over exposed roots and spread across fallen leaves in delicate white veins. Moonbells glowed between the trees, their silver petals all turned in the same direction. East. Toward the oldest part of Screaming Woods.

Poppy noticed too. "They're pointing."

"Yes."

"Flowers don't point."

"These do."

"That seems like something Mrs. Wilton should've mentioned."

"She may not have known." That was an understatement, Mrs. Wilton didn't know many things. Not enough.

The woods narrowed around us. Branches bent inward, forming an arch above the path. The earth beneath my boots pulsed faintly, each vibration answered the beat of infernal magic beneath my skin. It knew I was coming. Good. Let it wait. Let it anticipate.

Poppy stumbled over a frozen root. I caught her before she fell. "Careful."

"I'm trying."

"Try more effectively."