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Whatever you do, don’t walk away from your Tether. Don’t resist or fight it. Let it be. Don’t give in to the lies that what you have is unnatural. It is as natural and wondrous as nature. Stay with your other, give in to it, or the coldness will follow suit. Together, you can defeat this evil. There is always an answer, and you must find it.
I exhale,staring at the passage, reading it repeatedly. This woman…she was just like me.
I scramble for my phone and do a quick Google search of the author. She’s a beautiful Indian woman, born in New Jersey. She can’t be any older than thirty, but her eyes look wise beyond their years. A link of her obituary appears, and in one of the images, she’s holding up her book and smiling weakly. She’s in a hospital bed wearing a chunky sweater, with dark circles around her eyes. She looks beaten and worn down, not like the other images of her on the internet. She died seventeen years ago—long before I’d even heard Caz’s voice.
“So, I was right,” I whisper to myself. The Tether doesn’t make us weaker; it makes us stronger. But this completely contradicts everything Beatrix told us, which leads me to wonder who is telling the truth? And if Beatrix isn’t, why the hell would she lie to us?
Lightning strikes the sky, and the lights in my apartment flicker. The rain falls harder, pitter-pattering on the windows.
How can I tell Caz what I read? If he’s blocking me, how can I fill him in? There must be a way I can get back. How did Leah get the chance to go back?
Silvera. She’s my only hope.
I clear my throat and sit on the middle of my bed, crossing my legs and closing my eyes. I think of my wolf, and at first nothing comes to mind. There’s just darkness behind my eyelids—no images, no noise. Silence.
Then, gradually, I see something. Trees. Lots of them, towering above.
I hear breathing. She’s panting. Paws beating into the land as she dashes through the forest, her heart pounding wildly.
“Hi, girl,” I whisper, and I feel her heartbeat quicken. She feels me. “Still hunting?”
Silvera runs until she’s made it to a river. She laps up some water then sits on her hind.
“Can you go back to Caz?”
She looks all around. The water trickles quietly, the tall blades of black grass swaying. The sun is nowhere in sight. It’s gray, yet the boldness of the green leaves on the trees brings a soothing beauty. I think of what Alora said, about finding the beauty in Blackwater. She’s right. I see it now in the dips and curves of the land, the dark sparkling waters, and swaying green leaves.
Silvera rises and leaves the river, dashing through the forest, and I squeeze my eyes tighter, not wanting to lose her. Within the span of ten minutes, she’s running through a field that leads to Caz’s castle. She curves around a corner, where a small door leads inside.
Huffing, she enters the house, and as she crosses a mud room full of black boots caked in mud, coats, and sweaters, we hear voices, loud and boisterous. Panic is in the air, and I feel Silvera’s ears perk up as she slowly walks around a corner and into the large living area.
Four people stand in the room. Two are next to each other, Maeve and Rowan, and two of them are face to face, shouting. Killian and Juniper.
“I don’t know where the fuck he ran off to, now lay off!” Killian barks in Juniper’s face.
“Why would you let him out of your sight?” Juniper demands, shoving his chest. Anger seizes Killian and he stands taller, trying to intimidate Juniper, but he fails. “We told you not to let Caz out of your sight, and you let him go anyway! He isn’t in the right state of mind right now! You never should’ve let him go to Moren!”
“I can’t control Caz, and I’m not his keeper! We told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he wanted to deal with Moren right away, so we went with him.”
“Youarehis keeper! We all are!” she shouts back.
Maeve steps up to them, pressing a hand to both their chests. “You two shut up and sit down,” she orders, but Juniper and Killian don’t back away from each other. They’re stubborn, refusing to be the first to move.
“Mum, if we don’t find Caz, he’ll hurt himself. I know it,” Juniper pleads.
“Okay, but what comes of barking in each other’s faces?” Maeve demands.
“She started with me,” Killian growls.
“Oh, grow up, you big baby,” Juniper shoots back.
“Sit. Down.” Maeve says the words through clenched teeth, and Killian shakes his head, turning away and sitting in one of the steel chairs, while Juniper folds her arms and sits on the leather sofa. “Now, which direction did he go?”
“West, from Moren’s home,” Rowan answers. He’s standing in a corner, arms folded across his chest. I’d think he doesn’t care about Caz’s whereabouts if it weren’t for the look in his eyes. It’s not fear, more so worry. Just like Juniper.
“Have we tried his transmitter?” Maeve demands.
“Yes. He left it here,” Killian responds.
