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Liliana shivered harder, not just from the cold. She almost reconsidered her plan to fight the werewolf for her right to remain in her chosen home.
But she was trained for this.
Liliana’s father and both her mothers had been fierce warriors. They taught the young spider-kin to fight from the time her arm blades first extended when she was five.
All three of her parents used combat practice to help ground Liliana back in reality when her mind got lost in various new kinds of sight. She remembered the feel of a weapon in her hand or her own natural weapons extended from her arms. She remembered the warmth of the loving hands of her mothers and her father, each guiding her in the practiced motions of different fighting styles, grounding her when her mind threatened to break. Liliana never had any desire to hurt others, but combat was natural to her.
Combat was home.
Liliana extended razor-sharp, slightly curved bone blades over a foot long from nearly invisible natural pockets in her forearms. She carefully measured a silken cord out, exactly enough to let her swing just above her trip lines, and crouched on her cold, sore toes, waiting for her enemy to enter the trap. Her hands trembled as she cut her safety line with her arm blade and measured out that final strand.
She tilted her head. The feeling was similar to what she felt before shows as a young performer in the circus. She could focus on the performance when she was dancing in the air on high wires or trapeze swings or silk streamers, but this feeling was a lot like looking out at hundreds of people waiting to stare at her.
Fear was not a feeling she experienced often. Not this kind of fear anyway—fear for her life.
Fear of being stared at or laughed at. Fear of crowds. Fear of stumbling through awkward social situations like a blind child in a forest filled with bear traps. That kind of fear she was used to. But fear she might soon die? She hadn’t felt that in a long time.
She wished she could fight with her fourth eyes open as her first mother could, to see and anticipate enemy movements. Liliana’s fourth eyes were more likely to distract her in combat than to aid her.
Below, the rabbit stopped nibbling greenery and popped up on its hind legs, long ears in the air swiveling for better reception. A moment later, the little animal vanished back into its safe burrow under the tree.
Liliana wished she had that option. She wished the handsome Fae colonel had believed her.
Her mothers would be so proud of her, though, for facing her fear and standing up to the red wolf. She blinked tears from her human eyes.
Her father would have been disappointed in her if she did anything else.
Liliana lifted her chin.
The quiver in her belly was just the echo of childhood nightmares. She was an adult now, or close enough. She would face the terror of her childhood and win.
Her hand tightened on the fine silk line to still the tremble.
Still in human form, the red-haired werewolf crept through the woods, making barely enough noise in the wet pine needles and sandy soil to alert the rabbit’s keen ears. His gun was out; a bright compact LED light shone from the tip of the barrel. He held a knife poised, ready to throw in his other hand. The sword hung in the scabbard at his hip.
Peter Teague wasn’t a big man in human form. He didn’t look like one of the world’s deadliest beast-kin, but his movements showed the grace of a natural predator. The bright beam of white light searched the forest, joined with the barrel of his gun. If the Celtic wolf caught so much as a glimpse of her, Liliana would die.
She could do this. The spider seer took a deep, quiet, steadying breath.
The red wolf muttered softly to himself as he stalked further into the inky shadows under the tall pines and oaks. “Walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.”
Liliana smothered a surprised urge to laugh. She always liked that quote. Her head tilted to one side.
Was Peter Teague afraid too?
For the first time, she considered the situation from his side. Alone. He had no pack backing him. He clearly knew this was a trap, and he believed she’d killed several soldiers in a horrible way.
Yet he still came.
He sought to stop a murderer, and knowingly risked becoming the next victim to do it. No one paid him,. His own need to protect innocent lives drove him. Her father would have admired such a man.
The light on the wolf’s gun barely scratched a tiny hole in the clinging blackness of the forest. He was all alone in the dark.
“Anna? Are you here?” Peter Teague called to her. “Anna, come on out and let’s talk about this.” He stepped deeper and deeper into the trap. She’d left some clear paths into the web, and he’d found one.
Her enemy was walking right into her trap all but blind. And she was a spider seer.
She could do this.
