Page 91 of A Hunt Bound in Blood

“Which means…”

I frowned. “I was hoping you might have some idea, because I don’t know.”

“The bastard was trying to force his rhyme. It might not be significant at all.”

For all of Tersey’s faults, I couldn’t believe that was true. He was too obsessed with tiny details. The rhyme might be forced, but if it was in the clue, it had to be important.

I squinted at the map, taking in the tiny writing identifying the important landmarks along our route. Could there be a section of the forest that looked vaguely cloak-shaped? Or maybe there was a known nest of falcons and it was a reference to the court’s training equipment? A hundred years ago.

Or maybe—

“Widow’s Hood,” Cammon interrupted, his finger dropping onto the map on the edge of the area I’d identified. “It’s some kind of hill by the looks of it. This valley is full of them, and some are important enough to have names.”

“‘Beneath the hood.’ Under the hill?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time he sent us underground. It would explain the shadows as well.”

I read the next set of lines. “‘Beware the oak, beware the pine, beware the monsters within the shrine.’ It must be a monument of some kind. A place to pay homage to the gods?”

“Of course there are monsters.”

I didn’t want to think about what kind we might face. “And why do we have to beware the trees?”

Cammon sat back on his heels and rubbed his brow. “I’ve heard rumours about the forests in this area. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

I scoffed. “About how they can move? I’ve heard the stories, of course, but never put stock in them. Trees have deep roots. It’s how they don’t fall over. How can they just get up and walk around?”

“Do you remember where the myth began?”

I crossed my arms, offended that he believed he knew more of history than I did. “According to the books, there was a magical war that took place around here. So much magic was expelled, it sank into the soil and gave life to the surviving trees. They now guard the forest and woe to anyone who attempts to harm their children. It’s a folktale.”

Cammon lifted an eyebrow. “How much about this trip did you expect? How much has taken you by surprise? Do you really want to start living in denial now?”

I stared at him. Then scowled. “Fine. We’ll be on guard for walking trees and whatever other monsters are out there. Olodin’s bookcases, I can’t wait to get home and away from all this nonsense. Give me a city street where things are what I expect them to be.”

Cammon’s expression darkened as he pushed himself to his feet and rolled up the map. “You know as well as I do that city streets are no safer than these woods, Buttons. They might be more familiar, but you face more threats there than here.”

What was he doing? Trying to make me afraid to go home? What other choice did I have? My friend was there, my mum, my job. After finally earning the freedom of my library, I wasn’t sure how well I’d cope living under a mountain with the rest of the vampires.

“Only if people know what I am,” I reminded him, trying to rein in my frustration. “Not that I spend much time in the streets. As long as my secret holds, there’s nowhere more secure than my apartment and the royal library. I’ll be safe as houses. Safer than you’ll be in your demon court.”

“I’ll have a whole flight of guards watching my back. You’ll be on your own.” Something flickered in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for me to name. Then he kicked his head towards the camp. “Let’s pack up and get moving. It’s at least three days to this hill.”

I did as he said, wondering about his comment and his reaction as we got ready to go and started along the path. Without discussing it, we took the route that directed us away from the drakes. It would add half a day to our journey, but it would be better than winding up in a fight we’d struggle to win.

The day started fine, but once we moved into afternoon, the rain began. A thick, cold rain that clung to my skin and soaked into my bones, and the effort required to stay warm sapped me of my energy. I emptied my second water flask by late afternoon, and by evening, my stomach churned with nausea, my legs were weak, and my muscles screamed at me with every step. I needed food. I needed blood.

The scent of Cammon’s skin, flush with exercise, tickled my palate, and my teeth ached with the desire to sink my fangs into his neck to alleviate my discomfort, but I couldn’t do that to him. Not when he would be leaving the continent in a few short weeks.

Though maybe we could compromise. If he opened a vein and drained it into my flask… The thought made my insides cramp with need. He was so delicious, so perfect. No other blood in the world would satisfy me as much.

Which in itself brought dangers. Already my cravings for his blood were intense, and they would get worse the more I indulged. If the situation became dire enough, I would ask, but until then, I would push through.

We made camp beneath our outstretched blankets, the rain beating steadily throughout the night. I slept well and hard and woke up feeling worse, all the crankier for my clothes and pack being damp.

As we continued our trek, I scanned the woods around us for anything—rabbits, squirrels—any warm-blooded creature that might help me take the edge off. Unfortunately, the trees were quiet.

“Where is everything?” I asked, and the words came out slurred.