Page 156 of Bitten & Burned

My stomach dropped. “A sigil?”

He nodded, already reaching into his satchel for paper. “I can’t do a precise rubbing, it’s too fine, but I’ll do a rough sketch…” He began to crudely sketch a sigil onto the paper. The more he drew, the more my stomach sank. When he’d finished, he set the amulet down and held up the drawing. “Does this mean anything to you?”

It was the same one that had been burned into my thigh.

And—the same one Quil had branded into his back.

Behind me, I heard Anton swear softly under his breath.

I swallowed and nodded. I glanced back at Quil. He looked even paler than usual, if that was possible.

I reached for the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to reveal the wound. The sigil seared in protest, hot and raw under my father’s gaze. I pressed my lips together as my father looked at it.

“Gods, Rowena… you said it was bad, but you didn’t say it was this bad…”

“There’s more,” I said softly, nodding to Quil, who turned and pulled up the back of his shirt, revealing the same sigil branded into his back.

My father was silent for a long moment. “Well then…”

“What is —”

“That amulet isn’t warding against the injury. It’s keeping it active. That’s some kind of magical brand or tracking. Reverse-engineered blood magic. Probably used on what the Ashbornes wanted to track.” He turned to Quil. “I assume you don’t recognize the magic, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Quil shook his head. “I thought it bore a resemblance to what we used to use on…” He trailed off, scratching his head. “Livestock.”

My father nodded. “That makes sense. So if they ran off, or were taken, you couldtrack them?”

Quil nodded.

“Question is, why is it on Rowena?”

That was indeed the question.

Silence fell again. Thick, unyielding, and heavy as stone.

“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “Not until I saw it on Quil. I thought it was just a wound. Just a… side effect.”

“It’s not,” Ambrose said grimly. “It’s a signature. One meant to mark you as property. Or prey.”

The air shifted.

Dmitri’s voice broke the silence next. Low. Steady. “So whoever gave her that amulet wanted it active. Constant.”

“Or—” Vael said slowly, eyes narrowed. “—wanted to be able to track her.”

A sick chill rolled through me.

My father lifted the amulet again, inspecting the chain this time. “You said your professor gave this to you?”

I nodded.

“Well then.” He looked up at me, expression unreadable. “Either he’s a fool—or he knew exactly what he was doing.”

Twenty-Three

FOUL

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune