Page 33 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

A dark shape smacks into Sorrel and sends him sprawling.

I hear the crack of his head on the wood, and then Sparrow is on him, nothing human about them at all.

They claw at Sorrel, tearing clothes, drawing blood.

Celyn gasps, and there’s a brief, shining moment where the magic holding me weakens, and some of my blessing flows back in.

I don’t hesitate. I push to my feet, and I’m on Celyn within two steps. He’s not as fast. He’s not expecting my blade or the magic I’ve wrapped around it. I bury it in the side of his throat, the knife slicing through his skin with ease.

He gurgles. Blood spills from the wound, from his mouth, and when I pull the blade free, it erupts like a geyser, and he collapses to the floor.

Beneath Sparrow, Sorrel snarls. He pushes them away, but Paxton is on his feet now too, blessing at the ready. Sorrel looks at his twin and in the next instant, he’s gone.

My knees buckle. Sparrow catches me before I can fall, then drags me away from Celyn and the pool of blood steadily growing around him. Fuck. I hurt like I’ve been through the ringer—my blessing feels somehow tender, curling up in my chest.

“He’s in here,” I say.

“What?” Paxton’s eyes jerk from Celyn on the floor. “Quinn’s wolf?”

I nod. “Yeah. Somewhere. Felt him.”

“All right,” Sparrow says. Their magic reaches out and I try not to shiver as it passes over me. They’re not high fae, not even close, but they’re powerful in their own right and clearly vicious when necessary.

They circle the room, gradually narrowing in on a single area—one of the bookcases up against the back wall. “Over here,” they say, and Paxton hurries to join them. “Somewhere here.”

All books. I frown and lurch to my feet. Paxton moves aside when I reach them both, and I extend my hand, letting my fingers move from spine to spine.

He’s here. Each breath tells me that, my blessing peeking out like it knows, too, that our mate is close. I swallow around a lump in my throat. I’ll save him. Whatever happens after that is up to him, but I’m not going to let my mate die because I couldn’t find his fucking wolf in an empty room.

My blessing surges down one arm as my fingers touch a cloth spine. “Here.”

Sparrow gently nudges my hand aside and takes the book from the shelf. They frown as they do. “Heavy,” they mutter, then flip the book open.

It’s hollowed out and there—in the centre—is a small glass vial. It’s shining silver, so bright I almost look away, but I can’t bring myself to.

Sparrow licks their lips, looking nervous. “They used some of it,” they say. “Or took some of it.”

“Is that enough? Will he—Will they—”

“I think so,” Sparrow replies.

“Did they take some of your magic, too?” Paxton asks me.

I frown. Does my blessing feel smaller than before? Maybe. I don’t know how I’d tell. “Does it matter?”

“Not right now,” Paxton says. He holds out his hand and Sparrow shuts the book, handing it over. “Let’s get back to the pack house. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

I hardly notice the journey back. Sparrow supports me much of the way, though they’re clearly exhausted, too. Their glamour barely holds together as we make our way to the corner and wait for the taxi Paxton ordered to pick us up.

His phone is going crazy in his hand, but he doesn’t seem to care. Well, maybe that’s not true. He’s holding off. We all climb into the back of the car that pulls up, even if it’s too small for that, and Paxton presses up against me, the book still firmly in his hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as the car sets off. “I fucked up.”

“You didn’t.” It’s not his fault they were waiting for us. We all should have considered that. “I’m fine.”

Paxton shakes his head but drops it. I reach over and rest one hand on the book, and for a moment, I fancy I feel Quinn’s wolf brush up against me.

Sparrow tips their head back against the headrest, jaw clenched.

The fight took it out of them, too. For all that it was over quickly, we’re all battered and bruised.

And Sorrel is still out there. Still free. Looking for vengeance, if I know anything about the fae.

I can’t think about that. I’ll tell Vlad. He’ll know what to do. He can… handle it. I can’t, not right now.

My eyes slip shut at some point, and I’m sure I don’t fall asleep, not properly, but I jerk awake when the car stops all the same. Paxton mutters thanks for the three of us and we all clamber out and walk up to the pack house.

Sam swings the door to Quinn’s flat open when we’re halfway down the corridor. His eyes immediately fall on me. “Did you manage it?” Hope makes his voice quiver.

I look at the book Paxton is still holding. Maybe I should have pried it from his hands, but I’m too weak, and I’m not going to risk Quinn, not for anything. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, we did.”

Sam stumbles back, letting us into the flat. Drew leaps to his feet at the sight of us. Kieran’s still here, too, but so is Deacon now, and he takes in the state of me with one sweeping glance.

Spectra flinches at the sight of the book. There are two other witches here—a man and a woman—and the woman steps forward, though she doesn’t move to take it or touch it.

She looks Paxton in the face instead. “Show me?”

Paxton looks at me first, and I nod. He opens the book, revealing the silvery vial within.

Her eyes widen and she reaches out but stops just short of touching it.

I feel her magic, the earthy weight of it.

It’s not like Sam’s, but I can feel the wolf in it.

She’s all witch, but one of her parents is a wolf, maybe.

“All right.” She nods. “Maurice told me what to do. Spectra, can you—”

“I’ll stand by,” Spectra says. “But his wolf will fight my magic. Take this one in with you.”

She points at me. The woman nods and smiles, attention on me now. “’Course. I’m Ophelia. You’re Asher, right? Come on.”

Ophelia takes the book from Paxton’s hands now, holding it carefully, and I give Paxton one final questioning look before I follow her through into Quinn’s bedroom. Spectra has Sparrow, urging them to take a seat and drop their glamour.

“Close the door,” Ophelia says, and I want to do as she asks, but I’m frozen at the sight of Quinn.

I know he hasn’t changed. He’s only been here for a few hours, and his wolf is mostly intact, and he hasn’t had time enough for all the life to drain out of him…

But he looks small . Pale and fragile, and a growl curdles in my throat, blessing flaring like it’s my wolf ready to burst out of me in a flurry of fur and claws.

“Asher,” Ophelia says, voice sterner this time. “Close the door. I don’t want their magic interfering.”

From the other room, Sam lets out a loud huff. I force my limbs to move and close the door.

Ophelia nods and eyes the space. “Okay, good. I want you to take a seat on the bed with him, okay? You need to be touching.”

I propel myself over to the head of the bed and perch on the edge, next to Quinn’s shoulder.

They’ve tucked him under the duvet, but his arms are free, and I take one hand, clasping it between my own.

Ophelia sits on the bed near Quinn’s knees.

She takes the vial carefully from the book, then tosses the book onto a chair in the corner of the room.

Her hands are faintly trembling, but I don’t say anything as she slowly uncaps the vial.

“Your blessing is going to react to this.”

“I-I don’t know if I can control it.”

Her lips twitch in a semblance of a smile. “I don’t need you to. It’s not going to react to me . It wants to get to him, you understand?”

“No.”

“You have a bond , Asher. As soon as I let Quinn’s wolf back in, your blessing will try to get to him.”

“We haven’t—We didn’t…” I shake my head. “That’s what Maurice told you?”

She snorts. “No. He told me how to coax the wolf out and make sure it goes back where it belongs.” She glances down at the vial, and so do I.

Already, the silvery magic is creeping up the edges of the glass, trying to reach the open top.

“ I’m telling you what I know about bonds. You know it too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good. Then be ready. I’ve gotta concentrate.”

She takes a deep breath in and out. Holds the vial in both hands. Her magic creeps out like slow-moving vines, coaxing the wolf out of the vial and into the air.

Oh, there’s not nearly enough there. I just have to hope that Quinn will heal. I squeeze his hand a little tighter, then bring it to my lips, where I press them against his knuckles. “Come back to me, darling,” I murmur. “We can fix it. I promised you we’d manage it.”

The wolf magic floats slowly over to Quinn’s chest. Ophelia doesn’t move the duvet, her eyes unfocused yet unerringly fixed on that small silver cloud. It lowers and lowers, and I let out a gasping breath as it sinks beneath the duvet and, I know, into Quinn’s chest again.

My blessing flares bright, magic surging through my veins. I bite back a groan—it doesn’t hurt, but the feeling is overwhelming. Some of it reaches for Quinn, just like it did when I healed him, and when it settles back into me, I feel a bone-deep exhaustion.

Ophelia gasps and sways, blinking quickly.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Me? Yeah, fine. Sorry. Took it out of me.” She shifts the now-empty vial from hand to hand, then reaches out, pressing her fingers briefly to Quinn’s other hand. “He’s healing. Resting.”

“And his wolf?”

“Healing.” She smiles. “Your magic is helping.”

I nod. I kiss Quinn’s knuckles one final time, then set his hand down and get to my feet. Ophelia stands too, and I follow her out of the room, though I don’t close the door behind me.

“How is he?” Kieran asks.

Deacon has a hand on his shoulder, grip firm but not tight. Drew practically shakes with anticipation on the sofa, and Sam looks just as concerned.

“He should heal,” Ophelia says. “Maurice said he’ll come by after sundown. He knows fae magic better than me, but…”

“Why isn’t he awake?” Drew asks, leaning to look past us all. “Why isn’t he—”

“He’s okay, sweetheart,” Sam murmurs.

Ophelia nods. “He needs to heal.” She pulls a face and looks at me. “I think there’s been a problem with his wolf for a while.”

Drew looks taken aback; so does Sam. Sparrow doesn’t. They let out a heavy sigh.

Kieran doesn’t, either. I bite back a snarl.

“Did you know?” I ask.

Deacon says nothing. He watches on, but he doesn’t take his hand from Kieran’s shoulder, either.

“No,” Kieran says. I’m not sure if he’s lying. “But I thought there might be something… off. He’s not shifted since he came here. I noticed that.”

“You didn’t do anything about it.”

“Every time I tried to ask him, he shut down,” Kieran says. “I thought we were making progress… Until this.”

“I’m sorry,” Sparrow croaks. “I should have never sent him there.”

Sam scowls and opens his mouth, but Deacon finally intervenes.

“What’s done is done. The important thing now is that Quinn is alive and safe. Those fae are dead.”

Paxton and I exchange a look. One of them is. Fuck. “We have to go.”

To my surprise, Drew’s the first to his feet. “You’re not going!”

“Drew,” Kieran snaps, but I just stare at the mild-mannered wolf.

“No. No! You—You’re his mate . What if he wakes up and you’re not here? What if he—”

“You’ll be here,” I say, and Drew snaps his mouth shut. Tears swim in his eyes.

“What?”

“You’ll be here. You’ll look after him, won’t you? You’re his best friend.”

Drew sticks his chin out. “He’s my brother.”

For the first time all day, I want to smile. I won’t feel relief until Quinn is up and walking around, even if I fancy I can now feel that bond resting right alongside my blessing.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Look after him for me?”

“You’re coming back?”

“Yes.”

Drew chews his lower lip, then nods. “Fine.”

“We’ll call you when he wakes up,” Kieran says.

“Thank you,” I say.

Paxton steers me towards the door. I hear him say something else, but I don’t focus on it. I need to report to the others, and then I need to get back here.

And at some point in all of that, I need to deal with the fact that apparently Quinn is my mate.