Page 34 of The Unbound Witch
“Who says they're going to die?” Bastian asked. “We’re making an assumption, and I won’t take unnecessary risks with you. Not when these lands are causing… episodes.”
I saw it then, the gaunt look on her face, the same she had before, the dried blood just below her nose. She’d had yet another episode while I was gone.
“Atty and I can do it,” Tor said, his profound voice even deeper in the early morning hours. “We know the way to the docks from here. We can free them and meet you at the ships. If it’s as Kirsi says, it won’t take long.”
“You would do that?” Raven asked, leaning her head on Bastian’s shoulder.
He brushed a few wild hairs from her face, the worry in his eyes stirring my own concerns.
“Of course we would. If it means that much to you,” Atlas answered.
“I’ll come, too. I can show you where they are and grab the key to the lock while you keep the guard from blowing that whistle.”
Bastian lowered his chin, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can manage that?”
I wanted to punch him in the face, but I probably couldn’t ‘manage that’ either. “I’ll try my fucking best, King.”
Torryn made a fist and banged on the backboard of the long wooden bench he sat on. The driver slowed the horses to a stop, and the two giant shifters crawled out of the hole in the back.
Bastian followed, leaving Rave in the back of the wagon to rest, and stretched as he stood in the browning, sandy grass. “Be careful,” he commanded. “Do not take risks and don’t hesitate. All in. All out. Don’t let me hear that fucking whistle.”
“We’ll be ten minutes behind you,'' Atlas said, before shifting into the white wolf, his fur shuttering with the effortless change.
The king looked at me one final time before hopping back into the wagon. I saw a bit of Grey in his softening eyes. “You can do this. Just focus.”
Faster than I could click my fingers, Torryn shifted, not into a bear, as I’d suspected based on his size, but a giant black and deep blue owl. Only not an owl. A strix. The magical bird of fairytales with a handful of tail feathers trailing behind him freely, as whimsical and free-floating as a curtain caught in a breeze.
Without a thought, the shifters tore off into the night, headed straight for the town as if they’d done this together a thousand times. But there was no plan in place beyond my conviction to grab that fucking key.
The town remained as silent as it was when I’d left it. I stayed above, floating next to Torryn as he called to the white wolf, guiding him between the buildings. I dropped low, disappearing before approaching the man from behind, just as I’d done before. My stomach turned as I watched him, whistle still in his mouth, shaking a palm full of rocks. Pulling his arm back, he threw a tiny stone through the air and pelted the old woman right on her head. She whimpered in pain, her knees buckling.
The old man turned to her. “We are not here, my love. We are a thousand miles away, in another world where hate is not a disease and joy is spread like wildflowers.”
“Shut it, you—”
The man stopped mid-sentence as the giant white wolf rounded the corner in front of him, teeth bared as he growled, the sound every bit a promise and a threat. The second the whistle dropped from the man’s gaping mouth, I swooped in, swiping at the brass key. But though I’d gotten better at touching objects, I was not perfect. And my fingers moved through the blasted keyring.
The wolf padded forward. I tried again. Fail. I knew the strix remained in the shadows because his form would have been far more alarming than that of the giant white wolf, which might have been seen in the nearby mountains.
But as I struggled with the key, the man threw another jagged rock at Atlas, stepping backward before reaching for that fucking chain around his neck. I needed Scoop. I needed my magic.
In a blink, the man was pinned to the ground, but it was not fast enough as the sound of the whistle pierced the night air. Out of time, Torryn dove with a terrifying caw as he rotated, knife-like talons guiding him straight down toward the man's waist. I reached the pillory, still entirely useless as Torryn pulled on the gold keyring until it broke free from the man’s belt loop.
A door slammed open behind us, familiar dark eyes surveying the chaos as the owl-like creature soared high, dropping the keys at my feet. The shifters could not change into human form, which meant they could not unlock the brass padlock trapping the old couple. I cringed as five hunters poured from the house, pulling knives from their belts as they headed toward the wolf.
Torryn swooped again, snagging a long blade from one of their hands before I had to turn away. I could not watch the destruction of Bastian’s friends, knowing I’d brought them here.
I had one task only.
Clearing my mind, I remembered how easy these last attempts were if I didn’t think about it. If I just intended to touch, I did. So, I let myself, easily lifting the keys from the ground. The old woman whimpered, but there was no time to explain why a key floated mid-air as I popped into view, shoving it into the lock and turning until the click sounded.
The man was freed first, diving just in time to catch his wife from falling.
“There’s no time to be afraid. Days ago, you helped a young couple, the night your house burned. Go back to the town they were searching for. Bluestem. Do not stop or talk to anyone. In fact, travel around. Follow the south side of the highest mountain in the distance. If you stick to the trees, you will find a worn path, follow it, and it will guide you to a newly abandoned cottage. Stay there. Live the rest of your lives in peace.”
Though stricken, they needed no more provocation as they turned, content to flee. The white wolf’s snarl rattled through the town square, and I spun just in time to see the Seeker stalking toward him, knife in hand. Torryn had shifted from beast to man which told me only one thing. Neither of them planned for these humans to live. To ever be able to tell the tale of the night an owl changed into a man before their eyes.
One of the hunters stood completely still, jaw and hands slackened as he stared at a ghost with a blue aura, flying straight for him. A thought occurred to me. A gruesome, terrible thought, but I needed to be useful. As Atlas lunged for the vilest man, Torryn pulled a knife from his own belt, having just slammed his massive fist into the face of another.