“Well then—” Natalia leaned forward. “Through my psychic prism—” she expelled dramatically. “—do they appear Achroman?”

  The Sybil did not reply.

  “They are clearly Lycan,” Natalia insisted. “And they are clearly not of Achroman descent. So what fact is it, madam, that you are stating?”

  “That which I have already,” the Sybil scoffed. “You are testing the limits of my generosity, girl. Mind your tongue, this is my shoppe.”

  Natalia leaned back again. “You said that an Achroman is plotting against me. Who?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “You said that someone close to me is deceiving me,” Natalia continued, recounting their first meeting. “Who?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “What can you say?”

  The Sybil tapped her fingers atop the table, her longs nails making an irksome clicking sound. “I want to help you, dear.”

  “Then help me!” Natalia threw her hands up. “For the love of Celuna—help me. I have no family, I have no gift, I have no plan. The Claiming Ceremony is tomorrow. I am on the verge of being homeless, and the dreams—”

  “How long have you suffered from the terrors?” Rochelle interrupted.

  Natalia sighed. “Since I was a girl.”

  “And your mother?”

  Her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

  “Has she suffered from them as well?”

  Natalia thought back. “Not that I ever noticed, though… I suppose she does now.”

  “Now that she is unwell,” the Sybil clarified.

  Slowly, Natalia nodded.

  “Do you fear her fate?”

  “Of course,” Natalia said. “She’s my mother.”

  “No.” The Caster shook her head. “Do you fear that you will suffer her fate?”

  Natalia paused. She hadn’t really considered her mother’s demise a genetic condition, more or less because no one had diagnosed it as such. Truthfully, Kneadeni doctors didn’t seem to know much about it at all. “Should I?” she asked.

  “Perhaps.” The Sybil ceased tapping. “I can tell you this much. It would do you well to consider your mother and her ailment in searching for your own answers.”

  Natalia rubbed her temples. “Am I supposed to understand what that means?”

  “No,” the Sybil replied. “But very soon, you will. And as for the Lycans in your current company…” Her smile spread ear-to-ear. “A hodge-podge lot, aren’t you?”

  Natalia looked away.

  “Nearly all of them mean you well,” Rochelle said.

  “Nearly?”

  “Yes.” Rochelle stood from her chair. “Nearly.”

  Before Natalia had a chance to stand, the shoppe bell rang. Footsteps could be heard marching over the carpet just on the other side of the curtain.

  “A dedicated lot, too.” Rochelle smirked.

  Natalia flushed as the curtains drew back, both Jameson and Blake in their wake.

  Blake

  “Heavens, Bane.” Jameson’s head shook side to side as he looked down on Natalia, though Blake noticed the way his shoulders had softened.

  Natalia’s cheeks were flushed, though otherwise, she appeared completely normal—aside from her showing of leg which still made Blake’s heart race. Not long ago, those legs had been dangling against his own, his hands caught up at the material at her back—

  “Did you come here to scold me?” Natalia shot at Jameson. Blake was stunned by her tone, he’d never heard her speak like that to anyone—save himself, of course—certainly not Jameson. The past several moons they’d been nothing but puppy-dog eyes and soft-spoken words.

  Now, she looked as if she wanted to teach the Achroman a lesson.

  Jameson scoffed. “Natalia, you cannot just disappear in the middle of—”

  “I’m fine, aren’t I?” She gestured to herself, hands waving up and down the length of her torso, as if that were meant to be some sort of proof. Blake supposed it was, she did look well enough.

  Jameson sputtered, and Blake fought the urge to smirk.

  “I was worried about you,” Jameson said.

  That much was certainly true. They had scoured the streets, and in Jameson’s panic, he struggled to remember the little shoppe he said he’d taken Natalia to. Blake had been surprised to learn that they’d come to this place just days before, and that she’d met an exceptionally talented Sybil on their journey. Even more surprised was he, to find that he knew this Sybil, as well.

  Natalia’s eyes were silently set on Jameson’s plimsolls when Blake finally spoke.

  “Madam Drigory,” Blake gestured a slight bow. “A pleasure.”

  “Sir Heathers.” The Sybil smiled back. “The pleasure is mine.”

  Natalia’s head whipped back and forth between them. “You know each other?”

  “I know everyone,” Rochelle said passively.

  Natalia looked at Blake then, their eyes locking again with a tension he was sure was palpable in the room. When he didn’t say anything, she turned back to Jameson. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Jameson sighed. “Why did you leave?”

  Natalia looked to the floor, and the Sybil made a chuckling noise. “Perhaps this conversation would be better suited elsewhere.”

  Natalia nodded. “Thank you for your time,” she said, before taking off between Jameson and Blake. Blake had a bad feeling about what was to come next.

  Jameson followed her out without addressing the Sybil, which Blake found entirely rude. Before he made to leave, he turned to Rochelle a last time.

  “Might I ask…” he began. “How is she?”

  Madam Drigory raised a frosted brow. “She’ll never admit it… but you’ve muddled her up, boy.”

  Blake looked down. “Yes.”

  “It isn’t without hope.”

  He looked back up. “How do you know?”

  Slowly, she smiled. “I know everything.”

  Chapter forty-three

  Jameson

  “You look as if you’ve just stepped in shit, mate.”

  “Watch it, Heathers.” Jameson’s patience was officially in short supply. Natalia hadn’t said a word since they’d left the shoppe, and Blake couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

  “The sun will be setting soon,” Blake said, examining the pinkening sky. “We should get back before it’s dark.”

  “Still expect to make it back for the carnival?” Natalia’s tone was curt, condescending. What did Rochelle say to her?

  “I just think we should use the daylight to our advantage,” Blake said, “while we still have it.” If Blake was unhappy with Natalia’s tone, he wasn’t showing it. He was entirely right, but Jameson wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

  Especially when Natalia’s looks were few and poisonous between.

  “One thing at a time,” Jameson managed. “Let’s just focus on getting back to the group.”

  Jameson had instructed William, Charles, Angelica and Lorretta to remain within visible bounds of Lady of the Night. By any luck, they’d have listened to him. But his hopes weren’t high.

  “What did you take?” Jameson asked.

  Blake stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “You think me stupid?” Jameson said. “I saw your eyes in the drinkery. You were high.”

  Blake took his time before responding. “Ecstasium.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  When he didn’t respond, Natalia replied. “William.”

  That made complete sense. In the havoc, Jameson had forgotten about William’s earlier purchase. What didn’t make sense was the way Natalia had said the boy’s name. She’d stated it as fact, but it sounded a lot more like an admission.

  “And you?” Jameson asked, only then realizing that Natalia had been avoiding his gaze.

  She nodded, eyes locked on her slippers as they continued down the road.

  Will is officially on thin ice. “That’s just wonderful,” Jameson said. “We’re in the middle of a strange territory with the Ceremony looming and the sun setting, and I am babysitting a doped lot of children.”

  “I’m not high,” Blake said defensively.

  Jameson shook his head. Elixirs typically wore off quickly in Lycans; they burned a bit hotter than Casters and Humans. “And you, Natalia?”

  Her fingers fidgeted behind her back. “The sun is bright,” she admitted. “But I feel well-enough.”

  “That’s more-or-less the point of ecstasium,” Blake pointed out.

  “Helpful,” Jameson replied as they reached the end of the road.

  He released a sigh of relief when they turned the bend, finding their group posted patiently against a nearby brick wall. William detached himself from the wall first, and Jameson’s irritation immediately returned.

  “Princess!” he exclaimed, arms open wide as he approached. Jameson’s control wavered as the boy circled her in a large hug. “You oughta’ stop running off, poor James nearly had a heart attack.”

  Within the enclosure of William’s frustrating arms, Natalia finally met Jameson’s gaze. “I know,” she said softly, eyes squinting in the wake of the setting sun overhead.

  “We have under an hour before the sun is down,” Blake said, all passivity in his tone gone, replaced with irritation. Jameson knew that feeling too well, though he didn’t appreciate Blake’s semblance of it.

  Will released Natalia, and Jameson wasted no time collecting her hand. Whether she liked it or not, he couldn’t tell, though he honestly didn’t care. His sights were set on her from here to Shotstaff. “How are we feeling?” he asked the group.

  “Fine. Let’s go,” Loretta said quickly; she was in roughening shape. The girl turned and made for the tree line. Charles seemed fine, though still wobbly in his step. Jameson wondered just how much he’d had to drink.

  They reached the tree line on foot, and none hesitated to remove their shoes.

  “Damn,” Angelica said, slippers in hand. “We left our clothes at the boutique.”

  Jameson nodded. He was confident that his waistline would allow for his mutation, though the girls had fewer options.

  “Want a lift?” William smirked, shirking his blazer off his shoulders.

  Angelica smiled back. “Actually, that sounds lovely.”

  William mutated quickly, the hem of his waist tearing at the small of his back. He didn’t seem to mind; he’d sacrificed little for them.

  Charles removed his shirt, which was a rarity. He was tall, the tallest of them in fact, and trimmed. Most Lycans didn’t hesitate to disrobe for their mutation, but Charles seemed to always be wearing loose-fitting clothing, and never needed to shed layers. His fitted blouse certainly would not have allowed for mutation. He mutated quickly once it was off, his tufted white chest exposed for the first time in Jameson’s recollection.

  Blake swung his jacket over his shoulder as he mutated, his nearly black fur matching his trousers surprisingly well. Boots in hand, he offered his backside to Lorretta. She appeared grateful as she mounted him.

  Jameson slipped out of his black blouse as Natalia slipped her arms through his jacket sleeves. He tucked the silky fabric into his waistband and knelt down to collect his plimsolls, tying their laces together and around his wrist—which proved a difficult task with his claws. Natalia’s arms came over his shoulders then, the warmth from her chest emitting through the fur at his back as she hooked her legs around his waist. He grasped her thighs, as he had done before, though now they were bare. He realized he’d never touched her bare skin below the waist, and his heart rate increased.

  Hers did too, he could feel it. Something like relief bloomed within him as he rose from the ground, and then they were ready to take off.

  And so they did, through the White Wood, but the sun would set well before they returned.

  Blake

  Lorretta’s arms had grown weak by the time the sun set behind the treetops. The moon was high now as they entered the Staff Wood, but it provided little light on the uneven terrain.

  They ran together at the same pace, to ensure everyone’s safety. Large animals did prowl these woods after nightfall, nocturnal and aggressive by nature. But with the seven of them together, a single animal stood little chance. Each of them was well versed in Combat, a wild animal would struggle against any one of them.

  Save Natalia.

  Blake couldn’t help but check his flank every so often, if only to lay eyes on her. She was safe, perched on Jameson’s back, her bare legs wrapped around his waist in a way that boiled Blake’s blood. Lorretta’s dress was much longer, and much more difficult to hold onto. She was growing weary, as well, likely due to the Caster liquor. She dangled against his back in the heaviest way possible.

  But they pressed on, for the better part of the evening, before they finally emerged from the wood by Jameson and Lorretta’s cars.

  Blake could already smell the smoke.

  Jameson

  The scent was distant, but distinct.

  “What is that?” William inhaled as Angela fell from his back.

  “Fire,” Blake said, Lorretta slipping from his back as well.

  “Where?” Charles asked.

  “Towards town,” Blake said.

  “There’s a fire?” Natalia asked, her breath rustling the fur beneath his ear.

  “You can’t smell it?” William asked.

  “No,” she said. Of course she couldn’t, Will was an oaf for asking. Lorretta and Angelica likely couldn’t smell it either in their mundane-likeness’s.

  “Come on,” Blake said, shifting into his mundane form as he stepped towards Lorretta’s vehicle.

  Jameson released his grip on Natalia, her small feet hitting the dirt behind him as he mutated. He untied the laces at his wrist as he rushed to the truck, opening the passenger’s door for her to jump in. She did quickly, Angelica, Charles, and William slipping into the back seat. Jameson hurried around and hopped into the driver’s seat, starting the engine, pushing the vehicle into drive. Lorretta was already pulling out onto the main road as his headlights flashed on. He pulled out behind her, and they made for Shotstaff.

  Natalia

  It wasn’t until they neared Shotstaff that Lorretta’s vehicle jutted off the main road, continuing south through the dark.

  Natalia squinted against the darkness. “What is she doing?”

  Jameson rolled down the window. “Following the scent.”

  “We’re heading towards the carnival,” Natalia said, following the dim light on the ground behind Lorretta’s back tires.

  Jameson didn’t reply, though his shoulders stiffened.

  “Perhaps he’s keen for cotton-candy,” William suggested.

  “Not now, Will,” Angelica spat. She was leaning forward, blonde head protruding over the bench between Natalia and Jameson. “I still can’t smell it,” she said.

  “I can,” Jameson confirmed. “We’re getting closer.”

  They drove on through the dark for many minutes, the wind rushing through Jameson’s open window, before Angelica spoke again. “Oh,” the girl said, at last. “Oh my.”

  It wasn’t long after that Natalia could smell it too, smoke overpowering the scent of salt water. She found herself leaning forward in her own seat, arms perched on the dashboard as she strained to see through the dark. Jameson and Blake both had the Sight, so this was likely no great feat for them. She wondered if Lorretta had the Sight, too.

  Angelica gasped. “Oh no.”

  “What?” Natalia turned to her. The girl had fallen back into her seat between Charles and Will, hands clasped over her mouth as the two boys shared similar expressions of concern. Natalia had yet to see William in such a serious mood.

  She turned to Jameson, who’s expression was equally grave. “What is it? What do you see?”

  Jameson spoke quietly. “The fire.”

  And then, both vehicles were accelerating forward, fast enough to throw Natalia back against her seat. She kept her eyes trained on the darkness ahead, trying desperately hard to see what Jameson and Angelica had. It seemed a long time before the tires finally met the sand of Staff Beach.

  And on the horizon, there it was. The magnificent carnival that her home had prided itself on year after year, was set ablaze in flames.

  Chapter forty-four

  Natalia

  It wasn’t much longer before she heard the screams.

  “Celuna,” Natalia breathed as they neared the havoc. The carnival stood tall, wooden rides of all kinds surrounding an orange big-top tent. A tall gate had been picketed into the sand around the rotunda of booths and prize stands, the coast leading into the ocean behind, reflecting the moon amid a bed of stars.

  It was a perversion of Natalia’s memory. The carnival had always been a magnificent event filled with food and festivities, smiling faces littering the grounds. The perimeter was always protected by a team of Guardians, though as they approached the flame, not a single Guardian could be found. The tent was collapsing beneath the flames, as were several of the splintering rides and booths.

  The intensity of the heat and the screams was indescribable. Natalia felt as if she were in a living night terror.

  Lorretta and Jameson parked amongst the few abandoned vehicles on the outskirts of the fair. Angelica, Charles, and William jumped out before Jameson’s truck was even parked.

  As Natalia grasped the doorhandle, Jameson grabbed her thigh, kicking off his shoes below the steering wheel. She ignored the untimely tingle she felt when his skin made contact with hers. “Wait here.”

  She spun on him. “What?”

  The boy already had one foot out the door. “You heard me,” he said, before slamming the door closed.

  Rage swept through her. She pushed her door open and jumped out onto the sand.

  “Natalia.” Jameson was already by her side. The rest of their group was running, the boys in Lycan-likeness, the girls on two feet, their dresses dragging behind. “I’m not asking. Wait in the car.”