Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

“Stay behind me,” he said shortly. “And if I say run, you run. Right?”

Running was the one thing she was very good at—and something she’d sworn to stop doing. But she stared at the bleakness in his eyes, then nodded wearily.

“Good. Follow me quickly, but quietly.”

The ground was a thick carpet of needles, and the silence through the trees was absolute. She kept close to his heels, not wanting to lose him in the dusky green light that filtered through the pines.

The ground became steeper, rockier. Moisture dripped slowly from the branches above, splattering around them. She glanced at the green twilight above them and hoped it wasn’t raining. Her foot slipped out from underneath her, and she came down hard on one knee. She hissed in pain and blinked back tears.

“You okay?”

She glanced up. Jon was standing on top of a small ridge, no emotion in his expression. Though his hands, shoved deep into his jacket pockets, looked to be clenched.

“Yes,” she muttered, and knew the answer would have been the same even if she’d broken her leg.

“Then get up. We haven’t much time.”

He was back to being a bastard. She pushed upright. Her knee protested vehemently, and she bit her lip. I don’t need your help, she’d said in the truck only moments before. And she’d be damned before she’d ask for it now.

Limping slightly, she followed him up the hill. He stopped when they reached a ridge and silently pointed downward. A small valley was visible through the pines below them. The cabin lay nestled in the middle of the clearing, smoke drifting lazily from the chimney.

Her stomach clenched. They were so close to rescuing Evan. “Wonder if Hank’s still there,” she said softly.

“Hard to tell. I can’t see any cars, but they might be parked around the back.”

“What’s the plan, then?”

He gave her a hard-edged look. “You stay here while I look around and see if it’s safe.”

“I thought we’d already argued about this. I’m not going to be left behind.”

“Maddie, be sensible.” He touched her cheek, his hand warm against her cold skin. “I’m a shapeshifter—and I have the senses of a hawk. I’ll call you down once I know it’s safe. Just trust me and wait.”

As much as she hated to admit it, what he said made sense. Hank was down there; she was sure of that much. And despite her brave words, it was an inescapable fact that she’d rather face an army of Eleanors than one Hank. Which was odd, considering that Jon believed Eleanor to be the more dangerous of the two. She swallowed heavily and nodded.

His hand lingered a moment longer, his gaze dark with some indefinable emotion. “Here, take this for me.” He tugged the ring off his finger and pressed it into her palm. “It’s my father’s, and I don’t want to risk losing it.”

A shiver of alarm ran through her. She frowned and glanced down at the ring. “Why would you lose it?”

“It’s made of silver and won’t shift shape with me.” He stepped away, and his eyes became hard again.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he continued, then turned, making his way down through the trees.

She slipped the ring onto her middle finger and watched him until he’d become one with the shadows. The silence slowly became stifling and seemed to hold an edge of expectancy. She shifted uneasily, her gaze darting through the trees. Though she’d heard no sound, she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. She glanced back at the cabin and saw Jon move through the shadows crowding the porch. He hesitated at the far corner, then slowly edged around out of her line of sight.

A twig snapped behind her.

She spun. Dust danced through the odd, soft-green light, stirring to life in the wake of something passing. Had that something been human or animal—or something in between?

She glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of Jon; maybe he’d entered the cabin. She

shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then crossed her arms. If he didn’t hurry up, he’d find her down there with him, whether he liked it or not.

Another twig snapped. She jumped, staring at the silent line of pine trees. A shadow stirred. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she licked suddenly dry lips.

Something was moving—and she had no intention of hanging around to see what it was.

She headed down the hill. Brush rustled to her left, then something small and brown darted out near her feet. She bit back a yelp and jumped away, her heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead.