He leaned forward, kissing her gently.
“You guys coming?” Connor asked as he backed toward the portal. “Or are we going to wait here while you make out?”
“Oh, leave them alone.” Adne grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward the shimmering door. “Why are you so grumpy?”
Connor patted his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
“Dinner’s right through there.” Adne pointed at the gleaming door.
“Wait,” Sabine said. “I… want to see them. I have to see them. Just once.”
“Right now?” Connor frowned.
Adne pushed Connor aside, closing the portal with two swift strokes of her skeans. “Your stomach can wait, Connor.”
“We clearly need to have a talk where you get to know my stomach better.” Connor laughed.
“Are you sure?” Adne asked.
“Please.” Sabine’s heart pounded while Adne wove. She couldn’t breathe for a moment when the familiar landscape near Haldis took form on the other side of the portal.
“You ready?” Ethan took her hand.
She nodded, but it wasn’t a matter of being ready. It was what she needed-to see the pack whole, to know that the world was right again.
Connor started toward the door, but Adne grabbed his arm.
“No,” she said. “Just the two of them.”
“No dinner and no wolf hunt?” Connor said. “You’re a cruel woman.”
“You know it.” Adne gestured for Ethan and Sabine to enter the door.
The now-familiar sharp tingling of passage through the portal gave way to bitter cold. The wind swirled steadily over her limbs; occasional gusts made her shudder. She pulled Ethan’s coat tight around her.
“This is frostbite weather, honey,” Ethan said, handing her a pair of binoculars. “I don’t mean to rush you…”
“I only need a few minutes,” she said.
Sabine climbed along the ridge where Adne had opened the door, crouching in the shelter of a pine tree. Lifting the binoculars to her eyes, she peered toward Haldis Cavern.
It didn’t take long to spot them. The wolves were celebrating a fresh kill. The pack had gathered around the large doe’s carcass, frolicking as they prepared to feast.
Ansel and Bryn chased each other outside the cave entrance, kicking up clouds of snow as they ran. Mason was digging into the venison, his muzzle bloodied. Nev sat beside him, his tongue lolling out as if Mason had told a hilarious joke.
A white wolf emerged from the cavern. Calla’s golden eyes surveyed her pack. A golden brown wolf bounded out of the forest, coming to greet her. Shay circled Calla, nipping at her until she barked a protest. To Sabine it sounded like laughter.
The two alphas trotted together to the kill, nuzzling and licking each other as they moved. Mason and Nev rose when they arrived, bowing their heads and wagging their tails. Calla barked again and Ansel and Bryn joined the pack. The wolves gathered together, ready to share the bounty of their hunt.
Sabine stood up, satisfied that her friends were safe and content. When she moved, Calla lifted her head. Her eyes focused in Sabine’s direction. Despite the distance between them, Sabine could have sworn Calla was looking right at her.
The white wolf’s ears flicked back and forth. She lifted her muzzle and howled. The sound filled Sabine with a mixture of sweetness and sorrow. The other wolves joined the song, their familiar voices blending in the winter air. Sabine watched them for another minute, then she turned and walked back to Ethan.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She handed him the binoculars. “They’re happy. So I’m happy.”
“Good.” Ethan started toward the portal, but Sabine hesitated as the wind lifted her hair, its cold caress beckoning her toward the wilderness. She turned, listening to the song carried on the stiff winter breeze. Nev’s voice rose above the other wolves’ as the chorus of howls wove through the air. Sabine wondered if somehow they knew she was here, and if they might be saying good-bye or if they were asking her to stay.
“Sabine?” Ethan waited in the light of the door, watching her.
She took his hand. The wolves’ howls still sounded in the forest behind her, but she no longer needed to look back. With Ethan at her side, she stepped into the light of the portal, into her new world.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A book is a journey-a series an epic journey-and a trip such as this is best completed with willing and able companions. I’ve been fortunate enough never to want for amazing publishing colleagues, who’ve become dear friends. I am always indebted to my talented, tireless team at InkWell Management. Charlie Olsen and Richard Pine offer support, guidance, and cheer in perfect sync with both my joys and my sometime neuroses. Lyndsey Blessing is a force of nature when it comes to foreign rights, and I thank her for that! At the time of this writing, the Nightshade series has found homes in twenty-four territories and counting. Thank you also, wonderful editors, translators, and sub-agents across the globe.
Nightshade’s first home will always be Philomel Books. My gratitude to Michael Green is full of candy and sports goodness. I will never have the words to describe the wonderful, thoughtful, and adept editor that is Jill Santopolo. Thanks also to Julia Johnson and Tamra Tuller for all your hard work. For getting the book out to readers I thank the marvelous sales, marketing, and publicity teams at Penguin Young Readers: Emily Romero, Lisa DeGroff, Erin Dempsey, Jackie Engel, Casey McIntyre, Caroline Sun, Scottie Bowditch, RasShahn Johnson-Baker, Courtney Wood, Anna Jarzab, the rockin’ sales reps, and especially to Shanta Newlin for all that she does and for rescues in a pinch. The beauty of the book is due to the skill of Suza Scalora, Linda McCarthy, Katrina Damkoehler, and Amy Wu. Thanks also to Jennifer Haller and Don Weisberg for their confidence and kindnesses.
Friends have been steadfast traveling companions as well. Thank you, Lisa Desrochers, for being such a dedicated and creative author with which I can trade critiques. I would flail without the support of writing friends and role models, especially David Levithan and Heather Brewer. Thanks also to my colleagues at Macalester College, especially Casey Jarrin, Marlon James, Lynn Hudson, and Daylanne English. Here’s a big shout-out to my students, whose intelligence and enthusiasm keep me going. Thanks also to the librarians, teachers, and booksellers who’ve welcomed me into their world and whose love for literature renews my idealism. My book wouldn’t be anywhere without the generosity of readers and bloggers. I can’t thank you enough for taking this wild ride with Calla and her pack.
Though this trilogy is at an end, once there were beginnings. I am still ever grateful for the overwhelming support of my hometown, particularly the morning crowd at the Golden Glow, who keep me grounded. My brother always reminds me that the pursuit of passion is reward in itself. My husband keeps me laughing and holds me tight when I need it most. And for my parents, to whom this book is dedicated, before there were books there were dreams, which you never allowed to languish in obscurity. Thank you.
Andrea Cremer
