would’ve attracted his attention. Had she been overpowered? He’d been too distracted by the interrogation, the only thing, the only person, that could have absorbed him to the degree that he might disregard the rest of the world for a moment. One lousy moment.
He passed a soldier and shouted, “Dr. Powell. Hold her,” and kept running.
Each footfall sounded,
Custo reached ahead to Adam’s mind so he would be prepared to face the situation. Adam was near unintelligible, reminding himself that a man did not hit a woman.
Custo understood why when he entered the great cavern and found Adam arguing with Zoe. The yellow lift was lowering, a unit of armed soldiers responding to the alarm.
“You say the wolf was with her?” Adam asked, voice harsh.
Zoe twirled her hair around a finger. “Yep.”
“But you won’t say where they went?”
“Nope.”
Adam’s voice rose, sharp with anger. “Why? Annabella’s life is in danger.”
“Ya know, I don’t think I like your tone,” Zoe said while she closely examined the ends of her hair.
Custo wanted to strike her, too, but he clenched his hands and forced himself to gentleness. “Please. Annabella is everything to me. Tell me where she went.”
Zoe heaved a sigh. “What time is it?”
Adam answered a precise, “Seven fourteen.”
“I guess that’s close enough,” Zoe said. She looked at Custo, but pointed to a gray door. “She’s in there.”
Of course it was coded. Custo fought frustration while Adam tapped in a number.
The door opened. The light was on, the room packed with crates and miscellaneous storage, but empty of Annabella and the wolf.
In front of him, Kathleen’s paintings were alive, the Shadowlands vibrant, potent in every exposed canvas. The largest one depicted the dark forest, a hollow of undiluted danger throbbing with power. Like Shadow, the trees were shifting, changeable, the place where every uncertain traveler lost his north and disappeared.
At least she was with the wolf and not lost alone in the forest. Bitter, though, to hold on to
Custo turned quickly to Adam. “The wraiths want Talia’s babies, but I wasn’t able to find out why. I do know that Dr. Powell told the wraiths about the tower. You have to warn Luca.”
Adam’s eyes cooled, his jaw flexed, but he gave a short nod. “Go get your girl.”
Custo was already reaching through magic, breaking the surface between the mortal world and the Other. Frightening euphoria swept over his body as his senses grew indistinct, his mind’s ability to reach and read others going dark.
The forest was endless, without trail or boundary.
How would he ever find her?
Chapter Nineteen
DARK forest surrounded Annabella. The crossing had changed her sweats to the long, classical tutu of
The wolf pushed her through the trees, the branches snagging like fingers at her tulle skirts until the netting hung in ragged shreds down to her ankles. The bodice was tight and far more ornate than it should have been for the peasant girl of the story. It was diamond-crusted and sharp, scoring her arms as the wolf ran her through the forest. Toward what, she couldn’t guess.
All around, the leaves chattered, the individual sounds collecting into almost-words that had Annabella looking over her shoulder, wary of what lurked in the deeper shades between the ancient trunks. She could make no sense of the rhythmic, running syllables.
The air was thick with the scent of earth and plants, underscored by an exotic fragrance that confused Annabella’s senses and burned in her mind, making her exhaustion and hunger sharper, and an already bad mood, worse.
She hated nature. Hated dirt. Hated
The wolf had gotten what he wanted—they were in the Shadowlands, together. She wouldn’t give him anything more, and didn’t want to. She belonged to Custo now. The wolf was trapped and that’s all that mattered. Everyone she cared about was safe.
The hushed voices followed them into a clearing, a starlit meadow flickering with colorful butterflies, which burst upward when she and the wolf entered the field.
At the center was a tall and slender figure, nearly human, but not. She was pale as moonlight, with fine long hair past her waist. Her cat eyes were large and black, and she moved with a regal bearing and strange grace, her gown floating oddly around her. A queen. Her jealousy was palpable, barely suffering Annabella’s presence. Annabella could sense it like a dissonant sound or a bad smell or an ugly touch.
“She does not belong here, Hunter,” the woman said, her voice a sigh on the wind.
The wolf morphed into the figure of a man, naked, but covered in hair, and hunched, his snout shortened. Seriously not her type.
“She’s mine,” he growled. “My mate.”
Like hell, Annabella thought. But the loathing coming off the woman was too dense for open sarcasm, and the wolf seemed too defensive at the moment to annoy. Much smarter to keep her big mouth shut.
“She’s a danger to us all.” The fae woman’s gaze settled on Annabella, cold and piercing. “You know what she can do.”
“I’ll control her,” the wolf said.
“And if you can’t?”
“I will.” His tone was all confidence. “It will be so simple.”
Custo had called her the most difficult woman alive. She’d have to count on that.
The woman narrowed her gaze. “If you can’t, I’ll have your pelt. She doesn’t belong.”
Annabella understood now. They, whoever “they” were, didn’t want her here. The fae woman feared and resented Annabella’s gift.
Even if they didn’t want her here.
Only when the faery woman turned and moved back toward the dark trees, floating more than walking, did Annabella notice glimmers of midnight light following, as if attending her. A court.
Annabella turned back. Alone again with the wolf.
The whispers didn’t stop:
Suddenly, the trees reached their boughs into the sky like great skeletal grasping hands. Annabella threw
