“I have a bad feeling about this,” Quinn said, touching her elbow. “We should go now.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, a feeling of laxity spreading through her mind and limbs. “I’m finally starting to enjoy a fae-borne event. I mean my head isn’t even hurting.”
His gaze flowed over the crowd. “I am afraid I have to insist.”
His unusual state of concern nudged at a part of her mind, but it was suddenly too difficult to think clearly enough to make sense of it. She gave in and let herself be led, Quinn insistent despite her lazy and stumbling amble. She kept glancing back, drawn to gazing at the roaring flames.
Wait, why was the House of Memories trio lying sprawled out upon the ground? Why were others nearby falling, or sitting down, their movements jerky and clumsy?
“I think something is going on,” Becka said, surprised to hear her words slurring together.
“What was your first clue?” Quinn replied. “Even with my Oak constitution, I am feeling the effects. We need to hurry.”
“Okay, but I’m so tired. If I could just sit for a moment?”
“No.” His stern tone brooked no argument. When Becka tripped over someone’s cast away shoe, Quinn scooped her up and carried her, holding her close to his chest.
They’d made it most of the way out of the grove and were back on the trail to the Manor when Brent and two of his shifter guards cut them off.
“Move aside, wolves,” Quinn said. “There’s been some kind of incident with the pyre smoke. We need to get help from the manor.”
Brent growled low in his throat. “We were there. Something wasn’t right. We had to go.” He looked half-turned already, as did the shifters next to him. Becka realized none of them were wearing shirts.
“What happened to your clothes?” she asked. “Are you feeling fuzzy too?”
“I haven’t felt this good in forever,” the wolf to the left of Brent replied, advancing on them a step. Becka didn’t remember her name, but she was one of the ladies who’d been guarding her the day before. “You’re supposed to leave today,” she said, pointing at Quinn.
Brent growled. “That’s right, Enforcer. Time for you to go.”
Quinn set Becka down on her feet behind him. Their gazes met, he waited for her to get steady on her feet, and then he turned to the shifters.
“According to my Chief, I have until sunset to vacate.”
Brent rocked his head from side to side. “I don’t think so, Quinn. Let’s go.”
“Look, this isn’t about me, look at the people laid out in the meadow! How about we contact the manor? I have a phone right here.” He reached inside his jacket to pull out his phone. “I can have them send more guards.”
Brent howled. “You do that, and then we’ll wait for them together. When they get here, we’ll all escort you off the property together.”
While Quinn was occupied with the amped up shifters, Becka retreated towards the grove. She could tell her mind wasn’t fully engaging. Something was off, but she couldn’t quite tell what.
Urged on by the sound of the argument behind her, Becka wandered along the path until she reached the clearing. They hadn’t gone far, but in the time they’d been gone everyone in the clearing had been knocked unconscious.
Becka felt her dizziness intensify...but then she saw the glyphs.
There was one on the cheek of a young boy lying next to his mother. She, curled around him, had one on her calf. The marks had similar sizing to the ones on Tesse. Same gray-black coloring. Same variation in texture.
Becka walked deeper into the crowd, curiosity overriding the building sense of anxiety in the back of her foggy mind. How long had these marks been on them? Months? Just in the past week? Today?
Everyone had at least one mark. Had it come from the smoke? She quickly checked her exposed skin, but couldn’t locate any. Her feet were heavy again, her limbs leaden.
Rounding the still-burning pyre, Becka saw someone checking on the fallen spectators.
“Hello? Do you know what happened here?”
The figure stood, and something about the movement sparked an immediate sense of panic. Becka took a step backward, and then two, staggering in her movements. The sudden spike of adrenaline wasn’t enough to make her feet work together.
When the form turned to her, all she could see was black. A black robe and some sort of black gauze fabric covering their face.
“You are full of surprises.” His voice had a familiar quality, but her mind was so muddled Becka couldn’t quite place it. “We have been waiting for you for a very long time.”
Becka backed away from him, but he held up a gloved hand as he continued to take slow, steady steps toward her. Anxiety pounded through her veins, and she pulled off her gloves, intent to defend herself.
“A moment, Lady Becka. I want to do you a kindness.”
Becka shook her head, which only made her dizzier. She held up her hands in front of herself, as if to ward him off. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“I can take away your gift,” he whispered, but he was close enough now that she had no trouble understanding him. “Isn’t that what you want?”
She stopped dead in her tracks, faltering. “Can you? Wait, how would you know to offer me that?” She was missing something, and couldn’t quite fit the pieces together.
“Hold on,” the man said, suddenly moving close in to her. He placed a hand over her nose and mouth, his other arm winding around her waist. Becka pushed against him with her hands, kicked with her feet, willed her magic-breaking to work, but to no effect. Something
