She smiled sadly, beginning to turn away, but Connor slid his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet. The kiss he crushed onto her mouth was anything but chaste and lasted so long that soon we all turned away, blushing.
When he finally set her down, his voice was thick. “I give up. I love you, Adne. I am goddamned crazy in love with you.”
Adne threaded her fingers through Connor’s, squeezing his hand. “Just don’t die in there. Okay? We have lots to talk about after all this is over.”
“I’ll do my best.” Connor almost fell over when she threw herself at him, kissing him again. Mason whistled and started clapping.
We all gazed at each other—our silly grins momentarily washing away the tension of an impending fight. Only Ren wasn’t smiling. He was eyeing Connor suspiciously.
“What?” Connor asked, frowning at the alpha.
“That’s my sister,” Ren growled.
Connor stared at him. “I know. And I love her.”
“Great,” Ren said. “But what are your intentions?”
“My intentions?” Connor looked from Ren to Adne, frowning.
Ren grinned, showing Connor his sharp canines. “When all this is over, you and I have a lot to talk about too.”
NINETEEN
CONNOR LED THE WAY as we scrambled over rough rock that cut into my paws. It wasn’t a long climb, but it was tiring. We had to avoid deep punctures in the earth where bursts of steam or poisonous gas could spew up without notice. Unlike the vibrant forest of the coast, Whakaari was devoid of life, an utterly alien environment. Though breathtaking, the landscape was far too ominous to be beautiful, its very appearance serving to warn away intruders.
“It’s here!” Connor called, waving us forward. We’d reached a point where the slope pitched up suddenly. Straight ahead was a gash in the rock face. Tendrils of steam slipped from the crack, dancing like silk ribbons carried off by the wind.
Drawing closer to the opening, I could see the way the steam caught light flickering within the cavern. Its colors moved from silver to crimson to gold as it fled darkness to dissipate in the air above our heads.
Mason trotted up to the entrance, sniffed, and pawed the ground anxiously. Connor raised his eyebrows and Mason shifted forms.
“You want us to go in there—seriously?” He stared at the cave. “It smells like death. Horrible, farty death.”
“Is there any other kind?” Connor asked.
“He’s right.” Adne covered her mouth and nose. “It smells nasty.”
“Are we all going to make nosegays or just get this over with?” Connor pointed to the cavern.
“Do you really know what a nosegay is?” Adne laughed. “I’m impressed.”
“That is impressive,” Mason said. “Very nineteenth century of you. Not very manly, though . . . nosegays.”
Adne put her hands on Connor’s chest. “Don’t listen to him, sweetie. I still find you very manly.”
Connor swore and ducked into the cavern while Adne laughed.
“You’re not going to ease up on him after what he said to you?” I asked her.
“Explain to me how that would be fun,” she said, grinning at me.
“You’d better keep him on his toes,” Ren said as he followed Connor. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“And I wouldn’t want to let my big brother down.”
“Good girl.” He flashed her a smile and disappeared into the cavern.
I squeezed my way into the cave. The air was hot, close, and smelled awful. I began to sweat immediately. Noxious gases seeped into each breath, unpleasant but not harmful enough to merit donning our masks. The tunnel was narrow but not too cramped; we could move along without stooping. Subtle, flickering hues that mimicked firelight illuminated our path. The gentle slope of the earth told me we were slowly making our way into the belly of the volcano.
Connor suddenly stopped, dropping to his stomach and squirming forward. As I got closer, I saw why. The tunnel had opened up, revealing a broad ledge. Connor had crawled to the edge, peering over it. One by one we bellied up alongside him. My breath caught at the sheer drop off the side. The path continued beyond the ledge, where it cut down sharply, transforming from a straight line into a tight, steep spiral.
More than a hundred feet below, I could see an open space, carved in a broad circle out of the volcanic rock. Its smooth surface was broken only by the occasional crevice, belching out steam. A raised stone slab—an unpleasant reminder of the sacrificial dais in the Keepers’ Chamber below Eden—lay at the center of the space. Hovering above the altar was the shimmering figure of a woman. Diaphanous robes of crimson and gold floated around her body, lending her a quality of substance that I knew wasn’t actually there.
“Cian,” Shay breathed.
Connor issued a slow string of curses. “She’s not alone.”
I followed Connor’s stony gaze to three bonfires posted like sentinels alongside Cian’s gleaming form.
“Wait a second.” Mason frowned. “How can the fires move?”
The flames’ positions were shifting, traveling around the dais in a slow circle. I peered down at them, realizing they weren’t shapeless. The dancing gold and crimson of each bonfire had a form.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “That isn’t possible.”
Ren glanced at me and nodded. “I know.”
“Yes, it is.” Adne’s mouth set in a grim line. “Those are wolves.”
“I thought they were myths,” Connor said, rubbing his temples. “No wonder nobody ever comes back.”
“What are they?” Mason whispered, staring at the fiery creatures that circled Cian far below us.
“Lyulf,” Adne said. “Fire wolves.”
“Those aren’t wolves,” I hissed, hating the scent of sulfur and burning coal that surrounded us.
“Not the furry kind,” Connor said. “But they’re wolves, all right. Lyulf are the Harbinger’s favorite pets by repute. He used them in the first battle between Keepers and Searchers. Only he can summon them and—”
He broke off as Adne threw him a warning glare.
“And what?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Adne said.
“Just tell us.” Shay shifted the sword on his back, angling for a better view of the three Lyulf.
When he finally set her down, his voice was thick. “I give up. I love you, Adne. I am goddamned crazy in love with you.”
Adne threaded her fingers through Connor’s, squeezing his hand. “Just don’t die in there. Okay? We have lots to talk about after all this is over.”
“I’ll do my best.” Connor almost fell over when she threw herself at him, kissing him again. Mason whistled and started clapping.
We all gazed at each other—our silly grins momentarily washing away the tension of an impending fight. Only Ren wasn’t smiling. He was eyeing Connor suspiciously.
“What?” Connor asked, frowning at the alpha.
“That’s my sister,” Ren growled.
Connor stared at him. “I know. And I love her.”
“Great,” Ren said. “But what are your intentions?”
“My intentions?” Connor looked from Ren to Adne, frowning.
Ren grinned, showing Connor his sharp canines. “When all this is over, you and I have a lot to talk about too.”
NINETEEN
CONNOR LED THE WAY as we scrambled over rough rock that cut into my paws. It wasn’t a long climb, but it was tiring. We had to avoid deep punctures in the earth where bursts of steam or poisonous gas could spew up without notice. Unlike the vibrant forest of the coast, Whakaari was devoid of life, an utterly alien environment. Though breathtaking, the landscape was far too ominous to be beautiful, its very appearance serving to warn away intruders.
“It’s here!” Connor called, waving us forward. We’d reached a point where the slope pitched up suddenly. Straight ahead was a gash in the rock face. Tendrils of steam slipped from the crack, dancing like silk ribbons carried off by the wind.
Drawing closer to the opening, I could see the way the steam caught light flickering within the cavern. Its colors moved from silver to crimson to gold as it fled darkness to dissipate in the air above our heads.
Mason trotted up to the entrance, sniffed, and pawed the ground anxiously. Connor raised his eyebrows and Mason shifted forms.
“You want us to go in there—seriously?” He stared at the cave. “It smells like death. Horrible, farty death.”
“Is there any other kind?” Connor asked.
“He’s right.” Adne covered her mouth and nose. “It smells nasty.”
“Are we all going to make nosegays or just get this over with?” Connor pointed to the cavern.
“Do you really know what a nosegay is?” Adne laughed. “I’m impressed.”
“That is impressive,” Mason said. “Very nineteenth century of you. Not very manly, though . . . nosegays.”
Adne put her hands on Connor’s chest. “Don’t listen to him, sweetie. I still find you very manly.”
Connor swore and ducked into the cavern while Adne laughed.
“You’re not going to ease up on him after what he said to you?” I asked her.
“Explain to me how that would be fun,” she said, grinning at me.
“You’d better keep him on his toes,” Ren said as he followed Connor. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“And I wouldn’t want to let my big brother down.”
“Good girl.” He flashed her a smile and disappeared into the cavern.
I squeezed my way into the cave. The air was hot, close, and smelled awful. I began to sweat immediately. Noxious gases seeped into each breath, unpleasant but not harmful enough to merit donning our masks. The tunnel was narrow but not too cramped; we could move along without stooping. Subtle, flickering hues that mimicked firelight illuminated our path. The gentle slope of the earth told me we were slowly making our way into the belly of the volcano.
Connor suddenly stopped, dropping to his stomach and squirming forward. As I got closer, I saw why. The tunnel had opened up, revealing a broad ledge. Connor had crawled to the edge, peering over it. One by one we bellied up alongside him. My breath caught at the sheer drop off the side. The path continued beyond the ledge, where it cut down sharply, transforming from a straight line into a tight, steep spiral.
More than a hundred feet below, I could see an open space, carved in a broad circle out of the volcanic rock. Its smooth surface was broken only by the occasional crevice, belching out steam. A raised stone slab—an unpleasant reminder of the sacrificial dais in the Keepers’ Chamber below Eden—lay at the center of the space. Hovering above the altar was the shimmering figure of a woman. Diaphanous robes of crimson and gold floated around her body, lending her a quality of substance that I knew wasn’t actually there.
“Cian,” Shay breathed.
Connor issued a slow string of curses. “She’s not alone.”
I followed Connor’s stony gaze to three bonfires posted like sentinels alongside Cian’s gleaming form.
“Wait a second.” Mason frowned. “How can the fires move?”
The flames’ positions were shifting, traveling around the dais in a slow circle. I peered down at them, realizing they weren’t shapeless. The dancing gold and crimson of each bonfire had a form.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “That isn’t possible.”
Ren glanced at me and nodded. “I know.”
“Yes, it is.” Adne’s mouth set in a grim line. “Those are wolves.”
“I thought they were myths,” Connor said, rubbing his temples. “No wonder nobody ever comes back.”
“What are they?” Mason whispered, staring at the fiery creatures that circled Cian far below us.
“Lyulf,” Adne said. “Fire wolves.”
“Those aren’t wolves,” I hissed, hating the scent of sulfur and burning coal that surrounded us.
“Not the furry kind,” Connor said. “But they’re wolves, all right. Lyulf are the Harbinger’s favorite pets by repute. He used them in the first battle between Keepers and Searchers. Only he can summon them and—”
He broke off as Adne threw him a warning glare.
“And what?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Adne said.
“Just tell us.” Shay shifted the sword on his back, angling for a better view of the three Lyulf.
