Sam raises his hands as if to calm me down and says, “We’ve been in front of this door for the past four hours. No one fell asleep or left the post. Why?”
Drake, Logan, and Quinn catch up to us, and I turn to them.
“They’ve been here all night. No one fell asleep.”
“We checked the building thoroughly yesterday,” Drake says, and the creases in his face seem to deepen. “No one was here.”
“And we know the tracker Willow and I followed was outside last night, because he attacked Logan,” Quinn says.
Logan’s face is white as he says, “Then it’s one of us. Whoever marked the doors and left me that message had to be one of us.”
“If the message matched the others you found, then either someone in our camp is working with Rowansmark, or the fact that a tracker is following us is a coincidence and has nothing to do with the messages or the killings.” Quinn’s voice is calm, but he grips Logan’s arm tightly, and his dark eyes sweep the room with careful precision.
My fingers no longer tremble as I grip my Switch and turn to survey the survivors who are climbing over the vines and circling the wagons in our wake. The fierce anger that wells up in me spills over into my voice. “It’s no coincidence. The only people outside of the building when the rock was thrown last night were you, Willow, Thom, and Ian. It was a man’s voice I heard. Thom and Ian were heading back to the shelter together, and we know it wasn’t you. That leaves the tracker. And the words he said match the stupid messages we’ve been getting, so I think Logan’s right.” I have to swallow hard to get the next words out. “One of our group is working with Rowansmark.”
I’m already striding toward the group milling around the wagons before I finish my sentence. One of the people we’ve protected is a wolf prowling among the sheep. I’m not about to let that go unaddressed.
Giving another piercing whistle, I grab the handle on the side of the supply wagon and vault into the driver’s seat. Planting my boots firmly on the seat, I rap my Switch sharply against the wood beneath me and glare at the few who dare to continue speaking until they fall quiet.
“We have a problem.” I draw the words out, filling them with every shred of the anger and betrayal that rushes through me.
“Yeah, someone got into the building and marked some of our doors last night,” the knobby-shouldered man who questioned me in the hall speaks up. One hand is wrapped around a donkey’s bridle, and the other is clenched around the strap of his travel pack.
“Yes, someone marked the doors.” I slowly scan the crowd, making eye contact and daring one of them to look away. To fidget. To give me any reason to doubt. “But the real problem is that no one breached the entrance last night. We’re the only people inside this building.”
Murmured conversation instantly explodes across the room, and I yell, “Quiet! We don’t have time to debate this. One of you is working with the Rowansmark tracker who showed up outside our camp when our guards were murdered.” I slam the end of my Switch onto the wagon seat, and the people nearby jump. “If you’ve betrayed us, if you’ve taken part in the atrocity that cost those boys their lives, do yourself a favor and stay behind. Or better yet, crawl off and die, because when we figure out who you are, there will be no mercy.”
My voice shakes, a too-frail vessel for the fury that blisters through me. I raise my Switch like the formidable weapon it is. “There will be no mercy. You will pay for your crimes with your life. It won’t be quick. It won’t be easy.” My breath rasps against my throat, tearing its way to freedom in sharp gasps while the memory of eight boys with bloody necks rises up to choke me.
“You’re a coward.” My voice fills the room. “A spineless dog who does his dirty work under the cover of night because you’re too scared to show your true face. Well, I’m not afraid of you.” I lean toward the crowd, and my teeth peel back from my lips in a snarl as I spit the words at them. “I’m not afraid of you, but you should be very afraid of me. You should look over your shoulder every minute of every day and wonder when I’m coming for you. You should tremble when you close your eyes because one of these nights, you’ll awaken with my blade against your throat, and there will be nothing you can do to stop me.”
Someone climbs into the wagon beside me, but I don’t turn. I don’t look away from the wide-eyed, terrified expressions facing me. “I know what you’re capable of, you filthy coward. But you have no idea what I can do. What I’ve already done.”
Melkin’s eyes haunt my memory, and I clamp my lips shut before my truth pours out into the green-gray air and condemns me.
“Good job,” Logan says for my ears only as he wraps an arm around me. When his warmth presses against me, I realize I’m shaking. “You made them understand.”
I look at the silent crowd who faces us and realize he’s right. They know they’re prey, and that someone close to them might betray them. They’ll be on their guard. And the one who marked the doors last night knows his days are numbered. I meet Logan’s eyes and find the same furious sense of betrayal in him that exists within me.
“We’re going to find whoever marked those doors,” he says.
“Yes, we are. But first, we need to light that fire and get out of the city before the army reaches us.”
He nods, and sways sharply to the left. I grab his tunic and face the crowd again.
Drake, Logan, and Quinn catch up to us, and I turn to them.
“They’ve been here all night. No one fell asleep.”
“We checked the building thoroughly yesterday,” Drake says, and the creases in his face seem to deepen. “No one was here.”
“And we know the tracker Willow and I followed was outside last night, because he attacked Logan,” Quinn says.
Logan’s face is white as he says, “Then it’s one of us. Whoever marked the doors and left me that message had to be one of us.”
“If the message matched the others you found, then either someone in our camp is working with Rowansmark, or the fact that a tracker is following us is a coincidence and has nothing to do with the messages or the killings.” Quinn’s voice is calm, but he grips Logan’s arm tightly, and his dark eyes sweep the room with careful precision.
My fingers no longer tremble as I grip my Switch and turn to survey the survivors who are climbing over the vines and circling the wagons in our wake. The fierce anger that wells up in me spills over into my voice. “It’s no coincidence. The only people outside of the building when the rock was thrown last night were you, Willow, Thom, and Ian. It was a man’s voice I heard. Thom and Ian were heading back to the shelter together, and we know it wasn’t you. That leaves the tracker. And the words he said match the stupid messages we’ve been getting, so I think Logan’s right.” I have to swallow hard to get the next words out. “One of our group is working with Rowansmark.”
I’m already striding toward the group milling around the wagons before I finish my sentence. One of the people we’ve protected is a wolf prowling among the sheep. I’m not about to let that go unaddressed.
Giving another piercing whistle, I grab the handle on the side of the supply wagon and vault into the driver’s seat. Planting my boots firmly on the seat, I rap my Switch sharply against the wood beneath me and glare at the few who dare to continue speaking until they fall quiet.
“We have a problem.” I draw the words out, filling them with every shred of the anger and betrayal that rushes through me.
“Yeah, someone got into the building and marked some of our doors last night,” the knobby-shouldered man who questioned me in the hall speaks up. One hand is wrapped around a donkey’s bridle, and the other is clenched around the strap of his travel pack.
“Yes, someone marked the doors.” I slowly scan the crowd, making eye contact and daring one of them to look away. To fidget. To give me any reason to doubt. “But the real problem is that no one breached the entrance last night. We’re the only people inside this building.”
Murmured conversation instantly explodes across the room, and I yell, “Quiet! We don’t have time to debate this. One of you is working with the Rowansmark tracker who showed up outside our camp when our guards were murdered.” I slam the end of my Switch onto the wagon seat, and the people nearby jump. “If you’ve betrayed us, if you’ve taken part in the atrocity that cost those boys their lives, do yourself a favor and stay behind. Or better yet, crawl off and die, because when we figure out who you are, there will be no mercy.”
My voice shakes, a too-frail vessel for the fury that blisters through me. I raise my Switch like the formidable weapon it is. “There will be no mercy. You will pay for your crimes with your life. It won’t be quick. It won’t be easy.” My breath rasps against my throat, tearing its way to freedom in sharp gasps while the memory of eight boys with bloody necks rises up to choke me.
“You’re a coward.” My voice fills the room. “A spineless dog who does his dirty work under the cover of night because you’re too scared to show your true face. Well, I’m not afraid of you.” I lean toward the crowd, and my teeth peel back from my lips in a snarl as I spit the words at them. “I’m not afraid of you, but you should be very afraid of me. You should look over your shoulder every minute of every day and wonder when I’m coming for you. You should tremble when you close your eyes because one of these nights, you’ll awaken with my blade against your throat, and there will be nothing you can do to stop me.”
Someone climbs into the wagon beside me, but I don’t turn. I don’t look away from the wide-eyed, terrified expressions facing me. “I know what you’re capable of, you filthy coward. But you have no idea what I can do. What I’ve already done.”
Melkin’s eyes haunt my memory, and I clamp my lips shut before my truth pours out into the green-gray air and condemns me.
“Good job,” Logan says for my ears only as he wraps an arm around me. When his warmth presses against me, I realize I’m shaking. “You made them understand.”
I look at the silent crowd who faces us and realize he’s right. They know they’re prey, and that someone close to them might betray them. They’ll be on their guard. And the one who marked the doors last night knows his days are numbered. I meet Logan’s eyes and find the same furious sense of betrayal in him that exists within me.
“We’re going to find whoever marked those doors,” he says.
“Yes, we are. But first, we need to light that fire and get out of the city before the army reaches us.”
He nods, and sways sharply to the left. I grab his tunic and face the crowd again.
