Asylum(60)

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, old man,” Julian piped up, eyes twinkling at his playful dig at Leo.

“That’s why it came from me, little boy.” Leo’s riposte earned a smirk from Julian. “Max, go with them. Keep them out of trouble. The rest of you,” he looked at the three other werebeasts, “I have need of here.”

“You should come with us, Valentina,” I suggested, earning disapproving glares from Julian and Leo.

Luckily Valentina wasn’t interested. She answered with an exaggerated yawn, her arms reaching out behind her as if stretching. “I think I’ll just stay here.”

“Suit yourself!” Julian pushed his chair out and jumped up, no doubt wanting to escape before she changed her mind. “Come on, Evangeline.”

“Enjoy the day. Dinner won’t be ready for several hours, so . . . don’t rush back,” Leo said. There was a strange look in his eyes when he glanced at me.

“Is something wrong, Leo?” I asked, noticing his hesitation. My stomach suddenly churned—had he received bad news from Sofie and didn’t know how to tell me?

He chuckled softly, as I imagined a grandfather would. “Oh, nothing at all. I haven’t heard from Sofie, if that’s what you’re thinking. This cabin is just getting the better of all of us.”

No . . . there was something more. I caught another flash of something strange in his eyes. Resolve . . . acceptance . . . what was it? I had no idea, but I knew I could threaten to pull the stubborn old man’s teeth out and still not get any hints, so I didn’t press. I headed up to my room to dress in a hundred layers.





This way, Max instructed, trudging effortlessly through the deep snow as he wove confidently through the trees. Every so often his back would brush against a snow-covered branch, sending clumps of the white stuff cascading down and releasing the fresh, crisp scent of evergreen into the air. He seemed to know where he was going. I, on the other hand, had no clue. Every direction looked exactly the same: trees, snow, and rocky peaks, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Leo had been right. Swathed in long johns, layers of wool and fleece, and arctic outerwear, I found it almost pleasant outside. I could feel my nose hairs freezing together, but I was actually breaking a sweat as I trekked behind Max in my first pair of snowshoes.

“I’ve never done this before,” Julian said, echoing my thoughts.

“You’re doing really well.”

“Thanks. So are you,” he offered.

“Thanks! It’s fun. A lot more fun than chess.” I threw a mischievous grin over my shoulder at him. The sudden movement threw me off balance. Arms and poles waving, I toppled over to land butt-first in an ungraceful heap in a deep snowbank.

Julian doubled over in laughter. “I stand corrected.”

Thank God I didn’t take you the other way. You’d have ended up going over a cliff, Max muttered.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Max,” I said, the memory of stepping off the cliff in Ratheus and being saved by Caden stirring an ache in my heart. But that was then and I was here now. I couldn’t dwell on the past or I’d get pulled back into that dark place. I shook the memory away, giggling over my clumsiness instead.

Julian’s laughter suddenly stopped. I looked up to see his brown eyes locked on something behind me, his face drained of all color. I followed his gaze toward a giant white wolf standing not twenty feet away, its beady eyes shifting between Julian and I. It made no movement. It simply watched, not the least bit bothered by us or the werebeast accompanying us. I couldn’t say the same for Julian or myself.

“Max!” I hissed, my eyes glued to the wolf, terror paralyzing my body. I may as well have been trussed up on a buffet table and slathered with sauce, stuck in this snowbank. I couldn’t believe my super-powered werebeast hadn’t noticed a wolf slinking up behind us! “There’s a wolf over there!”

Yeah, so? Max answered, his tone flip.

“So, kill it!”

If I kill it, then who will cut our firewood?

Who’s going to . . . I screwed my face up in confusion. “What?”

“What’s he saying?” Julian whispered, trying not to move his lips, his eyes still glued to the motionless wolf.

“I don’t . . . ” Frozen with fright, my brain struggled to make sense of Max’s words and his lack of reaction to the giant wolf. The wolf doesn’t cut our firewood. The Yetis cut our firewood . . . Why would it matter to our firewood if we killed a wolf? It doesn’t make . . . Comprehension suddenly slapped me in the face. I gasped, studying the wolf’s fur more closely. It matched Yeti One’s hair color.