Connor swallowed, his blue eyes not leaving hers. “I only meant, what if one of your Hel-Blar gets loose? You don’t have the whistle to control them anymore. Anything could go wrong.”

She let him up as quickly as she’d taken him down. Adrenaline spiked through me, making me tremble as Aidan released me. Connor got to his feet warily. There was a tiny drop of blood on his throat.

“It doesn’t matter,” Aidan said. “We don’t have any to spare.”

“But . . .”

“You blew up our stash, remember?” Saga pointed out. “Along with my whistle.”

Oops.

“You have to have at least one. That’s all I want. I mean, you had two of the Hel-Blar with you at the coronation.” They’d strained on their leashes, held there by the collar and the threat of Saga’s fury. The next day I’d dreamed it was me on that leash.

“I’ve no intention of making us vulnerable so you can impress your boyfriend,” Saga said darkly. “We’ve few enough left in our army. And we still have need of them, clearly. The new queen is hardly living up to expectations.”

Connor clenched his fist, struggling with his temper. I stepped partially in front of him. “There must be something.”

“Max is guarding the last of our army, before you get any ideas. And he’s under orders to kill anyone who tries to get past him. You included,” Saga added. “But I reckon you could find a few of my escaped pets near the bogs east of here. Word has it mountain lion carcasses were found there, and a mess they’d made too. You could try your luck,” she shrugged. Aidan shot her a look. She just smiled.

“Christabel, let’s go,” Connor murmured, nudging me back toward the opening of the cave. “They’re not going to help.”

The climb down the rocks was easier, since I pretty much slid down on my butt the entire way. Connor caught me before I brained myself on a boulder.

“Christabel?” Aidan said from the top of the outcropping. I glanced up through the cedar needles. “Be careful.”

Connor tugged me out of the bushes onto the path before I could reply. He glanced over his shoulder a few times before feeling safe enough to pull out his phone to message his brother. “Plan B,” he said.

Quinn met us at the river ten minutes later. I was already lost. Being a vampire didn’t suddenly negate the fact that I’d been a city girl for eighteen years. I didn’t know my way around the forest. A tree was a tree was a tree.

Quinn pushed away from a boulder he’d been leaning against, tossing his hair off his forehead. He was so much like his brother, and yet it was like looking at a stranger who’d stolen Connor’s face. “So what’s plan B, exactly?”

“You heard Saga.” I glanced at Connor. “The bogs. Saga said there are some runaway Hel-Blar with collars living there. So I’ll be bait. They’ll chase me, thinking I’m weak. And then you’ll grab one.”

Quinn looked at Connor then groaned. “Oh my God, it’s like talking to Lucy.”

Connor jerked his hand through his hair. “Christa, you can’t fight.” He took a healthy step out of range while Quinn grinned. “You’re not trained.”

“I can run,” I argued. “Look, do we need this damn collar or not?” He nodded reluctantly. “Then let’s go already.” I took off, assuming they’d catch up. When I couldn’t hear them, I stopped, turning around with a glower. “What?”

Connor’s mouth quirked. “The bogs are that way,” he said, pointing in the other direction.

“Well, crap,” I muttered, doubling back.

It took us just over an hour to get to the bogs. Quinn scaled one of the trees and jumped from branch to branch, keeping an eye out. Connor grabbed my hand.

“Christa, are you sure about this?”

“I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight” I quoted Shelley.

“I’m not sure what that means about tonight,” he returned drily. “But watch your back.”

I kissed him hard. “You too.”

This was way more nerve-racking than walking downtown alone in the middle of the night. At least there were streetlights there and I knew the layout of the roads and subway stations. Here it was just murky, soft mud under my boots, making a sucking sound with every step. The deeper in I went, the more it smelled like rot and mildew. I shivered.

I was trying to fight my way out of a clump of thick bulrushes when I smelled blood.

The severed remains of a cougar lay in bloody clumps a few feet away. And a few more feet beyond that, a Hel-Blar crouched, sniffing the air. I froze. He wasn’t wearing a collar. It wouldn’t do us any good if I was caught by him. I searched the cattails and bare branches for another flash of blue, or the glint of copper.

He sniffed again, with a raw snorting sound. “I smell that rotter Aidan,” he said. Most of them didn’t speak, but the ones that did were even more terrifying. Another Hel-Blar shuffled forward, hunched over as if she was walking on all fours. She wore a copper collar and was clearly beyond speech. She howled and gnashed her teeth, saliva dripping off her bloodstained chin. I didn’t know if it was the collar or captivity that had made her like that, or if she’d always been savage. Two more Hel-Blar shuffled out of the weeds to join her. I backed up a step.

Predictably, I snapped a twig under my foot.

I’d once had to climb over a violent, passed-out drunk who hung out behind my favorite bookstore downtown and he’d never even paused in his snoring. Here in the country, I was hopeless.