“Come on,” said Rose, hopping out of the SUV’s passenger seat. “It looks like the entrance is that way.” We’d rendezvoused with her and Dimitri in Houghton and then taken their more rugged rental vehicle out here to the packed-earth parking lot we now found ourselves in. Several other cars with Michigan plates were parked beside our rental, most of them the kind of heavy-duty models needed for life out in the wilderness. Admittedly, we were only an hour from Houghton, but it was hardly what you’d call a major metropolitan area. It had the basics—grocery stores, a hospital, Starbucks, even a university—but that was about it. Once you left the city limits, you were almost immediately out in the woods again. That was all I could see right now, and it took me a moment to spot the opening to the trailhead that Rose indicated.

“Narrow,” I remarked as Sydney and I followed her and Dimitri over to it. The trail itself was clear, but around it, the thick forest was difficult to pass through.

“By design,” he said, setting off like he did this sort of hike all the time. Probably it was how he’d gotten to school every day in Siberia. “Makes it harder for Strigoi to come through.”

“I bet it’s a real bitch to get through in the winter,” I added. I swore as a low branch snagged my coat.

Careful, warned Aunt Tatiana. That’s Italian leather.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them left for the winter,” Dimitri remarked. “This is an ideal summer location—somewhat high latitude. In peak summer, there’s probably only five hours without daylight. If you’ve got that and some solid wards, you can hold out relatively well against attacks—especially when it’s a group of dhampirs we’re talking about. They put up a good fight.”

I could believe that and stayed silent as I focused on paying attention to my footing and not eating any gnats. My muscles were stiff from so much time in the car, and the movement actually felt good. When Dimitri had said the medallion symbol was linked to a place called Wild Pine Intentional Community, I’d had no idea what we’d be getting into. Apparently, “intentional community” was the modern name for a commune, and they were something that humans still formed nowadays too. I’d also learned—thanks to Sydney’s endless knowledge on the drive here—that a lot of communes weren’t just hippie love fests à la the 1960s. Some were very modern but embraced green ways of living. Some were little more than campgrounds. Dimitri had told us in Houghton that this particular dhampir community likely fell somewhere in the middle. I was crossing my fingers for something on the more modern side, maybe like a secret wooded resort. Images of the Ewok village from Return of the Jedi came to mind.

“I just hope they have plumbing,” Rose said. “That was the rough part about staying with the Keepers.”

“I was actually okay with that,” Sydney said unexpectedly. “It was the questionable meat I had a problem with.”

“Whoa, no plumbing?” I exclaimed. My brain had trouble wrapping itself around how you’d even function in such a scenario.

“Better get used to the idea,” Rose teased, glancing back at me. “Liss may not let you guys come back. When this is all over, you two may end up living with the Keepers.”

“I’m sure we can find some alternative before resorting to that,” I said loftily, not wanting to admit how uncertain I was about our future.

Dimitri didn’t share Rose’s amusement. “If the Alchemists are still after her, I’m sure Lissa will let you return to your suite.”

Won’t that be fun, noted Aunt Tatiana. More close quarters with your mother, none of you ever wanting to go out and face the other Moroi.

“That’s no kind of life,” I murmured, thinking of how trapped both Sydney and I had felt. I hadn’t fully realized it until we’d left and had some breathing room. Even when we were fighting, the vibe between us was more electric when we had our freedom. Meeting Sydney’s eyes, I knew she was thinking the same thing and was full of the same questions I had about what our future held. Unfortunately, we weren’t likely to get any answers right away. We could only focus on the immediate concerns. Jill. Olive.

Dimitri came to a halt and pointed off toward the woods. “Look. The beginning of the wards.”

I followed his motion and caught a glimpse of silver in the underbrush. A charmed silver stake. The dhampirs in this commune would have them placed strategically around their settlement, creating a magical barrier to keep Strigoi out. The undead couldn’t cross that kind of power, but it required constant maintenance. If the bonds weakened or someone moved a stake out of place, Strigoi would be able to come through. It was a concern all Moroi and dhampir communities had. The wards at Court were checked several times a day.

We had just passed the stake when a figure suddenly stepped out of the woods and onto the path in front of Dimitri, who struck a defensive stance at the sight of the newcomer and then relaxed when he saw it was a dhampir. She too wore a tough, ready-for-anything expression, along with both a gun and a silver stake at her belt. A medallion around her neck was an exact copy of Olive’s—save that it was edged in blue, not green. The woman’s face softened a little as she took in Rose and Dimitri, then hardened again at the sight of me.

“Greetings,” she said. “You’re looking for Wild Pine?”

Rose squeezed up beside Dimitri, which wasn’t easy on the narrow path. “We’re looking for a friend of ours,” she said. “We think she’s staying with you.”

After assessing Rose and Dimitri, the dhampir woman nodded congenially at Sydney and then turned downright hostile when she looked me over. “And him? What’s he looking for?”

“The girl we’re looking for is my friend too,” I said, surprised at her reaction. “I told her sister I’d find her.”

Our hostess looked skeptical, and I wondered what was up with that. I’d think it was dhampir solidarity, except that she’d seemed fine with Sydney. Probably the woman had seen Sydney’s lily tattoo and assumed she was doing some routine Alchemist visit. That still didn’t explain my cold welcome. “What’s your friend’s name?” the woman asked.

“Olive Sinclair,” I replied.

Immediately, a look of distaste filled the woman’s eyes, but it was clearly in regard to me, not Olive. “So you’re the one who got her in trouble.”