Eden Riverwallow's Arc

Chapter 14 of 18

Kane's shoulder stayed against Eden's. The green light through the willow branches held them like water. She had almost let herself believe the quiet was theirs to keep. Then the ground under the roots shifted. Not a tremor. A pull. Something below the buried vessel turned toward the surface. Eden felt it in her teeth, the same hum as the tree, only hungrier. Kane sat up. His eyes flashed yellow and stayed that way. "Something's coming." "From under?" "From the trees." He tilted his head. "Two things. One under. One walking." Eden closed her hand around the cracked moon amulet. The white hair inside it pressed warm against her palm. "How close?" "Close." The curtain of branches parted before she could stand. A man stepped through like he owned the doorway. Red hair spiked up between two curling ram horns. Black wolf ears twitched forward. His forked tongue tested the air once. He wore torn black and too many chains. He grinned at Kane the way a person grins at an old debt. "Wolf," he said. His voice scraped. "You brought her to the loudest tree in the wood." Kane was already on his feet, putting himself between the demon and Eden. "Raze." "Kane." Raze Brimstone's grin widened. He looked down at the roots. "You know what's humming under there. I can smell the light through the dirt. So can the thing that wants it." Eden stood. "Say what you came to say." Raze's eyes moved to her, slow. "The old vampire's dead. The wood's still bleeding from it. That buried lantern is calling something worse than him up through the roots. You sat here long enough to ring the dinner bell." Under their feet, the pull sharpened. A root creaked. A thin blue light leaked up between two knots of wood and then snuffed out. "Move," Kane said. "Where?" Eden asked. "Downhill. Away from the tree. Now." Raze stepped aside, mock-polite. "I'll watch you go. Consider it a favor. You'll owe me." Kane grabbed Eden's wrist. He pulled her through the branches. The black cat shot ahead of them into the brush. Eden looked back once. The willow's trailing strands were lifting, slow, like hair underwater. The hum had climbed into a ringing. They did not stop until the ground leveled and the ringing thinned to a pressure behind her ears. Kane let go of her wrist. He was breathing hard. His hurt side had opened again; a dark stain spread under his jacket. "The tree isn't safe anymore," he said. "It was the only place that was." "Not now." Eden pressed the amulet flat against her chest. The cottage waited downhill, listening. Behind them, something under the willow answered the buried light. Their private place was gone, and whatever slept beneath the roots had just learned her name at the door.