Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 412

Running away from a mysterious wolf made of shadows and dark magic is probably not the most brilliant plan I've ever come up with.

Especially when my own wolf can't keep up. And I have no idea how far I should run. Too far and I risk more participants in this deadly chase. Not far enough, and my desperate ploy might be for naught if it turns back around after eating me.

Not a pleasant thought, but the reality is that I have no fucking clue how to fight this thing.

Have we confirmed it's Ivy's wolf? I blast the thought at Selene; talking is impossible right now. Running is the priority.

I swear I can feel the creature's breath on the back of my neck, but it's at least a hundred yards behind me. My magic can sense it; it's like eyes in the back of my head. Almost. Kind of.

Likely. We can't find Ivy.

Okay, it was a long shot to hope that this wasn't Ivy's wolf, but my heart still sinks—through all the pounding—to hear the confirmation.

Her wolf seems to be corrupted in some way, but Ivy isn't. I can't just blast her to smithereens (assuming I figure out how). I might not like her, but I know she'd never approve of hurting any of us.

Her wolf might be the reason her friends are dead.

Grimoire's observation sounds almost absent-minded. He's a little preoccupied with being the brains of this operation; someone has to be, and I'm too busy trying to stay alive.

That's a terrifying prospect. One my mind automatically shies away from. I don't have the luxury of dwelling on such a horrifying possibility. If Ivy's wolf murdered her entire entourage…

My foot catches on something—a root, a rock, who knows—and the world tilts. The ground rushes up to meet my face, but training kicks in. I tuck my shoulder, roll, and spring back to my feet in one fluid motion.

"Fuck." My lungs burn. Magic might enhance my body, but it isn't perfect, and I'm not calm. My fear and panic leave my control lacking.

Focus, damn it.

Dwelling on Ivy won't help me survive this. I need a plan. A real one. Not this half-assed 'run until something better occurs to me' strategy.

Any ideas yet? I direct the thought at both Grimoire and Selene.

Physical attacks don't work. The shadow-wolf is exactly that—shadow and darkness given form. Teeth, claws, it doesn't matter. There's no substance.

Unless she wants to attack. Then my pack's blood spills.

Not yet, Grimoire admits. I'm running through different wards we can try to contain her, but I don't think we have the time to make anything usable.

Fuck. Not the answer I wanted to hear.

I've long since passed any usable trail, but my feet fly over the crusted-over snow instead of sinking in thanks to spreading my magic around my feet like invisible snowshoes.

If it wasn't for that bit of quick thinking the first time my feet sunk into a pile of snow, Ivy's wolf would have caught up to me a couple miles back.

Damn it. How far are we now? It feels like I've been running for hours, but it's probably only been ten minutes.

A howl sounds behind me; it's closer than I thought. Too close. My heart thuds harshly against my ribs.

My legs quiver. I've run faster and longer before, but not with this level of panic in my head.

Lucas was there. And his wolves. And I was free and safe.

Now? I'm running and scared.

My body—my magic—knows the difference.

I didn't train enough under duress. Somehow, I'm going to have to fix that. Later. If I survive this.

Light, Selene suggests. Shadows can't exist in pure light, right?

Grimoire makes a weird sound in the back of my head. The sun is out.

Oh. Never mind, then.

At least they're not arguing.

She's gaining on us, Grimoire says. He sounds tense, his mental voice clipped and hard. And Selene is a five-minute run behind us.

Kellan and the others are here, too, she reports.

That doesn't surprise me. None of them would have just stood around while I ran away with danger at my heels.

They're all going to be so fucking pissed. You know, if we all survive.