Blood Challenge Read Free

was as if her Gift did the seeing, not her, so the information didn’t get processed by her visual cortex. It arrived directly. Usually she got a rough idea of how strong a ward was, how complex, and sometimes, what type.
    The one she hadn’t quite stepped on was a summoning ward—she knew that much—and a strong one, probably designed to notify Friar if something large and living crossed it. And she’d known to watch out for it. She’d found it on the way in, so she’d known where it was. The plan was to follow it to the place where Earth disliked it.
    Many practitioners would pooh-pooh the idea that Earth had likes and dislikes, but Arjenie’s mother had been an Earth witch, and a strong one, and that’s what she’d taught her daughter. Arjenie thought that might be why she could sense Earth a bit herself, even though her own Gift was tied to Air.
    Earth was not uniform. It was granite here, sand there, clay somewhere else. Some parts liked to grow plants, some didn’t. The part of Earth that didn’t like the ward wasn’t cooperating with it, so the ward was weak there. Her Gift would let her cross unnoticed.
    Now she was genuinely crippled, not just inconvenienced. If only she’d been paying attention, she could have … Arjenie made a face at herself. “If only” never got anything done. Better stand up and see how much damage she’d done herself. No, wait. First see if she could spot a branch to use as a walking stick. That ankle was going to need some kind of help.
    Her cheeks were wet, so she wiped them. Pain always made her cry. She used to be embarrassed about that—it seemed so childish—but embarrassment was a waste of worry. Tears were one of many things that were standard for the Arjenie model: trips easily, great memory, cries when she hurts.
    Arjenie had excellent night vision and the moon was right overhead. It wasn’t hard to spot a nice, long stick that looked strong enough to do the job. Or the big, furry beast sitting next to it, watching her.
    Her heartbeat took one bounce and shot straight into the stratosphere.
    He was big. Much too big. And he could see her. She was sure of it. She hadn’t heard him approach, but there he was, huge and dark … was his fur black, or did it only seem so in the moonlight? His head was up and alert, ears pricked, not laid back—that was good, wasn’t it? No snarling, no showing teeth … “N-nice doggie,” she stammered, knowing even as she said it that this was no dog.
    He cocked his head. Their eyes met as if he were about to reply. Met and held.
    She fell. Sitting on her butt in the dirt, she still fell—for an instant, for some immeasurable flash of time, the world upended itself around her, or she fell through the world and ended up …
    He surged to all four feet. Took a step back—a clumsy step, almost staggering. Then another.
    “No—not that way. Watch out for—”
    Too late. His back foot strayed over the ward. Light erupted up from that spot, bright as a flashlight.
    “Oh, no.” A visual summoning ward. Those were rare. It hadn’t occurred to her Friar might have one, but it made sense. The militia guys would see it and come running. “Go.” She shooed him with both hands. “Go on, get away.”
    Instead, he used his mouth to pick up the stick she’d spotted at the same time she saw him. He walked right up to her and set it on the ground beside her.
    Oh, he was huge. She swallowed.
    But he was not just a wolf. That was good, she told herself firmly. She hadn’t ever met a werewolf, but a couple times she’d almost met Rule Turner—the one they called the werewolf prince, though that wasn’t what he called himself. But then, his people didn’t call themselves werewolves, either. They were lupi. Lupi were not ravening, bloodthirsty beasts, and they didn’t go around killing people.
    At least, not without a really good reason. FBI agents didn’t kill people without a really good reason, either, and she worked with them all