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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TROUBLE'S SHADOW
Pix should have known she’d regret striking a trade with Den. But, by the time Den had finished detailing the deal, she’d already led Pix so deep into the forest that they’d never find their way out without Den. Tripping toadstool! Why did Pix never learn that there was no trusting this trickster wolf?
Pix stared at the sprawling, multi-storied cottage that would have looked lovely and sweet, with its white detailed trimmings and scalloped eaves, if it wasn’t for the large, axe-wielding woodsmen patrolling the floral grounds.
Of course, one of Den’s dim-witted brothers would try to date the heiress of the Redd Riding Hood Cape and Clothier Company and get caught. Granny Redd was notoriously protective of her granddaughter, Scarlet, and was equally infamous for her hatred of wolves. Foolish, feckless Fang. Pix took a deep breath. “So we just have to break in, grab your brother, and get out?”
“Is that all,” Slyth said sardonically. “Why not just ask us to waltz in and steal Granny Redd’s girdle, while we’re at it?”
“And me without my dance shoes,” Fallon drawled, from the ground behind Pix and Den.
“You’re staying here.” Pix pointed to him, Slyth, and Lethe.
Den raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t exactly a two-person job, Pixy. We’ll need a scout.” She looked at Lethe, who practically preened. “A man on the inside.” She nodded toward Slyth, who nodded his head smugly. Then she smirked at Fallon, whose eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And, of course, no scheme is complete without bait.”
Even in the shadowy brush, she could see Fallon’s face flush with temper. She cut him off before he could start a fight with Den that he clearly couldn’t win. “Out of the question.”
“C’mon, Pixy.” Den rolled her eyes and held a paw over her heart. “I promise, nothing is going to happen to your trussed-up trophy catch.”
Pix could hear Fallon grumble behind them. “We’re about to break into one of the most fortified homes in the land; how exactly are you going to keep that promise?”
Den shook her head, looking wounded. “This is why we didn’t last; you never trusted me.”
Pix snorted. “And had nothing to do with the fact that you were—and remain—thoroughly and arrogantly untrustworthy.”
Den chuckled and tugged a stray strand of Pix’s hair. “But I always know how to show a girl a good time.”
Pix rolled her eyes only to stop when she heard the prince snort. She shot him a glaring look. She got to judge Den; he didn’t. She knew Den, knew what she was like and shared a history with her. He was just judging her for being a wolf. Pix bristled before lifting her chin indignantly. “Let’s do it.”
“What!” the princeling huffed.
“Excellent!” Den grinned, making Pix regret her decision immediately. But it looked like they were in it now. So she listened while Den told her the plan. If one could call it that.
After leaving Fallon to dangle in a tree not far off with Lethe, Pix, Den, and Slyth hid in the bushes by the front gate of the Redd property. Once in place, Pix let out a bird call, signaling Lethe.
“Help!” Pix heard Lethe scream out. “Help me! Is there anyone there? Help!”
She watched several guards leave to check out the commotion. From their hiding spot, they waited a moment longer before one of the guards yelled for more of the woodsmen to join them, presumably to help get the bound and gagged Fallon out of the tree.
Den leaned in and whispered in Pix’s ear, her warm breath sending an irrational quiver through Pix. “You’re sure they won’t be able to get your royal yo-yo out of the tree?”
Pix swallowed and forced herself to concentrate. Even though she could feel Den’s soft fur brush her arm in the bushes. She shook her head and said in a voice that sounded breathy even to her. “Well, seeing as he’s simply hanging in the branches, not even tied to the tree, they couldn’t free him, even if they chopped down the whole tree.”
She warmed at Den’s low chuckle. “You always were the best witch in the magical business.”
Pix felt her face flush at the gruff admiration in Den’s voice. She never could resist the way Den could make her feel like the most amazing creature in the world. After spending her entire life feeling like a mistake or a failure, Pix had fallen completely for the pretty praise that tripped easily off Den’s tongue. It’d made her feel special and appreciated for the first time. Until she’d realized that Den did that with everyone. Like any magic trick, it’d become harder to feel special once she’d seen Den work her charms on so many others. Pix had known it was over when Den’s brand of magic stopped working on her. Or maybe Den had just stopped casting her enchanting flattery Pix’s way, finding new and more enticing targets for her talents. So Pix had left, more than familiar with the feeling of not being wanted anymore.
But it’d been a long time since then and Pix still craved those words—craved the feeling those words inspired—and, finally having them again, after all this time, felt like having them for the first time. She breathed out, trying to calm the needy fluttering inside that hungered for more.
They watched the last of the guards rush off to help the helpless prince before Pix, Den, and Slyth made their way to Granny Redd’s house. They crouched beneath a window that was cracked open a bit. Pix lifted her hand up to the pane, letting Slyth slither in through the tiny opening.
As they waited for Slyth to unlock the thick, sturdy door, Pix swallowed hard as she felt Den’s strong, sleek body crouched close to hers. She swore she could feel their hearts beat and their breaths puff in time together. Despite the sneaky circumstances, it felt right being beside her again. Partners in crime. Them against the world. They both turned when they heard the door’s lock rattle. Pix’s breath caught as Den gripped her shoulder to stand. “You ready for this, Pixy?”
Pix peeked up at Den. Her toothy, gamin grin was both comfortingly familiar yet sent a delicious shiver through her as she reached her hand out to her, letting Den pull her up to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Den lifted her chin gently and winked. “Yeah, you are.”
“Let’s go, ladies,” Slyth hissed from the other side of the door. “Who knows when those guards will be coming back.”
Startled, Pix took a nervous step back. She shook her head. Now was not the time to let her emotions get the better of her. They had a mission. Get Fang. Get out. So she could get Fallon back to her aunt and finally have her revenge. She could do this; she just needed to get her head—and heart—in the game.
Then Den grabbed her hand and pulled her into the house, making her head feel dizzy and light. She looked at their entwined hands and bit back a wistful sigh.
Well, fig. They were in trouble.
“You do know where they’re keeping your brother, right?” Slyth asked as he slithered up Pix’s ankle and up her body.
Den’s jaw tensed as she surveyed the empty house. “Granny keeps her prisoners in the attic.”
Seeing worry on Den’s face, Pix gripped her hand tighter. “Then that’s where we’ll go.”
Den looked down at their hands and Pix would bet that she was blushing beneath her fur. “Thanks for coming, Pixy.” Den looked down at her with such tenderness. “I always could count on you.”
Pix felt her own cheeks warm as her wings fluttered nervously. She smiled. “Always.” They might not be romantically together anymore—not after hearing what her family thought about Den dating a non-wolf—but they’d cared about each other deeply once. And, for those like them, whom the world hated and hunted, bonds like those lasted. They may change, even fade, but when loyalty was scarce, you couldn’t afford to lose them completely.
They made their way, hand-in-hand, through the hallways and up the stairs. The house was so huge, more of a mansion than a cottage, that Pix felt turned around. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“We’re almost there,” Den assured her.
“Notice, that wasn’t actually an answer,” Slyth hissed in Pix’s ear before Den hushed them both.
“That’s the attic door,” Den said, pointing to a large door with similar, delicate white trimming as the outside of the house. A soft light shone through the cracks and the smell of sweet baked goods and spices lingered.
Pix frowned. She might not know Granny Redd personally, but Pix knew prisons. And this was not what a prison door looked like. Prisoners did not get baked goods and cozy settings. There was absolutely no way Granny was keeping Fang in a place like this. Den must have gotten the wrong information. She reached out to warn her when Den’s hand slipped out of hers so Den could stalk closer to the door. “Wait.”
But Den didn’t. Instead, she snuck into the room and, as the door shut behind her, she howled.
Yep, they were in trouble.
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