Cloak, Torn: Book 2 [ON HOLD]

Chapter 2

I lay awake in bed that night. It was often a battle to fall asleep. Father thought it was because he'd been partially nocturnal for some of his life and that he'd passed on some of his beastly qualities to me. Though his theory concerned him, I liked the thought of being just a little abnormal.

Either way, I was bored. Bored, bored, bored. If I was going to be awake I should be doing something, not just tossing and turning in my nightdress.

Too dark to read. Too dark to draw. I'm not hungry. So what do I do?

Far off I thought I heard a howl. I leapt out of bed and bolted to the window. Beyond the castle gate all I could see was a vast expanse of impenetrable trees. I listened again for what seemed like the longest time but never heard anything else. Wolves. If you could forget our country's long time enemy to the west, Arensland, they were the single biggest threat to the people of Fabel. The grand majority took up residence in the woods that surrounded the castle, though there were rumors of some as far as the Grantian border. How the thieves and robbers that lived in the woods survived I would never know. Maybe they had some kind of contract worked out with my aunt. Everyone had heard stories of people disappearing in Whitethorn Wood, and that the wolves here were larger than any found in nature. There were rumors the entire forest was under a spell, producing massive monsters and hybrids. None of that was true. I'd been in the woods enough times to know that there weren't any monsters besides the wolves and the woman who controlled them - good old evil Aunt Jayla.

Wait a second, what did Father say earlier?

" 'I want the bodies burned by tonight, Emerson,' " I muttered.

The pyre! Of course! Father always insisted on burning the bodies, saying that it was wrong to skin them. They were creatures of magic and even dead they were dangerous.

I pulled on a pair of slippers and peeked through the door. No one in sight. Good. I slipped out as silently as I could and stole through the hallways on tiptoe, keeping an eye out for anyone patrolling the hallways at this hour. No one stopped me as I slid down the staircase railings with practiced balance and took the less traveled hallways to a side door that led outside. I ducked through it and kept to the shadows of the castle, sneaking under the radar of the guards patrolling the wall. After all, they were looking out, not in. I could see the barest glow which grew into a blinding amber light as I rounded the corner of the castle and emerged into the scene.

I kept to the shadows, getting as close as I dared, my heart thrilled at the adrenaline of being where I shouldn't. Two men stood before a massive, burning, spectacle. Thick smoke permeated the air, and the smell of something akin to roasting meat and toast choked any doubts of the event taking place. The pyre itself was a massive spectacle of wood consumed by a hungry wall of fire that snapped and roared, competing for the corpse-fuel. Blinding, incandescent teeth and tongues devoured the empty shells like the ravenous wolf pack they fed on. Thick shadows dancing to the eerie, chaotic tune of death clung to every surface, flinging themselves dramatically across the courtyard and mingling with the inky, starless night.

I could just see Father's silhouette encompassed in the reflection of dancing, amber firelight from the pyre. His green irises were stained orange from the image he trained them on. Heaviness lined his expression and the shadows made the dark crescent moons beneath his eyes appear four shades more gaunt. There must have been the weight of the moon on him for his shoulders to sag so much. Desperation leaked through in his half lidded eyes and disheveled hair.

"You know she's obsessed with it, Emerson."

"Aye. The Woodsman and I know it a bit too well."

"She might be ripped to shreds somewhere or worse by now if not for the two of you," Father said, putting a hand to his furrowed brow, trying to work the worry lines away.