Amber Silverblood: Rogue Wolf

Chapter Eight

Dex held out his hand for me to join him in the circle of light. I hesitated.

He smirked. "Sugarsnout, this is what I do. You don't have to worry!"

"Okay, but...what if you did it wrong?"

"Then we both die horribly and painfully!"

I stared at him for a few seconds, but then broke down laughing. That was nice. It pushed back the darkness, the fear, if only just a little bit. For a second there, I actually believed that we could do this. Find the thief, get Hendricks his stupid glove back, and live to tell another crappy joke. Trying desperately to hold onto that feeling, I took his hand and stepped into the glowing ring with him.

"All right," he said, holding up his scepter with his other hand, "hold onto that cute butt of yours!"

The light coming out of the floor grew blinding, and heat washed over me. I squeezed Dex's hand tighter despite myself, and—

"Wait, did you just call my butt cute?" I demanded.

I don't know if he heard me, because I barely heard myself over the roar of...magical roaring stuff...and the next thing I knew, the light was gone. I blinked a few times. I wasn't sure if it was dark, or if my eyes had just gotten used to all the extra light, but I couldn't see anything.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"No idea. Cool, huh?"

Before I could reply, he raised his scepter and lit the gem up. The light illuminated a dark room filled with junk. Bicycles hanging from hooks in the ceiling, boxes so covered in dust I couldn't make out the writing on them, yard tools lined up neatly on the wall. I turned a little, and found myself face to radiator with a pickup truck.

"This is someone's garage," I realized.

"Brilliant, Holmes!"

I turned to see Dex inching around the truck to make his way toward the door, and grabbed him by the arm.

"What are you doing?" I snapped. "What if whoever lives here is home?"

He blinked, confused. "Our job gets infinitely easier?"

I shook my head wildly. "You can't just go in there and kill them! What if they're not the thieves?"

He smirked at me. "There's a teleportation spell leading straight to their garage. That doesn't happen by accident. Whoever's in there," he pointed at the door with the scepter, "has our gauntlet."

I still wasn't convinced, but I followed him anyway. I'd killed so many people who didn't deserve it over the past few years. What was one or two more?

That didn't make me feel better.

The door wasn't locked. Dex pushed it open carefully—and the smell of blood hit me like a steamroller. It was so strong that I actually stumbled backwards into the pickup truck because of it. Dex looked back at me, but before he could ask I had shoved past him to get into the house.

It was...a house. I didn't know what I'd been expecting. Frankenstein's laboratory? Dracula's castle? It was just a normal, everyday suburban home. Except that it smelled like a slaughterhouse.

"Amber, wait!" Dex said from behind me. I ignored him and sprinted down the hallway into the kitchen.

And there they were. Two of them. One lay in a pool of his own blood, his entire stomach blown out through his back. I didn't recognize him, but a look of surprise was etched permanently on his face. Right beside him was a woman whose throat had been torn out, almost like something had bitten her.