Page 40 of Ravenous

Safely inside, Lowell pushed his hood down, grinning as his gaze swept the room. “You actually live in a toadstool.”

She straightened. “A spacious one. This is a three/two.” The place might look whimsical, but she’d spent years lovingly maintaining every windowpane and mushroom beam. It was perfect for her—when it wasn’t being invaded by Rider operatives and an equally clandestine visit from her secret crush.

Cloak-and-dagger bullshit.She hated it. Her mother’s voice murmured from memory:Secrets are acids that corrode from within.

Meera felt the burn now. “You can’t be here,” she said tightly, resisting the urge to grab the hexed broom by the door and shoo him away like a giant spider.

“No wolves allowed, huh?” His rumbling burr was far too entertained.

“Yes, and nomalesallowed.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps we find you untrustworthy and overrated,” she said, only half lying. “Now, why are you here?”

“Wanted to see you outside work.”

Before she could answer, Nettle—the black cat she’d inherited from Lazara—slunk into the room. She hissed at the intruder with a puffed tail.

Lowell chuckled. “Your cat does no’ like me? Yet she’s female? I reckon it had to happen sometime.” Sly grin. “Luckily her mistress does no’ share the sentiment.” Effortless charm exuded from him, his aura warm.

Meera’s pulse jumped. “You seem very sure about that.”

“Oh, aye. At those meetings on the Mount, you’re always undressing me with your eyes. A couple of times, I wondered if I’d make it back to Craigdúr with my virtue intact.”

Resisting his charm, she demanded, “How did you get here?”

“The castle’s young teleporter dropped me at the edge of the woods, and then I tracked your scent. I can reasonably brag that I’m the best tracker this side of the Helter. Are you impressed yet? I can go on.”

She waved that away. “Whyvisit me?”

“Because you and I are going to save our species from a pointless war—without anyone else ever knowing.”

She crossed her arms. “Asecretmission? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nettle’s hiss cut through the air again, a reminder of the deadly games seemingly everyone wanted Meera to play. “You’ve come to the wrong witch. I’m an assistant, Lowell. That’s it. I don’t shape policy or stop conflicts.”

“You have the ear of your new leader. I have mine. Between us, mayhap we end the bloodshed. Tell me, do you even remember why we’re at odds?”

“You mean besides your kind’s innate distrust of magic and hatred of witches?” she shot back. “It’s practically instinctual, like a vampire’s thirst.”

He frowned, the teasing dimming. “Is that what your elders tell you?”

“Do you deny it? Do you deny that a Lykae murdered the first Rosewyn—the original Red Riding Hood—and her beloved grandmother? Hecate rest their souls.” She briefly gazed down.

Lowell parted his lips, then thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Nay. But that wolf must have been maddened. The pack punished him, aye, but it was never enough for your kind. We’ve paid the price since.”

“You think we’re unnatural.”

“Not unnatural, just…unnerving.” His tone softened, almost regretful. “And the real start of this feud was when Riders crossed into our lands to relieve us of food during lean times.”

She pursed her lips. Witches loved to steal from wolves, like teenagers in a hex shop. And some of that was because of necessity. The Skein had its ups and downs, and immortals hadn’t quite figured out how to manage them.

The mention of Riders twisted her stomach. Rose hadn’t been at that earlier meeting, but her Riders had been as relentless as the Banehand—peppering Meera with questions about Lazara’s disappearance, Ditch’s rise, and the Accession closing in. Every question was like a noose that kept tightening.

The likely answers:Lazara was murdered, and the murderer wants another bloody All-Battle to the bitter end until the House of Witches reigns supreme.

The Riders continued to work against Ditch, but surely the high priestess was already aware of their plans. Just the thought of her situation spiked Meera’s anxiety, and her magic welled.Control it.

She shook away her thoughts and said, “Witches have stolen from wolves. I can’t argue with that.”