41

They'd started out early in the morning, speaking little over the first couple of hours they'd been slogging north.

"What's wrong?" Cade finally asked her. "You've been quiet." He wondered if she suspected anything. She'd been wary of him in the past. But he sensed that she'd jumped in with both feet with him, deciding to trust him completely.

Which would make this all the more devastating to her.

"I'm just sad to leave," she said. "Maybe we can hole up here for another week on the way down? You can teach me to ice fish."

With his eyes averted, he said, "Yeah, maybe so. Did Nïx ever give you a way to contact her?"

"No, why?"

"Wouldn't mind some Monday morning quarterbacking, except in advance." His gut was tied in knots as he wondered if this was the right move. Was there a right move? At any turn, Cade would fail someone. It felt wrong to deceive and hurt Holly, wrong to risk his brother's freedom, wrong to ignore the needs of an entire kingdom.

He could already see the betrayed look on Holly's face. Would he be able to keep up the charade of indifference, when he wanted her more than he'd wanted anything in his entire life…?

Whatever road there had been initially deteriorated into a primitive trail as the terrain grew more mountainous. Every few miles, Cade had to drag trees out of their way.

He'd cut this journey so close that anything could set them back. Part of him wished they would miss the deadline, hoping for something, anything, that would prevent him from having to turn her over—to take the matter out of his hands, so it wouldn't be his decision either way.

Then Cade would think of his brother, and the guilt would assail him.

Holly perked up. After hours of grueling four-wheel driving deeper into the mountains, the trail had finally begun improving.

By the time it actually resembled a road, the dense forest of spruce opened up into a small valley.

It was just before two, which meant that the sun hadn't yet set, so they were able to see some of the spectacular scenery. A whitewater river etched its way through the valley. Mist swirled above them, like a gossamer lid over all.

Cadeon leaned forward on the steering wheel. "This area should be bare, the river frozen."

Instead birch and aspen trees still had their leaves, and there was not a single patch of snow.

"Maybe it has its own microclimate? I've read that hot springs can melt the area around them."

"Yeah, that's probably it," he said, but he was distracted.

They followed the road as it ran parallel to the river. "Look, it's a little town," Holly said, then frowned. "A ghost town." And she didn't use that term lightly anymore.

"It's an old coal mining village. I saw the entrance to a shaft a while back. Groot must have set up here so he could have fuel for his forge."

They passed a startlingly well-preserved sign that read: Prosperity, NWT, est. 1902, pop. 333.

Along the water stood forty or fifty abandoned buildings, each appearing to be from the early nineteen hundreds. They had wood shingles for the siding and roofing and were austere, built in that creepy, unadorned Quaker style.

Though there was no snow, a crystal clear sheen of ice covered everything, like a varnish. "This place literally looks frozen in time. Why did the residents leave? Did the mine go bust?"

"They didn't leave," he said quietly, turning onto the main street.

It was then that she noticed doors were wide open, or hanging at odd angles, attached to stretched hinges. She spied a pair of antique-looking bicycles, turned on their sides in the middle of the street, as if they'd been abandoned in a panic.

"Cadeon, what is this?"

"Wendigo. They attacked here. I've heard these mountains are teeming with them. They act as a natural boundary for Groot."

"I read about them. They used to be humans, but were turned into cannibals. They eat corpses. They even…eat people alive."

He nodded. "Cousin to the ghoul, ravenous for flesh and highly contagious—even to other immortals. All it takes is one bite or scratch."

"How?"

"A toxin emitted from the claws and fangs."

"How long does the transition take?"

"Three to four days," he answered. "Long enough for a victim to realize what's happened, to come to terms with it, and then to decide what has to be done."

"What? What has to be done?"

In answer, Cadeon pointed off to the side of the street to a towering birch tree. Tattered nooses swayed from its limbs.

"Are the Wendigo still here after all this time?"

"Probably. They can survive on animal flesh if they have to."

They neared the town's church. "Is that what I think it is on the chapel?" The building was still eerily pristine—on its sides. Across the front, ruddy spatter stretched in distinct arcs at least fifteen feet high.

He nodded. "It's blood."

"Oh, God…"

"The villagers still living and uninfected probably barricaded themselves in that church. The windows are boarded on the inside."

The front doors hung askew. Just past them, Holly spied stacked pews. She could imagine the scene all too clearly. Once the front blockade had fallen, the people inside had been trapped by their own defenses. The Wendigo likely dragged out screaming villagers, tossing them to the waiting pack….

"Cadeon, even if I'm not interested in being human again, I'm glad you brought me."

"How could you be?" His tone was almost sharp.

"Just in case you need me to get your back," she said, frowning when she saw his knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

Just as she parted her lips to ask him what was wrong, he said, "There's Groot's fortress."

As the mist began to clear, she glimpsed a magnificent waterfall, at least four hundred feet high. Directly atop it was…a castle, built at the fall's edge.

Five towers all conjoined to a central keep over the water. Above it, a stone smokeshaft billowed gray smoke. Even from this distance, the mighty forge was visible.

"That's why the river isn't frozen and why there's so much mist," he said. "It heats the water—"

"Cadeon!" She swallowed. "Down a side street. I think I just saw something running!"

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