Chapter 18 · Shattered Silver

The vial rolled across the stone and stopped against my boot.

Blue glow. Like somebody had bottled moonlight.

"Drink up, Seraphina." Garrick's voice slid through the gap under the door, smooth as butter on a knife. "Healer's tonic. You look pale, and the Alpha needs you strong."

Behind me, Vane's breathing scraped in and out of his chest. Wet. Ragged.

I didn't answer. I crouched, and the chain on my ankle dragged behind me. It gave me exactly enough slack to reach the door. He'd measured it. Of course he had.

I pulled the cork and sniffed.

Mint. Honey. Sweet enough to make your teeth hurt.

And under it, bitter green rot, and a thin metallic bite like a coin on the tongue.

My stomach dropped.

Wolfsbane. Silver-cut wolfsbane. My grandmother used to hang it in the cellar with a skull painted on the jar. One swallow and my heart would stutter and quit. Even a few drops in my blood would turn my scent sour as spoiled meat.

And my scent was the only thing keeping the monster behind me on his leash.

"Clever bastard," I whispered.

"What did you say?"

Vane's voice came from way too close.