Chapter 4 The Fragile Art of Deception

The van smelled like cedar chips and old death. Usually, the scent was comforting, a reminder of a job well done but as I backed the vehicle up to the cellar’s exterior loading hatch, it felt like a coffin on wheels. I kept the engine idling, the low rumble vibrating through the steering wheel and into my frozen fingers. Every few seconds, my eyes darted to the rearview mirror, searching the fog for the glowing amber eyes of a patrol I knew was circling closer.

Loading Silas into the back was an exercise in suppressed screams. He had regained enough strength to crawl into the transport crate I used for elk, but the effort left him trembling and grey-faced. I packed heavy moving blankets around him, ostensibly to protect a "fragile specimen," but really to soak up any stray drops of blood that might betray us.

"If you have to shift," I whispered, leaning into the dark cavern of the van, "do it quietly. If we’re stopped, don't breathe. Don't growl. Just be meat."

From the depths of the blankets, his grey eyes caught the dim light. "You have a terrifying way of comforting people, Elara."

"I’m a taxidermist, not a nurse," I snapped, sliding the heavy door shut and locking it.

I climbed into the driver's seat, my palms sweating against the plastic grip of the wheel. The plan was simple, which was exactly why it was prone to disaster. I had a standing permit to deliver "educational materials" to the university museum two towns over. It was a route I took once a month. If I kept my cool, if I didn't look like a woman with a dying prince in her trunk, I might just make it past the Black Bridge checkpoint.

The road out of Oakhaven was a winding ribbon of cracked asphalt flanked by ancient, suffocating pines. The fog hadn't lifted; it had thickened into a soup that turned the world into a series of blurred shapes and sudden shadows.

I saw the flashing lights of the checkpoint before I saw the bridge.

My stomach did a slow, nauseating roll. Usually, the Enforcers just waved me through with a disgusted look at my van’s logo. But today, there were four of them. And they weren't just standing around. They were searching every vehicle, their movements systematic and ruthless.

I pulled up, the brakes squealing in the damp air. An Enforcer I didn't recognize a tall, barrel-chested man with a scar running through his eyebrow tapped on my window with a heavy flashlight.

I rolled it down, letting the cold air hit my face. "Morning. Something wrong?"

The man didn't answer. He leaned in, his nostrils flaring. He was catching the scent of the van. I held my breath, praying the bleach and the cedar and the chemical preservatives were doing their job.

"Name?" he barked.

"Elara Vance. I have a delivery for the University of Oakhaven. Forensic specimens. You can check the manifest on the dashboard."

He took the clipboard, glancing at it with disinterest before handing it back. "Out of the car, Vance. We need to see the cargo."

"It’s chemically sensitive," I said, my voice remarkably steady despite the fact that my soul felt like it was trying to exit through my throat. "If you break the seal on the larger crates, the oxygen will ruin the preservation. I'll have to bill the Council for the loss."

The man leaned closer, his eyes narrowing into slits. "The Council is currently more concerned with a traitor than your taxidermy. Open the back. Now."

I stepped out, the gravel crunching under my boots. I walked to the rear of the van, my heart thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I pulled my keys from my pocket, my fingers fumbling.

As I gripped the handle of the back door, a black SUV pulled up behind us, its engine a low, predatory purr. My blood turned to ice. I knew that car.

Julian Vane stepped out, an umbrella held over his head by a subordinate. He looked at me, then at the van, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips.

"Elara," he said, his voice carrying easily over the rain. "Fancy meeting you here. I see you’re finally making that delivery."

"I told you I had a deadline, Julian," I said, my hand still tight on the door handle.

"Indeed you did." Julian walked toward us, his polished shoes clicking on the pavement. He looked at the Enforcer with the scarred eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Miller?"

"Just checking the cargo, sir. Standard procedure."

Julian turned back to me. "You wouldn't mind if I took a look, would you? I’ve always been fascinated by your work. The way you make something dead look so... vibrant."

He didn't wait for my permission. He reached past me and pulled the doors open.

The scent hit us immediately, a wave of formaldehyde and musk. I looked in, my breath hitching. The elk crate was there, covered in the heavy blankets. Silas was in there. I could see the slight rise and fall of the fabric, a movement so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice.

Julian stepped into the van, his presence filling the small space. He walked toward the crate, his gloved hand reaching out to pull back the blanket.

"A magnificent specimen," Julian murmured. "Is it an elk?"

"A prize-winning one," I said, stepping up beside him. I needed to distract him. "The antlers are still in the secondary crate. If you touch the hide now, the oils from your gloves will stain the tanning solution."

Julian’s hand paused an inch from the fabric. He looked at me, his eyes dancing with a dangerous intelligence. He knew I was lying. He was enjoying this, the fear, the tension, the game.

Then, a sudden, sharp sound echoed from the woods to our left the snap of a branch and a low, guttural howl that wasn't human or wolf. It was something else entirely.

The Enforcers at the bridge immediately turned, their hands going to their sidearms. Julian’s head snapped toward the forest, his nostrils flaring as he caught a new scent.

"A decoy," he whispered, a look of pure irritation crossing his face.

He turned back to me, his gaze lingering on the crate for one more second. "You’re very lucky today, Elara. It seems we have more pressing matters to attend to."

He jumped out of the van and signaled to the men. "Move! Toward the treeline! It’s him!"

The Enforcers scrambled, leaving the bridge unguarded for a split second. Julian gave me one last, lingering look before disappearing into the mist with his men.

"Go," a voice whispered from the crate. It was barely a breath.

I didn't need to be told twice. I slammed the doors shut, jumped into the driver's seat, and floored the accelerator. The van roared to life, tires spinning on the wet asphalt as I sped across the bridge and out of Oakhaven.

I drove for twenty minutes in silence, my hands shaking so hard I had to grip the wheel until my knuckles turned white. When I finally felt we were far enough away, I pulled onto a dirt fire-road and killed the engine.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I climbed into the back and threw open the doors. Silas was sitting up, the blankets fallen around his waist. He was clutching his side, his face slick with sweat, but he was alive.

"That howl," I said, my voice trembling. "That wasn't you."

"No," Silas rasped, his eyes dark with something I couldn't identify. "That was my sister. She must have known they were closing in on you."

"Your sister? You mean there’s more of you?"

"There’s a resistance, Elara," he said, reaching out to grab the edge of the van for support. "And you just became their most valuable asset."

Before I could ask what that meant, Silas lunged forward, his hand snapping out to catch my wrist. His grip was like iron.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I looked. His eyes weren't grey anymore. They were glowing with a fierce, incandescent gold.

"The Silas family doesn't just rule by blood," he whispered. "We rule by what we know. And now, you know where the bodies are buried. Literally."

He pulled me closer, his face inches from mine. "Drive to the old mill at the border. If we don't get there by sunrise, my sister won't be the only one howling for blood."

I realized then that I hadn't just saved a man. I had started a clock. And the alarm was about to go off.