The first time I was here, I didn’t take a good look at the cabin. I’d been focused on finding Kate, and then I’d been distracted by seeing Elijah watching her. Now when I look at it, my gut says there’s something wrong. Kate would jump on this as proof of the otherworldly. But my brain looks for
—and finds—logical explanations to that reaction.
For one thing, the cabin is oddly constructed. On the surface, it looks rustic, the sort of cottage people with a little construction know-how might build from locally sourced materials. Getting back to the land, and all that. The foundation is concrete, though. While that’s common in modern buildings, it doesn’t fit for a cabin like this. Concrete means it’s been erected as a permanent structure, at odds with the homespun and temporary look of the place.
Yet that homespun look is also an illusion. From a distance, it seemed run down. The wood, while covered in moss, shows no signs of rot or insect infestation. The windows are boarded up . . . from the inside. That’s intentional, someone taking care to secure the building against casual hikers who might yank off a board for a peek inside.
The porch lists, making the whole place appear to sag. Yet it’s just the porch, which seems like an afterthought, tacked on by a weekend warrior. Even that is an illusion, though. I helped build a deck last year, and whoever
did this one understood proper construction techniques, which show in the important places while the rest is deliberately sloppy. Like a false face on a Wild West saloon. Except instead of adding a false face to make the place look fancier, someone’s added one to make this cabin look run down, not worth a second glance.
“It’s warded.” Holly’s voice comes from around the side of the building.
I follow to see Kate and Holly in the same spot I’d found Kate this morning when I caught Elijah ogling her. And, yes, the fact he’d just realized who she is explains the staring, but in my mind, I still see ogling.
Kate had been looking at the cabin foundation, obscured by ivy. Now Kate has untangled part of that, and both she and Holly are crouched examining the concrete. I walk over to see etchings in it.
“Warding?” I say.
Holly nods. “It’s witch magic.”
“Because it’s defensive,” I say. “Historically, defense magic is associated with witches and offense—or attack—magic is sorcerers. That’s not entirely accurate. An energy-bolt, for example, can be used offensively . . .” I trail off, feeling my cheeks warm. “And neither of you need a lesson in magic.”
“I’m interested,” Elijah says as he walks around the corner with Allan. It’s an olive branch. I realize that. But instead of relaxing, I tense, as if patronized, though there’s none of that in his tone.
Speaking of defensive . . .
Holly nods. “The majority of protective magic is witch. Sorcerers believe they don’t need it. Typical guys.” She turns to Allan and arches a brow. “Am I right?”
“Uh . . .”
“Someone needs to learn witch magic,” she says to us.
“I know, I know,” Allan says. “To totally change the subject, did I hear you say these are wards?”
Holly nods. “Witch magic carved right into the foundations.”
“Are they carved?” I ask as I crouch beside her. “It looks as if they were drawn in while the cement was wet.”
“I’d say so.” Elijah runs a finger down the inside of a stroke. “See how this is smooth? When we got a pool put in, I decorated the border with our cat’s paw prints.”
“You have cats?” Kate says.
“A cat and two dogs. I mentioned my Mom’s a vet, right?” “The animals are okay with you being a werewolf?”
He shrugs. “At first, my dad couldn’t be around pets, but Mom used a few vet techniques to overcome that. The ones we have now were all born after me, so I’m not some strange guy who smells like a predator.”
“Same as our dog,” Kate says. “She grew up with our scent. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your story. You decorated the pool cement with cat tracks.”
“Right. I was trying to freak out Mom, make her think the cat ran around in the wet cement, only she knew it was me. Probably because the prints spelled ‘Mr. Cuddles was here.’”
Kate arches her brows. “How old were you?” “Not the point.”
“Wait, you named your cat . . . Mr. Cuddles?”
He mock glowers at her. “Also irrelevant. But I will point out that the name was a joke. No one touched him unless they felt like donating blood. He was not a cuddler.”
“Shocking, really, when his owner went around sticking his paws in wet cement.”
“Back to the point of this story. So, when Mom figured it out, she said I’d missed the chance to put my own name in the cement. I grabbed a stick, but by then the cement was almost hard. I spent the rest of the day carving my name in it. All that is to say that this”—he points at the warding—“was done while the cement was wet. Doing it afterward is like chipping away rock. Our
pool cement looks like it was autographed by someone named Eliza.”
Kate laughs and then runs her fingers over the symbols. “What’s this one for, Holly?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” Holly says. “I recognize it as a ward, but most I know are general alert systems. Like a supernatural security alarm. This is a heavy-duty ward against something very specific.”
“And it was put in the concrete when the place was built,” I say. “Drawn in this one spot.”
Kate removes more ivy. Then she starts walking, untangling bits as she goes. She continues around the back of the house. Elijah jogs after her, as if following, but his footfalls pass her and keep going.
“It’s not just that one spot,” Kate calls back. “It goes around the whole house,” Elijah says.
They’re right. In some places, it’s hard to see the ward with the angle of the falling light. It’s there, though, circling the entire cabin.
“Keeping something inside?” Elijah says, as he peers at the boarded windows.
“No.” Holly looks around the forest. “This is to keep something out.”
We can’t get into the house. Or, to be more accurate, we choose not to. Kate or I could break down the door or snap a window board, but that would leave obvious signs of entry.
“Tomorrow,” Kate says, when we give up on finding an easy way in. “We’ll find tools and come back tomorrow. Pry open the door or a window.”
“A polite break-in,” Allan says.
“A fixable break-in,” Kate says. “Cover our tracks, and cover our asses.” “Kate’s right,” I say. “This place might look abandoned, but that’s an
illusion. Someone owns it, and that warding suggests the owner is a supernatural. I’d rather not be the stereotypical teens destroying property to
satisfy idle curiosity.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s idle,” Holly says. “There’s enough weirdness to suggest something’s going on, and this cabin being warded isn’t a coincidence. But I agree that we don’t have a valid reason for breaking down the door. Also, night is falling fast, and those wards tell me we aren’t the scariest things out here.”
“Agreed,” Allan says. “Let’s get moving.”
We encounter nothing on our way back. I’m not sure whether that’s a relief or a mild disappointment, like hearing the music build in a horror movie and then nothing actually jumps out. We arrive at the conference center to find Tricia and another counselor walking the perimeter.
“Where were you guys?” Tricia says as we exit the woods.
“Enjoying nature,” Kate says. “There isn’t nearly enough of that on the schedule. We have a whole forest here . . .” She waves. “And not a single outside activity after dinner.”
“Perhaps because we also have a camp full of teens who’ve never set foot in a forest. We’re restricting outdoor activities to daylight hours.”
Kate’s mouth opens to argue. At my look, she settles for muttering under her breath.
“I’m sorry we were gone so long,” I say. “We were concerned about Mason. Have you seen him?”
“Get inside,” she says. “You’ve missed the nighttime snack, so don’t go looking for food.”
Kate’s mouth opens again. This time, I cut her off with, “That’s fine.
We’ll just use our cell phones before we go to bed.”
I say it without challenge, but Tricia wheels on me, as if my voice drips sarcasm.
“You missed that, too,” she says. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll follow the
rules.”
I hesitate. Then I say, carefully, “If we can just have one of our phones for a quick text—”
“Or what? You’ll sic Mommy on me? You might be the Alpha’s son, but you don’t get special treatment here, Logan Danvers. Now take you sister and your new”—a dismissive wave at the others—“starter Pack, and go to bed.”
She stalks off with the other counselor. We watch her go, and then Elijah says, “Starter Pack? Are we collector cards? And does anyone else feel like we just got sent to bed without supper? How old are we?”
“Not to mention the fact she just outed us,” Kate mutters. “If you guys didn’t know we’re werewolves, you would now. After she was the one who wanted us keeping it quiet.”
“That was . . . odd,” I say.
Kate pats me on the back. “You’re just figuring that out, Lo? This whole conference is odd. But Mom will figure we were having too much fun to call. Paige can settle all this tomorrow. Everything seems quiet tonight. Let’s hope it stays that way.”