Never assume you're safe.
The scent would have been too faint for a normal hound.
But Puck was not a normal hound, and to him the scent called like fresh blood.
Puck was gone. She had lost him. Moth let out a shriek of frustration.
She took a deep, trembling breath and snarled at the taste of it.
Magic. Unseelie magic. The mask that had hidden it had finally been ripped away.
The nails on her hands lengthened to claws.
She wanted to kill something. Anything.
The snow steamed around her. She stalked back the way she'd come.
Back to the Cornucopia.
Lack of supplies had driven them back to the Cornucopia. Seph checked the web around it. There were no tributes in it, but there were a handful of stones. Someone had been testing the defenses.
He dismantled the charm so that they could get to the food. The stones clattered down.
"Hastings must be proud," Leesha murmured from beside him.
Seph tried to turn his jump into a more natural turn. "It was nothing."
Leesha raised her eyebrows. "Not many wizards could say the same." Her eyes wandered over to where Bingley and Emma were pulling out food for lunch. "The Anaweir certainly couldn't."
Seph frowned. "What happened between you and Emma? You've been snapping at each other since - Since you got back."
Since you killed Ella, he carefully didn't say.
"Nothing," Leesha said tightly. "She's just testing her stomach for the Games."
That didn't really clear up anything, but Seph wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. He nodded like he knew what she meant and went to grab some of the crackers Bingley had found.
"Shame there's no sandwiches," Emma said with forced lightness. "We could have ourselves a proper picnic on the lawn."
Bingley perked up a little. "Jane enjoys those. I'd promised her one for the day after Reaping Day."
"She must be disappointed you volunteered, then," Leesha said, sitting on his other side.
Bingley froze in the midst of opening a package. "Actually, I - Oh. Er. Yes, of course."
Seph raised an eyebrow. That had been convincing. Just how many Reapings did the Capital rig?
Emma's eyes were locked on the winter wedge of the forest. "Think of all the sights you'd have missed if you hadn't."
Seph got the message and carefully turned to look. Something was just visible through the trees. He gathered his magic -
A girl that barely looked human burst from the trees. A ball of fire grew in her hand.
Seph threw himself to the side. The fire shot past him -
Right to where Bingley still sat.
Bingley screamed. Emma's shriek came only a second later. Leesha was scrambling to her feet, but she wouldn't be fast enough. The fire was growing in the girl's hands enough.
Seph shouted a spell. The girl was flung back against a tree. The tree groaned. She sprang to her feet and hissed.
Emma sent a knife hurtling through the air. Leesha was shouting something.
They'd have to keep her off. Seph envisioned a circle and started to run. The gray threads of a shield sprang up behind him as the hastily murmured words fells from his lips.
The next fireball crashed into gray gossamer and dissipated. The girl screamed in rage.
Leesha cut off the spell she'd been preparing. "Well done."
The girl was throwing more fire. It was harder to keep it up while it was under attack. "Check on Bingley," he said, voice strained. "I'll keep her off till she gets bored."
"Or till we're ready to fight," Leesha said.
Emma hurried over to Bingley.
The cannon answered before she could.
Moth stalked around the protective circle. Would nothing go her way in here?
Something rustled in the trees nearby. Someone drawn to the outburst of magic, perhaps?
Moth ghosted closer. Rhys carefully peered around the tree.
"Hello, little sorcerer," she purred.
Rhys ran.
He did not run fast enough.
Puck heard the second cannon follow the first. Since neither was for his quarry, he didn't care.
He was close now. Very close. Even through the Unseelie magic trying to blind him, he could sense that.
There.
Henry Jones the second was taking a drink from the stream.
Puck sprang.
Terence had lingered three days. His killer lasted three hours.
Puck was careful to work in the shade of the trees where no light of the cameras could reach. The Grimms wouldn't thank him if he made Daphne watch this.
When the cannon boomed, he shifted back to human form and went to wash off in the stream.
Max took a long drink. Myrtle closed her eyes.
Darcy excused himself tightly and hurried out of the room. He needed the privacy of his own chambers to deal with this.
The sitting room was quiet.
A dozen white roses waited on the table.
My condolences, the note read.
Darcy flung them across the room.
(From the moment you're born to the moment you die, you are never safe.)