Her head cocked to the side. “What do you mean why? I asked you a question.”
Roane was growing tired of her impatience and condescension. Seeing her reaction, he hid a grin, but answered, “I don’t owe you answers to anything, so why would I start reporting to you now?”
Her eyebrows furrowed together and the corners of her mouth curved down. “I do not understand what is going on right now. What is happening?”
He sighed. “I’m giving you ‘attitude.’”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not my boss.” Roane shook his head, turning back to continue searching the land beyond them. He hadn’t had a boss for a while. Going rogue from the Hunters’ Line was freeing, but nerve-wracking. He knew they would come for him, along with Jacith’s army. And, suddenly, as if feeling them hot on his trail, he almost imagined seeing them moving along the trees. They would’ve been moving silently, like ghosts, approaching their camp with near perfection. He knew they weren’t out there, not yet, but they were coming. Their camp had been traveling at a fierce speed, but they needed to rest. One more night of rest, then another full week of going hard. The vampires could handle it. They were letting the wolves catch up.
And Saren must’ve felt the same because she said, “We shouldn’t stay long. Davy is in trouble. I sought you out to remind you of the importanc—”
Roane had a hand at her throat before she could finish that sentence. Her eyes widened from the quick turn of events, and she looked down at the arm. Before she could respond, Roane leaned forward and growled, “Do you think I don’t know?”
“We must keep going.” She spoke stiffly, her eyes lifting and holding Roane’s gaze. A fire started in her eyes. It sparked, but it was pulled down to a simmer. It was there. It was burning. The flames were bright, but she was keeping it contained. “The Immortal thread is separating from Davy. The sooner we get there, the better.”
Roane tilted his head to the side. The growl was still there, but he muted it. His hand dropped, releasing her suddenly. A normal being would’ve fallen from the abrupt departure, but Saren held still. He asked, “What do you mean? The thread is separating? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“It’s the witches.”
“The witches?”
“I was able to connect to Davy, and the last time was when your brother,” she spat the last two words, “had a coven working to pull the thread out of Davy.”
Roane wasn’t surprised to hear that Lucan was trying to pull the thread out of Davy, but he was surprised about two other items. His nostrils flared. “You can connect to her?” His hand started to curve again. He wanted to grip her by the throat once more and squeeze until she gave him all the information she had. She was keeping this from him, keeping a part of Davy from him. He was
close to becoming murderous, but he kept his arm next to his side. He had to, or he’d kill the other being, whatever Saren was.
She didn’t answer. It was her turn to become silent.
He asked the second question. “Is that possible?” If the thread left Davy, she’d die. She told him that herself, but hearing that it could be ripped out of her . . . he couldn’t think of the possibilities. If he did, he would leave this army and get to her on his own. Nothing and no one would get between them, even his own allies.
“No.”
He relaxed. Slightly.
She added, “Not normally because Davy merged with the thread. She became The Immortal, but the witches are strong. They’re powerful and they’ve been able to unbalance the merge.”
Roane shook his head. “What does this mean?”
“This means . . .” she hesitated.
For the first time since he met her, Saren looked uncertain. That sent a slice of panic through him. If she was nervous . . . No. Even before the thought entered his mind, he turned it off. He had to stay with his army. He couldn’t arrive without them. Lucan had an army of Mori. He wouldn’t be any help to Davy if he showed up alone.
“Speak!” he snapped.
“This means.” She lifted her head back up, rolling her shoulders back to a ready position. “We don’t know.”
“We?” The more she talked, the more Roane was questioning why she was needed. “Who else are you connected to?”
“My sisters.” She closed her eyes. The flame disappeared for a second, but when her eyelids lifted, Roane saw thousands of flames in them. It wasn’t just hers. And they were all different colors. Blue. Pale green. Sunlight yellow. A pastel shade of pink. They were all there and they were waving back and forth as one unit. The longer he stared at them, the stronger they grew. They began to take over Saren, moving past her eyes and moving along the rest of her body. Within seconds, her entire body was lit up with all of the colors, then the flames began to sizzle and meet the air. When they stopped, she was standing in front of him, completely on fire.
She spoke, but it wasn’t her voice. It was thousands of voices, all speaking as one. “We are one. The past, the present, and are awaiting our future sister.”
“You’re . . .” Roane shook his head. “What? What are you?”
“We are the last carriers. Each of us has had the thread inside of us.”