Wolf Hunted, стр. 29
I walked over. Several bits of odd-colored glass—milky white, black, red, and some a soft, pale green—which all looked so smooth that it must have come from Lake Superior, a bottle cap from Raven’s Gaze, what looked to be the remains of someone’s earring, a chain of five paperclips, and what appeared to be an unpolished nugget of silver. The nugget wasn’t any bigger than the nail on my pinky finger, and was more gray from tarnish than silver in color. It also held a slight hint of magic, which wasn’t all that surprising. Silver had an intrinsic magic to it, which was why it was the preferred metal of the elves, and why it caused the wolves so much trouble.
Dag placed the glass back into the cache.
“Do you think the ravens have something to do with the interloper?” I asked.
Dag shook her head. “I’ve spent some time with them. Like I said, they’re here to bear witness, not to cause harm.”
Her response didn’t answer my question, but then again, I shouldn’t expect a straight answer about magical ravens.
Yet they were helping, and help from ravens could mean only one thing—someone was looking to back the magicals of Alfheim into a deal-making corner.
I’d already been down this path once, in Las Vegas.
Dag stood and patted my arm. “You’re worried about the World Raven, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Wise,” she said. “They’re not familiars, if that’s what you’re wondering. They’re true ravens.” She patted my arm again. “Thank you for not going off half-cocked about all this.” She waved her hand at the cache. “There may very well be more going on here than the unquiet brought by the interloper.”
Tricksters did like to complicate situations.
I bowed. “I have learned my lesson, my Queen.” I was still worried, though, even if the elves weren’t.
Dagrun’s grin turned into a true smile. She pointed at the tree. “I take it you were attempting to reach something when I arrived?”
I walked her around to the back of the tree and pointed. “Owl nest. Sal sensed a shadow.” I held out my phone. “Look at this.”
She stared at the photo I’d taken earlier. “I see nothing unusual, Frank.”
So the elves couldn’t see the shadows or the mirages, much like with Ellie. “I see the same shadow I saw around the interloper at Raven’s Gaze.”
“Ah.” She handed back my phone.
I held out my keys. “If you back her against the tree, I’ll be able to see inside.”
“You trust me with your baby?”
Of course I trusted her with my truck. “You and Ed,” I said.
Dag took my keys. After a minute or so repositioning the seat and the mirrors, she expertly backed Bloodyhood toward the elm.
“Hold up,” I called, and hopped into the bed. Dag smoothly finished her maneuvering, and stopped my truck under the tree with about four inches to spare between the sidewall and the trunk.
I leaned toward the hole and blasted the interior with the beam from my flashlight.
The owls had left behind a couple pellets, straw, and a lot of feathers. I picked out a big flight feather, and tucked it into my back pocket for Akeyla. But other than the remnants of an owl’s daily family life, I saw nothing suspicious, or shadowy.
I swung Sal in front of the hole and got a jolt for my efforts. Something was in there. Sal felt it, even if I couldn’t see it.
“Sorry,” I said. “I won’t do that again.”
She huffed.
“I promise.”
She huffed again.
Dagrun hopped into the truck bed. “Salvation is annoyed.”
I stepped back. “Do you sense anything?”
Dag rolled her shoulders again, but this time, instead of cracking her neck, her fingers danced.
Multiple interlocking, spinning sigils appeared between her and the tree. They reached out—not toward the hole, or the truck, but to the frost coating the branches and the few remaining leaves.
Each small bit of ice floated into the air. The free-floating frost twinkled like a million tiny bells as it lengthened and brightened into sheets of moonlight.
Dagrun had created a miniature aurora of ice and night. “Extend your arm,” she said.
I did as she asked. The aurora condensed onto my hand first, then up my forearm to just above my elbow. Chill shot up into my shoulder, and a real, honest shiver set my entire body shaking.
“Whoa,” I said. “That’s cold.”
“You can tolerate it,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’ll be gone in a moment, so use it now, son. It should freeze anything trying to wiggle out of your way.”
Two hundred years in Alfheim and I would never cease to be amazed by the wonders of the elves.
I stuck my hand into the hole.
Feathers crystalized against my touch. Bone-and-fur remains of mice and voles froze to the hole’s floor. Straw became icicles. The damp splinters of the tree’s interior hardened. And…
My hand hit a box attached to the edge of the hole at about ten-o’clock. It hung down into the opening and physically blocked a lot of the space. I pulled away my hand and looked again. Nothing. I felt along the same edge while looking. Again, my brain saw and felt only the tree. I closed my eyes again.
The hole definitely held a metal and plastic box.
“I think we have a camera trap,” I said. “It’s concealed.”
I gave it a good tug, but it didn’t move.
“A magically hidden camera?” Dag stepped closer.
“Sal,” I said, “Do you think you can cut it off its bolts for me?”
She didn’t like the idea of coming in contact with something she couldn’t sense, but agreed to try anyway. Dag handed her over and I carefully placed her blade against the housing along the rim of the hole. I gave her a good whack.
The box dropped.
“Thank you,