The hair on the back of Ruben’s arms rose and the back of his neck tingled. Static electricity?
A quick glance at Willow’s horrified face told him it was something else. “Magic,” she whispered, confirming it.
The wind began to blow, swirling around them. Ruben pulled Willow close, gathering her against him. “If only you had magic, you could stop this,” he murmured in her ear.
Right. She opened her mouth and tried to speak. But before she could, dark cloaked figures dropped on them from the shadowy treetops above. There were too many of them to fight, though he battled them as best he could. His last conscious thought before they knocked him out was to hope Willow and their other traveling companions were safe.
* * *
Later, he came to in total darkness. After a moment of complete disorientation, he realized his hands were tied and his captors had placed some kind of hood over his head. The air tasted stale. He fought off a moment of panic, aware he’d need to keep his head about him if he wanted to escape from this—whatever it was—alive.
“Willow?” he whispered, praying she was nearby and unhurt. “Willow, are you there?”
But there was no answer. Apparently he was on his own. Fine. He’d have to figure out a way to escape from these people, whoever they were.
Ordinarily, he’d have said the odds were in his favor. He’d been well trained in combat at an early age. He also worked out daily—his strong muscles and healthy bones a testament to that fact. He knew he could fight his way out of just about anything. Especially as wolf.
The instant he had the thought, he began initiating the change.
Nothing happened.
Furious and worried, he tried again.
Nada, zip, zilch.
They’d done something to him. Using magic. He had no defense against magic. How could he, when he hadn’t even been aware such a thing existed?
As he tried to gather his thoughts, hating the darkness, he heard a sound. A tiny thing, at first. A mewling, like a kitten waking and wanting sustenance.
“Willow?” he asked again, his gut churning.
“Ruben?” It was Willow. Sounding weak, but nearby. And alive.
Relief flooding him, he answered in the affirmative.
“I can’t see,” she said softly. “My hands are tied. Do you know what happened to the others—Tatiana, Eric and Chad? And our horses? I can’t sense them.”
“I’m sorry.” He meant it. “I have no idea. Who are these people?”
“I don’t know.” She sounded apologetic. “All I know is they weren’t Bright. If I didn’t know better, I’d hazard a guess that they’re Shadows.”
“But?” He’d picked up on the hesitation in her tone.
“But the only way that’d be possible would be if we’d ventured into their territory. The Shadows avoid Bright lands and we do the same.”
“Could we have crossed some invisible boundary?”
“It’s possible,” she said. “But extremely unlikely. I’ve always been told it’s at least two days’ ride to even reach the border. And a huge and mighty river marks the separation of our two lands.”
“And we’ve only been traveling a day and seen no such thing. Then who are these people and what do they want with us?”
He’d barely finished speaking when the hood keeping him in darkness vanished, as did whatever had been used to tie him up. Nearby, Willow flexed her hands, her disheveled hair telling him she too had been wearing a hood.
“Over there.” She pointed. Tatiana, Eric and Chad were beginning to stir. The horses had been tied to a long hitching post and also appeared dazed, as though they were just now awakening from a deep sleep.
Ruben pushed himself up, helping Willow to her feet. As she slid her slender fingers into his, he again felt the jolt of connection. Together they went over to the others. He noticed Willow positioned herself as far as possible from Chad. Seems Ruben wasn’t the only one who felt something was off in the other man.
Narrowing his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder again. Was it possible Chad had been the one Ruben had seen following Willow? Even though he looked nothing like the other man, with all the magic floating around this place, it wasn’t impossible to believe he could have seriously altered his appearance.
Eric raised his head as they approached. His petulant expression spoke of his dissatisfaction.
“What’s going on?” Eric asked, using the booming voice of a king-to-be. He stood, shoulders back, head up, turning in a slow circle. “Whoever has done this to us, I