Chamber of Ghosts (Island of Fog Book 6) by Keith Robinson

Author:Keith Robinson
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Unearthly Tales
Published: 2013-04-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Werewolves

Hal was well aware that what he was doing would land him in a heap of trouble. Blacknail would be furious, but he was normally grumpy anyway. He feared Molly’s sharp tongue more than anything. He wasn’t sure how his friends would react. They’d certainly be more annoyed at having to wait around.

If the lycans happened across the waiting buggy, they would have to deal with a whole group of shapeshifters. Hal wasn’t worried about his friends. They could look after themselves.

He, on the other hand, was vulnerable. But he was on his own and certain he could slip quietly through the woods without being seen or heard. He planned to give the lycan village a wide berth and head straight to the beach where the entrance to the mines awaited him.

The temperature had plummeted in the last hour. It was too dark to see, but he knew his breath was pluming in the air before him as he picked his way between the black, shadowy trees. It irked him that almost every step he took resulted in the noisy crunch of brittle leaves. Trying to be careful slowed him down. Well, there was nothing he could do about it.

He was cutting across the woods in a direction that he expected—hoped—would take him to the road leading to the beach. He had to trust that his sense of direction was good because he saw absolutely nothing in the darkness. The moonlight, though bright, hardly managed to permeate the trees even though the branches were bare. He stumbled and scratched himself repeatedly on brambles, already beginning to regret his bullheaded decision.

To his delight, he almost fell out of the woods onto the road. It was covered with dry leaves but ten times easier to walk on. He broke into a jog. The frigid night air threatened to freeze his nose and ears, and made his eyes water, but his body was so warm that he quickly began to sweat.

He couldn’t jog forever. When he slowed to a walk, panting, he wondered how far he had left to go. The road wound on and on through the woods. He wished he’d paid more attention when they’d driven this way in the buggy. Then he might recognize something and have some clue how far along he was.

A howl filled the air. He slowed for just a second, then resumed his pace. The wolfish howl was far off. It bothered him, though. Without his magic, he could be attacked by the lycans and eaten in seconds.

Would they do that? Would they really attack him? They might be in a wild animal phase right now, but surely they weren’t so far gone that they’d lost all sense of humanity? When Hal was a dragon, he knew exactly what he was doing. Even with vague, occasional urges to eat raw meat, he was fully in control. He controlled the dragon, not the other way around.

As the howl filled the air again, he remembered that these people weren’t shapeshifters.

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