As I placed the tip of my pen against the paper, I realized what a difficult exercise this was in this man’s case. Usually I would write the name of the patient at the top of the page. Here, I could only think to write, British Guy.

Still, I wrote down what little I knew of him. His physical symptoms, like his coldness and inability to move his legs. Shayla’s statement that he was a half-blood. His general physical appearance. And then some notes on his demeanor, what little I had gleaned of that. I hadn’t had much of a chance to observe his personality yet. I also noted his inability to hold down food today. And that was about all I could fill the page with.

Well, that was quick.

But it was a start nonetheless. Hopefully, in the coming days, Shayla and I would be able to learn a lot more about him, and I would fill up more pages of my notebook. For now, I placed it into my backpack along with my pen, which I planned to take with me to the hospital tomorrow. Then I sank into bed.

Although I had gotten to bed earlier than usual, it wasn’t until about midnight that I finally dropped off to sleep. My mind was too filled with recollections of everything I had witnessed in The Woodlands, and I also worried about how my parents and family were faring now on the mission. Then I began mulling over what the day might be like tomorrow with the nameless half-blood stranger.

If there was anything that I could complain about in my life—which, if I was honest with myself, there really wasn’t—it certainly wasn’t that it was boring.

Vivienne

As we arrived at the mountain, it was time to make good on my word to Victoria. I’d promised her that we would do our best to look for Bastien and relay her message to him.

Truth be told, when my daughter had confessed to me that she had fallen for the young man, I’d felt deeply concerned, although I’d tried not to show it. She was nineteen years old now. I’d meant it when I’d said that she was free to make her own decisions. Of course she was. Still, the abrupt way in which she and Bastien had met, and the exceptionally short amount of time they had spent together, made me fear that the relationship would end in disappointment—even if Bastien survived the hunters. But that was a concern that I had to keep to myself.

In any case, as much as it pained me on my daughter’s behalf, I didn’t hold out much hope that she would ever see him again. I feared that the hunters might’ve slaughtered the whole lot of those wolves, burned them to ashes along with the woods.

The woods surrounding the mountain were scorched to the ground. Even the mountainside itself was charred black.

We touched down on a mountain peak, affording us a clear view. We scanned the area to spot hunters milling about on the ground below. There were also mutants—many, many mutants—roaming about the area. None of these were on chains. They moved freely among the array of werewolf corpses strewn about the soil. I felt sick as I spotted a group of mutants pecking at the bodies.

This area was about to get another scorching.

Once we’d located most of the hunters who’d remained outside, the dragons resumed their fire-breathing. They soared downward so fast, the hunters barely knew what hit them as deadly billows of fire shot down and enshrouded them. The mutants emitted a chorus of screeches as they launched into the sky as a single cloud. Being unable to see their attackers had them confused and on edge.

Two dragons focused their attention on the horde, exhaling more fire. The mutants rose higher to dodge the flames. The dragons followed, continuing to harass them with their blaze until the mutants fled. Away from the mountain, and, hopefully, away from The Woodlands. Without their masters, I wondered what they’d do.

Now that we had cleared the outside of the mountain, it was time to search within it. The dragons remained outside in their beastly forms to keep guard, while the rest of us ventured inside. We hurried along the dark entrance tunnel with Derek and Ben at the lead. At the end of the tunnel, in front of an ancient-looking door, stood three hunters armed with what looked like machine guns. Ben, Xavier and Derek silently took them out, and they collapsed to the ground.

We hurried onward. Stepping over the dead hunters and arriving at the door, we pushed it open and found ourselves emerging in a grand auditorium. Rock Hall.

The room teemed with werewolves. Their faces looked strained and worn; they all appeared awfully traumatized, some close to passing out from fright. But at least they were alive. They still could not see us, of course, although all of them had turned in our direction as we pushed the door open.

I scoped out the circumference of the room. In the far corner was another door. I supposed that there would be guards on the other side of that, too. What do they want all these werewolves for? I wondered why the hunters hadn’t killed them already.

The witches lifted the spell of invisibility so that the werewolves could see us. They gazed at us with fearful eyes.

“We are not enemies.” My husband spoke up. “We are here to help you. Free you.”

The door at the other end of the auditorium swung open. Three hunters stepped out. They would have heard us. Raising their guns, they began opening fire. Corrine put up a shield while the jinn sent the men blasting back against the wall, guns spinning out of their grips.

Our group hurried across the hall toward the exit to search for any other hunters in the mountain, but Xavier and I hung back.

“Bastien Blackhall?” I called, eyeing the hall of werewolves.

“Is Bastien Blackhall in here?” Xavier reiterated, louder.

Nobody spoke up. We could not see his face anywhere in the crowd.