Chapter 13: The Silver Tray

"You are not going alone," Darian said.

"The note says alone."

"The note was written by a man who wants you where I can't reach you."

"Then we go together and he can be disappointed."

Delaney was in the doorway of the bedroom with her blanket round her shoulders and her face the color of paper.

"I'm coming too," she said.

"You can barely stand," I said.

"I can stand well enough to be Dunstan Westerfield's daughter. That's what they'll see first."

Darian looked at her for a moment and nodded.

We left Mack asleep on the kitchen floor with a note on his chest, and I took two bottles of his charcoal for the truck.

The old mill stood where the valley road met the river, a black shape with no roof on one side.

The sky behind it had just begun to go grey.

Darian parked the truck a hundred yards off and killed the lights.

"Six," he said, with his head tilted. "Maybe seven. All Redfall."

"Joan?"

"I can't smell her."

My stomach turned over.

"Walk in front of me," Darian said, "and keep your paper in your hand where they can see it."

I walked in front of him.

Delaney walked at my left, her chin up and her boots silent on the gravel.

Seven wolves stood in the dark mill yard, in human shape, with their arms folded.

The one at the front had a bandage on his throat where Darian had held him against the pantry shelves.

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