Chapter 5: Pier Nine

That night I stood at the cabin window and watched my sister walk.

Dahlia went out onto the farmhouse porch at dark with her cane in one hand.

She tapped along the boards to the far corner and stopped.

She stood there for a long time with her face toward the fields, where nobody could see it.

Then she tapped back to the door.

"She does that every night," I said.

Bram sat on my porch step with his back against the post, and he did not answer for a while.

"Alone?" he said.

"She won't let anyone guide her."

"Hm," he said.

It was all he said, and he looked at the farmhouse a moment longer than he needed to.

In the morning I knew what I had to do before Dahlia could do it first.

"I need a ride to the capital," I said. "The harbor."

Bram was splitting kindling and put the axe down.

"The Alpha says you don't leave the lower farms without his word."

"The contract says I answer to my mate," I said. "So I'm asking my mate."

He looked at me for a moment, his dark eyes steady.

"I'll get the truck," he said.

We drove two hours with the windows down.

He did not ask why, and I did not explain.

Pier Nine was a row of rusted warehouses and fishing boats, and the smell of diesel and salt lay heavy over all of it.

In the Moon Goddess's last vision, I had seen one thing clearly.

A white van with a green door.

It was parked behind the third warehouse, with one tire off, and a man was kneeling beside it with a wrench.

He was thin and sunburned, with a net tattoo on one forearm.

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