And because the pace didn’t preclude talking, Anna did. When she had finished, Charles glanced over his shoulder at Leah so that it would be clear that he was speaking to her.

“My da called Asil back from Billings and left for here in the middle of the night, as soon as Asil returned to care for the pack. His intention was to fly to Bend and then requisition a helicopter and fly to Wild Sign. If he was able to do that, he should be here sometime in the next hour or so.”

Because Anna knew her mate, she felt that there was a lot more he wanted to say. He saw her gaze and shook his head. “Some things my da is going to have to put back together or not,” he told her.

“Should we wait for him in Wild Sign?” Anna asked.

“No,” Leah said, though Anna had been talking to Charles. “We need to get out of here.”

“No need,” Charles answered Anna. “Pack sense will tell him where we are. We should just keep going. We’ll come back and hunt when we have a better idea of what we are dealing with. We can bring some allies along—and a better way to protect ourselves than singing Queen at the tops of our lungs.”

Leah stumbled as they came to the amphitheater. She recovered quickly and took up the pace again, but her running had lost the easy rhythm she’d had before the stumble.

“Leah,” asked Tag, “would you let me carry you?”

“No,” she said. “Twisted my ankle. It will heal in a minute. Keep—”

There was a rumble, louder and longer than any of the thunder they’d been hearing, though it was the same kind of sound.

“Earthquake,” said Tag.

“It’s him,” Leah said, despair and fatigue in her voice. “We were too slow.”

“Look,” Charles said.

The ground that formed the amphitheater lost solidity, dropping down like ground zero of an underground nuclear detonation. Dirt flowed downward like a waterfall, punctuated with the boulders and stumps that had been the pews in the Singer’s open-air house of worship.

CHAPTER

13

Nothing emerged from the pit. After a moment, they all—well, they didn’t relax, that was for damned sure. But they regrouped.

“Should we leave?” Tag asked. “Come back with more firepower?”

“It has the witches,” Anna said. “And all the power they can muster from hell’s own assisted living facility. Are we sure we want to give them time to get here?”

Charles didn’t say anything, just tested the ground with his feet as if making sure it wasn’t likely to open up into a pit anytime soon. Anna didn’t find that reassuring.

Instead of waiting for an answer from Charles, Tag nodded, as if Anna’s comment had been enough. He started stripping out of his clothing in preparation for shifting to wolf.

“We have no choice,” said Leah hollowly. “He won’t let us leave. He can’t afford to.”

“Do you have any insights about what we’ll be facing?” Charles asked Leah.

She looked like she hadn’t heard him. Anna gave her a few seconds and then told Charles what she knew.

“It messes with your memories.” Everyone already knew that, but Anna had very recent personal experience. “The first time it attacked me, it took me back to one of the most traumatic times in my life and removed all of my memories from that time until this. I felt like it replaced who I am now with that earlier version of me. It was very disconcerting. I don’t know how you can guard yourself against that.”

“He tried to do that to me as we left the cave,” Leah said unexpectedly. “But he had trouble with the wolf in me. I think that might mean that the hunting song may shield us—at least a little.”

The hunting song was an effect of the pack bonds, connecting all of the wolves who had a common goal into a tighter team, allowing them to share knowledge, power, and strategy in real time until the object of the hunt was achieved.

Anna glanced at Charles. “It can mess with your short-term memory, too. I lost about fifteen minutes the first time we drove to our hotel.”

“You didn’t tell me,” he said softly, and she knew she’d hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It felt like just a glitch. Over and done.” She looked at Tag and Leah, because they didn’t have time to waste with her guilt. “It might cause you to falter. Maybe if you know it’s coming, you can push through it.”

“Did you see the Singer? What does it look like?” Charles asked. “Best-case scenario, we bring this down to a physical fight, because that is where our weapons lie.”

Anna looked at Leah, who was resolutely not looking at Anna or Charles.

“Uh,” Anna said. “I never saw it. But from what I overheard . . . and I know this sounds really stupid out here—but I think that it is some kind of cave squid. Or cave octopus.”

Tag froze. “Cthulhu? We’re fighting Cthulhu? Up in these mountains?”

His incredulity forced Leah to speak. “I saw him,” she told them in a low voice. “Before I found Anna in the caves. I couldn’t be sure of his size because it was dark and some of his body was underwater—and at the time I needed him not to be aware of me. She’s right about the tentacles. I also think he’s huge.”

“Cthulhu,” said Tag happily, discarding the last of his clothes. Apparently his incredulity had not signified reluctance. His eyes were wolf eyes and slightly unfocused in a way that, under other circumstances, would have made Anna nervous.

Charles turned to look at the pit. His head tilted and Brother Wolf said intently, “Listen.”

Leah frowned and then drew in a breath. “The pit is filling with water. Smells like salt water. Ocean water.”

No one asked aloud where the salt water was coming from, but Anna figured that they were all thinking about it—and what that said about the thing they were facing.

“Cthulhu,” chortled Tag as a popping sound signaled the start of his change. “I get to fight Cthulhu. Asil is going to be so jealous.” His smile, like his eyes, looked a little wild.

“Cthulhu,” Anna murmured, because that was an interesting observation.

“It’s not Cthulhu,” Charles said dryly. “That’s a character from a book.”

Well, yes. Anna thought that actually might be the point.

“Leah?” Anna asked. “Did it have tentacles when you were here? Before?”

“I don’t remember,” Leah said. Then she held up a hand, asking them to wait. She turned her face into the rain for a moment, closing her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she said, “No. The Singer looked like one of us—human, I mean. He was”—she shook her head—“he looked like someone you could trust. I don’t know where the tentacles came from.”

“I think I do,” said Anna grimly. “Do you remember when Zander said the people who settled Wild Sign gave it form?”

“Yes,” Leah said.

Charles’s eyes became suddenly intent. “That bookshelf,” he said.

“The big yurt in Wild Sign has a bookshelf of Lovecraft-themed books,” Anna told the others. “Not just cheap paperbacks or that all-in-one leather-bound collection you can buy for twenty bucks around Christmas. Original editions of Lovecraft and Chambers. Nineteen-thirties editions of Weird Tales. I think one of the first Wild Sign people was a Lovecraft fan. And that’s why we have a cave squid. Or possibly a cave octopus.”

“Not Cthulhu,” said Charles slowly, “but inspired by those tales.”

There was a short, appalled silence punctuated by the sounds of Tag’s ongoing change.

“It could be worse,” Anna said. “At least it’s not the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”

Charles grinned suddenly. “A pop culture reference I know.” He looked at Leah, his smile lingering around the edges of his mouth and eyes. “Anything you can add?”

“If he could sing, we would be in a lot more trouble,” she said. “But Sherwood ripped out his tongue.” There was satisfaction in her voice, but Anna felt a sudden stab of concern. Leah looked tired and cold—and about fifteen pounds underweight. Running from Montana had burned calories.

“Zander implied that the Singer had not healed from that,” Leah continued. “I don’t know if that means he can’t still attack us with music, but he can’t sing.”

She scuffed her bare foot in the dirt and gave them a grim smile. “And that’s all well and good. But what I don’t know is how to kill him so that he stays dead. I don’t know that he is something that can be killed.”

“Asil told me that the only way to kill something immortal is to remind it what death is,” Charles said. “Da is bringing the sword that killed Jonesy—an immortal fae. The Dark Smith’s weapons carry the memories of the deaths that they have brought.”

Leah rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “Good. All we have to do is stay alive until he gets here. I wonder what’s taking the Singer so long.” She frowned thoughtfully—as if, Anna thought, she might have a clue about what that was. But instead of telling them, she looked toward the pit, where the sound of rushing water had quieted now that the water was deeper. “Don’t let him pull you into the water.”

Werewolves couldn’t swim.