Free Wolfsbane by Andrea Cremer Page B

Connor said, pushing his hands through his messy chestnut hair. “The truth of it is portals work on natural principles. And if you go around offending the earth al the time, like the Keepers do, you can’t ask it for favors.”
    “Huh?” I couldn’t make sense of what he’d just said.
    “Everything in this world is connected—including al the places on the globe,” Adne said. “Weavers use Old Magic to pul together the threads of that connection, linking one site to another. That’s how we travel.”
    “But the Keepers—” I began.
    “Can’t pul the threads to begin with,” Connor finished for me. “They have to travel the old-fashioned way. Or the new technology way, I guess.
    But no portals. They cannot weave. The earth won’t al ow it.”
    I stil wasn’t sure I understood, but our conversation was interrupted by the door on the other side of the room swinging open. Dropping to the ground, I shifted, ready to attack the man who had a crossbow aimed at us. Connor stepped in front of me before I could strike.
    “Isaac, put that down! What did we ever do to you?”
    The man with the crossbow grunted. “Oh, good.
    We were wondering when you’d get here. Why did you open a door in the storage room?”
    “Because if it were Ethan with that crossbow, he’d have already shot her.” Adne pointed to me. “I was being cautious.”
    “Not a bad idea,” Isaac said. “Though al he could do right now is spew cookies at the wolf. He’s been stuffing his face ever since he got here.”
    “Cal a, you should try not to shift so much here,”
    Lydia said, moving to embrace Isaac. “Where’s my best girl?”
    I shifted back into human form, swal owing a retort that hovered on my tongue. What did they expect? I didn’t have a very good history with Searchers and crossbows.
    “She’s in the kitchen with Ethan,” Isaac replied.
    “How is Ethan?” Adne asked. “Aside from being fil ed with cookies.”
    Isaac looked at me. “He’s coming around.”
    “That’l do,” Connor said, taking my hand and pul ing me to the door. “Isaac, meet Cal a. She’s the alpha who’l be leading our fabulous new Guardian revolt.”
    I’m doing what? The ramifications of this new plan came crashing down onto me like a rock slide.
    “Is that al ?” Isaac grinned. “Nice to meet you, rabble-rouser.”
    I shook his hand, giving Connor an unfriendly sidelong glance.
    He slapped me on the shoulder. “Just making sure your reputation precedes you.”
    “Thanks.”
    We fol owed Isaac, whose wealth of long, minuscule braids swung from a ponytail at the nape of his neck as he sauntered into a large room that was empty except for the mats on the floor and weapons hanging from the wal s.
    Seeing my eyes wander, Lydia smiled at me.
    “Training room.”
    Isaac led us through another door, where we were greeted by a roaring fire, the smel of fresh coffee, and two faces. One smiling, the other scowling.
    “Hey, beautiful.” Lydia opened her arms to a woman who looked about the same age—thirty-five give or take a couple of years—and whose chin-length crop of springing curls was reminiscent of Bryn’s, except for their blue-black hue.
    “It’s my lucky day,” the woman said, kissing her.
    “Can it be my lucky day too?” Connor asked, eyeing the liplocked pair.
    “Don’t hit on my girlfriend, Connor.” Lydia laughed, pul ing the other woman into a fierce hug.
    “I wasn’t hitting on her,” Connor objected. “I gave her a compliment. You think I’d poach your territory?
    You forget that I patrol with you. I don’t want to be at the wrong end of your daggers.”
    “Smart man,” Lydia said, then turned the other woman to face me. “Tess, this is Cal a. She’s the slumbering wolf we’ve been hoping would stir.”
    “And stir she has.” Tess came to me immediately, offering both her hands. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
    Again that word . . . honor. It threw me.
    “Thanks.” I took both her hands; they