Free Hidden (Book 1) by Megg Jensen Page B

glow, there was nothing.
    “It’s okay as long as we’re together.” Bastian
rested his chin on the top of Tressa’s head. “Is the owl still on your
shoulder? I don’t feel it.” His hand ran up and down her arm.
    “No. It flew away when you pulled me closer.”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t regret it because being in his arms was the
only thing she’d ever craved.
    “Call it back.” His breath lingered on her
cheek. If she stood on her tiptoes, she knew their lips would be even.
    “Here, Nerak !” She
closed her eyes, remembering how she’d gotten the owl to come to her in the
first place. “I’m going to let go of you, but just with one hand. Make sure you
hang on to me, okay?” she asked Bastian.
    His grip tightened more. Tressa held her arm
out to the side and attempted to mimic the hooting noise Nerak made. A flapping sound cut through the fog. Hope surged in Tressa’s chest,
confirmed only when she felt the familiar pinch of talons on her hand.
    “I did it. She’s back.” Tressa bent her arm,
bringing her hand closer to her body. The feathers brushed against her nose.
    “The light’s not back,” Bastian said. “We need
that to find Connor.”
    “Well, she was on my shoulder the last time it
happened. Maybe I should try that?” Tressa touched her hand to her shoulder and
wiggled her fingers. The little owl’s talons shimmied from Tressa’s hand to her
shoulder. The purple glow came back.
    “I think you’ve got a magic owl there. Let’s
see if we can use this light to find Connor.” Bastian kept one arm snaked
around her waist. They stood side-by-side, hips touching. “Which way should we
go first?”
    A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air.
Connor.
    “This way,” Tressa said, heading off in the direction of the cry.

Chapter Fifteen
    They wandered through the mist, stumbling over their own feet. The
light only gave shape to shadows in the darkness. Bastian held his sword out in
front of them as a guide to keep them from running into trees. The screams had
stopped as quickly as they’d come on, yet they pressed forward in the direction
they’d believed to be right. Bastian was always sure of himself – except
not now. The fog disoriented him more than he’d like to admit. For Tressa’s
sake, he kept his mouth shut.
    A splash was followed by a squeal. Tressa
pushed back into Bastian, stopping him before he got wet.
    “I think it’s a pond,” Tressa said. “Or maybe a
stream. I can kind of see where it ends. Can you?”
    Bastian squinted. The purple haze helped, but
it wasn’t as illuminating as daylight. “I think you’re right.” He took a step
in front of Tressa, his hand still on her waist. “Hold on. What’s that?”
Bastian bent over, picking something up from the ground.
    He turned it to the side. Hard edges crusted over with a dark
powdery substance. He ran his fingers along the object. Leathery,
bumpy, and slightly damp.
    "What
is it?" Tressa strained to see the object. "Bastian?" She touched
his shoulder.
    Apprehension
bubbled up in his gut, churning like a volcano before an explosion as he ran
his fingers over it. A hard surface, about the size of a bean, sat at the end
of each of the five sticks.
    He
tossed the object into the river.
    "What
was it?"
    Bastian
turned to her. He could feel his face reddening and was glad the light was too
dim for Tressa to see him. His cheeks puffing with uneven, deep breaths . "A hand."
    Tressa
stumbled a step, but Bastian's tight grip pulled her back to him.
    He
clasped her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "It
wasn't Connor."
    She
shook her head free. "How do you know? Are you sure?"
    A
grim smile passed over his face. "I know Connor like he was my own
brother. It was not his hand. I stake my life on it." He gazed out over
the little river, playing hide-and-seek with the fog. "But I don't know
whose it is or why it was along this riverbank. It was chewed at the wrist. I
don't know what broke