Killer Crescent by Leigh Kelsey

15

“Do I have to?” I whined, giving Dean my best pleading look as he put away the enchanted key that had transported us here. To the edge of a scary high ravine surrounded by an open sky filled with fluffy clouds. A forest stretched away at our backs, and ahead, five perilous rope bridges spanned the mile-long distance to the other side of the ravine. “Can I not and say I did?” I made my eyes extra big and pleading. It didn’t hurt that my voice was a little scratchy, even after the honey and lemon he’d made for my throat, reminding him of our hot as hell alley sex. “I’ll suck your cock to sweeten the deal.”

“Slut,” one of the other trialists coughed under his breath—one of the wolves. The rangy one with the goatee. Frank.

“What did you just call my mate?” Dean growled, instantly menacing.

Goatee Dick went pale.

I took three steps, grabbed Goatee’s shoulders, and pushed. I danced back as he tipped over the edge, his arms pinwheeling at his sides. “Oops,” I deadpanned, meeting the eyes of every single trialist as Goatee’s screams faded into silence far below. “He slipped.”

“That’s breaking the rules,” Boyband hissed, baring his fangs. “We’re not allowed to harm any of the others while taking the trials.”

“Correct,” Dean replied, still harsh and growly. “While on the bridge, you’re forbidden to attack each other. But you haven’t begun your trial yet, have you?”¹

I gave Boyband a smug little smile, reaching into my hoodie pocket for a lollipop and unwrapping it noisily. “What?” I asked when I found them all staring at me. “It’s a long bridge; I need my sustenance.”

Dean laughed, a low rumbly sound that made me shiver. Brunel and Vom, the other wolves, smartly averted their eyes, while Boyband watched on in boredom.

“Go on then,” Dean ordered. “The sooner you cross your bridge, the sooner you can go back to the hall. And the sooner I don’t have to be babysitting you bastards,” he muttered. “I’ll follow the edge and meet you on the other side.”

No time limit on this trial? That was good. I’d never been terrified of heights, but something about dangling on a bit of rope and wood over deadly rapids made me nervous.² Rushing it would only get me a spot on the river bed next to Goatee.

“No,” he growled as the big, burly wolf stepped towards the furthest bridge. “You each have your own. Brunel, that’s yours. Vom, you’re next in line. Miss Falcon, yours is the one after that.”

“They look exactly the same,” I pointed out, pushing my lollipop into my cheek so I could speak. Dean’s eyes darkened to liquid amber and I smirked. Oops. Apparently the bulge in my cheek was making him think of other things. I pulled the sweet from my mouth with a swirling lick I made sure he saw every moment of. “Why do we need our own?”

“So there’s no cheating and it’s fair,” he replied, an octave lower. “Now stop stalling, and start your trial. Wilson, you’re on the end.”

Ehh, I was still going to call him Boyband.

“See you on the other side, Sexy Sir!” I said and ignored the faint snickers from our audience as I skipped onto the rope bridge—and immediately slowed down, my stomach dropping waaaayyy below. Shit, that was far. If I wasn’t careful, I’d break my neck and splatter on the rocks poking out of the white, frothing water below.

“Okay, Rebel,” I said under my breath, discarding my lolly and gripping the ropes on either side of the narrow slats as I took careful steps. “You’re a badass assassin lady. You can do this.”

Knowing Dean would be waiting on the other side helped, but there was no ignoring the roaring water below, so loud it drowned out anything Brunel, Vom, and Boyband were saying on either side of me. I kept my feet moving steadily and my eyes fixed down, watching where I placed them. The rope chafed at my palms, but I refused to let go even when it broke skin. It was the only thing I had to hold onto, and I might have been able to kill a man with my bare thighs, but I didn’t trust my balance right now.

“Okay,” I breathed. “Nearly there now.”

I glanced up to see if my guess was correct and my shoulders slumped. I wasn’t even a quarter of the way across, and I must have been walking for twenty minutes now. At least. This was going to take forever.

I let myself whine and complain as I crossed the next section of planks, the water churning so high it splashed the slats and made each step perilous.

“Don’t fall, Rebel,” I breathed, clutching the ropes. “Just don’t fall. That’s all you have to do. If these wolf morons can do it, so can you.”

But my foot slid out from under me on my next step, and I shrieked, tightening my fingers into fists around the guide ropes as I wobbled precariously, the water rushing and roaring below, like a monster eager to eat me.

“Okay,” I gasped. “Okay, I’m okay.”

I steadied, clutching the ropes in a chokehold as I caught my breath, my legs like jelly. How was this supposed to prove I was a worthy paranormal who wouldn’t go off on a magic-fuelled murder spree? This was more like a deadly Duke of Edinburgh award, and I didn’t like it one bit.

But I steadied on the slick boards, and when I started breathing again, I took slow steps, refusing to look anywhere but forward, at the jagged spit of land where Dean would be waiting. Where solid ground waited.

“Almost there,” I breathed, the lie sour on my tongue.

I made it halfway, but breathing was difficult and I was so tense my shoulders might be permanently locked around my neck. My hair was plastered to my cheeks and the back of my neck with sweat and water, and the ropes had grown slick under my palms. Boyband was already across, which didn’t seem fair considering his speed advantage, but I didn’t know if the wolves were keeping pace with me or if they’d fallen off. With the water rushing this loud, I wouldn’t hear their screams.

The sun shifted in the sky, burning the back of my neck, but I was so close to the end now, the posts jutting up from the scraggly grass luring me in like a siren call.

“Almost there,” I panted, and it wasn’t a lie this time. “Almost—”

A scream cut off my words as the next two boards collapsed beneath my weight, and air whipped past my face sharp enough to cut. I scrabbled at the planks as my lower half crashed through the bridge and dangled dangerously, but the edges were damp with water and sanded smooth so I couldn’t even dig my nails in.

Wait … sanded?

The last thought I had before I plummeted into the rapids was that there should have been jagged edges. Someone had purposefully cut my bridge; someone wanted me to fail this trial.

Someone was trying to kill me.