Nest felt time and opportunity slipping away. It was already edging toward eight o’clock. They had little more than four hours in which to act. The weather was worsening, the streets would soon be impassable where the snowplows hadn’t reached, and even getting to where they had to go would become difficult.
Hawkeye had reappeared from wherever he had been hiding and taken up a position on the living-room couch. The hair along the ridge of his spine was spiked, and his green eyes were fierce and angry and resentful. She watched him for a time as she stood in the kitchen doorway, thinking. He must have had a close encounter with the ur’droch when it took the children out of her bedroom. He was probably lucky to be alive.
An idea came to her suddenly, but it was so strange she could barely bring herself to allow it to take shape. In fact, it was more than strange—it was anathema. Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t have even considered it. But when you are desperate, you will go down some roads you would otherwise avoid.
“John,” she said, drawing his attention. “I’m going outside for a little bit.” She spoke quickly, before she could think better of it, before she had time to reconsider. “I’m going to try something that might help. Wait here for me.”
She pulled on her hooded parka, scarf, gloves, and boots, and she laced, buttoned, and zipped everything up tight. She could hear Ross saying something behind her, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t trust herself to do so. When she was sufficiently bundled up, she went out the back door into the night.
It was cold and snowing, but the wind had died away, and the air didn’t have last night’s bite. Sending clouds of breath ahead of her, she walked to the hedgerow at the end of her backyard and passed through the tangle of brittle limbs to where the service road lay. Lights blazed from the windows of distant houses, but it was the eyes of the feeders who quickly gathered that drew her attention. There were dozens of them, slinking through the shadows, appearing and disappearing in the swirl of falling snow. They had come to her to taste the magic she was about to unleash, sensing in that way they had what she intended to do.
Her plan was simple, if abhorrent. She intended to release Wraith and send him into the park in search of Pick. Her own efforts would be wasted, because her presence alone would not be enough to summon the sylvan from wherever he was taking shelter. Moreover, it would take time she did not have. But Wraith was all magic, and magic of that size roaming Pick’s woodland domain would alert the sylvan instantly. It would draw him out and bring him in search of her.
The problem, of course, was that this plan she had stumbled on required that she release Wraith, something she was loath to do under any circumstance and particularly where she was not personally threatened. The difficulties she faced in releasing Wraith were daunting. She did not know for certain that she could control what he might do or how far away from her he might venture once released, or if she could bring him back inside once he was out. She did not know how much energy she would have to expend on any of this, and she was looking at a night ahead when she might need that energy to stay alive.
But without Pick’s help, she did not stand a chance of bypassing any security net Findo Gask might have set in place or of finding where the children were concealed. Without Pick’s help, her chances of succeeding were minimal.
It was a risk worth taking, she decided anew, and hoped she was thinking clearly.
She found a patch of deep shadow amid a cluster of barren, dark trees and bushes near the far end of the Peterson yard and placed herself there. The feeders were clustered all about her, but she forced herself to ignore them. They were no threat to her if she stayed calm.