Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 267

Chapter 267 Lisa: Waking to War

A tiny hand shakes me awake with incongruous force, something I'd attribute to King Kong and not the gnomes who've been sheltering me and teaching me about magitech since my escape.

Groaning, I pull my blanket over my head. I'm too tired. "Go away."

"Wake, wake, lazy girl! The war has come!"

The wizened old housekeeper—it has to be her, because no one else treats me like an unruly pig—yanks my covers off and slaps at my legs. "Hurry up, or die here alone!"

War?

Die?

My brain isn't functioning yet, but I stumble out of bed as she throws some clothes at me. "Dress! Hurry! Boots too!" Those are tossed at my feet, bruising my pinky toe in a way that has me hissing and hopping on one foot. "No time, you lazy girl! Get moving!"

Uncertain of what's going on but recognizing that her anxiety level is sky high, I throw on a clean shirt and jeans that they must have sourced from humans. Too bad they didn't bring a bra, too.

But at least there's socks.

Shoving my feet into them, the gnarled woman shoves at me until I fall onto my ass on the bed. "Put this on," she snaps, throwing a coat at me.

"Okay, okay. Hold on. You haven't even explained what's happening!"

"War!" she snaps. "Hurry!"

Despite her gruff demeanor, she kneels to shove my boots on as I shrug on the coat, two sizes too big and—I double check what I'm feeling strapped in some hidden pockets—armed. With knives.

In fact, they seem to fit the term dagger more than knife.

Hurry, hurry. The Grand Sage is

is the old man who's taken me under his wing and owns this place. He's some sort of

this gnome—Elverly is her name, but I'm not

think that's a real title, but it's definitely what she enjoys

"Mistress Keeper, I don't—"

she hisses. "This isn't the time for questions.

not brave—or stupid—enough to challenge Elverly. That tiny terror has no qualms about doling out pain to keep me in line. So I follow her silently through the dark building, my feet now sure on

of corridors no longer bewilders me. After perusing a map for hours on end,

comfort at the moment, as I'm dragged through the halls in the middle of the night with hardly

my heart leaping into my throat. Elverly's iron grip closes around my arm, yanking me upright

gravelly voice

into a run, my longer legs having to put in a surprising amount of effort to

that chill your blood and raise the hairs on the back of your

War.

new meaning. I'd thought she meant some sort of far-off conflict, a

Not a war here.

Not a war now.

of our situation slams into me as we careen down a flight of stairs. The basement.

toward what he calls the "safe room." The door swings open, revealing a space crammed with gadgets and gizmos

his usual calm demeanor cracking under

in, and he locks the door behind us. The room comes alive, whirring and clicking. Panels shift, mechanisms engage, and the space around us shrinks. It's

can barely sit. Standing is out of the question, and moving? Forget about it. I'm wedged between Elverly and the

oil, metal, and fear. I struggle to control my breathing, trying not to give in

ever since my escape. I don't like being

unable

"War has come to our doorstep, child. Those unhappy with their lot have sought

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