So much has happened since I stepped off the bus in Blackrock. I remember when I was a little girl, my mother always dropped me off at my grandmother’s house on her way to work. One day I remember I was so excited to see my grandmother and show her my new sweater. It was pink with tiny white flowers all across the front. My grandmother told me my sweater was pretty, and just like she always did, she told me I was a beautiful princess. I was so happy with my new sweater that I refused to take it off, even when I climbed the oak tree in my Grandma’s front yard. Halfway up the tree, I snagged the sweater. My heart was broken as I ran into the house, tears streaming down my cheeks. Grandma picked me up and hugged me, promising that she would make it better. She slipped off my sweater and gave me a couple of cookies. When I asked if she was going to cut the pulled thread loose, she said that might cause the sweater to unravel and be ruined. Instead, she took a needle out of her sewing basket and pushed the snagged thread through the front of the sweater to the underside. She fixed it, just like she always fixed everything that went wrong.
I wish she were here with me. If she was, maybe I would’ve just boarded the bus and left Blackrock like Jonah said. When I was being hunted by Dominick Nightbridge, I was frightened. But at least he was normal. Montgomery Clairbourne was a different story. He formed ice out of thin air and threw icicles at us like something out of a comic book. Not only did I put myself in danger but I also put others in harm’s way. Jonah had almost died trying to fix what I started. Although I can’t imagine being without Sir Thomas, I considered leaving Blackrock, thinking things might get better if I left. It’s too late for that now, but at least I’m not alone.
Chapter VI
The Emerald Hotel
The fourth floor conference room at the Grand Haven Hotel and Spa was considered neutral territory. Overhead, neon lights hummed as they washed their hospital white light across the round polished oak table. Seated in three of the chairs surrounding the table were Anastasia Whitlock and her two sisters Izzabella and Valentina.
“Clairbourne is dead,” Izzabella said. “The wolf won’t be pleased when he hears about this.”
“Let’s just be rid of him,” Valentina suggested. “I tire of sending my best product to him.”
The three sisters were dressed in matching elegant turquoise lace dresses.
“If the knight were to venture any farther out of the woods,” Izzabella began.
“Let me deal with him,” Valentina interrupted.
“A direct approach is not wise, sister,” Izzabella said. “I cannot see beyond the borders of the forest. Something clouds my vision.”
“Sisters,” Anastasia said. “I have a perfect plan, but a few hiccups are to be expected. We cannot move unseen if people do not have something greater to fear. For now, the wolf lives, but when he has outlived his usefulness, we will put him down.”
Just then the door of the conference room opened and the Sommerses entered. Christian Sommers held the door for his sister Christie then followed her to the table. Christie chose a chair opposite Anastasia and sat down with her brother beside her.
“Christian and Christie,” Anastasia greeted. “How is the school?”
“Coming along wonderfully,” Christie said. “The students are responding well to the new program. Numbers are up, and I expect a more profitable harvest soon.”
“That is encouraging news,” Anastasia said. “Bishop will be pleased. Once they are prepared, we will put them to work.”
The door opened again and Robert Hogan entered. He let the door close behind him, as his eyes sweep the room, and then walked to a chair to the left of the sisters.
Slipping off his leather jacket, he adjusted his white muscle shirt and stuffed his keys in the pocket of his ratty blue jeans.
“I’ve never felt more at home and more in danger than I do right now,” Hogan said.
“Welcome, Robert,” Anastasia said.
Hogan leaned back in his chair and asked,
“Why am I here?”
“I felt it was time we discuss a problem,” Anastasia said.
“What problem?” Hogan asked.
“Dominick and Clairbourne are dead,” Christie said.
“Dominick was a child, and good riddance to Clairbourne,” Hogan said. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Anastasia said before a pause, “is not the loss of men. Their work can be redistributed. The problem is—”
“The knight,” Hogan interrupted.
“Sir Thomas,” Anastasia corrected.
“Can’t you just use your third eye and find out where he sleeps?” Hogan asked Izzabella.
“No,” she said. “Something blocks my vision. I can’t see into the forest.”
“That’s easy,” Hogan laughed. “Just burn down the forest.”
“Bishop will not allow anything to be done to Grymthorne Forest,” Anastasia informed.
“All right then. Burn the city. A few victims crying out in pain should draw him out. Then I can cook him from the inside,” Hogan proposed.
“That will draw too much attention,” Anastasia said.
“Then what’s the point?” Hogan snapped as he slapped his hand on the table.
Smoke rose from the spot where his hand rested.
“Calm down, Robert,” Anastasia said.
“We need to do something,” Hogan said, “and since you won’t let me do anything, I assume you have a plan.”
“I do,” Anastasia said. “First we need to isolate Lichenhurst. Once we have its location, we will send in armed security and gas the place.”
Anastasia looked at Hogan for a moment before adding,
“Then you can cook Sir Thomas.”
Hogan slowly smiled.
“I must interject,” Christie said.
“Yes?” Anastasia asked.
“How are we going to isolate Lichenhurst if Izzabella cannot see past the tree line?” Christie asked.
“For that, I will need two things,” Anastasia said. “For one, I will need your army.”
Christie sat expressionless for a moment then said,
“You mean my personal team of mercenaries. The Shadow Bears.”
“What a ridiculous name,” Hogan criticized.
“The leader Todd Moore was a student of mine. Didn’t even need training. Calls himself Papa Bear,” Christie said.
“I will need them,” Anastasia said.
“A bunch of mercs with guns aren’t going to stop the knight,” Hogan sneered.
“That is why they are only part of my plan,” Anastasia said.
“Cut the show and tell and just give us the rest of the plan,” Hogan asked, growing frustrated.
Suddenly the door opened and a woman dressed in a stern suit stepped into the room. She waited for the door to close before removing an FBI badge.
“Meet Abigail Thompson, Bishop’s personal hunter. After Clairbourne was killed, she came to me with an idea. A way of smoking out the people of Lichenhurst,” Anastasia said.
“Not just that,” Thompson said. “If my plan works, Sir Thomas will kill most of his own people for us.”
“Once he’s broken,” Anastasia said, “he’s yours.”
Hogan smiled at the thought.
“How do you propose we do this?” Christie asked.
“The Emerald Hotel,” Thompson said.
The Masthead 
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