Page 93 of Tracking Snow

And I plan to bleed them until someone fesses up this time.

A small, wet shriek slices through the dark.

I stop.

Another sound follows. A frantic flutter and more shrieks. Metal scraping brick.

I turn down the narrow alley beside a boarded-up nail salon.

A large wire cage sits flush against the brick, taller than it is wide. Inside it, what looks like a dozen flutterbuns pack the space in a furious knot of wings and fur and noise.

I take two steps closer.

The bait is still visible through the wire: a scattering of Magic Morsel wrappers pressed flat under scrambling feet, the remnants of raw steak tips piled at the center. A wire funnel is mounted to one side of the cage, the opening wide enough to get a small body through and tapering to nothing on the inside.

The flutterbuns nosed their way in after the smell, and now the funnel just collapses inward when they push at it. One has a wing caught at the wire joint. Two more press their noses through the gaps, fangs out, shrieking.

The sound goes through my skull.

"Oh, faefucks."

One of them slams into the side hard enough that the whole cage rattles. Another bites at the bars, tiny teeth scraping metal. Their little wings beat against each other in panicked bursts, fluff and leathery skin and snapping jaws all shoved together in a miserable heap.

"What did they do to you?" I whisper.

A handwritten sign is taped to the top of the cage. Magical pest removal. Below that, someone drew a little skull with bunny ears.

The fire inside me turns white.

I drop to my knees and grab the latch. It's not a normal latch. A chain runs through three separate loops, cinched tight with a heavy padlock.

I pull my dagger and wedge the tip into the hasp. The blade skids off the metal, throwing sparks. I switch my grip and try the funnel, get two fingers inside and yank. The wire gives maybe half an inch before snapping shut. One jagged edge slices across my palm, hot and clean.

I hiss through my teeth.

Blood wells in a bright line, but I shove my fingers into the mesh again and pull in opposite directions, but the wire cuts deeper and the cage still doesn't give.

The flutterbuns go silent for half a second.

Then all of them launch at the side closest to me.

I fall on my ass.

"Whoa. Hey. Hi. I'm helping, you fanged little cotton balls."

One of them hisses. Another bares its teeth and gnaws on the bar directly in front of my face.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're scary. I'm terrified. Five stars."

I stab the dagger into the lock again and twist. Something in my wrist pulls tight, hot and sharp, forcing my grip to spasm.

The lock doesn’t give.

A clatter sounds at the mouth of the alley.

My head snaps up.

Voices.