Assassin's Maze

by Everly Frost

  I nudge the door closed with my foot and deposit the crate next to a glass case containing several ancient books. When I turn back to him, materializing again, his expression falls.

  “Hunter!”

  “What?” I follow his line of sight to my bloody jacket. Annabeth’s mother was bleeding and I’m covered in her blood. I quickly reassure him, “It’s not mine. I’m okay.”

  The relief that rushes across his face kills me. He pulls me to his chest, cradling my head, his heart pounding. “Brandon was watching the hospital. He saw you save Annabeth’s mother, but then he lost you.”

  Brandon Baker was a Novice with us, a steely-eyed man who once told me he would follow me to hell and back. He was always Ridley’s choice when it came to keeping tabs on me. I shouldn’t be surprised that he followed me tonight.

  I growl, “I don’t need backup.”

  “I know, but Ridley doesn’t listen.”

  My father may have taken a while to get used to the idea of having a daughter, but in the last three weeks he has embraced it. It feels like he’s trying to make up for his absence all my life. I can’t hate him for it, even if it cuts into my independence more than I like.

  Slade inclines his head at the crate with a satisfied smile. “It looks like you succeeded.”

  “I’m taking the fight to Amalia.” I pull out the manifest and spread it open on the countertop. “This was the intended delivery address. It has to be Amalia’s weapons storage. I’m not sure what else might be hidden there, but I’m hoping money, drugs, more weapons. If we target her supplies, we can cripple her operations. We’ll need to move fast before she realizes we’ve located it.”

  Slade frowns at the page, jabbing his finger at the address. “This is where my mission was.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that nearly killed me. The seven guys I took down were all heavily armed. If this is Amalia’s warehouse, then it means they weren’t holed up there—they were guarding the place. Damn… If I’d known, I would have destroyed the building, too.”

  I place my hand on his arm. “Well, we know now.”

  I brush my fingertips across his cheek, easing away the regret in his expression. Just hours ago, Amalia ripped Slade’s soul from his body and held him captive until I agreed to bring her the Keres woman. He died, and neither of us has dealt with the shock of that yet. “You need to get some rest.”

  He gives me a small smile, stroking the loose hair behind my ear, his fingertips playing across my neck and tugging at the collar of my ruined jacket, making me shiver and draw closer to him. “So do you.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed with a sigh. “I can’t sleep. I can’t stop moving, Slade. I don’t know how much time I’ve got and…”

  He stops me with a kiss, gentle and warm. His hand closes around mine and his power tingles through me, bringing me alive with its force.

  He says, “If neither one of us can sleep, then we may as well make the most of being awake.”

  For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again. I would welcome the distraction, his nearness. The painful reality is that at some point, I won’t be able to function any more. Every moment with him is precious now. I must have given him a smile that said my mind ran straight to my bedroom, because his chest rumbles with soft laughter.

  He grins at me. “I wasn’t thinking of that, but now I am.”

  I press my lips to his, capturing his attention. “Then what were you thinking about?”

  He speaks softly, slowly, as if he knows it will be painful for me to hear. “William’s notes. I think he found something.”

  I haven’t grieved for William yet, haven’t allowed myself to cry. His scribbled notes are scattered all over the kitchen table where he left them before Gareth and Fallon attacked yesterday.

  William was trying to decipher the words hidden in the identical illustrations that appear in both the Keres Coda and Valkyrie Vade. It is a picture of a woman holding two children, their birth feathers floating in the air beside them. William thought the woman was Nyx, the mother of death and that she had two baby girls: the first Keres and the first Valkyrie. Our species weren’t enemies then. We became enemies when the Keres Queen bought her freedom from the ringmakers by selling out the Valkyrie. That was when Amalia struck back, stealing Keres feathers to keep herself alive.

  The Coda and Vade are safely contained in William’s locked safe now, but when Slade and I returned from the ball, I couldn’t look at William’s notes—all his written thoughts, all the secrets he was trying to uncover. Reading them somehow feels like acknowledging that he will never come back.

  Slade rubs my arms and back, giving me a moment to center myself, before he asks, “Will you come upstairs and look at them?’

  I nod and step in that direction, climbing the stairs and preparing myself for the sight of the kitchen where William drank tea and studied books.

  When we reach it, Slade pulls me into his arms, sliding a chair out from the table. He keeps me close as he takes a seat, gently propping me on his lap and nestling me in the crook of his arm, protective, supporting me in this moment but not making a big deal out of it.

  He says, “William started writing to you...”

  “Oh.” I catch my breath and control my emotions, before I lean forward, focusing on the note Slade points at, written in William’s curly script:

  Hunter,

  It’s not a riddle. It’s a maze…

  His handwriting squiggles at the end, as if he was interrupted. He must have been right in the middle of writing when the attack happened. During our last conversation, William told me he had deciphered multiple words in the images but he was trying to piece together what they meant.

  He told me what he had already deciphered: riddle, royalty, adversary, healer, and references to death and darkness.

  Slade points from one note to the next, his strong hand traveling a curve across several papers in turn. “His notes are disjointed and at first I thought they were random, but if you look at them in the right order, there is a message in them for you.”

  Slade points from note to note, patching together the circled words on each page to read them aloud. His rendition is slow and faltering, but it comes together.

  “The maze… hides… the original… birth feathers. The feathers heal… all wounds.”

  Slade frowns at the next note. It contains many crossed-out words, as if William struggled even more with this one, but Slade persists. “Only the Keres… can open the maze. Enter the maze… and defeat the… hmm…” He taps the page. “Silver royalty?”

  “Valkyrie Queen,” I murmur. “Defeat the Valkyrie Queen.”

  “That’s it.”

  I whisper, “Amalia said that the Keres woman can lead her to a place where she can be healed forever, where she can replace her lost feather with a more powerful one.”

  Slade nods. “That’s why Amalia wants her.”

  He presses his cheek to mine, his bristles a soft graze against my jaw, demanding my attention. “If the feather can save Amalia, it can save you, too.”

  Chapter Three

  Slade’s determined voice thrums through me. “We need to find that Keres woman.”

  Hope is like a knife, sharp and piercing. I want to cling to it, but I’m afraid of it. Hope is fragile whereas hate… my anger is what drives me now: my determination to stop Amalia from hurting anyone else.

  “Locating the Keres woman is the first hurdle. Convincing her to help me will be harder. We’re enemies, Slade.”

  He presses a gentle kiss to my earlobe like planting a seed of belief in me. “Her mom trusted your mom. That has to count for something. You won’t know until you try.”

  I twist so I can see him, chewing my lip. “You sound like William.”

  He plants another kiss on my forehead, then one on my cheek, carefully avoiding the stitches across my cheekbone. Amalia cut my face during our fight. Unlike previous occasions, I allowed the Legion doctor to stit
ch my wound.

  Slade says, “I don’t have his wisdom, but I will never give up on you.”

  His lips remain pressed against my cheek. A hint of worry enters his voice. “You’re cold, baby.”

  It’s normal for me to run hot, part of my inner power. My inability to retain my body heat is a warning that my power will eventually fail. The fact that I’m cold indicates it’s failing faster than either of us wants to admit.

  I run my hands through Slade’s hair, trying to ease his worry, but the crease of concern remains on his forehead—he has worn it since we returned from the ball.

  Amalia and I are both dying because we lost a feather. Both of them went to Slade: her feather powers his assassin’s ring, and mine saved his life and changed him irrevocably.

  I’m not sorry about either of those things.

  I attempt to smile. “I’ll warm up.”

  He is quiet, searching my eyes before he murmurs, “You need to cry. For William.”

  I shake my head, pressing my face against his neck. “If I start, I won’t stop.”

  “You lost him, and you’re about to lose Briar, too.”

  “I can’t be weak in front of anyone,” I say. “Not even you.”

  He cups my undamaged cheek with his hand, drawing back to pin me in his fierce gaze. “You are the most ferocious woman I have ever met. Crying will not diminish you.”

  I pull my legs toward my chest, barely remaining on his lap. Curling into him, I press my hand to his heart, sensing the deep rhythm and how his heart rate speeds up when I touch him. When I lean in to brush my lips against his, his heart kicks in his chest, a rapid thud-thud.

  I say, “I would like to be warm now.”

  Slade’s ferocity softens into a fire that makes my heart leap. He picks me up and carries me down the hall to my bedroom. Inside, I’m confronted by the symbols of my life. The dress I wore to the ball is thrown over a chair. The garment is torn, ripped, and bloody. The top drawer in my chest of drawers is partially open, the glass case containing the Keres ring glinting in the lamp light. My protective suit hangs in my closet, my gloves fallen to the floor. This bedroom belongs to an assassin, not a woman.

  A silver glow builds around Slade as he lays me down on the bed and joins me there, stroking the hair from my eyes, planting gentle kisses in a careful row across my forehead, avoiding my wound. His power sparks and our surroundings change, the walls and furniture shimmering and morphing into a cabin, the warmth from a fireplace filling the air around me. Thick, warm blankets appear around us and cushion our bodies, providing a safe cocoon in which to rest.

  Once he is finished creating the Realm, Slade helps me remove my jacket and pulls the blankets around me so that he lies inside them with me. I wait for him to kiss me again, but he doesn’t.

  He nuzzles his cheek against mine, causing my eyelids to flutter closed.

  He says, “There’s nobody here but me. You can feel whatever you need to feel.”

  I dig deep into the mire that surrounds my heart. To my shock what hits me hardest is not losing William, and it’s not the fact that I’m dying. It’s the way I felt when Amalia held Slade’s soul in her fist and threatened to kill him whenever she wanted. It’s the way I felt when the Guardian sanctioned Briar’s death.

  Powerless.

  I will not be powerless like that again.

  All my pain comes screaming to the surface. My eyes flash open. I jolt within the blanket, hook my leg around Slade, and push him onto his back, straddling him. My voice is fierce as I capture his gaze. “I won’t lose you. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles up at me, the harsh lines of his face softening. “I’m bound to you.”

  “That won’t stop Amalia.”

  He wraps his fingers in my hair, stroking down my back, before he lifts up beneath me to kiss me. “You won’t lose me. I promise.”

  His kiss deepens, drawing me closer. He promised me I won’t lose him, but I lose myself as he finds the base of my shirt and tugs it from the top of my jeans. His hands slide beneath my clothing and up my back, undoing my bra strap so his fingers can splay tantalizingly across my bare skin, stroking up to my shoulders and down to the small of my back.

  I arch into his touch, my heart rate speeding up, his nearness growing more intense as he kisses me fully, tasting my lips and my tongue. He breaks contact, giving me a chance to catch my breath, while his gaze caresses me from my eyelashes to my lips and his thumbs stroke my sides, grazing the sensitive curve at the sides of my breasts.

  I may be cold and relentless in the outside world, but with Slade… my control and inhibitions barely exist. I lose them both as soon as he maneuvers us into a sitting position to pull off my shirt and bra, his fingertips stroking along my neck and up into my hair, his lips finding all the soft spots beneath my ears and across my shoulders. Shivers run the length of my spine and an intense ache grows in my center.

  I curl my legs around him, wanting more. It doesn’t matter how many times I’m with him, I never have enough.

  I coax his arms up so I can remove his shirt, my fingertips following its hemline to stroke all the way up his chest, pulling it over his head and kissing his lips while I wrap my legs around him. I trace the muscles of his back, inhaling his quick breaths as I arch against him, my center pressed against his.

  With a groan, he rolls me onto my back, his hungry lips finding my neck, lingering over my breasts, and descending to my stomach. Finally, my jeans and underwear find their way to the floor and Slade’s mouth finds the delicate skin inside my thighs while his thumb grazes my center. My body is ready, was ready since he laid me down on these blankets, but he takes his time exploring my curves as if he has never touched me before, kissing all my sensitive places from my neck to my toes.

  I glower up at him when he deftly avoids my attempts to dispense with his jeans, the intense need in his eyes a deep contradiction to the way he slows us down.

  His voice is a husky, barely-controlled whisper. “Every moment with you is one I want to last forever.”

  Neither of us knows how long I have or whether we will find the feather that can save me. Tears burn at the back of my eyes that he is stretching out these moments with me because he doesn’t know if we will have this again, because there are no guarantees.

  I relax into it as he continues to explore my body, but every touch makes my head spin and my need rises uncontrollably.

  By the time he removes his clothing, casting his jeans and underwear to the side, I’m burning and shivering, and my breathing is out of control. He gives me a satisfied smile as he dispenses with his clothing, his appreciative gaze running over my naked body in a way that feels like a physical touch.

  He isn’t in any hurry, but I can’t wait anymore.

  I follow his movements, sitting up before he can turn back to me, running my hands across his chest to grip his shoulders and hook my legs around his hips so that I’m straddling him, taking control.

  His lips rise into a smile that makes my heart pound. He adjusts my legs around his hips, giving me permission, his gaze focused on me as I press downward, needing the connection between us, drawing him inside me.

  Our bodies fit perfectly; his fingers splay and flex around my waist, and the light in his eyes burns silver. I draw him inside me like I want to be part of him, part of his life, my body burning so hot that I can’t think, can only feel as I draw him deeper.

  Despite my determination to make this moment last, I lose control and shatter around him with a single movement, my senses exploding so suddenly that it shocks me. I gasp, crying out against his lips, my breath drawing in and out of me suddenly and sharply.

  His eyes fly wide. “Hunter…”

  I grip his shoulders harder and level my gaze with his, because it is not enough. He immediately senses my need, his hand shifting to support my head, tangling in my hair as our surroundings shift. I barely register the way he conjures a bed behind me, swiftly positio
ning me onto it while he keeps our bodies joined.

  The firelight flickers over the muscles of his arms and torso, highlighting all the hard lines of his face, even the slight cleft in his chin. He is no longer in control of his breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he strokes his fingers across my lips, following their path with his mouth, making me moan against his lips.

  His body begins to move, every stroke fueling a fire inside me. The intensity in his eyes burns deep as I match his movements, fisting the blankets to brace myself, drowning in the physical connection between us.

  Slade’s movements become more demanding and I match his rhythm, my breathing increasing again, scorching sensation pushing my senses into overdrive. He whispers my name, his hands shifting from either side of my head to grip my hips and draw me closer, the intensity in his voice telling me he is close to the edge but he won’t let go of his control until I do.

  His eyes meet mine, his hand brushes across my lower stomach, skirting my center, and my senses explode, the crash taking me closer to him even as all of me splinters apart, a storm building inside me that rips through me, its force carrying me upward, setting me free to ride the waves.

  “Hunter.” Slade speaks my name again, but this time it’s intense, emotional as he draws me as close as we can get and lets go of his control, spiraling with me.

  A long time later, before I finally fall asleep, I whisper against his lips, “I don’t need to cry. I need to kill Amalia.”

  I will destroy her networks, annihilate her supporters, and wipe out her operations. She will regret ever targeting me.

  More than anything, she will regret ever hurting the people I love.

  Chapter Four

  The early morning sunlight is accusingly bright as I stand in the middle of Saber Lane, feet planted, shoulders thrown back, my heartbeats ticking past at frightening speed.

  Slade and I slept for a mere three hours before the new day’s light struck through my nightmares and reminded me that today is a day of death.