"Nope," Gia said absently, eyes glued to her book as she turned the page.
His annoyance bounced back to the surface before he could put it in check. "You can't wear that!" He was absolutely horrified.
Gia looked down at her clothes. "What's wrong with this?"
"You can't wear sweats and a huge t-shirt to a place like Feria! Woman, there is something seriously wrong with you!"
"I didn't pack my party dresses, Pyrrhus!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and looking defensive. "Besides..."
He noticed the uncomfortable look on her face and paused in his rant for a moment. "What is it?"
"None of the clothes I brought with me fit any more."
"Gia..."
"I can't eat! I can't even sleep! I'm just... it's starting to look like we'll never find him. It won't be him tonight—Nolan, hanging out at a trendy bar in Bushwick? We must be insane!"
"It may not be him, but it's the closest thing anyone's had to a lead so far!"
"Just let me go like this, Pyrrhus, please."
"Can't do it. If we make a good impression on even one of these people, it could give us a lead. We need to be Lady and Lord tonight—and fake almost-fiancées—not depressed friends. Come on." He took the book out of her hands and hauled her to her feet, alarmed at how easy it was to hoist her out of the chair.
"Where are we going?"
"We're going to get you something else to wear... we'll be quick, I promise."
Less than half an hour later, she was outfitted to his begrudging admiration. "You'll do, I suppose," he said with a frown. He didn't like the sharpness of her collarbones against the neckline of her dress—at least the dark tights somewhat disguised the thinness of her legs.
Before Gia could snap back, Bentley stuck his head into the room. "Everyone ready?"
"Yes, let's get going," Pyrrhus said, offering Gia his arm.
They travelled via town car down FDR Drive and across the Williamsburg Bridge to Brooklyn, the city lit like a beacon against the night sky. They stopped in front of a perfectly normal looking bar. Exchanging glances, Pyrrhus and Gia followed Bentley as he entered the front door of the bar, but instead of turning right through the open doorway, Bentley led them down two sets of absolutely terrifying stairs to a large metal door. He knocked twice, summoning a bouncer's eye through the gap.
"Password?" he grunted.
Instead of speaking, Bentley held up his finger and let fur ripple up from the knuckle, elongating into a claw as they watched. There was something strange about it, but Pyrrhus didn’t have time to study it thoroughly before it changed back into smooth skin.
"And them?"
Gia bristled, but Bentley quickly intervened. "I'll vouch for them."
“Not good enough.”
Pyrrhus let a bit of flame spark into existence across his knuckles, and the eye turned to Gia. Huffing, she flicked her fingers as if there were water drops on the ends, sending a blast of wind directly into the bouncer’s eye. He flinched and disappeared.
The door creaked open, revealing yet another set of stairs. At this, Gia recoiled.
"I don't know if I can go deeper underground," she hissed at Pyrrhus, who simply put his hand at the small of her back and pushed.
"You don't have a choice."
Luckily, their descent was short. They walked through a level piece for a bit, then ascended a very steep stairway into a dimly lit bar. Almost as one, the patrons of the bar turned to face them.
"Pyrrhus!" A girl shot out of the crowd and into his arms before anyone could react. "No one told me you were coming to New York!"
"Hello, Cynthia," he said with a smile, though Gia could tell it was forced. "We're just here visiting for a few days."
"We?" She glanced around and spotted Gia standing to the side. She froze, eyes narrowed. "Hello, Giada."
"Hello, Cyn. Nice to see you."
"What are you two doing together?"
Knowing that their ruse depended on it—and with only the tiniest sliver of satisfaction—Gia stepped forward and slid her arm around Pyrrhus' waist, effectively dislodging her. "Pyrrhus and I are spending the autumn on holiday."
Clearly hurt but unwilling to show it, Cynthia acknowledged defeat by backing away. "Well, it was nice to see you... I'm sure we'll cross paths again." Without another word, she disappeared into the crowd.
Slowly, members of the Zephyrus and Ignis courts were making their way forward to pay their respects, but Gia was hardly listening. Her eyes were scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Nolan.
"The person we're looking for usually comes in around midnight," Bentley said under his breath behind her. "He comes in, orders a drink, and sits in the back corner for about an hour, then leaves. Never speaks to anyone."
Gia nodded, but kept her eyes on the door.
At three minutes to midnight, the door opened again, and a tall man in a coat with the hood pulled up stepped through the door. Heart racing, Gia kept him in her line of sight until he stopped at the bar and dropped the hood to order.
It wasn't him.
On the verge of tears, she turned to Bentley, who was looking at her hopefully. Bentley hadn't been at Caer Anglia over the summer, and had never seen Nolan. The man at the bar was close, but it wasn't him.
"No," she said softly.
Immediately, his face dropped. “No?”
“It’s not him.” Blindly, she turned to find Pyrrhus. He was talking to a group of Ignis that included Cynthia, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
“Pyrrhus, dear, let’s go home,” she said, adding a bit of a slur to her words as she leaned against him. “This place bores me.”
She saw a flicker of a frown in his eyes. “It’s been a lovely time, Giada.”
She faked a yawn, ignoring the warning in his tone. “I’m sure it has, but I’m not sure this place caters to the right people.”
“I think she’s had too much to drink,” Pyrrhus said in an undertone to the crowd, eliciting a few knowing nods and a scowl from Cynthia. “I’d better see her home.”
“I haven’t seen her drink anything at all! Why do you have to leave with her—isn’t she capable of hailing a cab?”
“Cyn, that’s not fair. I came with her, I should make sure she gets home.”
Gia was ready to scream and decided to let her “intoxication” speak for itself. “Cynthia, just because you want Pyrrhus to go home with you—“
She could tell what he was planning in the split second before he acted, but she wasn’t fast enough. Pyrrhus leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, leaving Cyn to huff and storm away. After a few moments, he pulled away.
Stunned, Gia simply turned on her heel and walked away, desperately searching for the way out of the bar. She made it to the sidewalk before she felt Pyrrhus’ hand on her wrist, turning her around.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hugging her. “I panicked.”
“You kissed me.”
“I know, that’s what I’m apologizing for.”
“I didn’t want you to!”
“I know.”
She balled up her fist and caught him just right in the stomach. Wheezing, he dropped to one knee.
“That how you’re going to greet Nolan when he kisses you?”
“You unbelievable—that’s it, I’m leaving.”
“Gia, you’re being ridiculous.”
“I can’t stay in there with those people! We’re wasting our time!”
“Those people are our people, and you are burning every bridge you have treating them like that. I know you want to find him, but we’ll also need allies, and you’re an idiot if you think they can’t help us.”
Instead of answering, she threw her arm out and hailed a passing cab, yanking the door open and climbing in. She slammed the door before Pyrrhus could follow her and rolled down the window to say, “They can’t help us find him. That’s what we need.”
“I’m going back in there to do damage control. Will you co
me back in?”
“No.”
Pyrrhus stood there in silence for a moment, hands deep in his pockets. Gia could tell he had them clenched into fists. “Fine.”
“Lady, you gonna fight with your boyfriend or give me the address?” the cab driver asked. She glanced to the front, noticing that he’d already started the meter.
“77th and Broadway.”
The cab pulled away from the curb with a jerk, and she didn’t look back.
“Here, please,” she said, handing the driver the last of her cash and climbing out, pulling her wrap tight against the bitter wind and beginning the trudge up the sidewalk to Matthew’s door.
Only steps from the door, a hand closed around her shoulder and yanked her backwards. Already unsteady on the heels she wasn’t used to, she went down on one knee and looked up to see a man leering down at her.
“Your purse—give it to me. Scream and I’ll kill you.”
Without a second thought, she tossed it to him, knowing there was nothing of value in it. Her body flooded with adrenaline as she watched him rifle through it, then glare at her.
“There’s nothing in here—got your money somewhere else?”
He reached for the front of her dress.
She let him grip the neckline of her dress before bringing her knee up, hitting him in the crotch with enough force that he screamed. She then swung her left hand up between them, her fist wrapped around the keys Bentley lent her to get in and out of the apartment. With the weight of the keys adding heft to her punch, she put all of her training from Sensei into practice and broke his nose with a wet snap. With her other hand she shoved him away, channeling some of the wild wind to send him flying across the street.
Her brain still whirling with suppressed anger and frustration, she followed his limp form, standing over him as a second cab pulled up.
“Gia?”
She ignored Pyrrhus’s call and loomed over her would be assailant, swooping down to pry her purse from his grasp as he moaned on the pavement.
“You messed with the wrong person tonight,” she said. He reached for her ankle, and she swiftly pinned his hand to the street with her foot, ignoring his yelp of pain.
“Wanna go again? I’m ready.”
Pyrrhus was startled to see Gia kicking the man on the ground over and over, snarling something under her breath. Her wings were beginning to work their way out of her body, trapped underneath her wrap—a few more moments, and the press would have a new definition for "avenging angel." Come to think of it... he wondered if a scene like this coined the phrase.
No time to ponder that now. He took a few running steps over and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Wings, wings, WINGS," he hissed in her ear. “Gia, what are you doing?”
“I’ve been mugged,” she said calmly, “but I think he’s worse off. Call the police for me, Pyrrhus?”
He was already dialing.
The man was curled in on himself now, blood still dripping from his nose to the pavement. He tried to crawl to his feet, but Pyrrhus was watching.
“Persistent fellow, isn’t he? Hello, 911? Yes, my friend has just been mugged—the mugger is still here, lying in the street. 77th and Broadway, if you could hurry. Thank you.”
He hung up and used the side of his shoe to kick the man down onto his stomach again. “I’m afraid you have to stay here, my friend. The police will be here shortly.” He pressed his foot down between the man’s shoulder blades and turned to look at Gia.
“You okay?”
“Fine—felt good to do something for a change.”
He smiled despite himself. “Glad to see you’re still sharp—I suppose we should have been sparring this whole time.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a child. You warned me before we even started—“
“I know, but I—“ They looked at each other and laughed at the absurdity of it all. She moved close enough to hug him without letting the mugger go.
"Pyrrhus, I haven't had trouble controlling my wings since I was four years old," she said slowly. "What have I done to myself?"
"I don't think it's just you," he said. He held up his hand between them, blocking it from sight, and conjured a lick of fire. Instead of the eager, leaping flame she was used to seeing, it sputtered and practically died in his palm. "I can make it look perfect if I concentrate, but I haven't had to concentrate in years."
"What's happening to us?"
"I don't know, but I think this mission just took on a whole other level of urgency." He paused for a moment before putting his arm around her. "Come on, let's get out of here before the police come. This guy's not going anywhere."
They walked together in silence for a few minutes, putting some distance between themselves and the mugger. When Pyrrhus spoke again, it was in a near-whisper. “We’ll find him.”
“I know—I just wish I knew where he went.”
Pyrrhus knocked on her door later that night, acknowledging her quiet “Come in” by stepping inside and sitting next to her on the bed.
“I brought you a present,” he said softly, holding up a plate.
“I’m not hungry.”
“It’s peanut butter pie.”
She paused. “Will you share it with me?”
“Why do you think I brought two forks?”
She smiled just a bit and reached for a fork. “Thanks.”
They ate the sticky slice of pie in silence. Finally, when Gia was using the back of the fork to pick up lost crumbs of crust, Pyrrhus spoke. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Is it from the mugging?”
“What?” She looked surprised. “No. I kicked that guy’s ass, if you remember correctly.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “What is it, then?”
She turned red and glanced away.
“Gia, come on. We’re friends… what is it?”
“Why did you have to kiss me?” she burst out.
“That? It was a ruse—it was part of our act. Surely you know that.”
“Of course I do. It was still weird.”
“You didn’t feel anything either, did you?”
“No… not at all.”
“Well, at least you didn’t threaten to kill me like—“ Pyrrhus shut his mouth, but it was too late.
“Wait a minute. You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else?”
“You were in public.”
“Stop avoiding my question! Was Nolan with you?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
She groaned and threw herself backwards on the bed, barely missing the pie plate. “Great! Let’s make things even more awkward!”
He stayed where he was, watching her as she covered her face with a pillow. “Why does that make things awkward? Kinniard is an ass, we all knew that.”
“It’s—can we change the subject?”
Gently, Pyrrhus pulled on the pillow until he could see her face. “No. Talk to me.”
“Angus has this THING about me—I don’t know what it is, or where it started. The last thing Nolan needed was another enemy, and I feel like this one is my fault. Angus…” She faltered and tried to cover her face again, but Pyrrhus’ grip on the pillow was firm.
“Angus what?”
“He stole my first kiss! I hate him for that—and don’t laugh at me!”
Pyrrhus hurriedly put his face into a more somber expression. “I’m not laughing at you. Gia, you have to understand something. He may have stolen a kiss, and so did I, but you still have something even more special. You’ve never given someone a kiss—and Nolan will be a lucky man to get it.”
She sat up and hugged him. “Thank you. That made me feel better—I didn’t even realize I’d been holding that back.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll leave in the morning—Nolan isn’t here.”
“Ready to leave already?” Gia raised an eyebrow. “I thought you and Bentl
ey…”
To her surprise, Pyrrhus blushed. “Is there really time for that right now?”
“You have time to play matchmaker, but I don’t?”
“Let it go,” he advised quietly. “I don’t know him well enough to take him with us, Gia. This comes first. You’re just lucky that your love life and our mission coincide.”
Gia shoved him. Surprised, he almost disappeared over the side of the bed. “Go to sleep.”
“I will—but because I’m tired, not because you told me to,” he shouted from the floor. She simply threw a pillow down at him in response.
***
Nolan pulled his hood up over his head and bundled into his grandfather's old overcoat, pulling it over his bulky sweatshirt with some effort. He needed to go back into the Village for supplies. Breath showing white against the cold morning air, he left his house and made the relatively short trip into the town proper. With one gloved hand on the doorknob, he was about to enter Mr. Boone's shop when a second voice inside made him pause. He leaned in, listening.
"Thank you for taking Nancy for the day, Sam," Boone was saying cheerfully. "I know she loves playing with your girls. She'll be right down."
Samuel agreed, then dropped his voice. "Any news about the boy?"
Nolan froze, practically pressing his ear against the door.
"I told you, I know every single customer of ours personally. Nolan Aeron is not in this Village—or if he is, he's not buying anything from me."
A hand slammed against something—the counter? "Damn it, this is not a joke! I told you about what happened to me!"
"You did."
"And?"
"And what? It sounds to me like you better hope he never shows his face, or you'll be up on attempted murder charges."
“Those freaks held me captive for almost a year. A year in a prison I couldn’t escape, without a trial, or any sort of process at all! I was a… a prisoner of war!”
“We’re not at war,” Boone said quietly.
“Maybe we should be.”
“We’ve protected the secret of these people since before the United States even existed. You’re going to expose them now?”
“…Not yet. The time isn’t right.”
“Right for what? What are you planning? Don’t do anything stupid, Sam.”
The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0) Page 33
