Scales: Book 1 of the Fate and Fire Series

by Amity Green

  He came off the wall.

  “Get back in there, close the door, lock it, and do not come out again until you’re called upon.” The voice matched him perfectly, deep and menacing.

  Lock it, he’d said. If he wanted to get at me, he wouldn’t have suggested I lock myself in. I was nothing, if not an excellent listener. There was opportunity in the details. “Or what?” My words were small, my voice too feminine.

  He scoffed, shaking his head. “For your own protection.” He stepped toward me.

  “Not from you,” I shot back.

  “Get the hell back in there. Now.” His voice elevated, betraying a lack of malice.

  I turned my head toward the door, going for broke, calling his bluff. Breaking into a run, I stretched my legs picking up speed, and didn’t look back.

  He was on me quick, snatching me by the back of my jacket. Whirling on him the best I could, I unleashed a tirade of blows, striking whatever I could reach. One landed firmly across the side of his face, rocking his head back a little despite the fact I’d struck him through the fabric of his hood rather than bare skin.

  He growled, jerking me around hard until both my arms were pinned at my sides and my backpack fell to the floor. Using brute strength, which still seemed a little untapped, he picked me up by my shoulders and slammed my back against the wall. My head snapped back as my skull cracked against the plaster behind me. The world went white, a little shiny around the edges. I struggled to focus, dangling off the floor at eye level with the man I’d mistakenly thought wasn’t going to hurt me.

  Ice-blue eyes squinted on me. “Feel me now?” He smacked me into the wall again, his jaw set, unmasked fury scorching from his gaze.

  Words wouldn’t come for lack of air in my lungs. I was yanked from the wall, carried five long strides toward the bedroom, where he kicked the door the rest the way open and simply tossed me inside onto the carpet like a load of unfolded laundry. My bag followed, thumping the floor by my feet.

  He glared down at me, grasping the door handle. “Lock this, and I mean it. Understand?”

  I nodded from the floor. The door was slammed shut and I rolled to my hands and knees, loping forward to turn the lock on the handle. I didn’t know what I was locking out, but I sure as hell didn’t want another run-in with the guy guarding the door. Lungs and back aching, stomach empty, and head throbbing, I crawled onto the massive bed, sinking into the unwanted comfort of thick, down ticks under a soft duvet. The hum of forced air lulled me. I’d wait him out, looking for an opportunity. All there was to do until then was sleep.

  * * *

  Tingling skin woke me and I made it into the bathroom and stripped bare just before wings sprouted from my shoulder blades. My stomach rumbled a protest, so empty it felt like it rubbed a blister on my backbone. I gulped huge mouthfuls of water from the faucet at the sink, but it wasn’t a big help. I needed food.

  Hearing my door click and swing open didn’t make the “guard” too happy. He’d Garged Out, too, and spun from the window when I stepped out. A full, yellow moon hung low having just risen above the stone circle and treetops outside, casting golden light onto scales as black as night. He leaned a broad shoulder against a wall, arms crossed over a thickly plated chest. Gleaming fangs and ice blue eyes were the only parts of his face that stood out against his jet form. Spiked, curving wings stretched high above his head, arcing to rest calf-length at his back. Scales so dark they gleamed as he moved reflected from his body in a silent echo of light. A chest-length braid fell across his shoulder. He shook his head at me, a gesture that said “Really? You’re this dumb?”

  I waived my claws at him like a white flag. “I just need something to eat. I’m freaking starving.” He watched me closely as I strode to the bar and turned sideways to fit my wings behind it to get to the mini fridge. A big jar of marmalade, a butter knife, and a flat loaf of grainy bread accompanied me to the other side of the bar while he continued to stare through narrowed eyes. I imagined myself trying to carve through his chest plate with the dull blade and snorted as I stepped up to a tall backless stool and perched, digging into the bread and spreading large dollops of jelly in a thick layer of orange peel and pectin. I chewed rather ravenously, but I hadn’t eaten in over eighteen hours.

  The black gargoyle continued to watch me. I swallowed a huge mouthful, staring back. “Kai’s pretty worried about me escaping, huh?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I mean he must be, making you stay here all night.”

  “I volunteered.” He turned back to the window. “I didn’t expect you to be so bloody thick.”

  “No need to be a prick.” I turned back to the bread and coated another piece. “And how could you know what to expect? We haven’t met or anything. Maybe you have the wrong girl.”

  “You are Tessa,” he looked over a brawny shoulder. “Raised to adulthood in the South United States by nuns.” He turned again, leaning a claw on the wall above his head.

  The thick accent didn’t account for the way he’d said my name, like it had a ZZ instead of an SS. “It’s Tessa,” I clarified, pronouncing my name the correct way.

  He responded with a quick bark of laughter, shaking his head.

  I continued, ignoring his outburst. “And everyone probably knows that about me. My best friend is being held here someplace and Kai has been making her tell him about me.” I bit into my makeshift meal. “Nice try though.”

  He just stared into the glass.

  “So why did you volunteer to stay up all night watching my door?”

  “For your protection, since you won’t listen and stay inside of your own accord.”

  “Yeah, I’m believing all that.”

  He turned slowly. “Watch your tongue.”

  “Wouldn’t want to give you an excuse to throw me around some more.”

  “That’s bloody right. And what do you expect to get for striking another?”

  “You grabbed me, remember?”

  He crossed his arms, considering my words. “Fair enough, but you didn’t listen to me.”

  “You growled at me. And did you hear the part about my friend being locked up out here somewhere? She’s why I’m here.”

  “Brea is well.”

  I swallowed a lump of dampened bread, looking away. He had to be playing with me, which was mean as hell, but I couldn’t take the chance that he was being sincere and really knew something about her. “Where is she?” I looked back toward him, locking my gaze on his eyes in attempt to gauge whether he was lying to me.

  “She is safe, don’t fash yourself.”

  “Thanks for nothing.” I slid from the stool and began replacing the food in the kitchenette.

  “You must to be taught so many things, and need to remember so many more, lass.”

  “I don’t do psychobabble.”

  He’d made two things clear; one was that if I tried to leave my room, he’d throttle me. Maybe he’d have a smile on his face and maybe he wouldn’t. The other thing was he knew things but wasn’t willing to help me out. I slammed the bedroom door shut and was sure to lock it. I was exhausted and needed a fresh mind at first light. Maybe he would be at my door in the morning. Either way, I would begin my search. I just had to get around him.

  Chapter 19

  I poked my head into the library moments after dawn, scanning the place. The room was silent. Abandoned. I didn’t question the opportunity as I skirted the bar, made it through the den and walked smack into something that felt like sticky, slimy Saran Wrap at the hall entrance. I was slung back, feeling bile creep into my throat. My eyes watered. I swallowed hard, approaching again, sticking my hand out to feel my way through the air.

  Slime oozed through my fingers. I gagged but kept pushing, fighting to keep images of drowning in invisible gel out of my mind. I put my other hand out. Whatever the stuff was blocking the hall was hard to push into. I had the image of one of those squishy, stress balls, like I was attempting to walk through a big, slim
y one. The sensation that my arms were covered with some sort of cold, creeping, viscous fluid overwhelmed me and I stepped back again, retching as my temperature spiked. If I kept that up, little piles of puke would be scattered all over the expensive tile.

  There had to be another way out. The windows opened to vent the room, but were too far above the ground to jump. Cool air beckoned, soothing me. I gazed out at the Scottish morning. The air was salty and held the sound of water moving over sand and rocks. Clouds danced in the pale sky. Gulls called. I was jealous of their freedom. I kept at the window for a couple deep breaths until my stomach felt better.

  Recharged, I pulled out of my hoodie and stuffed it in my backpack, making sure the shoulder straps held the bag good and tight against my back. I tied my hair back and paced across the large room to the wall opposite the “blocked” hallway. I bounced on my toes a couple times to psych myself up and took off at a dead run, straight at the exit.

  Cold gel soaked me. My mouth filled with vomit. Air left my lungs as I hit the gooey wall. There was no sound but the quick pounding of my heart. Or maybe I felt it rather than heard it. I counted beats, panicking, unable to move. One … two … three …. four ….

  The next thing I knew, I stumbled outside the library. I gasped lungful’s of beautiful air, and triumphed with a couple glory-filled hops, grinning. It was the little accomplishments like that one that would fuel my spirits. Maybe, by some whim of the universe, I was really going to find Brea and get us out of there.

  Sunlight coated the staircase, reflecting off the tile below. I stepped lightly down the stairs, listening for anyone who might be approaching.

  On the ground floor, I ran close to the wall and dropped to all fours to hide. On hands and knees, I crept beneath rows of glass, pushing my bag along in front with my sinewy hands, changing back to flesh tone in the shadows, white knuckles grasping the slick fabric. Scooting the bag quietly and fast at the same time was impossible, so I chose fast, and ripped-clicked along the floor with my backpack hopping over grouted gaps between tiles. Freedom approached.

  My bag slid into a scuffed, brown pair of boots, inertia knocked dead along with my momentum. A startled gasp hissed past my lips. I’d never seen boots like those before. The leather was thick and the sole soft, not manufactured, but crafted. Scared to look up to see who, or what, wore them, I sat back on my heels, ready to bargain or bluster the rest of the way outside if I saw one iota of opportunity.

  A gargoyle stood in a stray sunbeam. Copper faded to deep brown under thin membranes and tendons. From my angle, he seemed incredibly tall with waist length black hair. He tilted his head, regarding me. It was hard to tell with the effect from the sun, but I think he was grinning. A lot of brilliant, straight teeth were showing.

  “Why make this any worse on yourself, lass? Go back up there and play nice.”

  Play nice, I would not. I pushed to my feet, shouldering my pack. White bone gleamed inside my hand from the corner of my eye, a stark reminder of common ground between us. Taking a breath, I prepared to question the guy. It was a long shot, but it was possible he’d seen Brea.

  “I need to find a human girl named Brea. She has long brown hair and stands a little taller than me, probably wearing pajamas.” My voice held a pleading note despite my best effort to be assertive and sound tough and capable. “Seen her?”

  “Aye. There are more rooms on the other side of the stairs, there.” He gestured behind me. “I didn’t expect you to be out this early.” He grinned. The guy’s brogue was going to take practice to understand. His words registered just as he continued with more lilting articulation.

  I stepped closer to the wall, out the line of sight from the windows. “I’m Tessa,” I said. He seemed pleasant so I rolled with his demeanor, trying to be friendly. Finding someone who didn’t seem like they were willing to turn me in the second I was caught was refreshing.

  “Osgar. Now go back upstairs.” He smiled again.

  Maybe I was mistaken. “I can’t do that, Osgar. I need to get to my friend and get out of here.”

  “That’s the tactic with Kai. He holds one of our own to keep us around. We all feel that duress, and have for centuries.” His words were carefully chosen. It made me think he knew more about my situation than I did. I grew tired of that happening.

  “We don’t belong here.”

  “Just where do you belong, Tessa? You appear as one of us.”

  “Well,” I said, after some thought. “You have a point about that. But my friend isn’t like us. She needs to go back to the States where she’ll be safe from all this … stuff. And Kai isn’t being honest with me. He told me I would get to see her after I came up here with him. I just want to get my friend and go back to London.”

  “And what makes you believe Kai won’t come to London to look for you?”

  “I have a couple of friends there that will help me.” I knew I could count on Peter. I couldn’t wait to get back to see him and I would be danged happy to see Ezra, too.

  Another man walked inside to stand beside Osgar, his skin taking on a silverfish tone when he stood in the sun, the inner workings of things beneath his skin flowing like molten lead. He smiled when he saw me.

  “You must be the lass from London,” he said. “I’m Crispin.”

  “Crispin is my cousin,” offered Osgar.

  “I’m Tessa. And I’m not really from London. I’m from Austin, Texas. I was studying abroad in London and ran into a bit of a … situation.”

  “Aye, great word for it, situation.” Crispin beamed. “And you’ll never be mistaken as British with that accent.”

  Crispin was friendly and genuine on a level I hadn’t expected to encounter at The Grotto. “What are you guys doing here?” They didn’t seem the type that would take up with someone like Kai. They were too nice. I didn’t pick up on any of the same creepy vibes.

  “It’s more like ‘What’s Kai doing here,’” Crispin added, quickly.

  Osgar leveled a warning look at the younger man. “That’s not going to help at all.”

  Crispin shrugged. “Really, Tessa, we were here first. Have been for centuries. This is our home, not his. One of us is kept away during each moon cycle so we have to stay—”

  “That’s enough, Chris,” Osgar snapped. “Tessa, return upstairs to keep out of trouble. Not everyone here will be as kind.”

  “I’m going to talk to Kai.” The lie slid from my lips like a greasy snake. I regretted each syllable, but I sensed they weren’t going to let me leave the house.

  Osgar eyed me tentatively. “He’s about the grounds.” Osgar stepped aside, moving his large frame from in front of the door. “A word of advice, Tessa?”

  “Sure.”

  “Be back in your room by nightfall.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I moved to the door. “Thank you, Osgar.”

  He nodded and continued into the house, heading to the stairs.

  I opened the door barely enough to squeeze myself through and shut it again. Staying low, I crept between the wall of the house and the shrubbery, being careful to keep out of sight. The going was slow, but I made my way toward the courtyard wall. I intended to sneak to the carriage house in the hidden safety of the bushes against the tall masonry.

  Clouds eclipsed the sun, dropping the temperature around me severely. Every bit of moisture in the air seemed to burrow into my skin, chilling muscle deep. I shuddered, wishing my bare arms were covered with long sleeves rather than bumpy gooseflesh. Men’s voices drifted from the direction of the garage. I toed my way along the side of the stone wall, listening as the conversation grew louder, but still too unclear to make out words. There was laughter, but the conversation was a low murmur. Muffled words tumbled over the barrier, losing their shape as I strained to listen.

  I froze when the voices stopped, just before the end of the garden wall leading into the courtyard. Remaining still, quacking like a sitting duck and waiting to get caught wasn’t the way I wanted to go out.
I peeked around to get a look at the men.

  Kai turned in the direction of the house and started toward the walk. I hunched low against the wall, leaning into the ivy and bushes to conceal myself. Hopefully he’d walk right by me.

  Being sincerely scared, holding my breath was something I didn’t have to think about. I was paper thin against that wall, waiting to be caught. Luck had never been a friend to me. I was sure he’d spin and lunge at me, finding me hiding with some sort of freaky, mad wizard sense. Astounded, I watched as he continued at a fast pace, disappearing around the corner of the house. I leaned forward onto my hands to glimpse who the other man was before he left, too. Getting a look at all the players on the field seemed like a good idea.

  The driver from the day before stood in the same place, hood up, face dipped low as if in deep in thought.He tipped his head back to the sky, lifted his hands, and let down his hood to reveal a familiar face.

  Peter.

  I pulled back out of sight, my head loll back against the cool limestone as the reality sunk into my consciousness. My heart felt like it would claw its way through my chest, shattered and screaming. I’d been cheated, again. But, this time, it was my fault for letting my guard down. I let Peter in, and I was paying the price. A major shift of focus washed over me like black paint. I lost some determination to get back to London. Peter was the biggest reason I looked forward to returning. So why bother?

  Betrayal ran hand-in-hand with the times in my life I went looking for answers. When I’d poked around for answers to questions about my missing family at the Home in Austin, I’d found betrayal. And then, when I’d gone looking for answers about how to escape with my best friend, I’d found it again. Betrayal must have been another of Fate’s little sisters. I swallowed a sob.

  Roll with it. Rub some dirt on it. Bulldog.