by LJ Swallow
"Because you're so inconspicuous," I say sarcastically.
"I know you're pissed off with me, but I want to apologise. I overreacted."
"You should’ve knocked on the door. Introduced yourself to my fae friend." Although I’m unsure how either guy would react.
"I’d rather keep away from non-Dwellers."
"You're paranoid about that, aren't you? I don’t think everybody is out to kill you."
Dex shuffles down in his seat and watches from beneath his curled fringe. "I've lived most of my life in fear of people, Syv."
This huge guy, scared of people? The one who shifts into a huge-ass dog that can rip people to painful, bloody shreds? I point at his scars. "You said you uh... served people."
"I was under someone's control. A person who could end my life like that." He snaps his fingers. "So, if anybody states they want me dead, I take their words seriously and keep my distance."
"I wouldn't let people hurt you." My words cause us both to smile. The slight, human-demon girl telling the guy who's three times the size of her when he shifts, that she can keep him safe. "I did once before."
"And I'm indebted to you."
"And that's the only reason you followed me?"
Dex rubs a finger across his bottom lip, and the intensity in his expression matches that from the library. My stomach lurches. The bus stopping, not an emotional reaction. Honest. "Come back to the Institute."
"No."
He blinks at my immediate, vehement response. "Why? We want to help you."
"Morgan doesn't."
Dex sighs. "He's touchier about the situation."
"Everybody in this scenario has trust issues. This won't end well."
"Cillian trusts you. He believes you can help."
"Yeah, he said. More level-headed."
"Or more taken in by your alluring self." Dex grins. "Understandably. You're one hell of a girl, Syv."
"I've been told." I look back to the window and into the dark streets.
The bus continues the journey away from Col’s suburb. Do I stay on the bus to visit my favourite bar, or turn back? Dex is with me. I could do what I persuaded myself not to.
"You want to protect me?" I ask Dex.
He nods.
"Then you can help me with something." I sink back in the seat and cross my arms. "It won't take long."
Dana's shop looks different by night. Metal shutters are pulled down over the shopfront window, as they are on the buildings either side. The street has changed from bustling and vibrant to dark and nondescript. Dex doesn't comment until we reach the closest street corner. He halts in the shadows.
"Why are we here?" he asks gruffly.
"I want to talk to Dana."
"You should wait until morning. Come on." He inclines his head back to the bus stop.
"Um. No. Tonight. I was going to ask Col to come with me to visit Dana tomorrow, but this saves time." I jab a finger at the mark on my arm. "You guys might not want to help, but I’m not waiting."
Dex’s mouth thins. "I’m glad I found you and that you weren’t stupid enough to come here alone. You’re in danger."
I sigh in a deliberate, loud way. "Do you think I’d survive if I ran straight into dangerous situations? I’m not that dumb. I learned a few years ago to think before I act. Near-death experiences as a stupid teen."
"I know you can protect yourself." He smiles.
"Exactly. Which is why I’d decided to wait. But now, you’re here, I can do this tonight. One of the demons earlier told me there wasn’t a cure. I need to ask Dana if she’s bullshitting me."
"You never told us about the demon’s words." Dex’s mouth parts in surprise.
"I never had a chance. Did I?" I arch a brow.
He blows air into his cheeks. "Fair point, but I think this is a bad idea. It’s 2 a.m. Normal people don’t like late-night visits."
"Are you saying you don't think we're capable of talking to one warlock alone?"
"If she's alone."
"I'll check before I walk in." I wave a hand at him. "You could shift and help if needed?"
His eyes narrow and the glow to his irises sets hairs on my neck. "No. I don't randomly shift in the street. I plan."
"Apart from at the side of roads, in broad daylight?"
"That day was different."
"Fine. Do you have powers in your human form?" We walk around the rear of the row of shops and I gaze up at the window. Dim light shines behind the curtains in the room we stood in yesterday. Yes, she’s home.
"I'm strong, but not the same strength as when I'm shifted." He rubs his nose. "My saliva isn't poisonous either."
"Good to hear. I worried what might happen if you drooled all over me. Which I don’t want, by the way."
"Don't you?" When I don't respond, he adds. "We'll be fine, I'm sure."
I force a smile. "Cool."
"I'll wait here a few minutes and you go ahead and check."
"Why?"
"In case there's someone following. Of course." He steps back, into the dark.
I creep around to the rear of the building, hood back up to obscure my face. I spotted security cameras on the main street, but Dana's building is camera-free. I place a hand on the rear door and close one eye. Warded. Of course. Thankfully not pain-inducing runes. I knock but there’s no response. What if she isn't home?
The lock on the door is easy to break, and the wards don't affect me. I half-expect an alarm to sound but nothing happens. I'll take a good look around her shop. I bet there are items on sale that would interest me and my contacts—and my bank account. I want to find that spell book she read the ingredients from too.
I step into a narrow hallway leading to a kitchen, and a set of stairs to the left lead upwards. The curtain dividing the home from the shop hangs nearby. Pausing, I listen again. The place stinks of whatever incense she burns, and the smell turns my stomach more than rotting garbage. As I move forward, a thud arrests me and I spin around.
Dex, blocking the exit by taking up as much room as a door in the frame.
"Crap, you make too much noise." I point at his large, booted feet. "You should stay downstairs. Watch for someone coming."
He ignores me. "Now I know that nobody followed, I’m here to help."
"Please wait here, Dex. I'll shout if I need you, but I’ve taken on worse than her." I point at the ceiling. "I’m headed upstairs."
He grumbles a protest as I move further into the house but stays as I walk away. I place my hand on the stair rail and take slow steps up the carpeted steps.
Another sound. This time not downstairs, but from the room ahead. I slide my hand into my jacket and curl my fingers around the carved dagger handle. I store my more unusual weapons at Col's, and I’m happy to have this one tonight. The intricacy in the wrought handle and the thin blade attracted me, as did the fact several other people wanted the same item. He gifted me this on my birthday, two years ago.
The day he gave me this hit me straight in the feels—the first time Col hinted I was more than his hired help. The squishy happy feeling retreated to an awkward evening as I worried he might want something in return. Turns out I didn’t need to worry, as he had someone else to ‘entertain’ that night. Still, I have one of the best weapons I’ve ever come across. And that makes me feel safe. Usually.
A second scraping sound comes from the room. Do I kick the door down and make an entrance or sneak in? Frighten Dana into giving me more information? No, I should sneak—Dex would probably run up here in seconds if he heard a bang. Dagger primed in one hand, I pull on the metal handle and push the door open.
I step inside and adjust my eyes to the semi-dark room.
The semi-dark, trashed room. The broken furniture and upturned table suggest a struggle rather than a break-in. The curtains hang haphazardly where the pole has been torn from the wall on one side. The pictures I admired last time are now shattered frames on the floor.
A man sits on a high-backe
d armchair facing the door. Light from nearby candles flicker across his long face, giving his sunken cheeks and thin-lipped smile an eerie look.
"Good evening, Syvonne."
23
My name rolls from his tongue, the full version I never use. Unusually, his pronunciation is correct. Following years of teachers calling me Syv-on rather than Syv-ahn, I dropped the second syllable altogether.
I'm held in place, but not by surprise. My legs won’t move me further into the room. Something bright on the floor catches my eye. A runic circle glows at my feet. "What the fuck?"
I attempt to step over the pattern but a sharp pain hits my foot, shooting through my leg like a sudden, agonising toothache. I swear again and step back into the circle. The door slams closed behind me, hit by an invisible force.
"I apologise for the entrapment. I can't be too careful." The man’s voice is husky, as if not used often, and I detect a hint of a European accent. German? Maybe.
I point the dagger in his direction. "Correct. Have you heard that I'm fairly quick with this if I'm threatened?"
He rests back against the velvet chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "It's not your weapon skills I'm concerned about."
"Where's Dana?"
"She decided to take a short vacation." His smile tightens. "Of sorts."
His glittering eyes trip fear along my spine. Leave. Now. Whoever this dude is, he's not someone I want to take on. Not after my experiences in the last few days.
"Oh, okay. Well, tell her I visited. Sorry to disturb you." I try to back off but the runes behind hit me again and I’m halted by the shooting pain in my ankle.
"You know what's amusing here?" he continues. "I knew I could count on you coming to find Dana when you couldn’t locate the bones, but I didn't expect you to bring someone with you. Especially a man you shouldn't trust."
Fear crawls into my stomach. "Why shouldn't I trust him?"
"Well, you have no idea who Dex is or where he came from, do you?" He places fingers on his chest. "Dex could be working for me."
No. Way. But doubt niggles. Every time I fall for someone’s spiel I end up in a mess. Is Dex playing me? "And who are you?"
"I’d rather not give my name." He licks his lips and his eyes travel the length of me. "I wanted to meet the famous Syv."
Famous? Yeah, right. "How did you know I’d come here tonight?"
He shrugs. "I didn’t. But I knew you’d appear sooner or later once you discovered there’s no cure. Of course, you’d return to the warlock." He waves a hand around the room. "These are comfortable surroundings. Dana wasn’t enthusiastic about me staying for a night or two though. She had to leave."
"You could've called instead. I have a phone number—plenty of dodgy people like you pass it around," I say sarcastically.
He barks a laugh.
"I came here to ask Dana what the fuck is going on. Now I'm asking you the same question."
My palm slicks around the dagger as the cloying air around fills my lungs. No. This is more than the scent. This magic surrounds him. The room. Us.
The man sweeps his knee as if removing dust and lifts his eyes to mine. "I’m not here to harm you."
I wave my hand at the symbols surrounding me on the floor. "Then what the hell is this?"
"I was told to examine you."
"Uh. What?" I attempt to back off again but as soon as the symbols on the floor touch my leg the shooting pain stops me. "Told by who? Nobody is examining me."
He stands and approaches. The guy’s height matches mine and I look back into inky eyes.
"Show me your arm." I blink in confusion. "Your mark, Syv."
"No." I place the arm with the mark behind my back and brandish my dagger at him.
He sneers. "You can’t fight me. You can't do anything alone anymore, can you? Hiding behind your bravado and sarcasm. Pretending you're strong."
"I am strong." I clench my teeth. "Maybe not against magic, but I can try."
The man rubs a hand across his mouth and studies me in silence. I keep my dagger in full view in case he steps any closer. But this guy stinks of demon magic, and I’d prefer to keep away from that, following recent experiences.
"Call for your friend downstairs," he whispers. "Maybe he can help."
"The guy you implied is working for you? No way."
He smiles. "But if he isn’t?"
"I can manage on my own," I growl.
He leans forward and I snap my head back as he sniffs me. "You have an alcohol problem, don't you?" The nameless man crosses his arms. "You numb yourself. Ignore what seethes inside you, because you're scared of yourself."
"No."
"But you don't know what you're scared of. You don't remember, do you?"
I clench my teeth. I drink because I enjoy the drugged sensation. My search for things to obliterate stress attracted me to Bastian and his magic. I chase highs and with them come a numbness that helps smooth out my days.
"Okay, I need to wind down sometimes. Side effect of my job. Now I have this mark, I really need a bloody drink."
"I won’t touch you, Syvonne. Let me see the mark and I’ll leave." He beckons with one hand.
What do I do? Is he lying? I bet he bloody is, but what choice do I have? "Fine. Take a look, but don’t touch me. And unless this vague story you're telling me can help remove the mark, I'd like to leave." I yank my sleeve up.
He scratches a brow, peers at the death mark then lifts his eyes to mine and smiles. "Thank you. That wasn’t hard, was it?"
I narrow my eyes at his condescending tone. "Remove the circle and let me leave."
"You could wait for your friend to come upstairs if you believe he’s genuine," purrs the man. "But I understand if you don’t call for him. You don't want rescuing again, do you? The little damsel in distress doesn’t need her big strong man. How many times have your new associates rescued you now? Three." He makes a tsk noise. "I bet that annoys you."
"I’m not a damsel in distress. Ever."
"Are you sure?" I recoil as the guy touches my head with his fingertips. "Who took your memories? Do you remember?" He chuckles. "Sorry, that was a dumb thing to say."
I blink. I don't believe him, and now I'm unsure I believe anything. This whole situation. The guys. The mark. The set ups.
Dread washes over me as strongly as the magic begins to fog my brain. "You. You did this." I shake my head. "You work with whoever put the mark on me. You sent the demons to the cemetery."
"We’ve put the mark on a few people. We’re looking for the right person and suspect she’s you, Syvonne."
My mouth dries and my palms slick further. "Right person for what? Stealing something? Do you want this box too?"
He pokes me in the chest. "How has someone like you, half-human, stayed alive? Matched the strength and magic of assailants with just a weapon? Do you know what gives you your strength, Syv?"
My dagger flies from my hand and the point slams into the wall opposite, leaving me feeling naked without it.
I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my head, my thoughts torn in two directions. I'm not frightened— I’m curious. I’m drawn to this guy and his story, but another part tells me to run the hell away.
My thoughts whisper something I don’t want to hear: is this man connected to Verin? Am I?
He points at my arm. "If you’re not the person we think, that mark will kill you, as it did all the other girls. But your mark hasn’t grown."
"It won’t kill me, because I’ll find a cure. Dana might have lied to me, but I will figure out a cure for this."
He sneers. "There are no Nephilim bones. There is no cure. This mark kills everybody but one person. Myself and others think this person is you."
"Which means?" I snap.
He rubs his chin and flicks a gaze the length of me. "Maybe you should come with me after all. Since you’re curious."
"Yeah, that’s a no."
The man lifts his head as footsteps thunder up the sta
irs. "Oh, good. He’s here."
Splintered wood hits the back of my head as Dex crashes through the door. I'm kicked to the floor by two huge paws as he lands on my back. The runes burn my hands where my fingers land on them, and I scream out at him. I can’t move—he weighs more than two men. "Get off me!"
He moves and I twist onto my back, but Dex’s paws pin my shoulders. The eyes I looked into on the bus stare down at me, the orange flecks sparked into fiery rims as they lock with mine for a moment. I scream out again, terror flooding my system as his mouth gapes and teeth bare.
Creepy dude is right.
Dex works for him.
I snatch my dagger from the floor and swipe as his muzzle moves closer. The blade slashes his skin, but Dex doesn’t respond. Hot breath and frightening teeth move toward me. I close my eyes and brace myself for pain, then gasp as I'm tugged violently forward. My hoodie rips as Dex pulls me along the floor, across the runes. Pain tears though my skin as if he's dragging me through glass. I lash out, hitting Dex around the face.
In the background, the guy laughs. "He's helping you, stupid girl."
Gasping for breath, eyes watering through the pain, I stop struggling and allow Dex to pull me further through the doorway.
Dex drops his grip and I scramble to sit. He crouches back, coiling his muscles, then leaps over my head. The chair the guy sat in crashes to the ground and Dex’s snarls are met by laughter. Dex lunges at the man then yelps as he’s tossed across the room onto the broken table. One of Dex’s back legs hits a smaller table and the burning candle falls.
The rug ignites.
More voices sound from below. Calling my name.
Footsteps.
Cillian stands wide-eyed in the doorway. Morgan a head behind, both staring at Dex in panic. I snap my head back round. Why is the room quiet?
The man has disappeared, leaving an unconscious Dex and flames licking his paws. Ice lances from Cillian's fingers, freezing the rug where the candle fell. I sink onto my back and stare up at them.
"Where the hell did you come from?"
24
I sit in the building’s back doorway, on the step, shaking. The dark house is still and quiet now. Cillian crouches down and hands me my dagger. "Are you okay?"
