“I hope they look worse,” he said.
“Nope, basically not a scratch.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He shook his head and glanced over my shoulder toward Samira. “Need me to keep an eye on the little witch?”
“I can hear you,” Samira shouted. She was propped on the edge of the couch, her head buried in one of Noree’s books.
“What’s in it for you?” I asked.
“Can’t I just be neighbourly?”
I glared at him, and he sighed. “Fine, my television is broken, and I was hoping I could score some time with yours.”
“You okay with this?” I said to Samira, who was now only pretending to read the book her nose was buried in.
“I suppose so,” she said. “And, anyway, he gets grumpy when he misses… what did you call the judge woman?” She darted a glance in Mazik’s direction.
“Judge Judy,” he said. “And I don’t get grumpy, I just don’t like to fall behind. I’ve got my vices, just like the rest of you.”
“Vices?” I said, fighting to keep my voice neutral. “You’re a demon, so I don’t think you can call having a thing for a TV judge a vice.”
He snorted and pushed past me into the apartment. “You’ve got no idea the level of resentment that show creates. That stuff is more addictive than crack.”
I watched as he flopped down onto the couch and scooped up the remote control. Havoc climbed onto his chest and pawed at his face until he scratched beneath her tiny ginger chin.
Watching Samira drop onto the couch next to him, book in hand, I contemplated warning them not to do anything I wouldn’t do. But then Mazik wouldn’t be able to watch his favourite show, and, well, he was a demon…and she was a witch. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can,” I said, but they ignored me. The strains of the title theme to one of TV’s most famous judges filled the apartment as I let the door swing shut behind me.
As I stood in the hall, I suddenly realised I would have given anything to turn around, go back inside, and join them. But the thought of letting Byron down kept me moving. I had to help him. It hit me then that, despite only twenty-four hours passing since I’d last seen him, I actually missed him. I missed his scent, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around me, the sound of his laugh.
“Ah, shit,” I muttered to myself as I headed for the stairs. I already had enough people in my life to worry about. The last thing I needed was to add another name to that list, especially if my fears about Mannan were true.
Of course, the problem wasn’t just that I cared for Byron… it was the way I cared for him, the depth of my feelings, and the speed at which they had occurred. If I wasn’t careful, I was definitely in danger of losing my head. And that wasn’t something I could allow… no matter what happened.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Finding the neighbourhood Byron had taken me to was harder than I anticipated. In the end, I stumbled into it by accident rather than design. I killed the motorbike’s engine outside the sick house and headed around the back.
By now, the wood of the door was buckled and cracked, as though someone or something had burst through it with great force. The screen was shredded, the wire hanging in streamers from what remained of the frame.
I pulled out my silver blade and gripped it lightly, flexing my fingers around the hilt in an attempt to keep the tension in my arms to a minimum. Taking the steps up to the ruined door two at a time, I tugged open the screen and stepped through what remained of the door rather than risk trying to open it. I couldn’t risk the whole thing collapsing and alerting anyone or anything of my location.
The house was silent, as it had been during my last visit, thanks to the spell a powerful witch had cast over the property so that the wolves within wouldn’t be heard by any passing humans who would potentially alert the Elite.
Making my way through the dark rooms, I used my memory and my senses to find the basement stairs. The moment I tugged open the door, light flooded into the small kitchen area. I started down the steps, careful to keep my footsteps as light as possible.
I didn’t hear Byron’s voice until I was halfway down. The rich tone slid along my skin, warming me from the outside. I couldn’t make out the words, and so I kept descending, but a second, higher-pitched voice told me he wasn’t alone.
I stared at the wolves, huddled and shivering, fighting to control the beast within. Their numbers had swelled, but some I’d seen during my first visit were no longer there. Where had they gone?
The wolves shifted restlessly as I made my way past them, my booted feet silent on the compacted dirt floor. I moved through the basement, following the sounds of the voices as they grew louder.
Rounding the corner, I spotted Byron sitting on the edge of a small camp bed. He had his back to me, and the pale grey T-shirt he wore was stuck to his skin with sweat. Clearly, the fever was getting worse.
He was crouched over the bed, and I quickly realised the other voice, a girl’s, was coming from whoever lay in the bed. When he moved, I caught sight of her. Her dark hair cascaded down her small, heart-shaped face as she smiled up at him.
He whispered something, and she giggled gleefully, her dark eyes dancing as she stared up at him adoringly. I’d never been much for judging children’s ages, but to my inexperienced eyes she looked to be around seven, maybe eight.
Without meaning to, I took a step backwards, and my boot scuffed the edge of the wall. Byron’s shoulders instantly stiffened, and the little girl stared at me, her eyes widening in both fear and wonder.
As I stared into her eyes, my heart sank. There was something terribly familiar about her, and as soon as my eyes met hers I knew why. I’d felt the thread of her life in the Between. She was the child I’d felt, the one I’d known was destined to die.
Byron turned to face me, and the rage on his face quickly melted away. His eyes widened, and the guilt that swirled in their brown depths turned my stomach.
“Daddy, who is she?” the little girl asked, tapping his arm.
Daddy.
One simple word, and the world tilted on its axis.
I spun away from them and ran, my feet practically tripping over each other as I tried to cover as much ground as possible in an attempt to get away. I heard him calling me, his voice curling around my name, begging me to come back. And still I ran.
The moment I made it out into the night air, the sound of him calling my name faded away to silence.
He had a child. He had a child, and he hadn’t thought to tell me?
Where was her mother? Was he hiding her too?
The thoughts swirled in my mind faster and faster until I felt like my head might explode.
I headed for the street, but the distinctive smell of gasoline and smoke filled my nose, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention.
There were no such things as coincidences. She was the girl I’d felt in the Between. I’d felt her death drawing nearer with every passing moment, but it hadn’t been completely decided upon.
Until now.
“No!” I screamed, turning back toward the house as the first of the orange flames exploded through the downstairs windows. The force of the blast knocked me off my feet, sending me sprawling back onto the sun-scorched grass. Climbing to my feet, I darted toward the back of the house once more.
The moment I entered, I could hear the muffled screams of those trapped in the basement. But the smoke was so thick that each breath I took made me feel like I was suffocating.
The house was no longer bathed in thick, black darkness; now, the orange glow of the roaring fire that was rapidly spreading gave everything an almost hellish appearance. I ran for the basement, covering my mouth with my arm, but a wall of heat washed over me as soon as I tugged open the door. The fire seemed to be everywhere, and if I couldn’t find a way around it, I would have to go through it
.
The wooden steps creaked ominously as I descended the stairs, but I couldn’t tell where the wall of heat was coming from until I reached the middle of the staircase. The base of the stairs was completely engulfed in flames, and just beyond it I could see inside the first few cages holding the chained wolves, who were being swallowed in the flames.
The fire crept closer to me, and a scream cut through the air. Pushing aside my fear, I jumped, diving over the worst of the flames that seemed to leap up to greet me. Despite being a fae, and having all the advantages that came with it, the jump was still not enough to completely clear the flames, but I still managed to wrap my arms around one of the beams stretching across the ceiling.
Raising my legs free of the fire that sought to consume me, I shuffled upside down along the beam until the flames no longer danced beneath me. Dropping to the ground, I darted toward the nearest partially-turned wolf, but she stared at me with eyes that were too wide. When I tried to grab the chain attaching her to the wall, she lunged toward me, her half-shifted clawed hands shearing through the front of my T-shirt as I hopped back out of reach.
“I’m trying to help you,” I said, raising my voice above the sound of the crackling fire that was edging ever closer.
The ceiling creaked, and sparks danced between the floorboards. The whole house was going to cave in on top of us—whoever had set the fire had known exactly what they were doing.
“Darcey!” Byron’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned to see him carrying the little girl in his arms. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and her face was buried against him.
“They won’t let me help them,” I said, gesturing to the men and women who snarled and fought against the chains.
The ceiling creaked again, and another flurry of sparks danced down the walls.
“Is there a way out?” he said, eyeing where the stairs had been just moments ago.
“I was hoping you might know,” I said. “You have to help me release them!” I gestured to the wolves once more, but Byron shook his head.
“Can you get her out of here?” he said, cradling his daughter. “I’ll get them free.”
I stared at the little girl and nodded. “Byron, I can’t promise anything, but I will do my best.”
He started to hand the little girl to me, but she clung to her father. I could feel tremors running through her body, and her skin was cold and clammy despite the flames that raged nearby.
“I don’t want to!” she cried, and the pack members cried out in response, rattling their chains as they fought harder to break free.
“Lucy, do everything Darcey says. She’ll keep you safe, I promise.” As Byron hugged his daughter, the knot growing in my stomach tightened.
How could he promise something like that, especially when we had no idea if there was a way out of the basement? The girl nodded and allowed me to cradle her against my body. Now that she was in my arms, I could feel the heat radiating out from every pore in her tiny body.
Without waiting for Byron to say anything else, I started scanning the basement for something, anything that would help us get the hell out of there.
Basements like this usually had outside entrances, a throwback to when they had been used as root cellars. But I wasn’t familiar enough with this house to know if it had one. Part of me believed the wolves wouldn’t have chained up the infected members of their pack in a place where they could so easily escape.
Scanning along the back wall, I spotted a window near the roof. The ceiling above our heads that made up the first floor was beginning to sag, and the amount of sparks falling from the splintered lengths of wooden beams warned me that it was going to cave in sooner rather than later. As though on cue, the house groaned and that section of the ceiling caved in, the falling debris sending sparks and flames scattering in all directions.
“Lucy, is there another window in here?” I asked, not sure if the little girl would answer.
“There’s one above my bed, but Daddy covered it because the light hurt my eyes,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, Goddess,” I said, more to myself than to Lucy.
I darted in the direction of her bed and propped her against it. Glancing around, my eyes fell on a fold-out chair that I wasted no time in grabbing. Pushing it open below where I assumed the window was located, I climbed onto it and gripped the edges of the timber that had been nailed onto the wall. The first piece gave way with the screeching sound of nails in cement coming loose, and I flung it aside before starting on the next bit.
Lucy coughed, her brown eyes huge and red-rimmed, and I could only imagine what the smoke was doing to her small lungs. After ripping the next board free, I stared at the splintered and dirty window that was only wide enough for Lucy to slide through.
I shoved it open and gulped down the cool, clean air that flooded through.
“Lucy, take my hand,” I said, reaching down to the little girl, but she was too busy staring around for her father to pay me any attention.
“I want my daddy,” she said as a large, fat tear rolled down her cheek.
“You need to get out of here. He’ll meet you outside.” It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the truth either. I had no idea if Byron would make it out of the basement, and when I tried using my power to sense those who were nearing the end, I was only able to focus on Lucy, her life hanging in the balance.
She hiccupped and rubbed her eyes before climbing to her feet and reaching one small hand toward me. Gripping her tightly, I swung her up into my arms. The chair I was balancing on wobbled precariously but continued to hold our combined weight.
I pushed her up toward the window and helped her wriggle out through the tiny gap to freedom. She let out a startled yelp, and her bare legs and feet were suddenly yanked out through the space, leaving me grasping at nothing but empty air.
“What the hell?” I pushed up onto my tiptoes in an attempt to see out the window.
“I’ve got her,” a female said, and when her face appeared in the window I recognised her as Heather, the same wolf who had tried to feed me to one of her pack members the first time I’d been here.
“Byron is trying to get the others out,” I said.
“Then he’s a fool. Ash has given the pack permission to put down anyone who escapes.” She glared at me.
“Why would he do that?” I said. The heat building at my back caused sweat to drip into my eyes, and I scrubbed it away impatiently.
“Because we can’t risk the Elite tarring us all with the same brush,” she said before disappearing from view.
“Wait, I…” But it was too late, and I was forced to watch her sneakers disappearing through the grass.
Turning to face the room once more, I watched as another chunk of the ceiling caved in, sending up a shower of sparks and flames that spread through the basement. Every moment that ticked by brought Death one step closer.
I’d never imagined how I would die, but burning to death certainly hadn’t occurred to me. Fae could heal from some burns, but that took time. Other burns could not be healed at all.
“Darcey!” Byron’s voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I turned on the chair to see him peering in at me through the tiny window.
“Lucy got out,” I said, noting the panic in his eyes as he glanced at the encroaching flames behind me.
“I know, but you need to move,” he said. “Get back to the stairs—they’re still climbable, that’s how I got the others out.”
I shook my head and coughed as the smoke burned at the back of my throat. “The ceiling caved in, and now the whole area is blocked.”
Byron growled, his eyes flashing amber.
“Get away from the window and stay low to the ground,” he said, his voice barely recognisable through the rumble of his wolf.
Hopping off the chair, I covered my mouth with the edge of my T-shirt and crouched down low to the wall. Something heavy thudded against the wall next to me, causing it to
shake as flecks of plaster rained down on me. Another thud, and the air was split with the sound of the window glass shattering. Chunks of plaster and brick collided and fell to the ground, causing the smoke to appear so dusty that I couldn’t see any further than my hand in front of my face.
Strong hands grabbed my shirt and dragged me onto my feet. I stared into Byron’s eyes as he lifted me and then shoved me unceremoniously through the hole he’d created in the wall of the house.
I dragged my body across the dry grass, coughing and heaving as I struggled to clear my airways and draw a deep, cleansing breath. Byron appeared next to me, wrapping his hands around my waist and lifting me to my feet. He half-ran, half-carried me away from the slowly disintegrating building and out onto the safety of the street.
I choked and hacked until I could finally draw a deep breath. The healing process had already begun, for which I was grateful—the last thing I wanted was to heal human-slow after so much smoke inhalation.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his grip on my shoulder a little too forceful as he raised my face so I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“I’ll be fine. And thanks,” I added after a moment’s hesitation. If he hadn’t ripped down part of the wall, I would have suffered a long, slow, and agonising death.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said, and I watched him search the crowd for his daughter.
“It was nothing,” I said, spotting the girl sitting on the edge of the curb, a small oxygen mask pressed over her nose and mouth. “How many others got out?”
Byron’s expression darkened, and I suddenly regretted the question.
“Thirteen,” he said, “out of thirty-two…”
My heart sank into my stomach, and I felt my knees crumple beneath me. So many had died, so many lives were lost…so many lives that could have been saved.
“And are the thirteen safe?” I asked.
Byron shot me an odd look and nodded. “Yeah, they’re being taken to the farm where my brother lives. There was some concern they might escape, but…” Byron trailed off and glanced back at his daughter. “I have to go, she’s getting upset.”
Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2) Page 20
