by M. J. O'Shea
I allowed myself to be dragged through the pitch-dark woods. The lycans walked quickly, sure of their path and able to see far better in the dark than my weak human eyes could ever manage. I stumbled on roots and rocks, nearly falling many times. My hands were freezing without the gloves I had in my pack, and Xan’s anger was palpable, pulsing from beside me, making everything ten times worse than it would have been. I chanced a glance at him. His face was drawn tight, his jaw clenched. I’d never seen him so mad. I wanted to be mad at him for making me look like a fool, but I couldn’t be. He didn’t ask to get dragged off to the other side of the world. It was his job to follow me, his job to make sure I didn’t get eaten by some pissy lycans, and I’d made it that much more difficult. Fleetingly, I wondered how he’d gotten to me so fast, but I didn’t dare open my mouth.
After less than an hour, something big and dark loomed close by. It was a house, a huge house that took over the horizon. From the surrounding rock formations, I knew I’d been in that area before during broad daylight. How had I missed it?
We tromped closer and closer, until we had to cross a short bridge that spanned a gully, and then we were there, at the portcullis of an honest-to-God medieval manor. I wondered if any hiker had ever stumbled on it unawares. They probably hadn’t lived to report its existence if they had. Xan shied back at the entrance.
“Xan, what is it?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I was surprised he’d answered me, but I could tell he was uneasy—even more so than he’d been when we first got taken.
“This way,” the lycan grunted. He led us across a large courtyard, slippery and covered with frozen moss, to a narrow stairwell that had been hidden from view. The basement. Never a good sign. We tripped down the stairs at the lycan’s pace, thrown off balance by our bound hands. Xan’s face had melted into a stoic mask: not fear, not anger, just stone. It terrified me—like the cold warrior I’d imagined him to be, the one who didn’t care about me at all. Protecting me was a job for him, and I was royally fucking it up.
At the bottom of the stairs, darkness was absolute. There was a snick of a match, and then a wooshing sound as the leader’s torch was lit. The dim glow provided by the torch didn’t help much. It was cold and damp, the hallway narrow. Algae grew along the walls in drippy patterns illuminated by the lycan’s torch before that section of wall was once again thrown into darkness. The walls crowded me. I started to panic. Only Xan’s arm bumping up against me softly kept me from completely losing my shit. Literally.
I imagined the lycans were going to throw us down there and leave us to die. And I’d never see my family again, or hunt, or even go to college, which was sounding awfully nice at the moment. I’d never fall in love. I’d never…. My throat got all tight, and my chest contracted. I couldn’t breathe and my heart, oh damn, my heart was beating out of control—until Xan touched me with his shoulder again, and all of a sudden it was better. He was doing that thing, whatever he’d done back home in the Forest. But I didn’t care. Magical or not, the calm was a relief.
We got to a door in the wall, metal with one tiny barred window. It looked like every medieval torture chamber door I’d ever seen in any video game or violent movie. My heart picked up its nervous patter again. The lycan untied our hands and shoved us through the doorway roughly. Then there was the fabric plunk of my pack and the door slammed us into total darkness once again. The lycans were gone, and as far as I knew they weren’t coming back. I sank down the slimy wall until I was on the floor looking up at the ceiling, which disappeared into the darkness.
I wondered how this could be my life. If hunting were really one brush with death after another, was I really capable of handling it? I realized I’d better be capable of handling something, because I’d gotten myself in one hell of a mess, and if I gave up I might as well die. I closed my eyes and searched for the calm that Xan had given me back in the hall. It was hard, but I found it and tried to rest. Of course, sleep was impossible, with my body freezing and my brain churning. I wasn’t going to sleep. I wondered how long we’d be down there, if we’d ever be set free.
It was silent in the stone cell and growing colder. Nearly as cold as the forest had been, but hard and still—no more trees, no more sounds of animals. I thought it was probably scarier. At least in the forest there was a chance of escape, no matter how minimal. I hadn’t been locked behind an iron door in the middle of thick castle stone. My heart raced again, and I took long deep breaths to calm it down.
Of course, of course, I was ashamed as well. The humiliation peeked in between bouts of cold fear. I couldn’t believe what I’d gotten myself into, what I’d dragged Xan into, just because he was doing his job. They’d been right not to want to train me for hunting. I couldn’t handle a simple lycan attack without my dryad protector coming to my rescue—how the hell was I going to take down vampires and banshees and kappas, whatever they were? I realized I still hadn’t looked it up. Some hunter I was. Too busy with hurt feelings over the loss of a childhood friendship to do what I was supposed to do, which was educate myself.
It was clear after the debacle I’d managed to land in that no one was going to train me. Ever. I might as well crawl back to my family with my tail between my legs and go to the college classes my parents registered me for. That was, if Xan and I didn’t freeze to death, forgotten in Silivasi’s basement. I didn’t dare use the word dungeon. Didn’t think it…. Ugh. I thought it. It was a dungeon. Xan and I were stuck in some medieval freaking-ass dungeon, and it was my fault. If it weren’t even more stupid, I would have banged my head against the stone wall in frustration.
“Xan?” I said his name quietly, but it sounded like a shout after so long in the black silence. I squinted and barely made out his form in the far corner with his back turned to me, leaning against the wall. It looked like he was trying to sleep, but I could tell he wasn’t.
He was pissed. I got it. I deserved for him to be pissed. Hell, I deserved for him to let the fucking werewolf kill me, if that’s in fact what Silivasi planned to do. I stood, stiff and achy from the cold, and bent for the backpack I was shocked they’d let me keep. Inside was my sleeping bag, one of those high-tech camping things that were meant for the elements. Hopefully, as a peace offering it would be successful. I unzipped it and draped the warm fabric over Xan. No matter how tough he was out there in the woods, or how pissed at me he was, he had to be cold. And it was my fault. He grunted and pulled the sleeping bag tighter.
“Xan, I’m sorry,” I whispered. There was so much more to say, but sorry seemed like the best place to start. “I didn’t mean for you to follow me. I mean, I know you have to keep me safe… but—” I sighed. Apologizing had never been my thing. “Listen, I’m sorry I got you into this mess when you were just trying to do your job. I’m going to do my best to get us out of it.”
Xan finally looked up at me. I didn’t move, just stood in front of him trying not to shiver and look like a wuss. I was freezing, too, and concerned that he’d never forgive me. “Is that what you think this is about? A job?”
“Isn’t it?”
Xan huffed, shook his head, then opened the blanket. “Come here. You’re freezing.”
Any pride I might have had disintegrated, and I dropped to the floor and wriggled under the blanket with him. He draped it over both of us and rubbed my arms with his hands.
“You know,” he said and pulled me closer. The body heat was building. I could breathe again. “My heart stopped when I found out where you’d gone. Do you have any idea how easily even the most experienced hunter could get killed in these woods?”
“But you saved me, right? I’ll live another day to be a potential lycan assassin. At least, we can all hope I will.” Not too likely, but like I’d told him, I was going to do my best.
“Charlie, you’re not listening. I didn’t go tearing through the forest to get here out of some sense of duty or because you might be the Fitzgerald from the prophecy. I did it
because you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
“You mean that? You’re not just saying that to make me trust you?”
Xan let out a frustrated sigh and then tightened his arms around me. “Yes, I mean it. You remember kindergarten?”
“Sort of, I guess. Why?”
“Remember how they told you I was going to have to go to a different school for first grade? We’d already been friends for a few years, and my mom said we were moving across town. We weren’t going to move. I was just going back to the Forest, where I could keep an eye on you from a distance as soon as I got old enough.”
I did remember that. Xan had pitched a royal fit until his mom had changed her mind. “It’s not usually like this. The dryad and the… well, the Fitzgerald son usually meet sometime when the boy is young, and then they meet again when it’s time to tell him everything. My mother was already an adult when your grandfather was born. They were on good terms, but they didn’t actually know each other. It was planned that we’d grow up at the same time, meet as children and then again a few years from now. But us staying together all this time was my idea. You were already my friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”
Relief slammed through me so hard I nearly cried. Xan was still mine. I’d had no idea how much that meant to me until I thought he was gone. “It was my idea too,” I told him. “You and I are family. I wouldn’t have ever let you go.”
I turned around to smile at him and was even more relieved to see his face looking like Xan again and not some hardass warrior. Then I remembered the past two months and jammed him with my elbow. “So what was all that ‘friendship makes it easier to guard you’ crap? Why did you act like you didn’t care about us? These last two months have sucked so hard.”
Xan shrugged behind me. “You’re not the only one who can get hurt. I’ve felt you pushing me away since summer. Maybe I was reacting a little bit. I’m not perfect.”
“Oh.” I’d been so caught up in my drama, I didn’t even think about how I was affecting him. “I’m sorry, dude. I’ve been such a self-centered moron.”
“You think you could have had that revelation before we ended up in a medieval jail cell?”
I snorted. Then I turned my head and laid my cheek against his chest. “That would’ve been too convenient.” I had to hold back a yawn. “I think I’m actually tired. How can I possibly be tired in here?” It had been such a long day. Maybe I finally felt safe with Xan’s arms around me and his familiar scent against my face. Against all odds, I found myself drifting off.
“Close your eyes, Charlie. I’ll wake you up if anyone comes, okay?”
Chapter 9: Andrian Silivasi
TURNS OUT Xan didn’t need to wake me up. I startled at the sound of scratching keys on our door’s lock. Xan tightened his grip on me when I tried to rise.
“Shhh. Wait. I want to see who this is before we make any move.”
It turned out to be nothing. Not much, anyway. The door opened and a tray of food was shoved in.
“Eat” came a grunt from the shadowed doorway. I never saw who it was before the door slammed shut again and Xan and I were returned to cold darkness. The disappointment was eclipsed by the presence of food. The tray smelled different, not the spices I was used to, but good. Especially to someone as hungry as I was. And I could tell there was warm bread. I crawled out from the comfortable pocket between Xan’s legs and reached for the tray.
“Do you think it’s smart to eat that?” he asked.
“Why would they poison us? If they were going to kill us, there would be a lot quicker and easier ways.” At least, I hoped so. But I was too hungry to care. I didn’t know what the hell I’d been thinking when I’d packed only a few energy bars—that there was going to be a McDonald’s out there in the forest?
“You’re probably right. I’m starving,” he admitted.
“Me too. Here’s some bread. And there’s two bowls of stew.”
Xan and I separated to eat. I shivered in the chill and he reached out to rub my back. I felt myself arching into his touch for a moment before I remembered it was Xan and he was only trying to comfort me.
“Thanks. It’s freezing in here.”
“I know. Eat quickly, then we’ll get back under the blanket.”
“Wonder if they’re going to let us out to go to the bathroom?”
Xan pointed to a dim corner of the already dark room. It looked like there was a hole in the floor. I shuddered. “You can’t be serious.”
“We’re not at the Hilton, you know?”
I sighed, picturing a luxurious hotel room with all the amenities. “That is the first place I’m going when I get back: a nice warm hotel in New York with a hugeass bathtub.”
Xan laughed. “Yeah, after your parents let you out of your room. You might be a legal adult, but you are in so much freaking trouble. You should have seen your dad’s face when he realized you had gone.”
I cringed. Dad. He didn’t get angry much, unlike my mom who boiled over frequently and then calmed right back down, but when he was mad it took him forever to get over it. I was probably in Shit City for weeks with him, if not months. I’d better be successful. That might soothe his annoyance.
Xan shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. I came back from the woods and went to your room only to find it empty. At first I thought that Komarov had somehow found you and taken you while I was gone. I was so damn scared. But not long after that Colin called, pissed as all hell, and told us what you’d done. I was on my way the second I heard.”
I wolfed my food down and waited for Xan to finish his before crawling back between his legs and pulling the blanket around both of us. It was cold under there again at first, but soon our body heat brought it back to bearable.
“How did you get to me so fast? I had a long head start.”
Xan’s hand rested on my stomach, and I leaned back against him, very willing to accept his comfort. I had a fleeting thought about how we’d never touched so much, even in all those years of passing out on the same bed, but the thought was short-lived. It felt natural for him to hold me.
“I went through the Forest and found the entrances to this place. It was a much shorter journey—the Forest is smaller than your part of the world.”
I didn’t want to contemplate the logistics of that at the moment. His warm hand was heavy on my stomach, the fingers creeping underneath my thick flannel shirt different than what I was used to from him. Really good different, but definitely new. I nuzzled my face into his warm neck, partially to share his warmth and comfort, partially because I was slowly realizing how much I’d always loved how he smelled—warm and woodsy and somehow golden, if that made any sense.
“Charlie?” he asked softly, hauling me up closer to his chest.
“Yeah?” I asked, distracted by the warmth and softness of his skin. “If we aren’t going to make it out of here alive—”
“We are. They’re not going to kill you. You had nothing to do with it, and I’m just a messenger.”
“But if we don’t, I want you to know how I—”
The door burst open, and the lycan who’d been in charge the night before strode into our cell. We jumped apart and a woosh of cold air hit me. “Are you still hungry?” the lycan asked in his gruffly accented English.
“No,” I answered. Truthfully, I could’ve stood another bowl of soup and some more bread, but I wasn’t going to be difficult.
“He will see you now.”
“S-silivasi?” I asked.
The lycan snorted and ran an impatient hand through his unevenly cropped hair. “Yes, Silivasi.” The lycan rolled his eyes, an odd expression on his overly serious face. “You won’t be coming back down here. Bring your things.”
Xan followed me out, a steadying hand on the small of my back. He had no idea how much his presence made the whole thing so much less terrifying.
We were led up some unsurprisingly dark interior stairs and into an area that
looked nothing like where we’d been. The walls and floor were still stone, but it was clean and bright, with regularly spaced wood-burning stoves that kept the area warm. There were oriental area rugs and runners on the floor, all in various shades of red. On the stone walls hung red-and-gold colored drapes and honest-to-God medieval tapestries to soften their harshness. The large-paned glass windows let swathes of watery forest light into the place. After being in the basement, it felt like we’d stepped into a fairy tale—and the good part of one, not the part where the heroes are about to die.
We walked down the sumptuous hall that would have looked right at home filled with lounging knights and huge hunting hounds. It was empty save one man sitting with a denim-covered leg propped on a chair. I couldn’t see much more than his obviously expensive jeans and a socked foot, but already I was shooting Xan questioning looks. Clearly Silivasi wasn’t going to be what I expected.
“You may go, Petr,” the man said and waved his hand. “Oleg is getting antsy. Can you take him out in the forest for a run? Avoid the hikers. He’s still too young to control his teeth.”
He held out a neatly manicured hand and beckoned for us to come around to the front of his chair. “Are you going to tell me what you want, human?”
I walked slowly, waiting for Xan to take my flank. It was hard not to draw a sharp breath when I finally saw him.
Silivasi was lean and beautiful and expensively modern-looking. He was indeed wearing designer jeans and a sweater that looked like it came from a Ralph Lauren catalog. I wasn’t sure if I expected breeches and a flowing pirate shirt exactly, but I was speechless. His black hair was cut impeccably, and it flowed off a high, noble forehead. It was obvious this guy had been taken care of. I stared dumbly until I remembered I had a job to do.
“Um, I’m here in the name of the council,” I muttered.
His face went cloudy. “The lycans. How lovely.”
“But don’t lycans work for you?” I asked before I’d thought better of it. “I saw them last night.”
