by Bella Jacobs
“Me, too,” Leda says. “The heartier the meal, the better. We need to get you two back in fighting shape before we make a move. I’ve got cheese, too. It shouldn’t have gotten warm enough down here today to spoil it.”
Within a few minutes, the fire is roaring, and Leda slides a grill into the grooves built into the stone. Dust fills a large pot with several cans of soup, and we load up on cheese and crackers while waiting for the contents to warm. By the time Leda ladles out three steaming bowls and puts a kettle on to boil in place of the soup pan, I’m feeling more like myself.
Food can’t solve all your problems, but hunger always make them worse. It’s why the fridge in my mother’s house is always jammed to the max.
“Remember what mom used to say about snacks?” I ask, spooning a bit of steaming broth and potato into my mouth.
“Keep your friends close and your snacks closer.” Leda smiles. “She’s so right. And she’s good, by the way. Told me to tell you that she loves you and misses you and has a big hug waiting when you get home.”
I wince, but don’t say a word. I just spoon in another bite, trying not to think about how close I came to never seeing my family again. I don’t know where my father was taking us, but it’s a safe bet that Dust and I wouldn’t have lived long after we got there. We weren’t going to give him what he wanted, and the Kin Born aren’t known for their humane treatment of Resistance prisoners.
“We’re going to get home,” Leda says, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. “We’ve just got a few things we need to figure out first.” She sighs. “Like why I’m feeling Wren and Creedence in two places at the same time.”
I look up from my bowl, brows lifting. “You can feel Wren and Cree?”
She nods. “It started about three days ago. Woke me up in the middle of the night. All of a sudden, I could feel all five of you.”
“Must have been when Luke and Wren formed their bond,” Dust says. “It seemed to ramp up all of our Kin Gifts.”
Leda nods, setting her empty bowl aside. “That’s what I thought. And I could tell you were all together, so I wasn’t worried. Not at first, anyway. Then sometime around nine, maybe ten, the next morning I started to get this weird read on Wren. Let me show you.” She stands, crossing to a backpack on the floor by the camp bed set up in the corner. “I marked the locations as soon as it happened, thinking maybe there was a weird lag in updating her movement or something. It had never happened before, but I’ve only ever been able to sense you, so what did I know? But then it started happening with Creedence, too.”
She pulls a handful of papers from the pack, selecting one as she crosses back to the fire. “He showed up in the same two spots, and they haven’t changed in almost three days.” Leda spreads the map out, pointing to a blue X near the hotel in the city and another in the wilderness about a hundred miles away. “Here and here. And then you two started moving out of the city, headed down this highway.” She points to the road, dragging her finger lightly west. “Which, if someone hadn’t blown you off the road, would have taken you cruising right over to X-marks-the-spot two.”
Dust grunts. “Seems like too much of coincidence, doesn’t it? Especially considering X two is in the middle of Banff National Forest.” He fills Leda in on what we’ve learned about Atlas’s location, as well as the now defunct plan to attempt to sneak into his realm through the Fairmont Hotel.
“Now we have to assume that he knows we’re coming,” Dust adds, scrubbing a hand across his whiskered jaw. “And that he might have Wren and Creedence.”
“I was afraid it might be something like that.” Leda hesitates, glancing from Dust, to me, and back again. “They don’t feel like they’re in the best shape. Especially Creedence. A few days ago, I thought he might not make it.”
“We felt it, too.” I set aside the last of my soup, unable to imagine swallowing another bite, and thread my hands together, thoughts racing. “What about Luke?”
“He’s still in the city. Or close to it, anyway.” Leda closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out, hovering her hand over the map for a moment before she places a deliberate finger on a block not far from the first X. “There. Some movement, but not much. I have a feeling he’s looking for you guys.”
“We should head back,” Dust says. “Pick him up. We’re stronger together, and it will be easier to check the city location first.”
“If Creedence and Wren are actually there,” Leda says, biting her lip. “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s like… I feel them at both places, but not completely. It’s almost like they’re somewhere else entirely.”
“Atlas’s realm.” I push on when Dust shakes his head. “It makes sense. If they’re in another layer of space-time, only accessible through certain portals, it would explain why Leda’s getting the fucked-up readings.”
Leda huffs. “Would it? I don’t know shit about space-time, but I know I’ve never experienced anything like this before, even when you were dating that fairy girl. Remember, the one who liked to fuck in the enchanted travel circles because she liked the rush of knowing you two could get caught by her relatives or whatever?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Belinda. Yes, I remember.”
“She was a nut,” Leda says, shaking her head. “One time I caught her eating fish guts from the trash. Said it reminded her of home.” Leda shudders. “Did I ever tell you that? I can’t remember if I decided to spare you the knowledge that you were making out with a fish-gut-lover or keep it to myself.”
“But we always stayed in the circle,” I say, not interested in revisiting the poor dating choices of my teen years. “We didn’t move through into Fairy. I’ve never been in another dimension.”
“But if they’re in Atlas’s realm, why are they still alive?” Dust asks.
“Maybe they aren’t,” I say, throat going tight at the thought. “Maybe Leda’s picking up old energy. Remnants they left behind or something.”
“No. They’re still alive,” Leda says. “I can feel it. Though, like I said, neither one of them is in great shape.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on her bent knees. “I’ve already gotten a look at the spot in the city where I sense their energy. I drove by it the other day when I was searching for you two. It’s a clothing store, but it looks abandoned. The windows were all blacked up from the inside. I was planning to check it out after dark, but then I found out that you two had been captured. I was hanging close, working out a jail-break plan, when they loaded you up and moved out this morning.”
Dust makes a considering sound. “Thank you again for the rescue. We were almost out of time. Killian said Atlas wanted us to break our mate bond with Wren. Whether we refused or obliged, I’m pretty sure he planned to kill us.”
“Can you even do that?” Leda asks. “I though death was the only way to end a mate bond.”
“Right,” I say, “So why not kill us? It doesn’t make any sense to keep us alive.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She shrugs. “But maybe, whatever it is, it’s the same reason he’s keeping Wren and Creedence alive?”
“I wish Celeste was still with us,” Dust says. “She knew Atlas’s history better than anyone. She would have at least had a theory about what he’s up to.”
“But she’s dead,” I say, knowing we don’t have any time to waste wishing we weren’t so alone. “And I think we should assume Sierra, the only person who’s met the creep and lived to tell about it, is dead, too. It’s been three days since Wren and Cree disappeared. She was with them, but we haven’t heard a thing.”
“The Kin Born took my phone, so we can’t know for sure, but…” Dust sighs before adding in a grimmer voice, “You’re probably right. She’s either dead or been captured. We can only count on the people we know are still with us.” He turns to Leda. “You’ll be able to track Luke in the morning?”
“Unless something changes between now and then, yes.” Leda jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “I mean, we could head ou
t tonight, but I think it would be smarter to lie low for a while. If the Kin Born are working with Atlas, and if they let him know the two of you escaped…”
“Then the woods will be full of spies looking for us,” I finish. “Not to mention the trackers the Kin Born are going to send once they pull their shit together.”
Leda snorts. “That’s going to take a while. The guys still alive back there are pretty fucked up.”
“If we leave now, I could cloak the three of us and the car,” Dust says. “But I’m not sure how long I could maintain it. I’m not in the best shape, stamina wise. That last bump on the head set me back.” He glances up at the slim window above the shelves, glowing softly with the last few moments of dusk. “I think we’re safer staying here and heading out at first light, once we’ve eaten more and slept. Then, we go get Luke.”
“Then what?” I stand, pacing away from the fire, suddenly restless, though I know Dust’s right. He needs rest, and we all need to be careful not to get on Atlas’s radar. But I’m desperate for a plan, for some sense that we’re coming out of the dark and taking steps to get my mate and friend to safety.
“We’ll scope out the store Leda found,” Dust says. “See if we can find Wren and Creedence or some sign of where they went. And then, we finish what we started.”
Finish it. Finish saving the world. And once it’s saved, I can decide if Killian is worth the trouble of hunting down and finishing, too. Maybe I’ll have a gentler perspective once Atlas is gone, but I doubt it.
I seriously, seriously doubt it.
Chapter 14
Wren
I haven’t slept in nearly four days.
At least, I think that’s how long it’s been. Everything is snarled, tangled up in knots inside my mind. My brains are turning to scrambled eggs. Dry scrambled eggs. Cold, dry, and repulsive, but I can’t give in.
I can’t sleep.
If I sleep, I’ll dream, and Atlas will know that I’m a liar.
Maybe he already knows. There are times, when I’m sitting across from him at the breakfast table, discussing arrangements for the ceremony that will make me his one and only wife, that I’m certain he’s bought my lies. Other times, I’m positive he’s only playing with me like a cat plays with a wounded mouse, drawing out the game until his toy is too dead to be fun anymore.
Dead. Like my brain cells.
How long can a shifter—even a super powerful one—go without sleep before her neurons are too fried to function?
“I thought we’d start the mate release tonight,” Atlas says. Two women wearing harem-red togas enter the room as he moves out from behind his massive desk. The piece is easily the size of a full-sized mattress, a beautiful, heavy, old-word creation that holds its own in the space, even with the epic view of the Canadian Rockies showcased in the window behind it.
His wives, however, with their downcast eyes and bowed shoulders, seem to disappear into the scenery, not even their red clothing enough to make them stand out.
“Grace and Clara, as my most recent mates, will be the first to leave. Then we’ll work backward until we’re both down to just four.” He rubs his hands together, his dry palms making a whispering sound. “Then the real fun will begin.”
“Sounds fair,” I murmur.
“I expect we’ll be hosting the rest of your men as our guests by then.” He nods toward the world outside the window. “My friends are hard at work, gathering them into the fold. Though, I do hope they’ll be more cooperative than your cat. It’s a shame he’s had to be kept in such…uncomfortable accommodations.”
“I’m sure water and medicine will improve his temperament, “ I say. “Most people aren’t very cooperative when they’re suffering.”
He smiles, his graying whiskers peeling back to reveal strong, even teeth. “We’ll have to agree to disagree again, darling girl. But I’m glad your care package eased your guilt. You shouldn’t ever feel guilty. You and I are going to make the world a wonderful place.” He winks one bright eye. “Just wait and see.”
I return his smile. “That’s why I’m here.”
He’s a handsome man, Atlas. His human form looks old enough to be my father, but he’s what Carrie Ann would have called a silver fox—tall and fit, with a powerful chest, salt-and-pepper hair, even features, and eyes that crinkle appealingly at the edges when he smiles.
His exterior isn’t monstrous at all.
It’s what’s on the inside that’s horrific, as I’m reminded when he suddenly whips the knife from his leather belt and spins, slamming it into Clara’s belly all the way to the hilt.
I cry out, but Clara doesn’t make a sound. Her eyes go wide, but her mouth stays closed, her lips only trembling ever so slightly as Atlas draws the blade up the center of her tiny body.
I watch it move, unable to help myself, unable to look away. And I swear I can feel the steel in my own belly. Ribs. Heart.
Oh God, her heart…
Atlas skewers it on his knife, plucking it out of her gaping rib cage and holding it out to me with a smile.
Like he’s offering me a caramel apple at the county fair.
Bile rushes up my throat, and it’s all I can do to stay on my feet. I want to fall to the ground, open my mouth, and let the horror pour out of me. The fruit I had for lunch shoves up my throat like a fist, but I press my lips tight and swallow.
And swallow.
And swallow again, forcing my face to remain emotionless.
Atlas has to believe I’m coming around to his way of seeing things, or my plan will fail. Everything is riding on this moment and the next and the next, on and on until I prove to him that I’m on his side, no matter how dark things get.
But I can’t appear to go too far, too fast, either.
“I don’t like this.” I press a curled finger to my throat and wrinkle my nose, hoping he won’t see the sweat breaking out along my hairline as Clara curls into a ball at our feet, clutching her splayed ribs as blood pools in a puddle around her. “I want it to be cleaner. There’s no need to make them suffer.”
Atlas chuckles as he brings his hand to rest between my shoulders, skimming his palm up until he wraps warm fingers around my neck. The touch is comforting, and the way he rubs his thumb into the tight muscles where my throat meets shoulder is relaxing. My body can’t sense the evil in his fingers, a fact that makes this already terrifying moment even more disturbing.
He knows how to telegraph kindness and warmth with a touch, even after he’s just plunged a knife into his mate and plucked her heart out. What’s more, he makes my body believe that he’s the man he’s pretending to be, a man who cares more about creation than destruction, prefers kindness over killing.
“I had a sense you might feel that way.” He presses a kiss to my temple, and this time I don’t have to pretend not to be repulsed.
He’s getting to me, slowly but surely. The realization lifts the hairs on my arms and makes my stomach curl into a knot. I watch him motion to a slim, dark-haired woman waiting by the door to the balcony, one I hadn’t noticed until now, and my mind screams for me to run, to escape, to get out of here before I can’t remember who I am or why I came to this nightmare palace.
But I can’t run.
Creedence is a prisoner in Atlas’s dungeon. I can’t leave without him or without the women. Atlas’s harem. He devotes a wing of the castle to them, where the shifters unlucky enough to be mated to the monster live their haunted lives until Atlas grows tired of them or their Kin Gifts and decides they’d be more useful as an energy source.
He still eats them.
I’ve gotten that much out of the servants, though they’re clearly terrified to say more.
I wonder if that’s what the dark-haired woman now clasping the knife with Clara’s heart on it is going to do—take Clara to the kitchen to be prepared for Atlas’s evening meal—and shudder ever so slightly. I don’t think I can do it. Sit by and watch him eat the woman he’s murdered.
Not ev
en to save the world and everyone in it.
“There are other ways.” Atlas puts an arm around my shoulders, drawing me close to his side. In front of us, the pretty woman with the big, dark eyes kneels beside Clara, placing her heart back in her chest and then resting a hand on her forehead. “Millicent has ways of getting around pesky things like, time, don’t you, darling?”
The dark-eyed woman’s shoulders curl. She nods but doesn’t respond with words. She simply reaches her other hand out to touch Clara’s arm. And then the room begins to glow. A thousand fireflies take flight, swarming in the air.
“Watch closely, my bird,” Atlas says. “Millicent’s Kin Gift truly is one of kind. In over three thousand years, I’ve never met another Time Reeler.” He nods toward the corpse on the floor. “Look. You’re in for a treat.”
Heart still lodged somewhere in my throat, I watch the blood around Clara’s body slowly un-seep from the floor, drawing in on itself, flowing back the way it came, leaving nothing but a slight stain on the wood beneath. Inch by inch, the glow from Millicent’s shining hands summons life to the body it so recently abandoned.
First, Clara’s cheeks flush pink instead of corpse-pale. Then her limbs begin to twitch and curl before the gash down the center of her body zips up, reversing the damage in one smooth, silent woosh.
Millicent’s face is glowing blue, and her hair swirls in a bonfire of shadows around her. Clara’s eyes flicker open, and the recently dead woman rises slowly to her feet. But it’s not over yet. Millicent’s hands continue to glow, and Clara continues to heal, and then to shine, and slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, to slip into younger skin.
The years peel away, revealing an even prettier, sun-kissed version of Clara, until she’s a girl of no more than eighteen or nineteen, with chubby cheeks and full lips that tremble as she sinks to the floor in a low curtsy at Atlas’s feet.
“Thank you, master,” she says, her breath coming so fast I want to offer her a place to lie down. “I’ll go now, and I won’t ever come back. And I swear I’ll forget I ever knew the way.”
