by Bella Jacobs
Wren and Atlas are fighting with whips made of fire, lashing out so fast and furious they’re nothing but a blur of light and motion. But I know where she is. I would know where she was if we were both blindfolded in a snowstorm.
Trusting the bond that hums in the air between us, through us, I jump into the fray, tackling Wren to the ground and rolling over and over, hopefully putting enough distance between us and Atlas to give us time to run before he fire-whips our heads off.
When I roll to a stop to see Atlas’s bearded face beneath me, I don’t second-guess myself. Not for a moment. That face might be his, but the heart pounding in the chest pressing close to mine is 100 percent Wren.
Her lips part, her eyes flash, and then she’s on her feet, pulling me up beside her, the Atlas mask slipping away as we rush after the others, mere seconds in front of the undead stampede.
Luke lays down fire as we pass him, but within a few seconds, he’s back beside me, gaining ground as we bypass the certain-doom tunnel and keep straight, sprinting up the slight incline toward the castle.
We’re going into the belly of the beast, into the home of the monster who somehow knew we were coming and has had ample time to prepare.
Whatever’s waiting for us up ahead, it’s not going to be fun.
The thought is barely through my head when the first arrow slices through the darkness and Luke jerks beside me in my peripheral vision. I cut a glance his way to see an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, but the badass motherfucker doesn’t so much as slow. He jerks the thing out and tosses it to the floor as he lifts his gun to his bleeding shoulder, jaw dropping in an animal cry of warning as he fires.
With a wild cry of her own, Wren lifts her hands, shooting fire into the darkness ahead, illuminating a line of archers.
Fairy archers.
But there’s no time to ponder how this double-cross came to pass, or how deep it goes—was Scarlett betrayed from the top, or are these fairy shits going against the orders of their queen?—before they’re firing again. Firing fast, frequently, and with stomach-clutching accuracy.
I suck in a breath, pain and heat spreading through my core.
It wasn’t their accuracy turning my stomach. It’s a fucking arrow, buried deep in my core, far enough to pierce things that shouldn’t have holes in them.
“This way! Hurry!” Wren cuts to the left, disappearing into a tunnel so dark it’s nearly invisible in the shadows.
I veer after her, missing another arrow that comes close enough to warm my ass as it zips by.
Chapter 35
Wren
Shot.
Luke and Creedence have both been shot—Creedence seriously enough that he’s going to need medical attention sooner rather than later. But instead of running for the surface, we’re sprinting deeper into the bowels of Atlas’s warren of horrors.
I only remember bits and pieces of my experiences in this place, but I know this is where he keeps things that love the darkness.
Things that are the darkness…
I stop short, throwing my arms out to my sides in the black of the tunnel. “Wait,” I pant, breath coming fast in the fuzzy silence. “There’s something…”
I clench my jaw, ears straining, but there’s nothing but the muted sound of unicorn hooves echoing softly in the passage we left behind.
“We have to keep going,” Dust murmurs close to my ear. “If we turn back, we’re dead.”
“I know.” I nod. “But I can’t shake the feeling…”
“Something’s here,” Kite finishes. “With us.”
“Or…around us.” Creedence groans softly from my left. “Guys. The ground… Did you feel that? The way it just…rippled?”
I shiver, sensing it now, the subtle undulations of the spongy earth beneath our boots, delicately urging us onward. Deeper down. Deeper into…
“Holy shit balls,” Cree whispers, solving the mystery seconds before I do.
“Tell me we’re not inside a giant fucking snake,” Luke says, his voice tight.
“Might not be a snake,” Kite observes with remarkable calm. “Could be something else with a really long throat.”
“Not helping,” I mutter. “No time for jokes. Or giant snakes. Creedence needs first aid, then second aid.”
“I’m fine,” Creedence lies, a wasted effort when everyone but Luke knows damned well he’s in pain and it’s getting worse with every passing minute.
We can feel it. I can feel it, tearing at my insides almost as fiercely as the guilt gnawing away in my chest. I should have had a better plan. I should have waited until I was stronger, smarter. But it’s too late now. We’re either going to be gored to death by unicorns, shot by fairy archers, or eaten by the owner of the giant throat pulsing softly beneath my feet—and it’s all on my shoulders.
“This might not be a bad thing, guys,” Kite says, his voice coming from farther away than it was before. “I’ve heard legends about mountain beasts. They don’t have much in the way of digestive organs. They have to process their food slowly, break it down over several weeks.”
I swipe sweat from my forehead. “And how do they do that?”
“By keeping you inside them,” Kite says, “making you think you’re getting somewhere until you’re too weak to keep going. The story I heard called it the mountain trance. And the only way for the hero to emerge from the underworld was to break the mountain trance and escape through the belly of the beast.”
“So we’re going to gamble our lives on a story,” Luke says.
“You got a better idea, wolf?” Kite asks, heat creeping into his tone. “You’d rather turn back and get a belly full of arrows, instead? At least this way, we have a shot. This tunnel has to lead somewhere.”
“It’s not a tunnel, it’s a monster’s fucking throat.” Luke jabs a thumb over his shoulder, a movement I can make out now that my eyes have adjusted to the black. “At least back there I can see what I’m shooting at.”
“For a few seconds,” Kite counters. “Maybe a minute if you—”
“Doesn’t have to play out like that.” Luke cuts in as I scan the darkness in both directions. “If we come out blazing guns and fire, we can clear the path up to the—”
“Guys,” I ask, spine tingling with worry. “Where’s Dust?” I reach out psychically, but I can’t feel him. “Dust? Dust!”
“Dust, answer us, man,” Creedence calls, his voice loud and strong despite his wound. “Not the time to go on a walkabout.” There’s a glitter of yellow-gold as Cree’s eyes shift into cat mode. “There. About a hundred feet ahead and walking fast. Come on!”
He breaks into a run, and I follow, calling Dust’s name as I jog behind Creedence, staying close to the sound of his footsteps padding on the carpeted floor.
Carpet…
That’s what this is, not anything scary or strange.
I blink in the sudden burst of light as a chandelier glitters on overhead, revealing a long hallway. The carpet is a mauve and gold flower pattern that reminds me of hotel common areas, soothing but impersonal and always a little out-of-date. But it’s probably so expensive to update carpet. No wonder they let it go for years, even decades, before swapping it out for something more stylish.
But at least they’ve kept this one nice and clean.
“I think we’re almost there.” Dust stops, turning to call over his shoulder, “The meeting rooms are just up ahead.”
“Oh, good,” I say, my chest loosening. “We don’t want to be late.”
“No, Slim, not you, too.” Creedence fumbles for my hand as if he’s having trouble seeing me, making me laugh.
“Take off your sunglasses, silly.” I pluck the glasses from his nose. “We’re not at the beach anymore.”
Cree’s golden lashes flutter as he glances to the right and left. “Right. Much better. Must’ve gotten a touch of heat stroke out there.”
“Ditto. I hope they have water in the conference room.” Kite moves past me, hurrying to cat
ch up with Dust. “I’m crazy thirsty after all that sun.”
Luke curses from the hall behind us, and I frown, hoping he’ll keep his mouth PG during the meeting. I can’t remember who we’re here to see, but it seems best to keep things as professional as possible. You can always loosen up once you’ve established a rapport, but there are no do-overs on a first impression.
“Hurry,” Dust calls, breaking into a jog once more. “I can hear them starting. We’re going to miss the opening remarks.”
I’m pushing off, ready to run after him, when a thick arm closes around me from behind, jerking me back into the dark. I gasp, heart pounding as I come back into the real world, grounded by Luke’s vision-killing superpowers.
“Shit,” I mutter, gasping for breath.
“You with me again, Princess?”
“Yes, but the others…” I feel for his hand in the dark, blind again after my time in the hallucination. “We have to stop them before they get too far ahead.”
“Hold tight.” He threads his fingers through mine and we hurry after the others, catching Cree, who’s slowed down by his injury, only a few yards ahead. I grasp his hand, grateful when he snaps back as quickly as I did.
“Fuck.” He groans. “No more head games. Seriously. They weren’t fun the first time.”
“Agreed.” I squeeze his palm. “We have to get to the others. Can you run?”
“Go. Yes. I’ll keep up.”
Luke takes off, tugging Creedence and I behind him like a tail.
Apparently, as long as I’m touching him, I can channel Luke’s dampening effect, which is good news, considering he only has two hands and four people to drag out of here.
Kite puts up a fight at first, shrugging off Luke’s hand until Luke is forced to put down his gun and grab Kite around the waist. As soon as he does, Kite pulls him in for a grateful bear hug. “Shit. Thanks, man. That came on fast.”
“Speaking of fast,” Cree says, “where the hell is the captain?”
Pulse fluttering anxiously, I squint into the darkness ahead, but I still can’t see a thing. “He has to be up ahead. We’d know if we’d passed him,” I say, but I’m not sure. I can’t feel Dust anymore, couldn’t feel any of them when they were under the control of this thing determined to make a meal of us. I curse beneath my breath. “Can you see him, Cree? Your eyes are better than mine.”
“No. Nothing,” he says, grunting softly in pain as he turns to look back the way we’ve come. “Not in front or behind.”
“Then let's see if we can’t shine some light on the subject,” Luke says. “Grab my gun, Kite, and hold on to Wren.”
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I ask, as Kite fetches the weapon and his hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “What if we piss it off?”
“Then it will know what it feels like to be me,” Luke says. There’s a heavy click and then, before anyone can offer further thoughts on the matter, he fires. The boom rattles the world, and a hole rips in the darkness, sending pale blue light shining in through a basketball-sized puncture in the wall, in the body of the beast.
That isn’t a wall, and this isn’t solid ground we’re standing on. The creature writhes in protest, its muscles twitching and jerking underfoot as Luke hurries to the hole, dragging the rest of us behind him.
He peers through, squinting in the glow. “Looks like a basement. Boiler room or something.” He reaches up, gripping the edge of the opening and tearing at the sticky, smoking flesh.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting us out. Wherever that is, it’s better than here.” He tugs harder, opening a gash longer than my arm.
The floor/throat goes liquid in response, rippling so fast it feels like I’m surfing in place. I manage to stay upright for the first few seconds, but then I’m down on my ass, dragging Cree down with me.
Kite helps us both up while Luke holds back the flap of flesh and jerks his head toward the outside world. “Go. All three of you. Out. Then I’ll go after Dust.”
“I’m here.” Dust stumbles back, clutching his head, the sight of him making me weak with relief. “Snapped out of it a few seconds ago, when the ground started shaking.”
“You first then, Captain.” Luke is clearly happy to see Dust, too. He claps him on the shoulder as Dust lifts a leg up and over the edge of the monster’s torn flesh.
Creedence goes next, leaning heavily on Kite on our side and Dust on the other, then I follow, slipping through and moving swiftly around Dust and Cree to check out our location. Luke’s right—it’s some kind of subterranean utility cavern, filled with machines humming along the walls and giant metal vats in the center of the space, all illuminated by a long, thin strip of blue light shining from the ceiling above. Aside from the rumble and hum of pistons pumping and the occasional gurgle from the pipes leading out of the vats, it’s quiet, no herd of the undead or soldiers or archers in sight.
We’re alone, and if we’re lucky, we’ll have time to rework our plan of attack before Atlas realizes we haven’t been eaten.
As Luke steps out of the tear he made, the undulating flesh calms and goes still, firming up until it looks like part of the rock wall, blending in so seamlessly I wouldn’t realize it was here if I didn’t know to look.
“If I didn’t know to look,” I murmur aloud as a stroke of inspiration strikes.
“Cough it up, Slim,” Creedence says. “Tell us what you’re so excited about.”
“I could channel Luke’s kin gift to all of you when I was touching him,” I say, nibbling my lip as I turn to face them. “What if I can do the same with mine? I could change us. All of us.”
Dust and Kite exchange a look as Cree nods, “Worth a try. Unless someone’s got another bright idea.”
“Not sure if it’ll work on me,” Luke says. “But let’s give it a go, right after we do something to stop the cat’s guts from falling out.” He strips off his black overshirt, ripping it down the middle before wrapping it around Cree’s waist.
Cree winces, jaw clenching as Luke ties the ends of the shirt in knot. “My guts and I thank you.”
Luke grunts, holding Cree’s gaze as he nods. “Won’t help for long. We need to get you out of here.”
“Not before we finish this.” Cree lifts a hand, stopping me before I can argue. “We finish it, Wren. All of us. Together, the way it’s supposed to be. We won’t get another chance to take him. If we waste time getting me to an ambulance, it’s over. Next time we try, he’ll be ten times as ready. We do it now, or we fail, like all the people before us, and it all goes to shit.”
Dust sighs. “He’s right. We’ve got the element of surprise. If we use it well, we still have a shot at ending it all. Tonight.”
“I knew what I was signing up for from day one, Slim,” Cree says, making my chest tight. “And if I could go back, I’d still make the same call. I’d still choose you. I believe in you. You’ve got this.”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “No. We’ve got this.” I reach for him, taking his hand and then reaching out to Luke. “And I’ve got an idea. Link up.”
Luke takes Kite’s hand and Dust take’s Cree’s and then, with a deep breath and a prayer for a little luck, I set my cells to spinning, dancing, whirling into a new shape that I send spiraling out to the others, each wave with a slight variation in place. I work from memory, doing my best to mimic the faces I saw peering out at me from the gilded cage of Atlas’s harem and to coax my men’s clothing into the muted red togas most of the wives wear.
When I open my eyes, there’s good news and bad.
The good news is that all four of my mates now appear to be women wrapped in identical robes, with the sallow complexions of people who’ve spent the better part of the past few decades locked away in a gilded cage.
The bad news is that when Kite says, “Kick ass. Good work, Bird Girl,” he still sounds decidedly male.
“Not a problem.” Dust still sounds like Dust, too, as in not anything close to f
emale. “We’ll keep our mouths shut and let Wren do the talking.”
“Hopefully we can keep all talk to a minimum,” I say. “But if we’re discovered and anyone asks what we’re doing, we’ll say we’re going to the kitchen on Atlas’s orders. The guards will know there’s been fighting, and Atlas loves any excuse to throw a feast. Defeating his most recent Fata challenger is more than enough reason to send a few wives to the slaughter.”
I watch as the implications of that flicker across my mates’ faces, but there’s nothing I can say to blunt the horror. So I don’t try.
I just nod toward the other side of the cavern. “It looks like there are stairs over there. Let’s try them. We’ll need to go up to reach the main level of the castle.”
“Does this mean I have to leave my toys here?” Luke asks.
I arch a sympathetic brow. “Sadly, yes. Dust’s knives and the gun in your boot are pretty easy to conceal, but I can’t shift a skirt big enough to hide the rest.”
“I want to be able to shift clothes when I grow up,” Creedence says, still joking, even with sweat breaking out on his now hairless upper lip and his core torn up with pain. I was hoping the shift into another form would help him heal, but the damage is too bad for it to make a difference.
“Definitely jealous of that part,” Kite agrees. “I’ve still got clothes stashed all over Seattle. Probably spent a grand on jeans and T-shirts in the past two years. Nothing survives a grizzly shift.”
“I’ll try to teach you someday,” I say, squeezing their now much smaller than usual hands in mine. “But let’s pull the plug on this guy first.”
“Agreed.” Dust puts his arm around Cree. “You three go first. I’ll help Creedence.”
Without another word, we cross the room and start up the stairs. We climb and climb for what feels like hours, but is probably only ten, maybe fifteen minutes, tops. But with Creedence panting behind me, and the knowledge of how small our window of surprise is likely to be pressing in, I can’t help wishing I could go dragon and fly us up to the door at the top. We’d get there in a fraction of the time, but we can’t afford to drop our disguise. If someone opens that door, we have to appear to be a group of wives, clinging to each other for moral support as we do our husband’s dark bidding.
