Savage Lands

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “Baszd meg.” Fuck off, Warwick snarled.

  “You have her?”

  “Yes.”

  I squinted, taking a step forward, his face becoming clearer through the shadows. What the ever-loving hell?

  “Zander?”

  He smiled at me. “So glad you are all right.”

  “What’s going on?” I shook my head in confusion.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Gunshots recoiled down the corridor.

  “No time,” Zander replied, waving us forward to a door, unlocking it. “Hurry!”

  “Is everything set?” Warwick paused at the door, addressing Zander as a begrudging ally.

  Zander nodded. “Yes. Head southwest of Gellért Hill. Behind the tree in the old garden.”

  Warwick dipped his head in understanding as Zander opened the heavy metal door. Zander’s brown eyes peered over at me, a woeful smile curling his lip, his hand brushing over my cheek.

  Another round of pops cracked through the tunnel.

  “Take this. You might need it.” He withdrew his gun from his belt, handing it to Warwick.

  “You ready?” Warwick shoved the gun in the back of his pants. “Not that I won’t enjoy this.”

  Zander nodded, pushing up his chin. Without hesitation, Warwick’s fist cracked across his jaw. A cry broke from my lips as Zander flew back, body hitting the stone, splaying over the ground. Out cold.

  “What did you do that for?” I screeched, moving toward the horse-shifter, my heart leaping up in my throat.

  “Had to. Needed it to look real.” Warwick grabbed my arm, heaving me away from Zander and pulling me through the exit, the door slamming behind us. Spiral stairs led up to another door, reminding me of the tunnel Sloane and the others brought me up the first day. “But fuck, I really, really enjoyed it.”

  Had to? What was going on? Zander helped us flee? It was more than him just turning his head while we passed. This had been planned. Zander was left unconscious on the other side to appear as though he had been ambushed and beaten.

  “Kovacs,” Warwick hissed, motioning to me to keep moving. “You can cry about me hitting your boyfriend later.”

  I jolted forward, my boots slapping against the metal steps as Warwick broke through another door, letting us out into the night.

  Into freedom.

  Fresh air ballooned in my chest, hitting my face with an energetic slap. I inhaled the delicious onslaught. Tears filled my eyes as I greedily sucked in more, starving for the fresh wind coming off the Danube, full of the warmth from being soaked in summer sun all day. I could taste the musky river on my tongue, sour and earthy. Like a food I used to eat as a child, it brought back a joy I never thought I’d have again.

  Liberation.

  Life.

  We slipped farther out. Warwick’s head whipped around, checking out the situation as we both flattened against the wall, keeping us low and in the shadows. Shouts and gunfire blasted in front of us from the main entrance to the prison.

  The statue of the lady and the feather was now a pile of rubble, along with the ground around it. The explosion put a large hole in the Citadel and entrance to Halalhaz, allowing prisoners to gush out of the wounds, fleeing for the wild park only yards away.

  “Halt!” a man boomed out into the night, jolting my head up to the catwalk near me.

  Throngs of silhouettes bolted for freedom, hoping to slip into the night and disappear.

  Bang! Bang!

  Several running figures hit the ground, blood splattering out like black ink over the cobblestone. One of them was a woman with a braid. My breath caught between my teeth, panicked at the thought it might be Kek. Was she out? Was Tad? Getting this far and dying at the door was heartbreaking. Though, at the very least, if they died now, they fell with one last breath of fresh air in their lungs.

  The Liberty Bridge’s lights glinted from the Danube far below. Back before we split from the King and Queen, my father said tourists and locals could freely enjoy the grand views of the Pest side, having a picnic at the maintained and beautiful Gellért Hill Jubilee Park. Now nature claimed the area like a once domesticated pet, forsaking the rules to survive and flourish in this feral country.

  “Come on,” Warwick whispered, hunkering down his massive frame, scouring across the road to the heavily wooded area.

  “Állj meg!” a voice yelled, sounding right above us. “Stop!”

  My head cranked back as I scurried after Warwick. An officer pointed a pistol at me from his perch above.

  Panic drove my muscles to move faster, a blast hitting the cobble by my feet.

  “I said, stop!”

  Click. Bang!

  Pain sliced up the back of my calf as a muffled scream tore up my throat, my leg dipping under me, agony clinching my lungs, locking down my jaw.

  No! Don’t stop. A voice inside pushed me forward, tapping into the horrendous fear of being caught.

  “I found them.” A whistle shrilled in the air, calling attention to his location. “Hurry! I found them.”

  “Fuck!” Warwick hissed, suddenly by my side, helping me, both of us slipping into the brush. More bullets zipped by us, all low to the ground like the guard didn’t want to kill us, but immobilize us.

  Shutting off my mind, numbing the pain in my leg, Warwick and I trudged through. Branches and thorns sliced at my exposed arms and torso, my heart thumping madly to keep up with my blood loss and pain, hoping adrenaline would keep me going. Warwick tried to clear the path, taking the brunt, his hand constantly reaching back for me, pulling me along.

  Sweat trickled down my back, huffing as I tried to bite back my whimpers. Gunshots, cries, and shouts discharged through the night sounding like a messed-up symphony. The chorus of death, the notes they cried out, grew more distant the farther we ventured into the park.

  Warwick’s hand went back, stopping us, his head jerking around.

  “What?”

  He held up his finger, and then I heard a crack of branches.

  “It’s not just the guards out here who want to kill us,” he muttered. “Fae have filled this area with large game for their leader to hunt. But what is hunted also hunts. The game will gladly eat any of the escaped prisoners.”

  “Great.” I peered behind me and stiffened at the sound of another snap of foliage rustling in the distance.

  Animal? Guard?

  “Farkas, I know you’re out here. I can hear your heart beating. And I can see in the dark,” a woman’s stern voice called out. “You will be found. Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t make this harder for yourself,” a man shouted right after her. “You had it good. Don’t destroy that.”

  Warwick silently moved in front of me, his frame pressing into mine, pushing us back into a hedge. He gripped my arms, taking the pressure off my hurt leg. As his frame engulfed mine, he blocked out all light.

  My lungs contracted as his scent curled around me once again, his bare chest rubbing against mine, blotting out all my thoughts.

  “Don’t think for a moment you are safe with him, Kovacs,” another male guard yelled out. “You’d be better off coming with us now. He’s not who you think he is.”

  As a trained soldier, I understood their tactics. They were playing with my head, trying to create doubt, but I already believed I was not safe with him. Especially given the way my body reacted to his. His erection cut through his thin pants, burning into my stomach. My thighs twitched with need. The desire to open for him and feel him sink deep into me rocked headily through my core.

  His gaze shot to me, the pristine ocean color turning stormy as if he could feel my need. His nose flared, his hands sliding slowly down to my elbows, his touch oddly fierce and soft. Everything about him felt like yin and yang. Conflicting. Challenging.

  Life.

  Death.

  His stare scorched so strongly into me, I dropped mine, which was even dumber. My vision seized on the tattoos inking his ripped stomach, his chest knocking against mine, the ou
tline of his cock pressing into me, the tip of it almost pushing out of the top of his pants.

  Fuck.

  No, seriously…fuck.

  Really, Brex? Right now?

  But as if the world outside no longer mattered, the feel of his skin on mine cut a craving through me. The back of my neck tingled as the guard’s footsteps got closer, spinning my head with adrenaline. Everything was peaked. Danger. Fear. Life. Death. They all came together in a tempest.

  “They’re close.” The woman spoke to her comrades.

  “Normally, Yulia, you can pinpoint from yards away,” a man retorted.

  “I know. Something’s messing with my senses tonight. There are a lot of animals and fae moving around out here tonight, maybe that’s why,” the woman, Yulia, replied.

  “Comes in handy not having an aura sometimes. Harder to get a reading on.” Warwick rumbled into my ear, my eyes popping up to him.

  “I’m going to shift.” The girl spoke again. “Cover me.”

  Warwick’s form went rigid, his fingers pressing painfully into my arms, yanking me out of my stupor. He leaned down, his mouth sweeping across my ear, “We need to run. Yulia’s an owl-shifter. She will find us in seconds.” His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. “Can you run?”

  I nodded. I had no choice. Owls had the best night vision and hearing of all the animals and could locate prey at a half-mile. Perfect for hunting.

  “One.”

  A squawk screeched through the air.

  “Two.” His lips skimmed my earlobe.

  Wings flapped as the owl soared into the sky.

  “Three.” In a blink, he peeled away from me. My body registered the loss like a drug withdrawal, but I had no time to mull it over. I moved in step with him, blocking out the pain.

  A screech filled the air.

  “Over there,” a guard yelled as Yulia cried out again, heading for us instantly.

  I forced my weak leg to move, limping more than running, trying to keep up with Warwick as we weaved and darted through the foliage, knowing the owl-shifter would be able to see us like it was daytime.

  Over the profuse panting of my breath, I could vaguely make out more shouting. Breaking through a hedge, Warwick headed directly for a large, old tree standing high above others.

  An old motorcycle leaned against it.

  That’s what he and Zander had been talking about. Our escape had been planned.

  Warwick jumped on, his foot slamming down on the kickstart. With a roar, the motorcycle came to life, giving away our location. The bike lurched forward, taking off. For a split second, I feared he was going to leave me, but he paused the bike as I came up to him.

  He handed me the gun Zander gave us. “Don’t hesitate.”

  I nodded, took it from him, and swung my bad leg over with a cry, my pants saturated with blood.

  “The owl will follow us,” he said over the roar of the bike. “Shoot to kill.”

  The motorcycle lurched forward, my arms wrapping around his waist so I wouldn’t fall off. A handful of guards breached the foliage, their guns pointed at us.

  The bike tore off, Warwick weaving away from them.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Bullets hit the ground, splintered trees, and zoomed by my ear, zinging off the metal of the motorcycle. Warwick flinched as blood spurted out of his bicep, pushing the bike harder, tearing across the land. Ammunition volleyed after us, but we quickly escaped their reach as he took us down the hill. Nature had consumed the old paths with tall grass, brush, and debris, forcing us to make our own.

  The roar of the engine cut off the gunshots and commotion from the prison break, the motorbike taking us farther away. Bouncing and sliding, I gritted my teeth at the violent jolts. I dug my legs into his hips, my shaky arms holding him so tightly I could feel his heartbeat through his chest. I practically became his backpack. My hands skimmed his bare torso, curving over his muscles.

  Finally, the bike hit a paved road at the bottom, skidding. Warwick curved for the bridge. For a moment, my shoulders sagged in relief. The Pest side was so close I could taste it.

  Home.

  Freedom.

  Screech! The owl dove down for us. I wasn’t afraid it could overpower us, but I knew it would follow us, find out where we were going, leading the entire Halalhaz team to us.

  “Holy shit.” My eyes widened, noticing the harness the owl was wearing. A live cam. Yulia was reporting our whereabouts straight back to the prison. They probably already had guards coming for us.

  There was no choice now. She had to die.

  Locking my knees tighter against him, I felt one of his hands reach back, clamping down on my thigh to keep me steady as I held the gun with both hands and aimed it at the bird. My arms shook, and shadows started to line the edges of my vision. Do. Not. Give. Up. I pointed the gun at the owl. She swooped and weaved, making it almost impossible for me to target her.

  Bang! The gun recoiled, and the bird screeched but dipped clear of the shot.

  Warwick gripped me harder, his thumb digging high into my inner thigh, close to the seam of my pants, shooting another wave of energy into my bloodstream. His touch jumped my body, giving me focus. Peering down the barrel of the gun, I waited.

  She hooted, circling us.

  The end of the bridge stood only yards away to the road leading straight into the neutral zone, where both sides could hide.

  “Kovacs,” he muttered my name, his fingers squeezing my leg.

  Ignoring him, I held. Wait…wait…Now!

  Boom.

  A painful shriek shrilled the night air, sounding almost the same as a woman’s cry, and the bird’s form plunged into the icy river below with a splash.

  With both relief and sadness, I lowered my arms, my grip sweaty and slippery on the gun. It had to be done, but different from what I used to believe in training, I didn’t enjoy taking a fae’s life. I had seen too much to think them all evil and worthy of death. She was doing her job. But our survival was more vital…to us

  Warwick didn’t say anything. Letting go of my thigh, he gripped the handlebars and revved the bike faster. Just like that, we crossed to the other side.

  Into the Savage Lands.

  Chapter 26

  The smell hit me first.

  Dirt. Shit. Urine. Gasoline. Animals. Body odor. Rotting garbage.

  Sour.

  Heavy.

  The bouquet of animals and people living together in squalor and filth filled my nostrils and my mouth with a bitter taste. The warm summer night baked the odors into the pavement, ballooning it to nauseating levels.

  The paved road quickly became cobbled, loose and crumbling under the bike tires, rattling our bones.

  The streetlamps disappeared the moment we crossed over to the Savage Lands, leaving us in thick shadows, only a handful of dim lights from windows cascading down softly on us.

  As my sight adjusted to the dark, I took in collapsing buildings teetering on unstable foundations. Vandalized, decaying, or destroyed, few held a hint of their former glory. Boarded-up shops, cafes, and businesses looked as though they had been looted and abandoned long before, leaving a sad feeling in the darkened doorways of the old stone buildings. The former life of this place was now merely shadows and ghosts.

  Our ride started off quiet, a handful of figures dotting the streets or sleeping on the cracked pavement, with only strips of cloth or boxes to sleep on. No one ventured out for an evening stroll in the temperate night, enjoying a night with friends. But the longer we drove, the more people I saw. Most of them were skin and bones. Drunk, dirty, dressed in rags, their frames sagged as if they had given up on hope a long time ago. A few slept with the livestock, now fenced on empty parking lots and in old squares.

  The unbelievable smell of piss and feces permeated the streets. Human. Horse. Sheep. Hog. Most cars were picked clean and vandalized. Some were barely shells and were being used as homes for the lucky ones who procured them. Despair reeked in the at
mosphere, my skin itching with the destitute and polluted air, stabbing at my heart. Did Istvan know how bad it was here? He couldn’t possibly realize the extent. He’d never let his own people wallow in this filth without trying to do something.

  Now I realized how much had been kept from us within Leopold’s walls. The news shaped and painted a picture that did not match what my eyes were taking in, and night hid most of the true horrors. Poor, yes, but this was beyond that.

  “Stay close to me.” Warwick’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. “This place is dangerous.”

  “We just broke out of the Halalhaz.” I leaned closer to him to speak, our mouths only an inch apart, our bloody skin pressing into each other, sticky and dirty.

  “Halalhaz is civilized and orderly.” He tilted his head so I could hear him, his loose hair tickling my cheek. “It has rules. This place doesn’t. Gunslingers, gamblers, outlaws, and prostitutes with nothing to lose. They will shoot you in a blink for just looking at them wrong.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “There are no laws here, princess.” He gave me a side-eye, like how adorable you still believe in fairytales. As a soldier, I guess I still believed there were laws in a society we all followed.

  We turned down another road, the Hungarian name still visible on the side of the building, Király u., meaning King. The narrow street was lined with worn and ramshackle neo-classic stone buildings, their glory days forgotten. It was suffocated with people, buildings, and makeshift structures erected on roofs or crammed in places they should never have fit, choking out any sense of space. It felt like a jungle—reedy, dense—making my lungs palpitate.

  He slowed down to almost a crawl as hordes of people milled everywhere, closing in the narrow lane. There were a surprising number of horses tied randomly to posts or moving freely around, adding to the intensity of closed space and putrid smell.

  When the curtain fell between worlds, the rulers in the West were quick to adapt and modernize, using the magic in the air to power devices and automobiles. Not here. Only the ultra-rich could afford to buy these innovations, and most of our country reverted to simpler times. Horses did not break down under magic. Even Istvan used a horse when he was in the city.