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An hour of crunching through dead leaves in silence passed. We approached a verdant pasture with an out-of-place wooden cross erected in its center.

Griffin refused to elaborate further on why he needed my help. Even more curious was why he thought I’d be a willing participant in the plan he’d concocted. Plus, what the fuck happened back there? He’d convinced me that he might legitimately be insane, looks be damned.

I hadn’t figured out my own plan regarding my father aside from staying alive. And then there were Scarlett, Hazel, and Cotton. Fear for their safety gnawed at my mind. All I could hope was that they’d followed my instructions in order to escape the king’s wrath.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Griffin planned on slaughtering all the humans in this speakeasy. As excessive as it sounded, that was the image he’d earned himself after the attack on the King’s Palace all those years ago. As calm and personable as he appeared with me now…I couldn’t forget that fact.

Griffin Silas was a ruthless monster.

I watched as he slid the cross to the side, exposing the wooden hatch door beneath it. He hefted it up with a creak and disappeared below. Hisblack hood peeked over the edge of the ground before submerging to the depths.

Dusk approached. Red, orange, and pink hues painted the sky, pitching a beautiful autumn tint onto the surrounding landscape. I took a deep breath, bracing for the bullshit that, undoubtedly, was to come. I could use a drink—or two.

I tuned my senses into nature, letting the wisps from the breeze caress my face. Birds sang in the distance, and frogs croaked until their voices sounded raw. The sounds eased the tension in my chest, as they always did, bringing a sense of serenity I wished I could hold onto. Since I couldn’t remove the bracelet to renew my strength, I took a moment to allow nature to ground me. The damp earth provided steadfast reassurance and comfort in ways I’d never found from anything besides Slate.

I snapped my head toward the woods. A lingering presence in the near distance piqued my attention. They concealed themselves from view, and without my abilities, I couldn’t detect the energetic signature. But I could feel their faint energy thrumming with life. My first instinct was to run toward them to see if they were a threat. Suicidal as it may seem, it was second nature for me to eliminate the threat before they had the chance to surprise me. I looked between the speakeasy entrance and the woods, torn about which way to go.

In the end, I convinced myself that it was most likely a random human arriving at the speakeasy. And upon seeing me at the entrance, they must’ve gotten spooked at the stranger in their territory. I let them go and ignored the sinking feeling in my stomach as I followed Griffin and descended the ladder.

The humans had built this particular ladder from metal pipes rather than wood like the previous one. The chilling temperatures made it cold to the touch. By force of habit, I reached for the black crystal necklace around my chest. I relaxed at the feel of the cool stone and continued my descent into the stifling tunnel.

Griffin waited for me at the bottom, and once my feet thudded to the wooden floor, he set off through the torch-lit passage. Our distortedshadows cast along the walls made us appear like the warped monsters humans believed us to be.

Like the previous speakeasy, a heavy wooden door barricaded at the entrance. Naturally, Griffin flung it open with ease, and I suspected it wasn’t as simple as he made it appear.

This speakeasy was larger than the last, but it was still claustrophobic. A staircase constructed of wood and plastic crates led to a second level where more humans congregated. People sat in mismatched, salvaged—or stolen—chairs pushed against wood barrels that had been transformed into tables. Two bars faced each other across opposite sides of the room. I marveled at the lamplights illuminating walls filled with jars of moonshine, casting the room in a colorful glow.

The air was thick with the nauseating mixture of alcohol and dirty sweat, which poured from the unwashed bodies occupying the confined space. I resisted the urge to cover my sensitive ears to the booming and raucous voices, intensifying as the moonshine loosened their vulgar tongues.

I hung behind Griffin, keeping watch on his movements, ready to intervene if he attacked. Scanning the patrons, I checked for rebels, noting the telltale signs of a few in the mix. But overall, it was bedraggled humans that gathered together to make the most of their lackluster reality.

We both kept our hoods intact, as it would be foolish to think my father would not have placed spies in every speakeasy in the region. Our faces were high-profile; therefore, it was likely we would be recognized.

Griffin sauntered to the nearby bar as I trailed behind. He motioned to the runner with a casual wave. Their voices were too low for me to hear, but I caught the hand gesture from Griffin, signaling for two drinks. The runner narrowed his eyes at me, his head tilting slightly before offering Griffin a challenging glare—questioning him about my presence.

The Elemental was silent as he stared down the runner. His posture stiffened as he exuded power, even through the suppression of his magic. “Get the drinks, Jesse.Now,” he snarled, the maliciousness in his tone raising the hairs on the back of my neck. He looked ready to lunge over the bar.

For several tense moments, I thought I’d be forced to fight a horde of drunken humans. Jesse dropped his shoulders and took a step back. His nostrils flared, and his lip curled as he looked at me again, but he was wordless as he retreated to snag two jars of moonshine.

One glass slid to me across the bar. My hand slapped it to a stop before I removed the lid. Just before it touched my lips, I halted, suspicious whether they had poisoned it with redfern.

“It’s fine.” Griffin’s smooth, deep voice caressed my ear. The vibrations from it sent warmth throughout my body. “See?” He took a long, savoring sip from his own. His tongue slipped out and licked the remaining moisture from his upper lip. It took my brain a moment to catch up with my body, which traitorously began to heat as I leaned in toward Griffin.

Seriously?

I forced my spine to straighten, rolling my shoulders and silently cursing myself for yet another lapse. “You’re an Elemental. Your poison is different from mine,” I argued, still hesitating to take a swig.

“Mhmm,” he agreed, shrugging with a smirk before walking away. He sipped his moonshine with an unnerving grace as he slunk through the clusters of tables stuffed with humans.

I was tempted to follow him, but I took the opportunity to observe him instead. Griffin appeared to be comfortable amongst these humans. These were humans who despised us out of misplaced fear. Surely, they weren’t aware of what he was because, if they were, the pitchfork mobs would be swarming him. I waited for a beat while I watched him wade through the crowd, then moved to follow him at a distance.

Eventually, I found an empty table in the corner that allowed a clear view of him standing at the side of the bar. I studied him, leaning against it with a casual arm propped on the edge as he waited for someone.

When several minutes passed, and no one showed, I assumed I’d let my bias get the best of me. Perhaps he wasn’t up to anything nefarious. Maybe I was just being too cautious. But as the thought entered my mind, Jesse appeared beside him.

Griffin, who was over six feet tall, towered over Jesse’s squat frame. His beady eyes glared up at Griffin, while Griffin penetrated him with an icy look of dismissal—a blatant reminder of the killer he was.

Jesse waved his hands about as he spoke, suggesting there was a dispute of some sort between the two. Griffin stood in menacing silence, boring the weight of his lethal gaze into Jesse, who fell to abrupt stillness.