Page 31 of A Heist for Filthy Rivals (Mythic Holidays #3)

“We’re a team at the moment,” I say. “The thief’s code says—”

“Fuck the code. There’s no one here to witness me breaking it. Our alliance is tenuous at best, Ravager. You know this. Now that I have the weapon, I don’t need you. Not that I ever did. You should never have been here. You ruined fucking everything.”

“It’s a talent of mine.”

“Stop making jokes.”

My smile falters. “Can’t help it.”

“You can’t, can you? Because that’s how you cope with how miserable you really are.

You cover it up with humor and flirting and laughter, but inside you’re darker and lonelier and more violent than I am.

You’re not the cheerful rogue and talented criminal you portray yourself to be—you’re a careless man, a mediocre thief who works with horrible people, men I’d sooner kill than speak to. You’re a true villain.”

So she does see me, exactly as I hate to be seen.

All the light rushes out of my heart, leaving my chest as dark and cavernous as she claims it is. The ruined, wicked Ravager in my soul springs to snarling life.

My thumb flicks over the ring on my index finger, triggering a puff of dust and a single spark.

I shut my eyes against the bright flash that fills the hallway, and I dart forward as Devilry cries out in shock.

My hands close over the weapon and I wrench it from her grasp.

She’s still blinking from the flash powder, so I set the weapon down before shoving her up against the wall, pinning both her wrists.

“Fuck you!” she screeches, writhing and bucking.

My entire body is pulsing with cruel desire, aching to crush her into submission beneath me. “Stop fighting me, Devilry.”

She lunges and clamps her teeth on my right earlobe. I yell as she bites deep, nearly detaching it. But she doesn’t finish the job. Despite her bold talk, she’s too merciful for that.

I press my face to hers, snarling against her mouth.

“You want an easy way out because you feel it too, this thing between us. It doesn’t fit with the persona you’ve created for yourself, this image of the noble thief who only robs assholes.

Guess what, sweetheart—not all of us have the luxury to choose exactly the jobs and the partners we want.

Some of us are just trying to fucking survive. ”

Devilry twists, nearly escaping my grip. I shove my body against her harder, until we’re sealed together from thigh to chest. Recklessly I grind my hips, making sure she feels my erection.

“Let me go,” she hisses.

“How bad am I, Devilry?” My lips skim across hers, every word hot and bitter. “How far do you think I’ll go? I could kill you now. I could take you now—” I shudder against her. “I would commit murder to get inside you again.”

She lets out a faint little sobbing gasp, and I swear there’s desire in the sound. She could turn her face away, but she doesn’t. She keeps her lips parted, her mouth angled to match mine.

“You want me inside you,” I whisper. “You want me with you, and you’re terrified because it isn’t part of the plan and you don’t know what it means.”

“Keep dreaming, dumbass.”

“Fine.” I shove myself back from her and tear open my shirt, baring my chest. “You’ll have to kill me to keep me away from you, so go ahead and do it.

If you don’t end it now, I swear I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your fucking life.

I’m no mediocre thief, Devilry—I’m an exceptional one, and I will rob you of every peaceful moment until I finally manage to steal your heart. So do it. Stop me.”

“You’re insane.” Tears glitter in her eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she says. “You aren’t what I wanted.”

“My mother told me the same thing.”

Shit, I meant for that to be a joke, but it comes out too raw, too pathetic. Devilry’s eyes widen, and her aggressive posture softens.

“No, don’t do that.” I shake my head fiercely, my voice breaking in spite of myself. “Don’t pity me. Just pick up the weapon and fire. I won’t stop you again.”

“My parents told me that, too,” she says quietly. “That I was an accident. Unwanted. Not part of the plan. I think it killed something inside me. My emotions haven’t worked right since then. I’ve never been chosen by anyone, Ravager. It scares me.”

“I know,” I say hoarsely. “Believe me, I know.”

With a sigh, she bends to collect the weapon. “I won’t kill you just yet. Like I said, if this cannon still works, we should probably save it for the beast.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she holds out the weapon to me.

There’s an openness in her eyes, a new understanding, a quiet trust that collapses my darker self, turning the monster into a mewling kitten that would prostrate itself at her feet and beg for a gentle touch.

“You take this,” she says. “I’ll lead the way, since I know where to go.”

Wordlessly I accept the weapon. I knew it was heavy, but I’m shocked by its actual weight and by her strength. Admiration blooms warmly around my heart as I follow her down the corridor.

After a few minutes, she looks over her shoulder and says, “There’s a shield on the vault door where Drosselmeyer’s things are. You can paint our way in through the wall with that explosive gel, right?”

“Maybe. I’m down to the dregs of what I brought with me. Might be just enough to create a crawlspace through the wall, but I’m not sure. You didn’t remove the shield while you were in the control room?”

“Of course not. I didn’t want you and your people getting access before me and mine.”

“You and yours? You’re alone, love. Or you were before you joined up with one roguishly handsome explosives expert.”

She doesn’t answer, but her hand drifts to that pocket again.

We’re building a tenuous trust between us, but I know she’s hiding something. I typically flow with the current and take what comes, but in this case that’s not enough for me. I need to know what’s in her pocket and where her team went.

But before I can ask her outright, a faint rippling sound reaches my ears. Devilry hears it too and pauses, listening.

It’s a fluttering, not a rippling. The flapping and rustling of many small wings.

That swarm of razor-winged creatures, unleashed from a room on the second floor—they’re definitely down here, in the subterranean level. And they’re not far ahead of us.

Devilry looks at me, dread in her eyes.

“I saw those creatures when we blew up the first floor,” she says. “They’re horrific.” She gives a full-body shudder, and I raise an eyebrow, surprised at her visceral reaction. Some people react to bats like others do to spiders. Maybe she’s one of them.

“You’re not a fan of bats, I take it?”

“I don’t like small flying things. Especially not ones with chittery mouthparts, like those creatures have. Did you see their teeth?”

“No, I was too busy ducking and trying to avoid their wings.”

She licks her lips, which only turns them redder and more distracting.

“They’ve got so many little teeth. Their wings are for cutting and disorienting their prey, and their mouths are for gnawing flesh, I just know it.

Why do there have to be creepy flying things? I’d prefer a half-dozen burly guards.”

Like her, I prefer human opponents. I know people—their form, their habits, their weaknesses. A flock of bloodthirsty Fae beasties is beyond the realm of my training and experience. Not something I want to deal with.

“Is this the only way to the room with Drosselmeyer’s possessions?” I whisper.

“It’s the only route I remember.”

“Shit. We can’t use the cannon on those creatures. It might collapse the hallway and block our path to the room.”

“That’s right.”

“I might have something else that will work,” I tell her. “But let’s see what we’re dealing with first.”

We creep forward along the hallway until we can see them—hundreds of razorwings, coating the ceiling and the upper half of the walls, turning the stone hallway into a bristling black tunnel of terror.

There’s something on the floor beneath them—a skeleton, gleaming wetly crimson. I recognize the crossbow at its side. Grisly. He’s been eaten down to the bones by these creatures. The floor is slick and glossy with his blood.

My heart twinges slightly in response to his death. I’m not exactly sorry he’s gone; I’m fairly sure he would have tried to kill Devilry if they’d met face to face. But he didn’t deserve to die like that—being devoured alive by dozens of tiny jaws, sliced into ribbons by wicked wings.

Devilry grips my arm and mouths, Is that him?

I nod once.

Her throat shifts as she swallows.

Quietly I set down the big weapon and ease the pack off my shoulders, placing it on the floor as silently as I can.

Maybe the creatures are glutted on Grisly’s flesh. Maybe they won’t notice us. Maybe they’ll let us pass.

On the off chance they don’t, I need to be ready.

I unbutton one of the pockets and close my fingers around the final item in my arsenal—a small bottle with an attached atomizer, containing a liquid version of the gel compound I use for painting walls.

With it, I can produce an explosive mist that’s extremely volatile and dangerous, but potentially useful for taking out little winged monsters.

It’s not the ideal solution, since Devilry and I will probably go up in flames too.

I’m not sure if I’d prefer burning alive or being eaten alive.

I close the flap of the pocket, take my favorite igniter from another compartment, then carefully slip my arms back into the straps.

At the light scuff of the leather against my clothing, the wings of the creatures stir faster, and Devilry shoots me a death-glare.

She’s white as salt, every drop of color drained from her skin. She’s fucking terrified.

Are you ready? I mouth the words to her. I’m not sure she can read my lips accurately, but I can’t risk asking the question aloud.

With a panicked look at the razorwings, Devilry shudders again.

She makes no move to lead the way. We’re still practically strangers, but I’ve been around her enough to know that not many things unsettle her this deeply.

Her fear of the creatures is both irrational and entirely justified.

I’m scared, too, but I don’t have the same impulse to cringe and shiver at the mere sight of them.

For a thief, a phobia can be a serious drawback, because it isn’t entirely logical.

Reason will only take you so far in overcoming it.

There’s only so much you can handle before your body revolts and reacts against your will.

The last thing I need is for Devilry to panic while we’re walking through this gauntlet of monsters.

Maybe if I go first, she’ll feel better about doing this.

Signaling to Devilry to pick up the cannon and follow me, I move into the infested part of the hallway, step by careful step.

The creatures are definitely batlike, but with the gloom and the way they are clustering, I can’t make out details of their form.

Whatever their appearance may be, they’re terrible enough that both Seelie and Unseelie Fae decided they must be imprisoned here forever.

We pick our way around the wet remains of my former partner and continue through the rustling tunnel of gleaming, bladed wings. I could swear there are more of the razorwings now than there were when I saw them earlier.

As we pass through an area where they’re spread out a bit more, I notice that they’re arranged in groups of two, bodies glued together in pairs. They’re heaving, pulsing—possibly mating?

A shudder of cold horror runs through me as one of the winged pairs splits slowly apart, pushing something squishy and wet out of the space between their bodies. The bulbous thing squirms, bursts from its filmy sac, and spreads a pair of sharp wings.

They’re definitely breeding, and at a terrifyingly fast rate. Possibly their rapid procreation is being fueled by the meal they just consumed.

If they can multiply that fast off the fuel they gain from a single human body, what could they do with the corpses of several Fae?

With grim certainty, I understand why the creatures were trapped here. Left unchecked, they could consume every living thing in this realm.

My question is, why were they confined, instead of being eradicated completely?

Devilry touches my arm and points to another pair that’s squeezing out offspring. I acknowledge the sight with a nod.

She’s more unsettled than I’ve ever seen her. These bloodthirsty, batlike creatures have wakened a primal revulsion in her, and it’s eating away at her usual cunning and calm. Lucky for both of us, we’re nearly out of the tunnel of wings, nearly clear of the flock.

In her eagerness, Devilry starts walking a bit faster—and her foot slips on a patch of Grisly’s blood. Normally she’d be able to recover, but the weight of the weapon throws her off balance, and she pitches forward

My hands are full. I can’t catch her.

When she hits the floor, the weapon clatters, and the metal parts of her gear ring sharply against the stone.

Devilry makes a tiny sound—a gasp of terror.

The fluttering wings around us shiver into a maddened storm, a ravenous frenzy. They burst off the walls, preparing to dive for her, but I get there first. I stand with my back to her, facing them.

Squeezing the bulb of the atomizer, I spray wildly back and forth while I roar at Devilry to run.

Then I reach my left hand toward the cloud of explosive gas, turn my face away, and click the igniter.

The blast throws me backward. I slam into rock, agony flaring through my spine, my hand, and my face.

Then, nothing.