Page 45 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Devin used her touch as a lifeline, a tether, to keep him from sinking.

Then he grabbed the red tubing, which was actually a clear tube currently filled with the steady trickle of blood.

With his free hand he drew a knife and sliced through it, some of the sticky, hot liquid draining onto his hand.

The figure in the cage was too weak, too far gone to do more than slump further over, their aura flickering for a moment, but not going out.

Miranda gasped behind him, though he didn’t dare turn as he continued. His hand squeezed hers, grounding him so he could finish his task. He flipped the knife and used the handle to snap through the lock. It had not been a strong lock. There was no fear of attempted escape.

He eased the door open, hinges groaning from disuse, but opening it had been more for Devin’s sanity than anything.

Whoever was inside hadn’t the strength to leave and Devin could hardly waltz out with a prisoner and risk the mission.

Hard as it was, Devin would have to trust that Gideon would do the rest.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growled, voice thick with a righteous sort of fury.

After a few more dead ends, they found the stairs closest to the upper office. They were about to ascend, when the office door burst open and they instinctively retreated into the shadows under the stairs.

Above, they could only make out the shoes and movement through the slats of the flooring, but the voices carried with perfect clarity.

“Please, remind the Chaplain where his new roof came from, and that it can be taken away just as easily. In fact,” Graves’s voice was razor sharp, laced with anger, his careful performance forgotten now that he wasn’t being watched, “Let him know that if I don’t see him in the next half hour I will simply burn his church to the ground.

Do you understand me? Am I speaking clearly enough?

Because if I see you again without a chaplain in tow I’ll use your corpse as kindling. ”

“Burn the church—” A timid voice, from a pair of flat, men’s shoes, their steps light and jittery.

“Oh, the Divine can try and smite me if They wish, but by the time I’m through with my plans, They’ll be little more than a nuisance. Remember who holds the power here, Yen. Who do you fear more?”

The flat shoes skittered away to their task, bounding down the stairs and then disappearing.

Miranda made to lunge, but Devin caught her wrist. She huffed, but settled back into a crouch while Graves returned to his office and shut the door.

“She must be inside,” Devin whispered, “If he is planning to bring a chaplain here, then she has to be close.”

“A chaplain to force her into marriage.” Miranda ground her teeth.

“Look at me,” he guided her chin with his hand, meeting the cold steel of her eyes, “We will not let that happen. Graves has been doomed since the moment you entered my club.” He let his words linger for a moment, before adding, “He stands no chance against a fierce, capable guardian with a devilishly handsome rogue at her side.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but he could see the anger ease from her body, replaced with a surge of navy confidence. Her smile returned, if only because he was insufferable and he knew it, but it worked.

Leaving their shelter, they took the stairs to the top, but there was little movement up here.

Perhaps because all the walkways were entirely open and exposed it was easy to keep watch for anything amiss.

The office had two small windows along the walkways and a large one to view the warehouse below.

They lingered just under one of them, crouched down to avoid being seen before they carefully eased up to peer inside.

Two enforcers stood like silent sentinels in the corners of the office while a young woman with light brown hair and wearing her nightclothes stomped a slippered foot against the floor.

“I told you already, I won’t cooperate. Bring all the chaplains you like, kill me if you have to, but I won’t marry you.” Her voice was a touch higher in pitch than Miranda’s but her tenacity no less prevalent. A sunny, cheerful yellow danced with ribbons of daring teal and turquoise valor.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered that, missy,” Graves barked.

“You and your sister have been more trouble than either of you are worth, but it’s too late now.

I’m not starting this whole ridiculous dance over again.

I needed an alliance with a guardian noble to ease my transition and the tests on your blood will be finished soon.

If they come back negative, then you won’t have to worry about marrying me after all. ”

“You think I have the Divine’s blood?” Cordelia asked, then she laughed, doubled over and cackling.

“You think…but that’s hilarious. If I had Divine blood do you think I’d be sitting in tea rooms while my sister gets to play with swords all day?

I could have saved us both a lot of trouble if I knew that’s what you were after. ”

Graves’s stare was deadly, but Cordelia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “There is a chance that trace amounts could be stored in your blood, as a multigenerational family. You’re my first test of that theory, however, so we’ll see what the results show.”

“Well, good luck with that, but I won’t cooperate either way.”

“Oh, please do fight back, you spoiled little brat, then I’ll have a reason to use force.”

Cordelia eyed the two enforcers behind her. “These two brutes? Oh no, I’m so scared!”

Perhaps the younger Miss Wilde had a death wish, because there was no other reason for her reckless taunting that Devin could see.

Miranda was tense beside him. She couldn’t go rushing in, or they’d be overwhelmed in seconds.

He stepped back a few paces to get an eye on her mother and gave Lady Wilde a nod, pointing toward the offices.

He returned to Miranda, but a hand descended on his shoulder and launched Devin into the outer wall like he weighed nothing.

The entire structure rippled. He may have cracked a rib, the pain sharp and stabbing as he fell on his knees.

Another enforcer held Miranda while she struggled in their too strong grip.

She might have been able to fight them off, but not when they had surprise on their side.

“I recognized the pair of you from that club we burned,” said the enforcer holding Miranda.

Another came and hauled Devin to his feet.

“You don’t see matching auras every day.

” Devin glanced down and for a second, the colors of his aura flickered into view.

Cerulean compassion? Ruby integrity? The only color that made half a lick of sense was tangerine mischief.

The enforcer continued, “But the thread of crimson is what gave you away. None of us share that kind of link, except Dorria and Jem, but only Dorria is here today. Now hold still. Travers, get the boss out here.”

Devin’s attention snapped to Miranda, wincing through the pain as he got to his feet.

He tried to find the thread and there , buried under the fiercer colors of her aura was a whisper thin line of crimson.

How had he missed it? Was he just not wanting to see it?

Whatever had allowed him to see his aura allowed him to see the thread tethering them together.

Even as he attempted to work out the implications while not ignoring their current danger, the image faded, until once again he could only see the colors of Miranda and nothing else. He barely had time to register what it meant before Travers had returned.

Graves exited his office, meeting them on the walkway while the enforcers hauled Miranda and Devin in front of him.

Struggling against the enforcer’s grip was like fighting with steel.

They were obscured from the view of the lower floors by the office, there was no way to get a signal to Lady Wilde.

Once again, Graves was in Devin’s reach, and the icy, burning need to squeeze the triumph from Grave’s eyes returned.

All the lives Devin carried with him over the years, his fury for Miranda, for the nameless aura locked in a cage, for all the fear and hurt and death.

Devin’s vision narrowed to one, singular target. Steely calm washed over him.

Graves regarded them with fully expressed agitation, rather than his normal mask of jovial civility. “Ah. Miss Wilde and Mr. Drake. Not heeded my warnings, I see.”

“I just want my sister,” Miranda growled.

Graves smiled. “I’m sure you do, Miss Wilde, but my bride is no longer your concern.

In fact, nothing is going to be your concern for much longer.

I’ve worked very hard these past years. Bided my time.

Rose through the power structures carefully.

Positioned myself in the ideal seat for a transition into total domination.

I’ve even developed a potion that will change the entire world for my people.

And you think I’d allow you to waltz in seconds before my victory and destroy all I’ve worked for?

No, Miss Wilde, you are sorely mistaken.

I am going to kill the pair of you, that much is clear.

In fact,” Graves nodded and the fae holding Devin began to drag him away.

“No!” Miranda’s voice sharp and scared.

“He doesn’t matter,” Graves said, “A half-fae nothing.” Then to Devin he called out, “You were never a part of any world, Drake. Not to worry, I’ll make sure your father’s estate passes on to someone more worthy.”

The taunts settled over him. Filled his heart. His lungs. His blood. All his life, he had believed those words. Poisoned and hated himself because he had believed them.

He waited for the inner voice in his head to whisper, to agree with Graves, to remind him that he was worthless.

But his head was silent.

“Miss Wilde, however, I must dispose of more politically.”

Devin had a single, frozen moment of clarity.

He stopped struggling and instead angled his arm for the blade stashed near his shoulder.

He gave the blade a quick twirl so he could plunge it backward.

The enforcer’s hand flew up in defense. Devin spun and slashed, coming to a stop as the spray of blood rained around him.

And for one glorious minute, there was nothing between him and Graves. And in that heartbeat of time, the oozing, corrupted onyx and burgundy ambition that surrounded Graves held a tremor of pale, ashen fear.