Page 40

Chapter

Forty

T he sound of shouting filters through the edges of my consciousness, followed by a loud banging.

“Open this door or I’ll kick it down!”

The growled threat comes from somewhere nearby, but the words mean nothing to me. My mind is a distant haze. The desire to open my eyes is strong, but my body is far too weak to comply. Muffled noises reach my ears, metallic clicks followed by a scraping sound.

“Pipe down, you—” The woman’s words end on a gasp. Where she came from, I have no idea. When she speaks again, her tone is far more serious. “Bring her inside. Now.”

“What’s happened to her?” a new voice asks, another male.

“I don’t know. I found her running for her life outside the palace. By that point, she was already bleeding from her eyes and nose.”

“Fuck,” the woman curses, her cool fingers brushing against my forehead. “She pushed herself too far, and now she’s depleted. Always so reckless.”

“Can you fix it?”

That voice… It stirs a comforting warmth in my chest. I latch onto the sensation, hoping it will lead me out of this haze. My mind clears slightly, allowing the world to press in on me. Dull pain radiates through every inch of my body. Each breath I take feels heavy and hard won. Am I dying? I try to pry my eyes open, but they don’t respond, leaving me trapped in darkness.

At least I’m not alone , I remind myself as I become aware of the strong arms wrapped around me, cradling me against a hard chest.

Thorne , I realize. I think his name is Thorne.

“Place her on the table, and open her mouth,” the other man orders.

A whimper climbs up my throat as Thorne’s body disappears, replaced by a cold surface.

“I’m right here, Angel.” His touch finds me once more, his fingers gently brushing over my face.

I focus on the feeling of his skin against mine, praying he doesn’t stop. Without this connection, I fear I’ll drift into the ether and slip away.

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my cheek.

“Found it!” The other man returns as his footsteps race toward us. “I knew I had a bottle stashed here.”

“Hold her mouth open,” the female voice orders sharply. “This won’t taste pleasant, but she needs to drink all of it.”

Strong hands grip my chin, forcing my lips to part. I twist against his hold as a cold bottle touches my lips and a bitter liquid hits my tongue. My body jerks as I try to cough it up.

“Easy.” Thorne’s thumb gently brushes over my jaw. “This is going to make it better, I promise. Just keep drinking for me.”

I do as he asks, hating each disgusting gulp. Finally, when I’m sure I’m going to vomit, the bottle disappears. Soothing fingers brush over my hair, gently pushing the wayward strands away from my sweaty forehead. It feels nice.

“You’re touching her,” the other man says. There’s a strange tone in his voice as he speaks the words, almost as he’s awed by this fact.

The fingers go still against my skin. “I am.”

“She’s your?—”

His sentence abruptly cuts off as my eyes flutter open. Thorne, Darrow, and Della gaze down at me with varying degrees of concern. For a single moment, I feel at peace, but it’s broken the second the haze clears from my mind, and my eyes flare wide, landing on the enchanter .

“He’s going to track me,” I say desperately, my voice rough.

“Shit.” Darrow curses as he rushes to the cupboards on the other side of the room, pulling out various vials and bowls. Distantly my mind registers that we’re in the kitchen at MASQ. “How long has it been?”

My mouth goes dry as I try to remember.

“Maybe fifteen minutes from the time I found her to now,” Thorne answers for me.

My gaze flickers to where he stands over me on the other side of the table. His face is pinched tight with concern as a muscle jumps in his jaw. It takes a considerable amount of effort to lift my heavy arm and stretch my fingers toward him. Barely a second passes before his warm hand closes around mine.

“We may be too late,” Darrow mutters. “He might already be on his way.”

“Who?” Della demands. She stands at the end of the table, placing her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

I force my head to lift off the table, allowing me to see her better. “Baylor. He’s going to come for me.”

Something dark flashes in her eyes as determination hardens her delicate features. “He can try.”

I tell myself not to think too deeply about the reaction. It likely stems from her hatred of him rather than a desire to protect me. Still, I can’t stop the wave of gratitude that rises within me. I pray her decision not to throw me out doesn’t come back to bite her.

“I don’t think he’s searching for me yet,” I tell them as I try to push myself onto my elbows, earning me a disapproving scowl from Thorne.

Darrow barks out a humorless laugh as he returns. A blond curl falls into his eye as he stirs something in a large basin. Based on the smell, I’d guess it’s full of crushed up herbs and likely a few other things I’d rather not know about. He sets the bowl down next to me and pushes up his sleeves.

“I doubt he has more important matters to attend to,” he says, pushing me back down as he takes my arm.

The memory of screams echoing through the temple rushes back, filling me with sick satisfaction. “I stabbed him in the eye.”

His movements halt as his eyes go round. “I stand corrected.”

“Help her!” Thorne growls from my other side.

Spurred on by his fear of the God of Death, Darrow quickly dips his fingers into the green mixture and uses it to draw swirling symbols along my arms. He whispers words in a strange tongue I don’t recognize, and I want to ask him if it’s one of the old languages, but now isn’t the time for questions. When he’s finished, he steps back and the symbols disappear, sinking into my skin and leaving no trace behind.

“It’s done,” he announces.

“He won’t be able to find her?” Thorne asks, standing over me like some sort of avenging angel. I roll my eyes as I push my torso up, supporting myself with both hands.

Darrow shakes his head as he wipes his fingers on a towel. “Not unless he started tracking her before. But if that were the case, I think he’d be here by now.”

My shoulders relax, but the relief doesn’t last long. Only a second passes before a loud bang hits the back door, and all of us freeze as our minds go to the same place.

“Miss Della?” Nolan’s cheerful voice calls. “Can I come inside?”

No one moves.

“It could be a trap,” I whisper. A flash of grief hits me as I think of his fiancée Morwen. “He could be Forsaken.”

Della’s eyes widen as her head swings toward me. “You think they’ve already spread this far into the city?”

I don’t bother questioning how she learned about the effects of the sword. With Darrow staying here, he likely warned her of the danger.

I nod. “Alva and Morwen are with them now.” Every eye in the room turns toward me, but I tuck my chin and avoid their gazes. “And Remy too.”

“Ivy,” Thorne breathes, his hand wrapping around mine once more.

I glance up to find Della watching me with a softness I haven’t seen from her in years. “We’ll make it right,” she promises.

I’m saved from having to answer when Nolan pounds against the door once more. “Is everything alright? I thought I saw Ivy being carried inside earlier?”

Without warning, Thorne drops my hand and barges over to the door. He throws it open, dragging the half fae inside before slamming him against the wall. Della runs to close the door and slide the locks into place.

“Shut your godsdamned mouth,” Thorne snarls, his face inches from Nolan’s. “Say her name again and it will be the last thing you do.”

The room darkens as shadows creep up the walls. Della squeaks as the snakes slip past us, heading for the new arrival.

“What in the Fates is this?” she cries.

Darrow throws his arms up as he grumbles petulantly, “ This is the reason I showed up at your door in the middle of the night and never left. But now, it seems they’re going to ruin this place too.”

I narrow my eyes at him as one of the snakes slithers into my lap, nudging it’s head against my stomach as it begs for attention. I quickly comply, petting it’s scales.

“They’re actually sweet once you get to know them,” I tell Darrow.

His horrified gaze drops to the creature in question before flitting back to me as he shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

Nolan whimpers as the rest of the snakes wrap themselves around his legs, hissing as they give him a glimpse of their sharp fangs. Thorne holds out his hand, summoning the weapon only a reaper can wield. Every eye in the room flares wide as the scythe materializes, its silver blade radiating an unnatural shine.

“How—” Della’s question dies on her tongue as Thorne drags the tip of the curved blade over Nolan’s arm, sending a few drops of blood splattering to the floor. The reaction from the snakes is immediate as they pounce, hissing at each other as they lap up the blood with their forked tongues.

Darrow gags at the sight, raising his brows at me with concern. “And you let those things touch you?”

I shrug. “They like me.”

“Well,” he huffs, his face slightly green as he turns back to the action. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

I roll my eyes as Thorne raises the scythe to Nolan’s neck, letting it rest gently against the apple of his throat.

“One wrong move, and they will rip you apart,” he says, his voice low. “Do you understand?”

Nolan’s chin quivers as he watches the writhing snakes, who are now eyeing the bleeding cut on his arm with interest. “Y-yes,” he stutters. “I understand.”

Thorne nods, stepping back while keeping his blade in place.

“Bring him here,” I tell him as a plan forms in my mind.

Thorne’s head whips in my direction, his eyes hard. “Want to rethink that statement?”

“Not particularly,” I shake my head. “But I’ll repeat it, since you seem hard of hearing. Bring him here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Awake all of five minutes and she’s already making demands.”

Annoyance flares. “Fine, I’ll come over there.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the table, swaying dangerously when my feet hit the floor.

“Dammit, Angel,” Thorne grumbles as he leaps forward to catch me, trusting the snakes to keep Nolan in place. “Why must you always do things the hard way?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question since she was ten years old,” Della mutters.

I glare at both of them as he uses one arm to lift me onto the table again, keeping a hand on my shoulder to stop me from falling forward. Thorne twists his head toward the prisoner, holding out his scythe once more.

“You,” he barks. “Come here.”

The baker’s face is pale with terror as he steps over the shadow snakes. Several of them nip at his heels as he passes. When he stops in front of us, Thorne positions himself slightly in front of me. Apart from the fear shining in Nolan’s eyes, the young man looks the same as he always does. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, curling his shoulders inward as if to protect himself. I’m about to tell Thorne to release him when his attention suddenly dips to my collar. Something dark and covetous briefly flashes in his eyes, there one second and gone the next. But I caught it.

“He’s one of them,” I say softly, hating the words as I speak them. “He’s Forsaken.”

His eyes widen innocently as he shakes his head. “Ivy, I swear?—”

Thorne cuts him off by slamming a fist down on his head. Nolan eyes roll back as falls to the floor and the snakes wrap around him, ensuring he can’t escape when he wakes up.

“How did you know?” Della comes closer, staring down at our friend’s limp body.

“They always look at my collar.” I shiver as I recall the way Remy kept staring at it during the ball. “It’s as if they can’t help themselves.”

“That’s a useful tell,” she murmurs.

“Yes.” Darrow nods, leaning against the table next to me. “Very kind of them to out themselves like that.”

Thorne shifts his attention to the enchanter . “Is there anything you can do to stop Baylor from activating the collar?”

My stomach twists. It won’t be long now before the noose around my neck flares to life once more. I squeeze my fingers, balling them into fists.

Darrow shakes his head, meeting my gaze. “I can give you something to try to manage the pain, but there’s nothing else I can do.” I notice that the dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than usual. He looks truly worn down, and I can’t help but wonder what these last few weeks have been like for him. “I’m truly sorry, Iverson.”

I nod, unsure what else to do.

Somewhere inside of me, I know that the time has come to follow the advice I was given and accept my fate . Baylor is going to activate the collar no matter what. All I can do now is try to be prepared when that time comes. Pushing my shoulders back, I turn to face Della.

“Is anyone else here?”

She shakes her head, making her long curls bounce. “After everything Darrow told me about the almanova I decided to close the place until this mess is sorted. The city is too dangerous right now to have random people coming in and out every night.”

“That’s probably smart,” Thorne comments as his hand comes to rest on my lower back. Its presence is a comforting weight, giving me the strength to speak my next words.

“Not having to worry about other people makes things easier,” I say. “But I think it would be best if I hide in the crawl space.”

Della’s thin eyebrows shoot up. “Why? You always hated it down there.”

I’m surprised she remembers how I used to avoid it as a child.

“Just because Baylor can’t track me anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be searching.” My mouth turns dry at the thought, but I force myself to keep going. “Once the collar activates, I’m going to be in too much pain to be able to move quickly if any guards show up.”

“Ivy—” Thorne interrupts, but I keep going.

“It’s better to hunker down in a secure spot and try to ride it out.”

“Alright,” Della agrees softly. “I’ll get it set up for you.”

My skin crawls at the thought of going underground again, but I’ll face worse things tonight than a little claustrophobia.

The crawl space is a depressing seven-by-ten-foot room. Thankfully, Della has added on a small bathing chamber since the last time I was here. When you pull back the rug in her office, there’s a hatch underneath connected to a narrow staircase that leads down here. With no windows, the only light comes from oil lamps and a few of the blood-red candles I recognize from our meetings. It would make sense to keep them down here since any noise would easily carry upstairs. If the guards show up to search MASQ, those will come in handy.

Thorne insisted on carrying me all the way from the kitchen. I wanted to fight him, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make the trip without falling down. Now he tucks me into a small bed situated in the corner of the room. The only other pieces of furniture are a stool and a wooden chest with extra blankets.

“Let me know if you require anything else,” Della says before pointing to the steaming mug of tea she placed on the floor next to the bed. “And drink that. It will help.”

Darrow told me earlier that while the tea won’t erase the pain, it should knock the edge off. On top of that, he said it would hopefully prevent my trachea from collapsing under the pressure of the collar.

Hopefully being the operative word.

At least it smells nice. Citrus and rose coat my tongue as I take a sip, letting it warm me from the inside out. The door shuts behind Della, leaving Thorne and me alone. So much has happened over the past twenty-four hours. Was it just last night that we had lain together in my bed? It feels as if years have passed since then.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks, dragging the stool closer to the bed. He looks comically large on top of the tiny seat.

Normally, I would avoid answering his question. Or I would simply make up a lie. But I’m trying to be different now. The things he said about me before were true. I do have a tendency to isolate and punish myself. But I don’t want to be that way.

I want to let him in.

So, I tell him everything. My nightmare. The conversation I had with Baylor. I spare no details, even sharing how alone I felt when I realized everyone I loved in the palace was a stranger to me now. All of them lost to the Forsaken.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, leaning forward. “I can’t imagine how isolated you felt.”

His hand skates over the thin sheet on the bed and grabs hold of mine. A shy smile plays at my lips as I realize it’s something he’s done often since that night in the alley. He’s always finding a way to touch my skin somehow.

“The thing is…” I trail off, summoning the courage required to share such vulnerable emotions. “I’m not alone. You came for me. When I needed you, you were there.” My eyes grow damp as I stare into his. “I saw you flying toward me, and I knew I didn’t have to be alone anymore, that you’d always be reaching for me.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off as I use his hand to pull him off the stool. The bed dips under his heavy weight, but thankfully, the frame doesn’t give out. Pushing him down flat, I position myself on top of him, my thighs straddling his middle.

Those pale blue eyes are wide as he stares up at me. “Ivy, I should?—”

“Don’t.” I shake my head. Taking a deep breath, I allow myself to admit a little bit more truth today. “I’m so afraid.”

His hands move to my hips as he sits up, bringing our faces only inches apart.

“I’m terrified.” My voice shakes and tears form in my eyes. I swallow, clearing the emotion from my throat. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop what’s coming, no matter how much I want to. I have to be strong enough to accept that.”

“Shhh,” he whispers as his hand brushes over the back of my hair, pulling my forehead to his. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Those words settle against my chest, making me feel as though maybe, just maybe, the sentiment is true.

“Let me be here with you until it starts,” I whisper. “Please don’t let this be the moment you stop reaching for me.”

“Never,” he swears, leaning forward to taste my lips.

The kiss is gentle at first. He cradles my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he tentatively explores my mouth. My fingers move to the hem of his shirt, desperate to remove the barrier. He pulls back briefly, pulling the offending garment over his head and tossing it aside.

I bite my lip as I run my hands over his broad chest, marveling at the perfection of his body.

“You’re beautiful,” I say softly. “Perfect.”

There’s an uncharacteristic shyness hiding in his eyes as I explore him, but it’s quickly replaced by all-consuming desire. He leans forward, taking my mouth again, but this time, there’s nothing gentle about it. His hands slide down my back, moving to cup my ass as he pulls me closer. Desperate for friction, I rock myself against him, enjoying the sounds that escape him with each move I make.

I can’t get enough of his taste. My tongue entwines with his as my fingers dig into his hair, reveling in the softness of the silky strands.

“Ivy,” he whispers against my lips. “I?—”

Whatever he was about to say is cut off as the collar springs to life, squeezing my throat with a vengeance. I jerk as my body goes rigid. My head tilts back, mouth open wide in a horrific visage as I try to gasp for a breath that won’t come.

“Please, Angel, don’t hurt yourself.” Thorne pulls at my wrists, trying to stop my nails from frantically clawing at my neck.

I slip off him, landing on the mattress as my back arches from the strain of suffocation. As gently as possible, he manages to roll me onto my side and wrap his arms around me from behind. I jolt against him, trying desperately to pull an ounce of air into my lungs.

More than a minute passes before the collar eases its grip, finally granting me a precious breath. I take full advantage, swallowing gulps of air as fast as I can.

“Is it over?” His voice is strained as he whispers against my ear.

I shake my head, trying to slow my racing pulse. “This is only the beginning.”

As if spurred on by my words, the collar seizes again. Just like I knew it would. Baylor is playing with me.

And the game is just getting started.