Page 99 of Hunted By Fae

“Then I will take my lashings and lose my steed,” Dare says after a moment. “I have a bargain for her life.”

“To Eamon,” Daxeel says and his mouth twists with the pain of grief. “Eamon is dead. Your bargain is now a mere promise. You are free of its tether should you choose to be.”

A pause passes before, slowly, Dare turns to smile something small and wretched at his friend, a brother of the soul. And as a soul-brother, Daxeel recognizes the cruelty in that smile as easily as he senses the wicked schemes plotting behind his eyes.

Dare decides, “I will go alone.”

Daxeel’s shoulders deflate.

He loosens a breath before he tugs the satchel strap over his head.

“We will meet soon, brother,” Daxeel says and hands off the satchel. “Don’t die.”

Dare pulls the bag strap over his head, then lifts a sneer. “Save your prayers for Bee. She needs them more than I do.”

Daxeel doesn’t doubt it. But he says nothing, and watches Dare jump the wall in one fluid move.

TWENTY

BEE

I trudge along roads and avenues for so long that I wind up on narrow city streets—and realise I’m lost.

Somewhere along the way, I got turned around, and my escape led me deeper into the city blocks.

I don’t know how long I’ve been running now, but the burn that’s shredding the muscles of my thighs, and the ache searing up my chest to my throat, those have me slowing down to a stagger.

I need to find a landmark or a street sign, something I can use to figure out where I am on the map.

I’m just staggering around blind.

Lost in a wasteland of cars, tripping over toppled strollers and dropped bags, my boots crunching on snow and broken glass and littered pamphlets.

My scent is dragging all over.

I need to think, I need to get out of the open, mask my scent, I need to link with Tess, and get far from here.

I remember Dare.

I remember what he told me that one night, when I asked what he does for a living, and he simply said, ‘I hunt.’

And now he’s here, in this world—but with his unit. That should ease me a little.

From what I’ve seen, and what I know of the litalf warriors, the dokkalves won’t willingly wander from their units. That is desertion.

So I doubt Dare follows me. I doubt he is hunting my scent through the city.

Still, there is that…nigglein me. It’s faint. A barely-there scratch of a fingernail along the grooves of my brain. It’s more than awhat if… but less than an absolute.

And it’s enough to fuel me with the instinct to flee, and it pushes me through the aches and pains in my legs, and I just keep on going, trekking through the snowy streets—because what if I do stop, and Dare is following me?

I shudder to entertain that possibility.

My boots stop on the road.

The snow reaches up to my ankles then settles around my sudden stillness—and I stare ahead into the darkness stretched by the nightlights, and I go blank at the thought of Gary.

I left him behind, sure.