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10

Sylvia

A s the seconds crawled by, I realized I had no way to tell the time. Had I already become so reliant on human technology? Then again, the sun and shadows were no help with the density of the foliage.

Hesitantly, I peeked down at Gwen. “How long has it been?”

She scoffed, glancing at her watch. “Less than twenty minutes.”

Hugging my knees, I slumped against a thick twig that branched from my perch. I kept a careful eye on the ground below, feeling like I was keeping company with a prowling wildcat. I bristled when Gwen finally moved, but all she did was pull out a cigarette and light it.

Her eyes flicked up and met my stare. “I don’t suppose you want a hit of this?”

Wrinkling my nose at the smell, I shook my head and thanked the stars that Jon and Cliff didn’t partake in the habit.

“Right.” Gwen took a generous drag and sighed. “You’re probably more of a Fruity Pebble flavored vape kinda girl.”

I couldn’t begin to puzzle out half of those words, but I supposed it was an insult. No wonder she and Cliff had been so involved with each other—and fell apart spectacularly.

Whatever edge Gwen was trying to take off, the cigarette wasn’t doing it. She grumbled something under her breath about it being fucking gross outside and it wasn’t even noon. I had to agree, given how much I had to flick my wings to keep dew from collecting on the membrane. Murmuring a familiar spell, I summoned coolness to the humid air for a small reprieve. Reluctantly, I extended the enchantment’s reach toward the car.

Gwen stiffened at the change and narrowed her eyes up at me. “I suppose you want my mortal soul in exchange for the A/C?”

“No. I’ve got my own.” I draped myself along the branch and folded my arms under my chin, offering a tentative smile. “But I wouldn’t mind a dog…”

“Not happening.” Surprisingly, she chuckled before surveying the area and relaxing again. We settled into comfortable silence for nearly a minute until she asked, “So, what’s the deal with you and Jon?”

No preamble, no benefit of the doubt. I was beginning to understand that was just Gwen’s way, but I stumbled over my words nonetheless and felt increasingly stupid as the seconds stretched. I couldn’t describe something that I hadn’t defined for myself. Even though I’d had plenty of time over the past weeks to settle on an answer, the truth eluded me.

How could I describe the way he looked at me with those tender brown eyes? The way I recognized him by scent alone? How he laid his head on my lap in the spectral plane and we talked for hours like nothing else mattered? Whatever Jon and I had… it was fragile, temporary, brilliant—like a star burning itself out as it streaked across the sky.

“We’re… friends,” I said.

Gwen laughed throatily around her cigarette. “So much for fairies being master deceivers. You two whisper like preteens at your first co-ed party.”

My lips thinned. I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone—least of all, an ex-hunter with no intention of aiding us beyond a single outing.

“I don’t know what to call it,” I answered anyway. “It feels good.”

“How long? ”

“Two moon cycles—I mean, months now.”

Gwen gave a low, impressed whistle. “Well, whatever it is, that’s gotta be Jon’s longest record in years—maybe ever. Even for a hunter, the man was like a goddamn revolving door for a while.”

“He’s nomadic. They both are,” I replied with a shrug. “Commitments are damn near impossible.”

Hurt flickered over her expression as though I'd slapped her. It was the same wide-eyed look she'd worn when Cliff had accused her of leaving. Gnawing curiosity mingled with guilt. I was scrambling for an apology when Gwen sighed, giving a reluctant nod.

"Yeah, you've got that right. Hard to live such a brutal life and keep it secret from your partner.” She scanned me up and down, the corners of her red lips twitching in a small smirk. “When you’re part of the secret, I guess that’s a little easier on Nowak’s sorry excuse for a conscience.”

I arched a brow. “Don't tell me you're upset that I got to him before you could?”

“Hell, no.” Gwen cringed. “He always scared me.”

“ Jon ?” I laughed.

Comparing the two hunters, I found it difficult to believe Cliff hadn’t been the one to scare her straight. With his commanding voice and readiness to act without hesitation—shoot first and ask questions later—seemed far more likely to scare Gwen straight.

But maybe she had seen straight through all that from the start.

Gwen’s face darkened, watching me with a renewed scrutiny. “You’ve seen him hunt, haven’t you?”

Yes— with more fascination than I cared to admit. Goosebumps rose on my arms at the mere memory of the feral look in his eyes the moment before a kill.

He was pure lightning. Strike, strike, strike.

“You’ve been face to face with literal nightmares,” I said slowly. “I find it hard to believe another hunter has you in knots like this.”

The flicker in her gaze roared into a fire, and her effort to douse it only amplified the goosebumps running up my arms. My goading smile dropped away, replaced by a growing chill.

“What did he do?” I asked, brow knitting as I tried to read past her expression.

Gwen’s gaze darted to the ground, then back up, her ruby lips pressed in a thin line. Wind swept through the woods, tousling my hair and making me flex my wings to maintain balance. Her tension put me on edge. I struggled to reconcile Jon’s gentle, curious smile with whatever visage had clearly shaken another hunter to her core. Every piece of history I’d drawn out of Jon had felt like a victory up until now. I was struck by the awareness that I’d only scratched the surface, and the gaps in Jon’s history suddenly seemed like dark, gaping maws.

“Let’s just say he’s not as noble as you’re trying to paint him,” she gritted out.

“You have no idea how much he tortures himself,” I snapped. “He doesn’t need someone like you around to drag him down further.”

“You don’t know shit about him.”

“Enlighten me, then.” I kept my tone cool, but my wings gave an involuntary twitch. I was grateful Gwen didn’t seem to note the indication of the tension coiling inside me.

She let out a sharp laugh—though I didn’t miss the way her breath caught and turned shallow.“I’m not spilling my guts to a fucking fairy,” she bit out.

The word fairy landed like a slap. Outrage bubbled to life inside me like claws raking beneath my skin.

“Fine. Keep your festering wound to yourself,” I said, venom seeping into my tone. “Don’t expect me to beg to hear whatever moral high ground you think you have. ”

Gwen’s jaw tightened, her free hand flexing and curling into a fist as though resisting the urge to reach for her weapons, to lash out.

“He killed Luke!” she snarled, her voice splintering.

I flinched, the name hitting me hard. I pushed myself up, sitting straight. “Luke?”

Gwen dragged a hand through her pulled-back hair. “My friend. Nowak used him—a fellow hunter—like a fucking worm on a hook to lure at a shapeshifter on the Pacific Coast.” She prowled closer to my branch, eyes wet as she jabbed a finger in my direction. “He’d do the same to me to finish a job. To anyone—even you.”

Shock rippled through me, cold and vicious. I couldn’t picture it—I wouldn’t . Jon was a warrior, not a mindless killer. He was gentle and kind in ways that still astonished me day after day.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, hating the betrayal of my thready voice.

“Ask him yourself since he’s got such a soft spot for you,” Gwen shot back. “Or better yet, corner him in a no-win situation and see what he does.”

“Here’s another idea.” I leaned my arms on my knees. “We leave you here and you can walk back to your shop.”

She gave a dark chuckle, rolling her eyes. Some of her hackles lowered, but I didn’t miss the odd touch of worry that sat behind her irritation. “You can think I’m a bitch. Frankly, I don’t give a shit. You seem like a decent person—wings and all—and I’m just trying to save you some grief. Maybe your life. Jon Nowak is dangerous, and I can’t think of a single time that mixing humans and non-humans didn’t end in disaster.”

“You’ve heard of others?” I seized the chance to change the subject, pushing off the dark images that crept into my mind—Jon, binding another man as a living sacrifice.

“It’s more common than people think,” Gwen said, sighing heavily. “Hunters fall for ghosts they’re supposed to send off. Vamps convince regular civilians that they can have a star-crossed romance. You can imagine how that ends.”

No need to imagine. One of the nightmares in my rotation included a vivid image of Nolan opening his arms to a monstrous Lily, only to have his throat ripped out, blood spurting across a lupine muzzle.

“As though humans are any less messy on their own.” I raised my eyebrows accusingly at her. “I’m shocked, frankly, that you and Cliff haven’t strangled each other yet. Hard to picture you together.”

Gwen snorted, but I swore the faintest hint of fondness lay buried under the ire. “Believe it or not, he was even more of an idiot when we met.”

“Impossible,” I said airily. “Do tell.”

The jab earned a half smile. “We were so young—barely old enough to retire the fake IDs and walk into the bar like we owned the place. He and Nowak got into some stupid fight not long after they hit the road together. Cliff says he couldn’t stand Nowak’s bitching anymore. Personally, I think Cliff was looking for an excuse to call it quits and make his own way in the world. Had his bags packed and everything. But Tammy convinced him to back me up on a hunt.”

Tammy . That name again. The boys always seemed to change the subject shortly after she was brought up. A small sting came; even an estranged hunting partner knew all about the mysterious woman.

They’re hiding something, hissed a voice in the back of my head. You know there’s something they’re not telling you and you’re too much of a coward to ask why.

“How long were the boys apart?” I asked, coaxing my paranoia to quiet.

“Couple months, at most. I thought they both would’ve ate it by now, but they’re not a bad team when they have their heads out of their asses.”

An understatement if I’d ever heard one.

Not for the first time, I wondered what Cliff would do with himself if Jon abandoned hunting. I was afraid of what answer I would receive if I posed the question to Gwen, so I pivoted. “Is Hannah the reason you retired for good?”

Gwen raised the cigarette to her lips, taking a long, deliberate drag. She glanced at her watch, giving an impatient huff as she glanced toward the outpost.

Her dark eyes drifted back at me, narrowed in thought, and I was struck again by the fierce quality of her beauty. Her black hair, woven into a single braid, gleamed faintly in the hazy daylight. She was stunning in the way a polished blade was beautiful—captivating but dangerous when you drew too close. When Gwen exhaled, a bitter-smelling cloud of smoke hung in the air.

“Didn’t think retirement was in my vocabulary,” she admitted, the edge to her gaze softening. “I was hunting a wraith, and the wraith was hunting her. She was oblivious. I swear, if that thing had knocked right on her door, she would have offered it a place to crash for the night.” Her lips pulled into a wider smile, shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean to start talking to her—it just sort of happened. Then when I found out that she…” Gwen trailed off, glancing at me. “Doesn’t matter. Even when I bagged the wraith, I just didn’t feel right leaving her alone with a hunter outpost a few miles away.”

I frowned. “Why would a human have to worry about hunters?”

Gwen stared in the direction of the rickety wooden bridge that stretched across the water like it might lunge toward her. “I’ve got a protective streak, as it turns out. Only takes one asshole to cause trouble, right? But it was impossible to convince her to move away from her family.”

“You stuck around for her,” I murmured.

She gave one resolute nod. “I told her I’d lost my job—which wasn’t a total lie. She invited me to stay until I was back on my feet. Became a running joke between us—because days turned into weeks, and then months. Hannah never said a word to urge me out. Somewhere along the way, I woke up one morning, and it felt like home.”

I couldn’t quell the rush of warmth in my chest as I pictured Jon doing the same for me. Giving up hunting, letting us find home in each other’s arms.

Gwen scoffed. “What’s with the dopey smile?”

“Nothing. Just curious.” I descended to a lower branch, trying to catch her gaze. “How hard was it to let go of the hunting life?” My heart fluttered uncertainly as I thought about how adamant Jon’s stance had been on never changing. “So few humans know about monsters. Even fewer are cut out for hunting them.Did you feel… I don’t know, guilty about settling down?”

A touch of defensiveness flickered on her face as though I was being accusatory. But perhaps that was what made her answer. “I realized I could do more for Hannah than just save her from a monster. There was a space in her home, and she was ready to fill it.”

I let the idea sink in, thinking about how swiftly and fiercely she had come to rescue Hannah from Cliff. But it was more than that—their hands reaching for each other’s at the breakfast table and Hannah’s worry over Gwen accompanying us here.

“Have you texted her that you’re still alive?” I asked.

Rolling her eyes, she dug her phone out of her pocket and tapped out a one-handed message.

A ping indicated an immediate response—and Gwen’s face softened to a degree I didn’t think possible. Which was what possessed me to say, “You’re lucky to have found each other.”

Gwen stowed her phone and gave me an unreadable look—except I had seen it on Jon and Cliff’s faces many times by this point. It was an analytical stare meant to unearth thoughts that even I wasn’t aware I was thinking.

“You think he’ll settle down for you?” she questioned in a tone that wasn’t entirely cruel but stung all the same.

I averted my eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re really cock-drunk for him, aren’t you? What’s got him so whipped for you ? You got something on him?” Gwen dropped the spent cigarette to put it out under her boot. “Or is it the other way around? Just oughta clue you in—I know a bullet hole when I see one.”

I snapped my wings shut, fingers digging into the branch that held me. “That’s got nothing to do with it. Jon didn’t—” I stopped short, mulling over how to explain our macabre first days. “He saved my life. He took a werewolf bite to protect me — and the rest of that damn city.”

For the first time, true shock washed over her. “He… That should have killed him. Or turned him. How the hell is he alive?”

“Well, I—” I faltered, looking down at my hands. Though no magic coursed through my palms, the moment I’d touched Jon’s wound was forever seared into my mind. That sacred, fated contact between us. The thought of heavily charged magic drew my attention to the pulse of the gem shard in my pocket. I closed my fingers around it as though I could choke its aura. “I couldn’t let him die.”

“You healed him,” Gwen breathed, letting out a rush of air. “Now that makes sense. See, Hannah would call Nowak a burdened soul. But me—I’d just call him a sorry bastard who can’t tell the difference between love and guilt. Once he considers his debt paid, he’ll leave you high and dry.”

“Fuck you.” The words leapt from my mouth without a single pause to consider their consequence—along with a hard line of frost that cut through the air.

I had conjured the magic impulsively, barely feeling my lips move around the spell. The glistening icicle whistled well past Gwen’s head, and I swiftly released the shard in my pocket, but the damage was done. I’d shown aggression toward her, just like any monster she’d ever hunted. Renewed tension crackled in the air between us as she regarded me cautiously.

Jon makes me feel alive, I wanted to snarl at her. That’s worth everything to me. Every single risk.

Another voice surfaced in my mind—a new, sickening caution. Even if he’s killed an innocent? The question cut like a jagged blade, stinging in its uncertainty.

I tensed, prepared for Gwen to reach for her weapon in retaliation.The familiar, crushing hand of anxiety—the tiny hope in my chest that I would see Jon and Cliff emerging from the misty path at this opportune moment—was only a brief companion this time. In its place, a smoldering determination surfaced. I had hunted werewolves and ghosts alongside seasoned hunters. My magic endurance was stronger every time I trained, my spells more elaborate, the duration focused and sustained. And now, I carried a shard to amplify it all.

If she hurt me, I would make her regret it tenfold.

The silence settled heavily as the last flecks of frost fluttered to the ground. Gwen’s face was set in an inscrutable expression as she sized me up. Her fingers twitched closer to her hip, where the handgun Cliff had loaned her was tucked away. I could feel her indecision warring within.

“I had hope for your kind. Thought you might be different than the other bastards out there,” Gwen said. “Now? I know better.”

A long, gut-wrenching scream split through the air, drawing us apart. I took flight immediately, conjuring defensive spellwork to both palms. The sound came again, clawing its way through the trees—from the direction of the outpost. The faint roar of other voices followed, inspiring a sickening dread to squeeze my chest.

Jon. Cliff .

I flew to the edge of the dilapidated walkway, scanning the horizon. The misty silhouette of the buildings in the distance had not changed, but something had happened.

“Relax,” Gwen’s voice came directly below me, and I turned to see she had followed me to observe. “It’s probably just some skirmish. There’s always some kind of bullshit going on between a few trigger-happy assholes.”

Her tone was so readily dismissive, it ignited something feral in me. “That didn’t sound like a skirmish . Someone’s hurt.” I faced her, my heart drumming. That dread persisted at the edges of my senses, pulsing. If something happened to Jon and Cliff because I didn’t act—

“I’m going after them,” I announced, steeling my resolve.

“ Jesus , you’re a little martyr, aren’t you? I told you, it’s nothing— ”

“I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

I started forward, only to have Gwen step into my path. “Your scary boyfriend told you to stay put,” she reminded me in a heavy breath.

“And you always do what you’re told?” I asked, my cold smirk a silent challenge.

The scream had turned into a faint sob, carrying across the water. I strained to make out any familiar tones, a trace of Jon or Cliff’s voice in the distant chaos. My mind raced with possibilities, each darker and more dreadful than the last.

There could be more than weakened monsters housed here. There could be other fairies out there.Or even—

My eyes slid back to Gwen, my insides churning.

A trap.

“Did you set them up?” I asked, my voice a hoarse thread.

“What? No!” Gwen’s eyes widened, and she recoiled a step back. But I was done listening. I strengthened my spellwork, frost climbing up my arms, mist clouding behind me that made leaves crackle and freeze on the ground.

“Get out of my way,” I said.

“Sunshine, you’ve got to fucking reel it in.”

I didn’t have time for this. If something had gone wrong, Jon and Cliff didn’t have the luxury of waiting.

I struck, aiming for the ground. In an instant, Gwen’s boots were frozen to the earth and ice was crawling up to her knees. As she cried in outrage, I halted the spell and didn’t dare turn back to look at her. She was locked in place—at least long enough to buy me time. I bolted across the water, trying to tune out her pleading shrieks.

“Come back! Sylvia, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing! They’ll kill you!”

Dodging past waterlogged trees, I sailed over the stream—avoiding the direct path of the bridge to ensure I didn’t come across another hunter. My nerves stood further on end as I approached the outpost. The minimal hours of sleep and the moisture in the air left me winded far too soon. I paused to catch my breath, wings heavy as I surveyed my surroundings.

The building was far bigger than I thought, sporting only one entry point out front that I could see. I glimpsed movement through the grimy windows—hunters milling about like menacing shadows. Could I fight them all off if they already got the jump on Jon and Cliff? It seemed so reasonable at the time, but now I cursed the boys under my breath for making me stay behind and cursed myself even worse for allowing it.

For all I knew, they had been killed ten minutes ago.

The thought set me in motion again. Idle traps, nets, and chains were strewn about the wrap-around walkway, setting my teeth on edge. I had no doubt that this fortress was crawling with iron, but the unmistakable sensation of a monster nearby absorbed the entire attention of my senses.

The commotion I’d heard from across the bridge wasn’t quite as raucous, but a group of voices still came from around the side of the building. I flitted as close as I dared, perching on a branch to observe. My stomach churned as I caught sight of a giant chain-link dome.

The Pit .

It was two stories high, a jagged patchwork of metal, barbed wire, and a half-dozen other reinforcements. A creature lay inside, gulping down what I could only assume were human remains. Deep crimson pooled in streaks across the concrete floor of the enclosure, gleaming under the sun. The beast resembled a large wildcat, but its bear-like ears and paws told me this was a shapeshifting creature between forms.

My people didn’t have a name for this creature, but I had seen sketches in one of Cliff’s journals— alps . Meticulous ink and graphite drawings had depicted silvery eyes within uncanny forms of various animals—dogs too large for their form, eagles halfway transformed into serpents, and massive predatory felines like this one.

Muscling through my nausea, I refocused on the surroundings of the Pit. At least a dozen humans were gathered around the cage, amicably talking with each other. One of the men scooped up a rock to pelt at the creature. The alp rose to lunge against the cage, only to hiss in pain when another man jabbed it with a band of silver to sear its flesh. Laughter rose through the air, making my blood heat.

The creature itself deserved little sympathy, but the hunters’ glee was barbaric and cruel, serving no noble purpose. Perhaps Elysian legends about hunters had been entirely right, and Jon and Cliff were merely the exception to the rule.

You’ve seen him hunt, haven’t you?

I shooed away Gwen’s words. Jon wouldn’t stoop to such behavior. He and Cliff killed monsters swiftly. They didn’t wait around to grin at the pain they inflicted or relish their trophies.

Still, I searched the hunters’ faces, their forms. Jon and Cliff weren’t among them. I bit down on panic and tried to remember what the boys were wearing as I glanced at the dark scraps of fabric strewn about the floor of the Pit.

I couldn’t be sure. I needed to search the inside of the building.

Snapping my wings into motion, I considered my options. To my dismay, the fortress was practically airtight, even for me. The side entrance beside the Pit had constant activity, and I couldn’t squeeze through a crack in the reinforced windows.

I came to the harrowing conclusion that the only way inside was through the front door. There was less activity there, less eyes. Humans didn’t tend to pay much mind to things they could confuse with a dragonfly. The sun was brightening through the haze, but that meant I didn’t need my glow to see. I could fly right over their heads or under their noses, if I was careful enough.

A hulking human sat by the door, occasionally looking up from the machete he was sharpening to chime in conversation with a few others that leaned against the entryway railing. In a twisted way, they reminded me of Ayden and the Entry Watch outside Elysia, vigilantly monitoring the entrance.

Perching on the gutter, Iwatched the heavy mist for any sign of movement. From here, I could look down at the top of the hulking man’s balding head and the profiles of his companions. To them, I would be nothing more than a fluttering leaf if they looked up.

But the walkway remained empty. As the minutes ticked on, my heart began to pound anew. The muffled chatter and movement from inside made the walls vibrate, mocking my anxious waiting. My plan hinged on the door opening. But no one was coming.

Fucking stars.

I steadied my breath, mopping sweat from my face with the draped hood of my wrap blouse. Cliff’s voice suddenly snapped in my memory, “You hyperventilate, you’re fucked. Understood? That’s not an option.”

His lessons on patience didn’t account for this situation. There had to be an opening somewhere. The hunters who maintained this establishment couldn’t possibly account for the sturdiness of every wooden board in such humid conditions. As I paced the gutter, searching for a gap between the top of the wall and the roof, something shiny over the door caught my eye. Months ago, it would have been nothing more than a nameless human gadget. Now, I knew a security camera when I saw one.

I’d flown right past it. Fuck. Fuck!

Darting away to avoid the camera’s eye, I found myself dangerously close to the guards in my beeline to reach the crates piled near the edge of the walkway.

I landed on the boarded ground, certain I was out of the hunters’ and camera’s sight. Perhaps my way inside was lower to the ground, anyway. If I could find a path under the floorboards… I wrinkled my nose at the thought, but I was too desperate to truly care about having to wade through muck.

As I made my careful way around the crates, several creatures moved within. Mysenses clicked. It felt unnervingly similar to what I’d experienced after the car wreck. Muted but there . Swallowing hard, I searched for the source, determined to not be caught off guard.

One of the crates was not a crate at all but a tank of water. The edges were reinforced with bronze. I inched closer to the grimy glass and nearly screamed when a face appeared on the other side. I covered my mouth, eyes wide as the monster and I regarded each other.

A siren .

She looked young. Malnourished. Terrified. And though her eyes were drenched in darkness, eerie in every way, the creature’s expression lit up at the sight of me. Perhaps she thought a meal had wandered into her grasp.

She pressed her hands against the tank. “Mistress. I found you. You’re here.”

I gasped. Her mouth hadn’t moved, but I could hear her voice in my head, clear as day. The sensation reminded me far too much of the Ancients, and that alone tempted me to move on and ignore her. But I stayed rooted in place. Mistress?

“What do you mean you found me?” I breathed.

“They plan to strip my flesh, to steal my bones and scales and blood.” The siren made a mournful humming noise.

A voice roared from above. “Shut the fuck up!” The tank rattled as a hunter on the other side kicked it.

The siren regarded me desperately.

“Free me,” she said in her silent voice.

I shuddered. “You… You drown people,” I whispered. “Innocent people. You eat them.”

The siren shook her head, face twisting into desperation. “My tribe’s creed prevents seeking man prey without provocation. Have mercy, Mistress. I want to go home.”

She might be lying. Or she might not.

But my heart lurched. I saw far too much of myself in her, and I couldn’t stop thinking—who were these hunters protecting through these barbarous torture methods? Who?

I couldn’t stop the first spread of ice that emanated from me. My spellwork webbed up the glass, beginning at the corner and spreading fast. There was a split second when I could have reeled it in, but stars , I couldn’t make myself do it. Instead, I lifted my hands, magic pulsing bright beneath my skin, and let it pour out unchecked. I froze the side of the tank facing me, obscuring my view of the siren. I couldn't see her anymore—just the thick reflection of my own spellwork over the grimy glass.

Even when the crackling ice broke the quiet, drawing a hunter's startled voice, I didn't stop. I couldn't.

I stepped out of the way just before giving a final thrust—a blow that shattered the frozen glass with a deafening crack. Water exploded from the tank. I veered away, but a wave slammed into me and stole my breath, splattering my wings. I landed hard on my back, my view of the sky swimming in doubles. The siren spilled out and clawed into the narrow gap between the walkway and the main building, vanishing into the brackish depths.

Commotion exploded behind me, shouts amounting to “ What the fuck was that? ” ringing out.

I pushed myself up and tried to fly, desperate, groaning—but my wings clung to my wet skin, heavy and sodden. Useless .

A shudder wracked me—painfully aware of how exposed I was as I scrambled for cover on foot. The crates around the shattered tank were shoved aside and nearly smashed into me. I threw myself out of the way, but it wasn't enough. In my desperate dive, I found myself staggering face to face with a hunter scanning the deck—two guns raised. His eyes locked on me.

“Sweet Jesus in Heaven…” A half-burned cigarette fell from his mouth.

“What is it?” a voice demanded from behind him .

“It's—I think it's a fucking fairy! Get the iron!”

He stowed one gun to free his hand and lunged for me.

I was grounded, but I still had my magic. I could survive this. And for once, the moisture in the air was on my side.

I shouted the offensive spell, sending a flurry of razor-sharp icicles behind me as I bolted in the other direction. Pierced flesh squelched, followed by a shout of pain.

As I sprinted, I was struck by the distance to the nearest cluster of trees. Too far . There was no foliage to hide behind—only the open walkway and the unforgiving water dozens of feet below.

I cursed, crashing to my knees as my foot caught on a gap in the old wood. As I scrambled to stand, I heard the front doors fly open. More hunters were coming.

I managed three more steps before a hand caught me around the middle. My wings screamed in agony, crumpled against my back. My ribs threatened to shatter under the tremendous pressure.

“Got it!” It was the cruel voice of the machete-wielding guard, the one who had kicked the siren’s tank.

There was no time to hesitate, to consider mercy. If I didn't act now , I'd die. Somehow, a clarity gripped me despite my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. Rather than pull ice from the air, I focused under the man's skin. Blood vessels froze and shredded within his fingers, his palm, then burst through his skin in pinkened crystals.

His howling curse deafened me as he spiked me back onto the boards.

Fresh agony erupted through me. Every breath hurt. I turned onto my hands and knees and crawled toward the edge of the walkway. I couldn’t run anymore—I needed to jump. Drowning was a kinder fate than being at the hands of hunters, but perhaps I could still save myself. My fingers gripped the edge of a board. If I could freeze the water into the right shape, I could slide down and get under the walkway, race back to the trees on a frozen platform. I could get out of sight—

Amidst the hunter still screaming about his forever-ruined hand, I couldn’t react to another approaching until it was too late.

Something slammed around me.

I tried to draw in a full breath, tried to form the words to shred this hunter's hand, too. I plunged my hand into my pocket for the gem shard. With that added magic, I could go further—I could freeze him solid from the inside out.

But gravity tipped, and I was forced to grit my teeth together to keep from biting my tongue in half. When my world righted itself, I found a small wooden floor beneath me. A clanging sound rattled my senses.

Bars . They had caged me.

As I tried to summon the gem’s magic to free myself, I felt as though my soul was being ripped to shreds. Doubling over, I gasped in agony. The wooden bottom of the cage gritted against my knees. The enchanted cold on my skin was gone, snuffed out like a choked flame.

The world blurred. With each attempted spell, I felt emptier. I reached for the bars but stopped short when I became aware of the crackling heat billowing from it.

Iron.