Page 17

Destination Unknown

F or one brief moment last night, I’d thought he was going to kiss me. And the dumb part is—I would have let him.

God, I wanted that kiss. I’ve never experienced desire before, but I craved the taste of him, the feel of his hands on my body. My fingers burned with the need to trace the tattoos on his skin, to lie down and…

Ugh. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.

In hindsight, it’s definitely for the best that he backed off. Because while he has saved my life, I don’t entirely trust Khaosti. However much I want to. And I do want to, because despite my doubts, something in Khaosti calls to me. It’s probably his wolf, not him. I’ve always had an affinity for animals.

He’s conflicted about something. One moment he seems drawn to me, the next he’s pushing me away. And if the shit hits the fan, I’m not sure which side he will land on.

On a positive note, at least he opened up a little. I learned a little about this world and Lucifer, and now I know where we’re going—Zandar Aurion. I roll the name through my mind, but it means nothing.

It took me a long time to fall asleep, but I finally drifted off with Khaosti’s face in my mind. And I dreamed of wolves. Or one wolf, anyway.

I’m not sure what wakes me. I roll onto my back and blink to clear my vision. Dim light is seeping around the edge of the curtains—at a guess it’s early morning.

The events of yesterday play like a slideshow through my mind, stranger than anything I could have ever imagined—werewolves and witches and God knows what else. And Lucifer’s Mirror, which I’m apparently supposed to find. Hard to do when I have no freaking clue what it is. Never mind where it is. It occurs to me that it’s probably a mirror like the one that brought us to this world. But I don’t even want to think about where Lucifer’s Mirror might take me if I was ever stupid enough to jump through it.

But who is Lucifer? Khaosti said that no one knows where he came from.

Why do I have to be the one to find this mirror?

And if I do succeed—what happens next?

At the back of all the thoughts swirling in my head is the knowledge that I’m maybe close to finding the answers. Maybe. This crone must know something or else why would Khaosti’s brother have told him to take me to her? She has to know.

A door slams somewhere in the house. I’m not the only one awake. Then a low murmur—I can’t make out the words—followed by more words, this time much louder.

“How the fuck do you think I feel? Fan-fucking-tastic. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Zayne doesn’t sound happy. What happened to him last night? Khaosti said he was okay, but obviously something has gone wrong.

Then a fist bangs on my door. “We’re leaving in five minutes,” Khaosti says from the other side.

He’s got to be kidding.

I slowly sit up. I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller.

Another bang on the door. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” I mutter.

“If you want some food before we leave, I suggest you move quickly.”

I pull a face at the door but swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. I find my boots and pull them on, then head for the door. I make a quick detour to the bathroom but avoid looking in the mirror.

In the kitchen, Khaosti and Zayne are sitting opposite each other in stony silence. I glance between the two of them. Khaosti looks seriously gorgeous as always. Zayne looks… not happy. His expression is sullen; his lower lip juts out, and his eyes are narrowed. But physically, he appears fine. Better than fine; his skin has a healthy glow, and his eyes are clear.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I take the seat next to him.

He grunts in answer—I’m not sure if it’s a positive or negative grunt. I flick a look at Khaosti and raise my brows, but he ignores my silent question. Thankfully, at that moment, Brown appears with a tray of food.

The smell of warm bread wafts in my direction, and there’s butter, cheese, and thick slabs of potato and onion omelet. I help myself and pour a cup of what I presume is tea from the big pot in the middle of the table. I tuck in and only glance up again when my plate is empty. Khaosti is sitting back in his seat, watching me out of half-closed eyes. Again. I wish he’d stop that.

Zayne is eating as well; whatever is stuck up his ass is not affecting his appetite.

“So we’re going to this city, Zandar Aurion. How far is it?”

“Eighty miles, more or less. Two days away. I hope.”

I groan as I imagine my aching legs after another forty miles. Besides, I’m really not sure I can walk that far in a day, but it’s not as though I have a better plan. At least I now have a chance to get some answers. Excitement fizzes through my blood. Suddenly, I’m eager to get going. I jump to my feet and look expectantly at the other two.

“Well? What are we waiting for?”

Zayne scowls, but Khaosti gets to his feet. “Nothing.” He sounds slightly amused. “Let’s go.”

I march to the open front door and step outside… Then I come to an immediate halt.

Horses.

Three of them. Brown is holding their reins.

“We’re riding?” I ask.

“Unless you’d rather run along behind us,” Khaosti replies.

“I don’t know how to ride.” At least, I don’t think I do. I certainly haven’t sat on a horse in the last three years, and I’m pretty sure Zayne’s never been near a horse. At least, not while I’ve known him. Except he’s already approaching them.

They’re all black—one with a white star on its forehead, one with a white sock, and the last with no markings at all. They’re beautiful, their coats glossy, their dark eyes watchful. Zayne runs his hand down the neck of the closest—with the white sock—and murmurs something quietly. He looks happier than he has since this whole thing started.

“You can ride?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I grew up in the country. I worked at a stable for a while.”

“Cool.”

Khaosti takes the reins of the horse with the white star and leads her toward me. She’s beautiful, and I hold my hand out to her. She snuffles me with her warm nose.

“Her name is Stella,” Brown says.

“Hello, Stella. Is it okay if I ride on your back?”

Khaosti shakes his head, but the horse nickers a soft reply.

“Up you get,” Khaosti says.

The saddle looks a long way up. I stare at it as I work out what I’m supposed to do.

“You need a leg up?” Zayne asks.

Maybe. Probably. I put my foot in the stirrup and my hand on the front of the saddle, then push myself up, swinging my leg over Stella’s back. As my body settles onto the leather, I know that I’ve ridden before. Somewhere. This feels so right. I suspect I have a mad grin on my face.

“I can ride,” I say. “I’ve ridden before.”

Khaosti raises an eyebrow but hands me the reins, and I know instinctively how to hold them.

I sit relaxed as Zayne swings himself easily into the saddle, then Khaosti, and it looks like we’re ready to go.

Khaosti leads the way on his big black stallion. I also notice he’s got a sword in a scabbard attached to his saddle. I want a sword—or maybe not. I fall in behind him and Zayne brings up the rear. I glance back over my shoulder. “Thanks, Brown. You’re the best.” Or at least as good as the other Brown. I’ve got to ask Khaos what’s with that.

The house is in a clearing, but within minutes, we’re back in the forest. In the bright morning sun, the woods don’t feel anywhere near as menacing as they did last night, but there’s no real path, and we have to wind our way through the dense trees. At least it’s cool under the thick canopy. There’s a deep carpet of leaves and moss on the ground muffling the horses’ footfalls, and everything is quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind whispers through the canopy above our heads.

Stella feels sure-footed, picking her way easily through the forest, occasionally stepping over a fallen limb. I duck under a low branch and then hear Zayne swear behind me. Clearly, he wasn’t paying attention.

After about an hour, the trees start to thin, and the sunlight reaches down between them to warm me. The horses are moving easier now, and we make better time. Finally, we come to the end of the forest. Beyond the trees lies an open expanse of rolling countryside. There’s not a tree in sight, just a smooth carpet of green grass. Stella’s ears prick, and her muscles tighten.

In front of me, Khaosti glances back briefly, then his horse bounds forward, and we’re off. I don’t try to hold Stella back but just lean over her glossy neck and let her run. It’s the best feeling ever—the power and speed, the sun on my back, the wind on my face. I throw back my head and laugh. Whatever happens next, this was worth it. For the first time in three years, I feel… free. And for a while, I forget everything—or rather, I forget that I’ve forgotten everything—and just live in the moment.

By the time Khaosti pulls up his horse, we’ve left the forest far behind. Stella is breathing hard, and her coat gleams with sweat. Up ahead, Khaosti swings off his horse and loosens the girth of the saddle. I do the same, and behind me, Zayne copies our actions.

We lead the horses for a while, letting them rest, but we get back on when we reach a wide, slow-moving river. The horses splash and drink as we cross, and I cling to the saddle as Stella clambers up the opposite bank. We must have been going for a few hours now.

On the other side of the river, we stop for a while and let the horses graze. I think about asking Khaosti some of the questions that have been piling up in my mind, but I’m feeling too happy—not an emotion I’m familiar with—to spoil it with questions when I suspect I might not like the answers. If I even get any, that is. This is a time-out. Then we’re back on, but we walk for a while; there’s still a long way to go. After another hour or so, Khaosti hands us both chunks of crusty bread filled with cheese, and I eat as I ride.

After a few more hours in the saddle, my ass starts to ache.

“Shit, my balls hurt,” Zayne mutters from behind me, and I snigger.

We get off again and lead our mounts for a while to stretch our legs as much as to rest the horses.

Then we’re back on, and it feels like the day will never end. I have no idea how far we’ve come or how much farther Khaosti plans to go today.

I’m guessing—too far.