Page 5 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)

It was a painful rush, a biting sting over every inch of me, a sinking inside of my clothes.

Then there was just the world through different eyes.

Too small and quick. The filthy ground too close, reduced to a blur as my small limbs burnt with exertion across the uneven terrain, following that vague scent.

The ghost of a memory loomed as I plunged through the sharp stone ruins, small claws racing over damp wood and shattered glass, frigid puddle water biting into my fur.

The screeching howl of the forsaken monsters haunting this place echoed around me, but I ignored that danger, nose twitching.

The scent grew stronger and stronger, leading me through a maze of destruction and towards a trapdoor at the back of a dilapidated house.

A rusted chain curled around the handles.

Wooden planks had collapsed across it, blocking the way as weeds tangled with brambles.

There was a crack in those doors, a hole just big enough. One I rushed for.

Then I was falling.

I felt the air open up – and then I changed.

The stinging rush returned as my bare feet landed on damp wood, the impact jarring my knees enough to force me into a crouch.

Bitter, dead air licked up my naked back, making spikes cut through the ridge of my spine in defence.

I panted, breath misting before me in the moonlight, looking into the shadows only to find a face looking back.

A scream caught in my throat as I jerked backwards into a shelf, the jars rattling against my bare shoulder blades.

Dust danced in the needle-thin streams of weak light.

The remains of a withered corpse coated in dust sat behind the desk opposite me, cobwebs woven between the gaps in his grey teeth.

The mangled face still screamed out in agony as the head hung oddly off its shoulders.

The trader.

I looked down at the shattered jars at his feet, the luminescent glow still clinging to the murky glass. Poison. Jars he’d kept to deter thieves.

Killed by his own bounty.

Good. It was what he deserved. My eyes fell to the battered, dusty leather coat holding his bones together. I pulled it from the tangle of his remains without hesitation until a thick plume of dust filled the air, making me choke and spit.

I shuddered, pulling on the coat and ignoring the stench of decay as I knotted the belt. The old leather creaked in protest. I brought my balled fists to my lips, trying to warm my numb fingers with my short, panicked breaths. Looking up at the low beams, the webs tangled between them.

How small this space seemed now. How forgotten. I’d stood here before. Tired and hungry. Aching from another beating. The thick hand of my Keeper on my shoulder. The sweat-and-ale stench of him.

Now a scuttling from the darkness made my ears prick. Then I smelt the matted fur and filth. Faeces and rotting meat.

Another beast. Its beady eyes gleamed as it hissed from the hole it had gnawed into the wall, small furry body trembling with the urge to attack – to guard its territory.

There was a sharp ache in my jaw before I bared long, sharp teeth, a horrid growl tearing from my throat. The creature’s ears flattened as it sank back into its hiding place beneath the rotten boards and I jolted towards the shelves amidst rows and rows of dusty bottles and jars.

It was here. It was all still here.

A horrid weak sob burst through my lips. My clawed fingers dug into the soft rotting wood as a deranged, choked laugh escaped my lips.

‘I did it, Kat,’ I whispered.

A creaking of wood and a thump above made my hackles rise, turning me towards the remains of a crooked wooden set of stairs leading out of the basement.

‘ Alma ,’ a hissed curse, muffled, from somewhere above along with the scrape and drag of wood being moved off the trapdoor.

I used my cat-like sight to avoid the shattered glass hidden beneath the dust that carpeted the bare wooden boards.

‘I’m here,’ I coughed in response, scrambling up the rickety wooden stairs that led to the trapdoor, listening to them creak beneath my weight. Dust streamed down, burning my eyes as I heard the drag of chain against wood. ‘It’s chained this side.’

I squinted, the knot of metal above me a rusted mess where it was tangled around the handles.

It was heavy as I unwound it and let it pool at my bare feet.

Then came the stiff bolt. I slammed the heel of my palm against it three times.

Hard enough to bruise but it did the trick.

Then the door was thrown open with a crash, bright moonlight making me wince and move down a step.

The imposing form of Emrys was waiting, blocking out the light in an instant. Effortlessly, he dropped into the opening. Dark blood stained the cuffs of his shirt, a splatter marring the side of his throat. I could smell the foulness of it, as well as the rich potency of forsaken bark.

He gave me a quick, irritated assessment. Determining I was all in one piece, he sheathed his blade with one sharp motion back into his coat.

I waited for the reprimand, getting my fangs ready to bare at him. Only for him to duck past me down the narrow wooden steps and into the dark.

I didn’t have a moment to school my emotions before Thean followed Emrys with a grimace.

‘Wonderful,’ they sighed, taking in their surroundings with mildly contained disgust, that sharp predatory gaze landing on the now crumpled remains of the trader slumped in the corner. ‘A corpse.’

They dropped something at my feet, making me take another step down, only to realise it was my boots, my dress hanging carefully over their arm.

The voyav’s gaze remained stuck on the trader, the smooth beauty of their feminine face making it hard to determine if it was in anger or boredom.

I made quick work of tugging on my boots, not bothering with the laces.

‘There were jars of murgal worm venom. They must have shattered in the storm. He wouldn’t have stood a chance with—’ The words caught in my throat as I felt a gentle tug at my hair, only to see the voyav pull back their hand, a grey tangle of dusty webs caught in their fingers that they let drop in the damp air between us.

‘Murgal worm venom.’ They gave an irritated sigh, folding their arms and moving their focus to the shadowed form of Emrys investigating the darkness. ‘That isn’t alarming to anyone else?’

I ignored them. Especially their helpfulness in bringing my boots. It wasn’t kindness – my feet bleeding all over the place would only alert those dark scavengers. I moved after Emrys as he scanned the rows and rows of shelves in the endless dark.

‘The more valuable samples should be over there.’ I nodded to the back shelves strung with cobwebs.

He gave the barest nod before vanishing into another row of shelves, the clinking of glass echoing back the only evidence he’d begun his search.

I moved to the other side. Knowing that even if the ravhorn sample hadn’t survived – something would be here. Something useful. It had to be.

I tried to sniff it out, to depend on the beasts in my blood, but the scent of decay was overwhelming. Mingling together like an itch inside my nose. Frustration made a growl rumble in my throat.

Thieves’ instincts took over as I rummaged desperately, fingers tangling with thick dust webs.

Labels curled and cracked with time on the murky bottles, flaking away from the glass with the barest motion.

It was hard to read but I let the feral urges in my blood guide me.

Anything that sparked hunger in my fingertips.

I grabbed the small vials and pushed them deep into the trader’s coat pocket – extracts of herbs and scales I didn’t recognise.

But they’d survived this long, the glass that encased them practically vibrating with the magic they still contained, so they were coming with me.

They shouldn’t be left to rot here. Shouldn’t be forgotten.

Nor the creatures whose suffering they evidenced.

I was restless with my search, scales and fur rippling across my hands with irritation before a distant scream pierced the air.

Wild and savage. Making my clawed fingers dig into the wood of the shelf.

Pausing my plunder for the barest moment.

One of those creatures had clearly discovered whatever Emrys had done to its companion.

‘We don’t have long,’ Thean observed dryly, hand moving to one of the shadow blades sheathed at their belt as those amber eyes remained on the trapdoor.

If anything caught us here, there was no way out.

Yet, fear didn’t accompany that thought. Not with the voyav standing there. Drenched in silver light. Reminding me of a knight from one of the ancient tales Kat used to tell to chase away the nightmares.

No. Not a knight. They were a rebel – and they were here for their own cause. One I was certain had nothing to do with valour.

Scales rippled across the back of my hand, aggravated by my dallying, wanting to fill my palm.

Hungry. I followed the sensation into another row of shelves where larger vials sat, their corks more expensive, the wax seals blood-red in warning.

One was covered in a dark film of dust, untouched longer than all the others. Right at the back.

Mortals do not play with what they fear. No, because cowardice was in their blood. Bred into them by the first who had come to these lands. By their bastard sacred saint.

I ran my thumb over the label, the uneven crumbling mess of what remained of the parchment.

Trying to make my eyes focus. Trying to see the letters.

To understand them. Only the longer I focused, the more the ink moved.

Blurring and dancing into the cracks in the paper.

Mocking me. The specs of gold and silver like winking stars in a night sky from where they threaded through what remained of the ancient scales contained within.

‘Alma?’ Emrys asked, suddenly at my shoulder. The forsaken bark scent of him was too hard to miss, stinging my nose with its potency. It should have been my first clue he was fucking Verr, and didn’t just have a strange preference for poisonous bark as cologne.

My unsteady clawed hand offered it to him. Too afraid to even breathe, never mind hope this could have worked, that I could have fixed anything.

‘What does it say?’ I demanded, swallowing down the taste of dust and decay. Trying to calm the thunderous beat of my traitorous heart, so alive with hope.

‘ Velnock ,’ he answered, a softness to his voice. The ancient Verr tongue sent unease rolling through me. His eyes were suddenly the lightest shade of grey. That darkness in him abating for a moment. ‘The ravhorn.’

I’d found it.