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CHAPTER SIX

A va shook her head.

This wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t. Genocide? Ripping worlds apart? A book that couldn’t open, filled with all the magic spells that would ever exist, that she couldn’t even use?

This was too much.

“One of you abducts me. Another one tries to eat my eyes. And now?—”

“One saves your life,” Nos interjected, motioning to Ibin.

“And you are a massive dick, and not doing anything to throw the curve here, pal,” Ava snapped at him. “I get it. I do. You’re frustrated. I’m an interloper, and if Serrik was right and this thing here is going to get me hunted by who-the-hell-knows-what—” She pointed down at the book angrily. “Then I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either. But you need to step the fuck off. I’m not your enemy.”

“Yet.” Nos turned to face her, glowering at her with his mismatched eyes. “How long before you decide we are your enemy, and you side with the bastard in his quest to destroy us all?”

“How long before you give me a reason to?” Christ, she wanted to smack him. “Because you’re doing a real damn good job so far.”

“Both of you, stop, stop.” Ibin waved her hands. “Please. Friend?—”

“Ava.” She realized they didn’t know her name. “It’s Ava.”

“Ava,” Ibin repeated. “You’re tired. Soaked to the bone. At your wits’ end. And as loathe as I am to put you in a position where he can talk to you again, things will look better in the morning when you’ve been able to rest.”

Yeah. Right. Whatever.

Sleep did sound good. Even if it did probably mean more Serrik.

And getting out of the soaked and terrible clothing she was wearing did sound fantastic.

“And maybe by the time you wake up?” Ibin fixed a withering stare at her companion. “I will have convinced my friend here that we need to do a better job of convincing you why slaughtering us all isn’t the best course of action going forward.”

Nos grunted and turned to the fire, leaning an arm against the mantle of the fireplace.

Ava was sorely tempted to ask what crawled up his ass and died, then to ask that if he even knew if it was his original ass or not, but she decided that purposefully provoking the man was probably not a good idea.

She might be immortal. But she could still suffer. And she had to remember that.

“Before I have to break up a fist fight.” Ibin picked up the tray of food and carried it down a hallway. “This way, Ava.”

Shaking her head and not bothering at all to say goodnight to Nos, she followed after the tall, graceful fae. Ibin guided her down a narrower hallway that screamed English Victorian. Paneled walls, deep crimson damask wallpaper, and gas lamps all turned low.

Ibin balanced the tray on her hip and opened up a dark wooden door. It led to a small side room that looked like it had been cobbled together from pieces of a dozen different architectural nightmares.

Ava laughed without meaning to.

Ibin glanced at her with an arched eyebrow.

“Sorry.” She smiled, waving a hand in embarrassment. “It’s cozy. I swear.” The walls were a patchwork of stone, wood, and what might have been bits of dried…rice paper…in some places? A bed sat in the corner, or at least—she assumed it was meant to be a bed. It was a nest of blankets, furs, and dozens of scarves.

A fireplace against the wall matched none of the rest of anything else. It looked mid-century modern, somehow. Which was garishly offset with the nonsense of everything else. But like all the places in this weird hell she’d found herself trapped in, it was overgrown with vegetation. One corner of the room was a tree that had overtaken the ceiling, its branches serving to support the small chandelier that hung down in the middle of the room.

“The Web is…unpredictable. At best.” Ibin sounded unamused. She set the tray down on a table by the fireplace. It didn’t match either the fireplace or the chair it sat next to. “We make do with its moods.”

“Moods.” She had a feeling that the fae wasn’t being hyperbolic.

Apparently, she wasn’t going to explain. “In the wardrobe there, you should find clean clothes. I have no idea what will fit you, apologies.” Ibin gestured to the overly elegant looking thing that was slowly being swallowed by the bark of the tree that was consuming it like living lava.

A scene from Beauty and the Beast ran through her head. “As long as it doesn’t talk.”

Ibin scratched her head, eying the wardrobe with a very serious expression. “It shouldn’t? Well. I’ll say that it has yet to. I suppose that doesn’t mean much around here.”

That got a tired, sad laugh out of Ava. “Oh my god.” She put her head in her hands. “What the fuck is wrong with my life…”

“A great deal, I’m afraid.” Ibin drew her into another gentle hug. Ava just accepted the comfort for what it was.

“I’d say I just wanted to go home, but.”

“This is your home now. The Web.” Ibin smiled down at her, trying now to honestly cheer her up. “There is happiness to be found here, I promise you that. Your future doesn’t need to be all doom and gloom. You can find friendship. Family. Even love, perhaps.” Ibin placed her palm to Ava’s cheek. “All looks dark now. But stay hopeful.”

“I have no idea how you can say that.”

“Honey, I fought in the Great War.” Ibin barked a laugh. “Once you’ve flown one of those biplane deathtraps, everything looks stellar , believe me.”

“The great—” Ava blinked. “You mean World War I?”

It was Ibin’s turn to look surprised. “There’s been more than one?”

“I mean—yeah—just, well—two, at least so far—how long have you been here?” She suddenly realized she had no idea how old these creatures were. She knew they were old. But no clue how old.

“1916? No. Wait. 1917. Let’s start with this.” Ibin grinned. “What year is it now?”

“2025.”

“Well, fuck me silly—” The fae cackled. “Bah. I should let you eat, take a bath, and change. The bath is through there. And no, before you ask, it doesn’t talk. And it won’t eat you. Probably.”

“Probably,” Ava repeated flatly.

“Best I can do, darling.” Ibin headed for the door. “And…I know he will talk to you in your sleep. I just…ask that you avoid any contracts with him. Give us a chance to convince you we deserve to live before you commit us all to the grave, yes?”

She wasn’t sure Serrik was going to give her a choice. He didn’t seem like the type. And she also knew she shouldn’t be promising Ibin and Nos anything, either. So she didn’t do either, she just…stated the facts. “I don’t trust him. He’s the reason I’m here.”

“Wonderful.” Ibin sounded so chipper about it. “Sleep well, love!” And with that, she shut the door and was gone.

Ava heaved out a long, heavy sigh.

The room was warm. And quiet, save for the chirp of crickets. It was the first moment she’d had in a long time that she wasn’t under constant fire. Taking her bag off her back, she went to put it down by the bed-nest-pile, and?—

The book was on the bed-nest-pile. “Oh, fuck you.” She glared at it. “You’re the other reason I’m in this mess!” She debated throwing it into the fire, but she knew it wasn’t going to do any good.

Stupid thing.

Grumbling, she opened her bag. All of the clothing she had recklessly crammed inside was also soaked through. Taking it out, she laid them all on the floor by the fire to dry. The really gnarly things she hung up on the branches of the tree.

Next, she went to the wardrobe. First, she poked it with her foot. Then, she carefully—and very reluctantly—opened the door. She jumped back, just in case something came flying out at her.

Nothing. Just clothes. Like hell she trusted it. Waiting the entire time for something to leap out at her, she managed to find something to wear that wasn’t…horrifically embarrassing. At least it was something to sleep in. It was a long, unbleached linen chemise that looked like it was meant to go under something from the Renaissance era. It laced up in the front and went down to just under her knees.

But it was dry. And it meant she wouldn’t have to sleep naked. And while she was asleep, hopefully her actual clothes would dry. Shutting the wardrobe—in case something woke up and crawled out of it—she headed into the bathroom.

The bathroom was another architectural fever dream. Tiles that seemed to shift colors. A bathtub that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of stone—or maybe a fossilized tree. Steam rose from the water, and it looked glorious.

Yeah. She was freezing. Peeling off her wet clothes, she slipped into the hot water and washed her hair with the soap she found. It felt amazing. Feeling like everything was just one step towards something a little more normal, she climbed out of the tub and pulled the cork from the drain.

Drying off with the towel she found beside the tub, she pulled the linen chemise over her head and rolled up the sleeves. It wasn’t nearly as scratchy as she worried it would be.

The exhaustion hit her all in a wave as she looked at herself in the mirror that was more tree and branches than it was the silvered glass that had once been mounted to the wall.

She looked so damn tired.

And she was.

If Ibin and Nos were telling the truth, Serrik wanted to murder all the fae. She could barely even wrap her head around what that meant. She’d only met…four. One of them was a douchebag, one of them had gotten her into this mess, one of them seemed nice, and the last one had tried to eat her eyes.

Not exactly a stellar set of percentages.

But that didn’t mean it was a statistical average.

What business did she have, deciding the fate of an entire race?

She was so far over her head it was ridiculous.

Lowering her head, she let out another heavy sigh. There was no escaping sleep. And she needed it.

But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to escape him, either. Serrik was coming for her the moment she shut her eyes.

Ava climbed into the nest-bed-pile, which seemed to breathe and shift around her. Great. She really hoped it wasn’t alive. Or sentient. Or both.

She pulled the blankets—which definitely included at least three scarves and what might have been a map from some forgotten century that was made out of leather—around her. The room was warm, but a chill ran through her that had nothing to do with temperature. Ducking her head, she pulled one of the actual blankets up closer around her.

Something was coming. Of course it was. Stupidly, she kind of hoped it was Serrik. If only because at least she had met him already. “I swear to god,” she muttered into the darkness. “If something shows up to give me a hard time that’s new, I’m going to lose my mind. You all can get me a deli ticket machine and just take a fucking number.”

The tree overhead seemed to rustle. Not with wind. With something else.

Something listening.

“And now, I’m talking to a tree. This is my life now.”

The branches didn’t answer. Which was, honestly, a relief.

Her mind kept cycling through the day’s events. Fae trying to eat her eyes.

Magical books. Immortality. A web of supernatural politics that made corporate boardroom drama look like a kindergarten squabble.

Ibin’s parting words echoed. Give us a chance to convince you we deserve to live.

As if her opinion could somehow determine the fate of an entire supernatural race.

“No pressure,” she whispered.

The room seemed to settle around her. The crickets outside continued their song, but now it felt…deliberate somehow. It was music. Lulling her to sleep. And damn it all, it was working.

Her eyes grew heavy. The branches overhead created strange shadows that danced between reality and something else. Between memory and possibility.

She was so tired.

So very, very tired.

Just before sleep claimed her completely, a whisper—like wind through dead leaves—brushed against her consciousness. Someone she didn’t know.

A woman’s voice.

We’ll talk soon, Ava.

And then, darkness.