Page 187 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

Alec opens the wood and glass door, leading us inside. We enter into an antechamber, the area lit bright with flicker lights to illuminate the walls of endless windows, giving viewers an opportunity to see the wares being created.

The building is filled with hammers falling; the roll of a printing press and the following rustle of finished pages; endless glass tinkling; the soft whoosh of brushes. We only pause momentarily at each window before working towards the single door at the end of the hall. Next to the door is an interior window covered with a paisley print curtain.

As I grip the cool brass door knob, a shot of excitement from Alec barrels down our bond, turning my own giddy. My bright eyes watch him as I turn the knob. He nods at me once before I push it open.

I’m immediately hit with overwhelming scents.

The air is laced with florals, spices, and freshest cottons. With each inhale my senses are invaded with new layers. There’s lemons, pines, and sea air. On another, I’m flooded with cinnamon and crisp apples. Petunias and roasted nuts. Underneath the tones of endless candles sitting in glass jars on rows of wooden shelves is a distinctly gamey, animal smell.

A softhootfloats down from the ceiling, and I glance up to find its source.

Along the ceiling runs wooden rafters perched with endless creatures of varying size, colors, and shapes. In all my time spent in Crane Hills, I have never been to this particular artists’ quarters. Alec’s mother let her parents space go to another long before I was born. I had asked him to show me some of the creatures he had seen in this shop, but he refused, saying it’s better in person.

I’m glad that he made me wait.

A strange, bird-like creature emits the same hooting noise that made me look up, and I inspect it as well as I can from the ground. As if it senses my curiosity, it floats down towards me and lands on my arm. The other creatures on the rafters and dispersed around the shop chitter and purr while soft feathers ruffle and claws scratch against the stone floor.

The creature on my arm resembles a great owl but is a bright, cerulean blue. Instead of clawed feet, it has three tail-like appendages with fur that wrap themselves around my arm twice in a feather soft grip. It has two small horns, like pink crystals, and three depthless, soulful, black eyes that bore into me.

My mouth and eyes widen, and Alec chuckles beside me.

I look around at all of the equally strange creatures. “Is this a candle shop or some kind of strange menagerie?”

The creature on my arm hoots again and snaps its pink beak playfully.

Just then we hear shuffling near the counter of the shop and turn towards the source. Alec and I turn back to each other with mirrored frowns after seeing the man.

The candle maker has short, orangey-red hair parted to the side exaggeratedly—the same from Alec’s memories and my vision. The same matching handlebar mustache. He wears the same purple satin shirt with velvet, emerald green suspenders and matching bow tie.

But otherwise, we don’t see the short, portly, older man we expected. Instead we are greeted by a male at least seven feet tall, stacked with muscles, and appearing to be very much in his prime. His skin and overall aura exudes an otherworldly shimmer, and a delicate point at the tip of his ears sits on top of his bright hair.

The candle maker studies a book of ledgers.

“Now, now, Roxie. Don’t be trying to frighten away any shoppers,” he chides before looking up to see Alec and I staring at him.

His gaze darts between us, drinking us in, then trails to the staff at my back. His eyes go wide as he breaks into a happy smile—his sharp, elongated canines visible with his catlike grin.

“Oh,” he says, gleeful surprise etched across his face. “So, the great game has finally begun.”

EPILOGUE

LOCANE

Iwait in this godsforsaken cell staring through the bars.

Hot desert sand hisses as it seeps through holes in the walls, adding to the miserable, dry heat of the air. Dry grit coats my nasal passages. My skin is cold and sickly against the shackles of iron around my wrists, ankles, and the suffocating collar around my neck.

Straining, I pull my muscles tight—trying to give my withering skin any distance from the draining metal keeping me in a constant state of nausea and emptiness. My tongue feels as if an icy hole is being burned through it with the iron gag in my mouth.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. There’s no window to the sky outside to count days or nights. I only know it’s been too long.

Rahleigh nearly failed with the blood magic she used on the group of guards keeping watch over me. The dark pull took one so strongly, he stayed behind while the others left, muttering incoherently about destiny as he tried to free me. He refused to leave and got caught, leaving no mystery to the motivations of the ones who had disappeared. One guard relayed a message from Rahleigh before he left, saying that she was coming.

She still hasn’t come.

I can only hope she used some of my blood stored away to temporarily tap into my gift to control them, rather than succumbing to the pull to taste Alec’s instead.

Bubbling anger wells in my gut. I stare through these fucking bars, stifling me as fiercely as the irons that hold me.