Page 13

Sav

T raining was painful. Not literally. It was painful to watch.

How humans became so populous confounded me.

Cat lady, that’s what I’d taken to calling her, would be dead in her first actual fight.

Of that, I had no doubt. The couple—I named them Hansel and Gretel because they actually looked related—obviously hadn’t lifted a sword a day in their lives and came away with bruises even though they were using wooden practice bats.

A man whom I assumed had lost a family member and blamed the fae for it—I didn’t have a name for him yet—was the only decent fighter in the bunch, and he was too afraid to hurt anyone.

That left Jackie O. I named her that because her attachment to her pearls reminded me of the late Jackie O who had weaseled a string of enchanted pearls out of the grasp of the former winter court prince.

The prince must not have told her that all fae bargains required payment because she’d looked devastated when payment was collected.

The cost? Her husband’s life. My Jackie O fought like she had someone to kill for, but her ferocity was no match for a lifetime of sedentary behavior, and try as she might, she was no knight.

It was a sad bunch, but did they need skill when we were unable to harm them?

After weapons training, we had lunch. My gaze roved over mundane human faces, searching for the one that stood out among the crowd. I needed those keys, but Jack was nowhere to be found.

The rest of the day, we watched more brainwashing videos, toured the building, and crammed into the makeshift dining hall for another horrid evening meal.

The surrounding humans looked exhausted and the steady drain from the iron around my ankles left me feeling zapped as well, so it took little effort to imitate their fatigue.

I yawned loudly, earning a few glances from those who had been avoiding my presence.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped. I really must be losing it to allow someone to sneak up on me. I turned, peering up at Dane.

He smiled that artificial smile I had come to recognize as his pontification smile. I glowered back. No amount of acting could have prepared me to fake sweetness with this man after a long day of bullshit.

“You look tired, Sally.” His tone suggested he didn’t care one bit. “But I have another task for you tonight before bed. Come with me.” He stepped back, waiting for me to rise.

I stood and made a show of fumbling with my chains before extricating myself from the bench.

His smile never wavered as he turned and walked to the side exit, and as I followed, the three little pigs fell into step beside me.

Their jeering faces left a queasy feeling in my stomach.

We exited the building onto the same street we’d entered from the night before, but this time, we came out farther down the alley and were immediately at ground level.

I marked my surroundings, looking for other entry and exit points as we made our way to the main thoroughfare.

New York was always crowded, but if the humans passing us thought it was strange that a lone female in chains was being escorted by four men, they didn’t show it.

Not one passerby stopped to give aid or check on my well-being.

And I looked like a human, for fuck’s sake.

We turned again, and as I feared, we were headed back to Central Park.

Plumes of black smoke wafted into the air, blocking out the night sky and all the stars with it.

My stomach flipped as the reason for this trip became clear.

Stationed in front of the billowing charcoal cloud were three forms, shackled and staked to the ground.

The first was a goblin. At least eight feet tall and slick with his own green blood, he looked as though all the fight had been bled from him.

He swayed, his labored breathing audible from across the park and his unfocused eyes told me the iron shackles protruding from each arm were having the desired effect.

The next, a pixie with a wing bent at an odd angle, was no longer crying and that broke me more than her tears had.

I struggled to stifle my protest.

Dane’s hawklike gaze zeroed in on my face, and I put three-hundred years of fae court training to work as I schooled my expression into neutral disinterest, swallowing down the anger roiling in my gut.

The last was a satyr with sandy blonde hair, but she was too bloody to make out any discernible features. The world skidded to a halt as my blood froze in my veins. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew. I knew with every ounce of my being it was Juniper.

As we moved, the three little pigs tightened their circle around me, and Jim gripped my biceps.

I fought his hold.

Dane gave a shake of his head, and the grip loosened. To me Dane said, “the best way to overcome a perversion is to rid yourself of the temptation.”

A lump rose in my throat as my gaze shifted from the scene before me to Dane.

Holding a microphone to his lips, Dane said to a gathering crowd stopping on the street: “We have a demonstration for you.” At his projected words, more stopped to watch. “Yesterday, we stood up for humanity.” He paused. “Tonight, we show you that the thing you fear can bleed.”

Without preamble, he produced a knife from under his jacket and sliced across the front of the large goblin’s pecs. Green spilled down his chest in a thick line and he roared, swiping blindly at Dane.

Dane easily dodged the swing.

“You see,” Dane said to the audience. “They look fierce, but they bleed just as we do.” He stepped closer, slicing again.

Deeper this time. The goblin howled in agony.

He moved behind him and swiped across his ankles.

“When you get them on their knees,” he shouted as the creature dropped. “You realize they aren’t so tough.”

My blood ran cold at the sick delight in his eyes.

The crowd closed in, their gasps of surprise changing to righteous outrage.

Shouts of: “Finish him,” and “Kill him, Dane,” rose and my stomach roiled again, threatening to spill my dinner at my feet.

Although goblins were strong, their capacity for healing was severely diminished by iron, more so than any other fae-kind.

In sick fascination, I wondered if Dane knew that and selected this creature for that very reason.

Dane circled around the slouching goblin, slicing his ear cleanly across the top, removing the point. The crowd cheered and bile climbed up my throat.

The goblin bellowed a mournful cry, reaching for his ear, but the chains jutting from each arm just above the wrist did not have enough give for the reach. He whimpered and my heart fractured, crumbling to bits in my chest.

The crowd was growing more frenzied, and they elbowed each other for space for a better look at the wounded creature. More people stepped out of their homes and off the street to watch. Phones raised as humans recorded Dane’s show and the goblin’s end.

I yanked against Jim’s grip, but a second arm closed around mine and dirty nails dug in, holding me still.

Dane stepped back, letting the growing mob take his place and too late, I realized his plan.

A vile grin twisted his lips as they grabbed the pixie’s cage, and she was tossed between them.

The small creature banged against the bars, her wings destroyed, her skin popping and sizzling each time she crashed against the cage bars.

“Stop,” I breathed, wrenching my arm from Jim’s clammy grip. I fought the crowd to get to the fae being tortured by this mob.

Brian, Jim and Oliver tried to stop me, but I had ducked into the melee, and they were too large to squeeze in after me.

Shackles slowed me down, but I dodged between sweaty bodies, moving out of their reach.

The little pixie was far into the mob now and I could see between pushes and shoves that the goblin was not moving on the ground.

I dashed for the satyr, sinking down beside her. “No, no. Juniper.”

She wasn’t moving and dirty shoe prints covered her back. The press of sweaty bodies crashed into us in their frenzied attempts to kick or punch the goblin. Madness had taken them, and their bloodlust would not be sated for long. Soon, their attention would fall on Juniper.

I dragged my shirt over my head and wrapped it around the stake, pinning her chains to the ground.

I yanked it free, exhaling a breath of relief.

Dropping the iron rod, I covered her chains with my shirt as a foot landed on my ankle, and I cried out, shoving them away.

Arms and legs wedged into my back, and I pushed against them, throwing my body over Juniper’s, protecting her from the crowd.

A kick to the side of my head made me see stars, and I glanced up, dazed.

Through blurry vision, I spied the three pigs pushing their way toward me.

Adrenaline pumping, I jumped to my feet, twisting hands through the shirt wrapped around Juniper’s chains, and began dragging her, shoving humans aside as I limped away, still bound in my own manacles.

If they reached us, it would be both our ends.

“Hey! She’s helping that one escape,” someone shouted, and several people turned in our direction.

Squaring my shoulders, I barged through people as kicks and blows fell on me. A man grabbed Juniper’s horn, trying to wrench her from my hold. I pulled with what little remaining strength I had, breathing hard as I kept pushing through the mob.

Then I was through the crowd and out the other side.

Juniper was still not moving, and I had no time to wonder how bad her injuries were.

Dane called out to the mob to stop me and slowly, they changed tack, unifying in one common goal.