28. Chapter 28
28
Nelle
A crackling hum came from twin monoliths. They were obelisk in shape and a mottled green. A magical barrier to keep anyone from swifting in. Or swifting out.
My heart ricocheted in my throat as we faced those monoliths and the additional security measures that stood between me and freedom—the massive steel gates; the 15-foot wall threaded with adamere that surrounded our estate, and the secondary electrified fence that was infused with magic. There were guards on duty too. All of them dressed in crisp black uniforms and strapped with guns and swords.
One guard headed for us as soon as he spotted me sitting beside Graysen in his car.
Graysen rested an elbow casually on the curve of his open window and revved the engine, hard and loud. The guard stiffened and I saw the hesitation in his pace. No one enjoyed facing a pissed-off Crowther, especially this one. Graysen slammed the heel of his hand against the horn, long and furious, revving the engine again, and his foul curse floated in the air.
The guard pulled to a stop and turned, gesturing an order to his companion. Several jarring noises rattled loudly as the heavy locks unlinked the twin gates, and they rolled slowly apart. Though I was sure the guard’s decision to release us had more to do with the long line of shiny black SUVs suddenly arriving behind us than going against my father and allowing me to leave.
My father had been utterly outraged when Graysen informed him he was taking me out for the day. I’d been left in the car which idled right beside the grand marble steps leading up to the front entrance of our mansion. Graysen and my father stood on the terrace, facing off against one another, and he’d refused to let my father speak with me. I hunkered down low, keeping my gaze straight ahead, fixed on the neatly trimmed boxwood hedging the circular driveway, trying to block out my father’s fury. But I’d snatched glances from the corner of my eye. My father argued, his cheeks burning red. No one questioned him or went against his orders. Only Graysen rebelled against him, and now I discovered his leverage over my father was me and the Alverac.
Graysen finally ended the argument by simply walking away. He sauntered down the marble steps, whistling a jaunty tune. He really enjoyed winding my father up. But neither of us had a choice when my father quickly barked instructions at his men to follow us.
Oh well. A vanguard of bodyguards might shadow me but at least my one day of freedom was my own. Graysen had given me full authority to dictate how we were to spend our time in the city.
The metal gates opened.
My fingers bunched nervously into my skirt. After hiking back to the mansion after our swim, we’d dressed for our day out. I wore a loose silk-crushed shift, the color of pewter, and tied my hair up into a ponytail. Graysen had mentioned nothing about my bare feet. No scathing remark to find shoes. He’d changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, with twin daggers buckled to the outside of his calf-high boots.
We rolled through the parted gates, the purr of the engine mirroring the excitement of the creature rumbling in my chest. Graysen flicked through his music and settled on a song—Kavinsky’s ‘Night Call’ . Sage lay in the back. My wraith-wolf was so big he took up the entire backseat. His ears pricked forward as the synthwave beat filled the interior of the vehicle.
I jittered my bare feet in excitement. Twisting around, I peered through the rear windshield, staring in disbelief as the gates receded in our wake with our building speed.
Outside our family estate looked exactly like the winding driveway we’d just left—except it carved through the tall gloomy forest—long and straight and littered with dead leaves. We had a cascade of my father’s bodyguards right behind us, but I was leaving the estate!
Sunrays poked between the heavy canopy of the forest. “Ready?” Graysen asked, the dim sunlight glinting off the Wayfarer sunglasses shielding his dark eyes. He raised a curious eyebrow, his gaze sliding down my figure to ensure my seatbelt was secure. “Want to lose these shadows?”
I nodded with a stupid grin on my face. That grin wasn’t going to shift anytime soon.
Graysen put his foot down on the accelerator, and the engine’s response was a thunderous roar. The sudden surge forward of the Mustang pushed me back into my seat. “Holy fuck, Crowther,” I gasped, leaning over and squinting at the dashboard as he shifted gears rapidly, pushing the car faster. My eyes rounded.
“Yeah, 100 miles per hour, not fast enough, right?” he grinned, and then he pressed his booted foot down. The gnarled forest became a blur of murky green. In our furious wake, leaves eddied in whirls in rusty reds. My father’s men, following in their SUVs, dropped away, unable to keep up with the ridiculous speed of Graysen’s car. It was a freaking Mad Max car. A dashboard like a cockpit. Matte black and apocalyptic looking with its supercharger and additional funnels. A typical Crowther toy.
I started laughing. My fingers latched onto the curve of the seat beneath me and I felt the raw vibration of the engine under my grip. It was thrilling, exhilarating. Every nerve ending in my body hummed. I felt alive. I felt free!
We carried on at that speed for another twenty minutes, cutting through the forest roads before joining the highway to fly past trucks and cars. My heart thundered in my chest and sometimes I squeezed my eyes shut as Graysen nimbly eased us through narrow gaps between passing vehicles when the traffic grew thicker. As we chewed up the distance between the estate and the city of Ascendria, a feeling of unease pressed itself on me. I worried at the inside of my cheek with my teeth before turning to face him. “Won’t they just find us again?” My phone had a locater and surely his car did too. Maybe I should have left my phone at home.
He snapped his fingers. “Cell.” Then, with sharp reflexes, he darted the Mustang between two milk tankers just as an oncoming truck blared its horn.
Unlocking my cell phone, I passed it to him. He slid his phone out of his jeans pocket and then rested his hands on top of the steering wheel. He opened up an app, sent a file to my phone, and in a series of rapid taps, he installed it on mine and set it into action.
“Now you’re untraceable,” he said, tossing my cell into my lap.
“Your car?”
His forefinger rapped a beat on the steering wheel as he tilted his head down, hair in artful disarray, to give me an appalled look over the rim of his Wayfarers. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”
Yet, as he settled back into his seat, shifting gear and shooting us past the milk tanker, he hissed between clenched teeth. Leaning forward, he punched a code into a system lit up with glowing buttons. His shoulder shifted slightly as he shot a sharp sideways glare my way.
I kept my eyes on the road ahead, not bothering to curb the amused twitch of my mouth. “Yeah, like I thought.”
As I glanced over at him, it occurred to me he was stuck in this car with me. If I wanted to ask questions, now was the time. Maybe he’d answer me about Ferne. About who’d stolen her eyes all those years ago. Maybe he’d tell me about his brothers, his father, his aunt. Or why nobody talked about their mother, Tabitha Crowther.
He caught me parting my mouth to ask and quickly snapped, “No.”
“But I—”
“I can see your brilliant mind turning over. No.”
He dropped the speed, so we were still traveling fast, but not at a ridiculous pace. He pushed a button and my window rolled down and the rush of wind teased my ponytail. “Go on, just lean out and relax, will you?” he growled.
I glanced at him like he was completely mad. But I’d seen kids do that my whole life on TV and in films—hanging their heads out of car windows, letting their hair flail and tug in the fierce wind. They always looked like they were having so much fun.
He reached over and pulled my hair free of the ponytail. The long, pale locks fluttered across my shoulders and down my back. “It’s better like that.”
I gave him a dubious look, but I reached a hand out the window and felt the air buffeting my fingers. Freedom, that’s what it felt like. I shot a grin back at Graysen. And his smile was just as wide as mine.
Then I stuck my head out. The wind caught my hair immediately, snapping the locks in the current of moving air. The roaring noise of the streaming wind filled my ears and drowned out everything else—the car’s engine, Graysen, and the pulsing music. I crossed my arms upon the open window and rested my chin there, enjoying the feel of my hair sliding across my face and the wind against my cheek. I was in a small private world, just me and the strange white noise and the sight of the countryside rolling past. The feel of cool rushing air, the smell of grass and turned earth, the warmth from the sun. I closed my eyes and just basked in my senses, pushing aside the dark guilty thoughts that frayed the edges of my mind at what I was going to get up to once we arrived in Ascendria.