24. TWENTY-TWENTY-FOUR #2
“Hurry, please!” The woman is dissolving into tears.
“I’m trying!” Gritting my teeth, I sink my knees into the mud, pressing myself right up against the wood to further my reach. My tendons strain with effort.
At all once, the wagon lifts into the air—as though God himself has plucked it out of my path.
I glance sharply to the side, agape. Dante has upended the entire wagon from one side, providing ample space to heave out the crate buried beneath. The immense frame groans, but it’s weightless in his hands—he’s not straining himself in the slightest. He gives me a slight dip of his head.
“Thanks,” I manage, muscling down the fluttering in my stomach.
I scramble down with urgency pacified, bracing my heels into the dirt to push the crate out.
It’s still a staggering effort, but with a few strategic heaves of my weight, I manage to get it out and into the open.
When it’s free, and I slump against it to catch my breath, Dante lets the wagon smash down unceremoniously and dusts his hands off on his trousers.
“Thank you, miss,” the woman cries, voice muffled. “Mother Earth bless you. You saved my life.”
“It’s alright, be at ease,” I say, unfastening the latch. “We’ll have you free of this in moments.”
The lid to the crate is heavy, warped slightly from soaking up moisture from the mud. Dante unsheaths his dagger and jabs it into the small gap in the lid, levering a sharp pull to pry it open on creaking hinges.
We both recoil in tandem as we get a good look at what’s staring back at us.
It’s not a woman inside. It’s not even human.
A large cage is tucked snugly inside the crate, housing what appears to be an adult forest nymph.
I’ve never seen one in person before, but the features are unmistakable from the tomes I’ve pored over in the Corvus archives—even if she appears to be using some sort of glamour in an attempt to appear human.
The magic is unstable, only masking in patches the ethereal beauty that lies beneath—pale green skin, large black eyes framed by elegant lashes, and seafoam hair that tumbles down one shoulder in loose waves to her waist. Her body is lithe and long, clad in deep emerald cloth that winds around her curves like vinework.
“Father above… A nymph! I thought they went extinct!” I breathe, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Dante.
“And no wonder they nearly did,” Dante mutters under his breath, unaffected by my awe. “They’re goddamn useless.”
“We live a peaceful existence,” the nymph chimes in, wrapping her long fingers around the bars over her head. “And it is a lonely one. But please—release me, I mean you no harm. I only wish to travel to Florence to be among humanity. I will repay you any way you wish.”
“You shouldn’t be going anywhere near a city unless you want an arrow in your back,” I say, frowning at the place where her illusion flickers—a blue human eye and dark hair fading in and out of sight on the left side of her face.
“My human guise will convince even the most dubious citizen,” the nymph insists, a note of defensiveness curling through her voice. “They’ll be enchanted by me. I’ve done it before.”
I narrow my eyes, easing backward. “And what will you do amongst humans? Seduce them for your use?” I ask, wondering if I can catch a lie on such an unusual face.
She grips the bars tighter, putting her face closer to mine. “Nothing like that, miss. I only wish to be adored! To be where I am wanted and worshiped. My gift is my song, and…” I swear color rises to her pale green cheeks. “It’s my dream to be the most beloved vocalist in the known world.”
“Oh God.” Dante rolls his eyes.
“I can show you! My voice has enchanted many a roaming traveler.”
As she opens her mouth and begins to sing a dulcet melody, Dante releases the crate’s lid, letting it slam shut. The nymph’s song tapers into a startled shout.
“She’s loony, even for a nymph,” Dante says, shaking his head. “A mercy kill would be kinder. We didn’t come this far to pick up every pity case along the way to Callistia.”
He places his boot on the crate, prepared to kick it over the side of the steep hill.
“Wait!” I wheel in front of him, placing a hand on his arm. “She’s an idiot, but not bloodthirsty.”
He sneers, “This coming from a trained assassin of inhumans?”
“Vampires,” I articulate each syllable keenly. “Not fairies and nymphs. Besides, you aided the witch. Come, would you want me to just leave you caged in the wilderness, waiting to starve to death?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I would never allow it to happen to me in the first place.” Dante’s gaze lingers on me—raking me up and down with a subtle flick.
Something tightens in his jaw and he steps forward, closing the meager inches between us.
I breathe out sharply as he brushes the knuckles of his dagger-wielding hand along my jaw.
“Besides, you wouldn’t dare,” he goes on. “You’d only crawl inside to sit primly on my lap, where you belong.”
I glance to his mouth, remembering last night. Again.
“You’re full of it,” I scoff—though the breathless tremor in my words isn’t convincing anyone.
Dante leans closer, his body flush to mine as leans down, grazing his lips over the shell of my ear. “I wouldn’t even make you say please, stellina.”
The scent of his skin washes over me this close, my stomach fluttering with need. I picture throwing him to the ground with all my strength, climbing astride him right here in the middle of the pitch dark forest.
I tip my head back, stroking the collar of his doublet. “And what if I happened to be in a mood to beg?” I ask, dropping my voice to a husky whisper that I hope will drive him crazy.
Judging by the shaky, breathless laugh that escapes Dante—it certainly does. Disarming him, provoking that dark look in his eyes is becoming my favorite prize.
His hand clamps onto my lower back, pulling me against him as he leans in and—
“Wait! I heard you speak of Callistia!” The nymph’s muffled voice cuts the air.
Dante stops just short of my waiting lips, irritation flattening his expression. Fingers flexing over the small of my back, his narrowed eyes cut toward the crate.
“You know her?” he asks coarsely.
“She is an old friend! An advocate for my kind for many years. I can take you to her!”
I hold Dante’s gaze, something resolute surfacing. I glance once more at his mouth, at our bodies pressed together, finding a shred of shame still left in me to flush with mortification at my own forwardness—and in front of another, no less.
We break apart, and I open the crate’s lid again, peering inside. “You know where she is?”
The nymph’s inky eyes are wild with hope. “I’ve been there many times. The path will force you through fae wilds—treacherous for the unwary passerby. I can take you there with my eyes shut—guide you past all peril. Just free me, please.”
I exchange another look with Dante over my shoulder. Even his disdain has relented into consideration. It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. And, if she does turn on us, we can simply slit her throat when the time comes.
Dante heaves a sigh, twirling his dagger fluidly. Catching it, he notches it back into his belt with a note of reluctance.
“I was rather hoping to give you a little show,” he says to me, winking. The nymph recoils a little at this. Producing a lockpick from his satchel, Dante glares in at her. “Fine, you’ll lead the way. But no singing.”