Chapter 7
Gunnar stared at the elevator numbers as they counted down.
Despite the verdict in his favor—conditional parole granted, his freedom beginning now—he tensed as the floors counted down deeper. But then they hit L for lobby with an unceremonious ping and sure as shit, the doors opened.
Gunnar stared down a plain hall he’d never seen before. He tested the air, staggered by the overwhelming glut of sensory information.
He smelled dozens of people of all stripes, their scents circulated through cool, conditioned air. Kushiel frequented this hall, so did his guards. There were smells of detergent, paper, electricity, and protective wards. A cleaning solution used on the floors, wax to keep it polished. Ink, enchanted and not. Dirt tracked in from the outdoors on leather shoes, the metal tang of runed prison bars. The sharp bite of holy water-soaked weaponry. He heard the hum of voices down different hallways. Bright, buzzing lights, and there, far down the seemingly never-ending corridor, daylight for the second time in a decade.
Gunnar huffed, shifting his ankles before he stepped, not used to his own weight without irons. He still wore the ill-fitting suit, a dark shadow against his pale skin, the fabric suddenly itchy.
“I reserved a room for us down the first hall to the left,” Audrey said, holding the elevator doors open while he stared and listened and smelled.
He blinked down at her. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. “What for?”
“Oh, um.” She gave him a half-smile. “To talk about what comes next for us.”
Apprehension licked up his spine. He’d thought this was a done deal. Gods said so, hadn’t they? He couldn’t quite help his sneer.
“Your reparations, for one,” the archivist said, voice smooth. “Esquire Doe has done research into options you may find appealing once you’re ready to travel.”
Gunnar exited the elevator, Audrey following. The doors swished shut behind them.
“Not sure what the hells that has to do with either of you.”
He didn’t miss the bloom of concern in Audrey’s scent.
Good old Theo, though, he only smelled annoyed as the conversation continued. “One might find themselves more grateful, given all that has been done on their behalf.”
“Far as I understood it, this was a debt being cleared.” He jerked his chin in Audrey’s direction. “I saved her life, she saved mine.”
“Ah, of course,” the archivist said. “Why would you see this as anything beyond a transaction?”
“Theodore, don’t.”
“Maybe you should’ve been clear you had expectations from the get, not act like I owe you when you fought for me to be fucking free.”
“The time and effort we both put in on your behalf is astounding. Audrey... Esquire Doe in particular. You do not know what awaits outside these doors.”
“Same shit as before. Fucked up world, big ass mess,” Gunnar drawled.
“All of this, leading to your release? The Eastern Seaboard Conjunct is the last holdover of 21st century ways before the Aperien Event,” the archivist went on, ignoring Audrey’s hand on his forearm. “Media is controlled, used as both entertainment and weaponry. The change in the Vilestars Accord, along with your review, has been the height of fearmongering for well more than a year, culminating in today.
“Walking out the front door? You’ll be assaulted by the ESC press, which hardly holds a favorable view of your kind. Walking a block outward? You’ll have thrill seekers looking for a fight, vigilantes aiming for your throat, all brainwashed into believing your release is the first step toward a fresh Calamity.”
“I’ve faced worse,” Gunnar drawled.
“Enough.” Audrey’s cheeks flushed red, her scent brimming with frustration.
The archivist took her hand in both of his. “Perhaps this isn’t the wisest course.”
She jerked away. “You don’t get to make that choice.”
“Your safety is my concern, Audrey.”
Gunnar scoffed. “What, you think I’m gonna hurt her now? With this parole hanging over my head?”
“Perhaps I’d be more convinced if the parole wasn’t the only thing holding you back.”
The archivist swelled a bit as he spoke, as if losing hold on whatever mantle he kept in place around lesser beings. The scales on his dark skin became more pronounced, the cloying scent of dragon heavy in the narrow hall.
It made Gunnar’s skin itch, but he didn’t dare flinch. It pissed him right off, this asshole thinking he’d hurt her. And he was done being muscled around by anyone—angel, god, demigod, or otherwise.
“He won’t hurt me. You know that, so stop. Just stop, Theodore.” Audrey sighed, turning to Gunnar. “I’m sorry. I should have asked, but I figured you’d need at least a day to settle. I... I didn’t want either of us to have to deal with the mob outside.” She smelled nervous now, despite her frustration, and embarrassed. Hopeful too, which he didn’t understand.
“The press has not been kind to Esquire Doe,” the archivist said. “Most times, she is more the enemy than you.”
“I have a single-use gate,” she said. “Directly to my apartment. From there... well, you can do whatever you want, but at least you’ll be away from the crowds out front.” Audrey’s fists tightened around her satchel strap.
But she clearly wasn’t scared of him, and he doubted Theo really thought he’d do anything to Audrey or he’d never let them leave together. But bringing him into her home? Excessive. Way more than she needed to do for him after getting him out of this shithole. As far as he was concerned, they were clear—not that he’d viewed her in his debt before—and the last thing he wanted was to start out his new freedom owing someone.
Single-use gates were expensive magic. Only extremely talented mages could handle that type of craftsmanship; hells, it was easier most times to make foundations for permanent travel portals. How the shit did this girl, who could only afford two suits, secure one? And why the hells would she bother?
It must be more for her than him, Gunnar decided, the only thing that made sense. She didn’t want to deal with the press. Maybe the two of them worried if the press got ahold of him, he’d make Audrey look worse.
Not for the first time, Gunnar wondered if Audrey was in some kind of debt to this demigod. Magical bindings didn’t have to be infernal; lots of benevolent creatures bound lesser beings for a whole host of reasons, protection not least on the list.
Gunnar distinctly disliked the idea that Audrey had sold herself on his behalf. Had she bartered part of her soul for this fucking gate?
Gunnar inhaled again, but she didn’t smell like magic. Only human, through and through, same as the day he found her dying in that alley.
“I have some supplies,” Audrey offered, taking his silence as hesitance. “Statistics show convicts released on parole with no kind of support are far more likely to be incarcerated again. It doesn’t matter if they were innocent or guilty the first time.” She sounded stiff again, reciting memorized facts at him. Her voice went hushed as she added, “Having nothing is almost impossible to build from for anyone.”
Right. She’d been a homeless runaway when he’d saved her. They’d never talked about her past despite all the deep dives into his. He realized with striking clarity he knew almost nothing about this woman, aside from her outsized devotion to helping him.
“Fine. Wouldn’t do for me to kill a reporter five minutes after being freed.”