Chapter 11 #2
“Wow, someone actually using logic.” Ash winked playfully at Luk.
For a moment, I swore I saw Luk’s cheeks heat, but he quickly turned to Tracker.
“Get back on your bike.”
Tracker’s chest rose, his glower on Luk now. I didn’t think many, besides my uncle, told Tracker what to do.
Just like someone else I knew.
“Too many alphas.” I pressed my thumb into the bridge of my nose. “Not enough brain cells.”
“Your fault. You killed them all yesterday and this morning, princess.” Warwick’s gravelly voice brushed up my neck, my eyes flicking up to the real man with a glare. His lips twisted in a smirk. “Though I wouldn’t mind your mouth wrapping around my cock right now.”
“You really are insufferable,” I grumbled, the side of his mouth hitching higher.
“Tracker,” Luk said his name like an order.
“Fine,” Tracker growled. “You can lead, but we all go.” Tracker plopped back down on the bike.
Warwick’s shoulders flexed, and I knew he was about to toss Tracker into the river.
“Warwick.” Invisible hands traced up his back and around his abs, my fingers following down his V-line, producing a slight rumble from his throat. “Behave.”
“You should know I don’t behave.” His actual hand clutched the top on my thigh, yanking me closer into his body, his thumb rubbing along the seam of my crotch. “If you want me to not kill this guy, you owe me. I’ve slaughtered men for less.”
“I promise to destroy those few brain cells you have left if we get through this.”
“Now I’ll make sure we do.”
“Hey, fuckers!” Ash yelled at us, our heads snapping to him. “Stop mentally screwing each other. Focus!”
It was a switch. Warwick cut off the link, his attention going in front of us, the warrior mode on.
“Follow me,” Warwick barked, revving the bike forward. The moment we crossed the invisible line on the bridge, we would enter the Buda side.
Killian’s realm.
The princess was about to steal and betray the dragon guarding the most coveted treasure in the world.
If he caught me, he would burn me to ashes.
Rubble and fragments of the old citadel were scattered across the hill like headstones.
A sinkhole buried what was hidden under the stone and earth, but I swore I still heard the phantom cries of agony and the stench of death bubbling up to the surface.
Everything was left exactly how it was after the bombing. A time capsule.
My stomach twisted into knots, a chill shivering my frame when Warwick stopped the bike at our old “residence.” The place still plagued my dreams, my soul forever stained with blood and trauma.
I climbed off, my feet taking me closer to the ruins, my chest tightening.
I stopped at a chunk of stone. The notable statue, the woman holding the feather, used to look over the city and was a symbol in Budapest. Part of the woman’s face stared blankly up at me.
A corpse left on the battlefield. The haunting screams and terror still saturated the ground.
This place can’t hurt you anymore. I inhaled deeply, trying to loosen the rope strangling my lungs.
I didn’t think being back here would affect me so much.
When I was here, I hadn’t been outside more than twice.
Now, like vibrations from an earthquake, I could feel what was still underneath my feet, empty of life but filled with the ghosts who died, as if the Games and life in Halálház had never stopped.
I had little doubt that below me were dead bodies of people I knew now were entombed forever.
Was Tad there? Did he make it out?
“Hey.” Warwick’s shadow pressed into my back, his warmth cutting out the cold wind gusting over the hill. “This place might have hurt and changed you, but they didn’t break you, Kovacs. You survived . . . came out stronger. Don’t let it take anything more from you.”
My attention darted to the man who was busy hiding the bikes, acting like he wasn’t also over with me, patching parts of my soul with his words.
He could feel my weighted gaze on him, his eyes darting to me for a moment, connecting, before he looked away again.
It would seem like nothing to the outside world, but to me, it felt like everything.
“Brex?” Ash waved me over, the rest of the group waiting for me.
We might not have much time until another patrol came through here.
We had seen one pass through the area right before us, not even stopping, just making sure everything looked undisturbed and quiet.
This part was no longer of use or of importance.
Sneaking down by the bombed building, we came to the area where I remembered coming out. The almost seamless private door leading us straight into the heart of the fae city was hidden by foliage and large pieces of debris. The bomb had left this place in shambles.
The seven of us rolled the wreckage away from the door, then Ash stepped up to it first.
“Fuck,” he hissed, and I quickly understood his reaction. The door had no knob, the entrance seamlessly part of the wall. I had only come out of here, not in. I had no idea there wasn’t an actual door handle on the outside.
“Do you guys have a knife blade?” I peered around. “I can jimmy locks with a flat blade.”
Warwick snorted, reaching for the one he kept in his boot.
“Doesn’t matter.” Ash shook his head, curving to us. “I can feel it. It’s magic-locked. Goblin-made.” Ash blew out a breath in irritation.
Goblin-made was pretty much impossible to break through. It was expensive, hard to get, and used very little here, but I was not surprised the lord of the fae would have access to it.
“Fuck,” Warwick barked, running his hand through his hair, his feet moving. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Ash exclaimed, tensions rising. “There is no way we can get in . . . unless you have one of those fae lock picks handy.”
I used to. In my thieving days, I learned quickly that “magic-locked” items were impossible to crack unless you had one of those black-market devices, and sometimes those didn’t even work.
Knotting my hair in my fingers, I let out a frustrated growl, understanding none of us could break through the door.
“So that’s it?” Tracker threw out his arms. “Your entire plan was based on whether we could get through this door.” He scoffed. “And, Luk, you said to let them lead. Idiots.”
Fury exploded through Warwick, his body curling, ready to lurch at Tracker.
“No!” I leaped in front of Warwick, his aqua eyes set on his target, his body pushing forward like I wasn’t even there.
“All of you are idiots!” A gruff voice sighed, and a tiny body, not even reaching the top of their boots, strolled between the two guys about to tear each other apart, his outfit flapping around like he was on some runway.
“Broomsticks . . . seven brains among you, and not one of you thought about us.” Opie cocked his head over his shoulder to Bitsy on his back.
“Why should we be surprised? No one thinks about us measly sub-fae.”
Chirp! Her fingers flew up, scowling at us.
“Oh my gods.” Ava jumped back, her eyes widening. “Is that—is that a brownie? And an imp?”
“Master Fishy, you hang out with such brainiacs.” He rolled his eyes, folding his arms, crinkling his new creation.
“A kutya fáját!” The dog’s tree! Ash hissed, pointing at Opie. “Where the hell did you get that from?”
Instead of all the drab fabric I could find at Povstat to give Opie for a project on the way back, he was dressed in a parchment gown, folded like a fan.
A page circled his waist like a long skirt, another folded up in an off-the-shoulder origami top.
Two fanned pages were attached to his back like wings and one on his head like a crown.
Bitsy had a matching crown and wings on her back.
“Oh gods, Opie.” I cringed. “Please don’t tell me that’s from the book in Ash’s bag.”
The fae book.
“Like I could put anything together with what you gave me,” he huffed, stomping his feet, which were also covered with paper. “I’m brilliant, but that was even beyond my talents.”
“You . . .” Ash heaved in and out. “You. Made. A. Dress. From. The. Book?”
“You act like it’s a big deal.” Opie waved him off.
“Big deal?” Ash’s voice pitched. “A big deal? The book is thousands of years old! It contains more history and knowledge in the first sentence than you will in your entire life!”
“Ugh. You should thank me; it sounds positively dull. I made it exciting again, brought it to life. Took me the whole trip. Don’t you like it?
” He spun around, the paper flaring up like thick fabric.
Honestly, if I didn’t think Ash was about to pass out, I would have admitted it was very creative and stunning. “It’s pretty . . . just admit it.”
“Oh my gods!” Ash exclaimed. The string of swear words, both in Hungarian and English, even had Bitzy’s eyes widening with awe. “You used an ancient, irreplaceable piece of history to make your dress?”
I covered my mouth, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry, while Kek howled next to me.
“I think I found my soulmate.” She wiped her eyes. “His outfit literally will go down in history.”
“Wait.” A thought clicked in my head. “How were you able to get into the book? I thought it only opened for those it chooses. And those with good intentions.”
“Except sub-fae.” Warwick dropped his head in a huff, his hand rubbing his face.
“What do you mean?” I didn’t know a lot about sub-fae. It wasn’t something Istvan even considered to be worthy of my time.
“Sub-fae, which include brownies and imps, were always considered beneath fae. They were pets, slaves, irritating creatures . . . like you’d think of bees or squirrels.
” Warwick shrugged one shoulder. “Part of our world but not worthy of much thought. Never considered a threat . . . so they don’t have the same limitations we do. ”
“Arrogance and entitlement are always man’s downfalls. Fae and human.” Opie stopped near my boot, winking at me. “Don’t underestimate and misjudge the underdog. Am I right, Fishy? We bite back.”