Chapter 12 #2
The link snapped in a blink as Warwick jerked back.
“How were you here and—and there at the same time?” Tad stumbled over his words, the fear and confusion genuine.
“You could see me?” Warwick rumbled, a vein in his neck twitching. The entire room, except Ash, was completely confused.
“Y-yes.” Tad pushed himself back up as much as he could, his expression twisting to wonder. “It was like when I saw her visit me yesterday. An impression. An apparition.”
Ash’s head bounced in agreement. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it when they do the link thing.”
Tad rubbed his head. “This makes so much more sense now.”
“What does?” I asked.
“Back at Halálház, I would think I’d see a glimmer of Warwick near you—a few times when you were in the ring fighting in the Games—but when I looked again, he was gone. I thought my eyes were senile, and this old mind was starting to lose its last marbles.”
I recalled those times, too, when this thing between us could still be explained away and denied.
“You two are becoming so interesting. I thought I had seen it all.” Tad brushed a few strands of his knotted hair back.
“So, you’ve never run into anything like this before?” I hoped he had an explanation and examples of whatever this was between us.
“No.” He continued to stare at us with utter shock. “Never in my years have I see anything close to this. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Hey?” Tracker’s voice boomed from a doorway he was guarding, Ava on the other entrance. “Sorry to rush the catching up and all, but can we get this moving? We are still in enemy territory.”
Tracker was right. Finding the nectar and getting out of here was the most important. The rest could wait.
“Give me your hands.” Tad reached over. “Don’t let go, okay? I will be right with you.”
I nodded, knowing what to do. I reached over, clasping onto Tad’s bony fingers. I shut my lids and took a breath as our twined fingers touched the page. Electricity shot through me, the inhuman voice vibrating through my bones.
“Tadhgan, the Druid. It has been a long time,” the book spoke. “And Brexley Kovacs, the girl who defies nature. Tell me what you seek. Do not waste my time.”
“I apologize I wasn’t clear enough last time. I would like to see where the nectar is hidden,” I asked as concisely as I could.
“Again, you requesting this information is interesting,” the book replied. “I can only show what is written.”
The moment the book uttered the last syllables, the sensation of falling and spinning rattled my head, bile coiling in my stomach as Tad and I fell into the archives of the past.
When I opened my eyes, the book had placed me in the same dark tunnel it had the other day.
Alone.
“Tad?” I whispered, peering around the cool, murky passageways, goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Looking for the Druid, he was nowhere in sight. “Tad, are you here?”
“This way,” a deep voice muttered. The sound of multiple boots hitting the ground right around the corner flung me automatically into a dark crevice, my spine stinging as I slammed into the rock wall.
Two figures were about to pass me when another man stepped into the path, cutting them off.
“Once a thief, always a thief.” A gasp shot up my throat as I took in a younger version of Killian. He was dressed in a nice but outdated suit, his hair a little longer, flipping around his ears. Less polished than the man I knew now.
“You would know.” A tall, broad dark-haired man with a deep voice stepped up closer to Killian, coming into view.
My chest sucked in at the man’s rugged, sexual aura.
He possessed a feral quality, like he could fuck you at the same time he sliced you in half with the long sword attached to his side without blinking an eye.
Standing about six feet, slender but ripped, with dark almond-shaped eyes, thick dark lashes, and long black hair, I had no doubt he was fae by his unbelievable beauty.
“Wow, look at you.” The dark-haired man’s eyes went over Killian with aversion. “All fancy now, aren’t we?”
“Looks like nothing has changed with you. Still a second-rate thief . . .” Killian puffed his chest, glaring at him.
“Tradesman.” The man stepped closer, challenging him. “And you think because you wear an expensive suit and have a title before your name, you are above the rest of us now?”
“I am the Lord of Budapest. I rule everyone here now. This is my king-dom.” Killian’s silky voice frayed at the end, his anger curling his hands.
“You don’t rule me.” The thief moved closer, threatening.
“You forget, Killian, I know the real you. I was the one to put the brand on your chest. Know where you come from.” I saw Killian’s eye twitch at this claim.
“If your minions only knew how you really got this role—who you were before—would they still worship you?” The man flicked the pocket square at Killian’s chest with a scoff.
“Play dress up all you want. I know the real street rat underneath.”
“Fuck you,” Killian growled, lurching for the man, his pure fae magic crackling the air.
A petite dark-haired woman next to the man, who almost blended into the shadows, got between them. She put a blade at Killian’s throat, halting him on his feet.
“Step back, Kil.” Her long, shiny black ponytail whipped around. Her frame was so small you might mistake her for a young girl, but her face was so utterly breathtaking, you could see a sensual woman there.
Killian stared at her, shock and hurt on his face.
“Kitty-Kat.” Killian’s voice changed, going low. Pained.
“Don’t call me that.” Her face twisted, a flicker of agony dancing over her expression, pushing her blade deeper against his jugular.
“So, you’re with him now?” Killian shook his head, sadness in his tone. His gaze moved over her with such deep longing, agony, and . . . love. “You hated him.” He sneered. “Wanted to kill him. Guess we’re all liars and thieves here.”
“This has nothing to do with him,” she spit out. “Let us leave, Killian, and no harm will come to you.”
“Too late for that, Kitty-Kat.” His tone suggested he meant something else entirely. A history between them I wasn’t privy to.
Her lashes fluttered like she wanted to cry, but instead, she rolled her shoulders back, locking down her features. “I don’t want to hurt you, but we’re leaving with the nectar—no matter what.” Her head tilted slightly to the small messenger bag hanging off her hip.
It was like a punch to my gut. Without one inkling of doubt, I knew the nectar was in there. It was real. And a few feet away from me.
My eyes latched on to the satchel. I swore it felt my presence, coming alive with awareness.
I could no longer hear them or even see past what I knew was inside.
The pull coming from her bag pushed my back off the wall, and I took a step.
It called to me and wanted me to take it.
As if it had its own heartbeat, I heard it pulse with power, the beat in rhythm with my own heart. Energy hummed in my veins.
I took another stride, about to step from the shadows when a violent stir of activity snapped me out of my trance. A muscular blond guy came up behind Killian, a blonde girl with him, hitting Killian in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Killian hit the ground with a thud.
“Thank me later, asshole! Come on!” Blondie waved them forward, running back down the tunnel with the blonde girl.
Both the dark-haired woman and man hesitated by Killian. The woman he called Kitty-Kat bent over, her fingers touching his pulse, letting out a heavy breath.
“He’ll be fine.” The guy yanked her up, pointing her for the exit. “You were meant to rule. You always were,” The man muttered down at the form, a mix of resentment and fondness shading his tone. “Still think you’re a huge douche, though.”
The pair started to move, but she paused, her head twisted in my direction, her lids narrowing, almost catlike, as if she were trying to see through the darkness. See me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his head snapping around with caution.
“Thought I saw . . . Nothing.” She shook her head, heading down the passage, while he glanced around suspiciously.
I didn’t move or breathe.
“Croygen, come on!”
He gave Killian one last look, turned around, and ran after her.
The nectar. I pushed forward. The need to follow it, to take it from her, moved my feet, but I was yanked back by the book, letting me go no farther.
“Noooo!” I screamed, fighting as it flung me back into darkness.
“Fuck!” A growl hit my ears, a hand clutching the back of my head, padding it before it slammed back onto the stone. Cracking my eyes open, aqua irises stared down into mine, long hair tickling my face, a slight smirk on Warwick’s face. “I’m getting you a helmet.”
Groaning, my lids fluttered for a moment, nausea making my stomach spin, the need to vomit coating my tongue.
“Sorry, Fishy, that one was a one point five at best.” Opie marched up my arm beneath Warwick. “No dismount at all. We should try something higher.”
“Why aren’t you still passed out with your friend?” Warwick grumbled, brushing him off me.
“I have a fast metabolism. Mother always said it was how I stayed so trim.” He waved at his body, a potbelly protruding from the space between his paper skirt and top.
Warwick scoffed, turning back to me. “You all right?” he muttered huskily, slowly sitting me up, his large warm palm brushing back the hair sticking to my face.
“Yeah.” I leaned my head against him, still feeling queasy. He felt warm and safe, and I longed to curl up against him and nap.
With a burning gaze on me, I shifted my head to see Tad across from me. His jaw was set, his eyes a mix of perplexity and fear.
“What?” I croaked, pushing my weight off Warwick’s corded arm. Dread slithered into my stomach.
“It didn’t let me in,” Tad replied, stunned. “It blocked me from following you.”
My attention drifted to Ash, then back to Tad. “It didn’t let him in either.”
“But I am a Druid.” Tad adjusted his bowed back, his head shaking. “We are its maker. My kinfolk created these books. Our magic. But this time, it tossed me back out, only wanting you . . .” Tad slanted his head, really peering at me. “Why?”
I had no answer.
“What did it show you?” he asked.
My mouth opened, then shut, the images of Killian, the things that were said, the hints about his past. He knew about the nectar.
The whole scene created more questions than answers, and for some reason, I didn’t feel like divulging all I saw to this entire room.
There was just one question they wanted to know anyway.
“It’s not here. Someone took it.”
Ash groaned, his hand running through his hair. Warwick blew out a long breath, his head falling forward.
“Are you saying this was all for nothing?” Tracker moved away from the entrance he had been guarding, stomping up to us. “Are you fucking kidding me? You dragged us into enemy territory, and it’s not here?”
Warwick rose to his feet, his chest expanding as he took one step to Tracker, his physique like a boulder. “Step back, asshole.”
He would not tell him twice.
“Track.” Ava rushed forward, pulling him back, a lot smarter than Tracker in understanding Warwick’s dominance and threat level. She was fae and probably felt Warwick’s power. “Calm down. It’s not her fault.”
“It’s not?” He huffed. “How do we know she’s even telling the truth? She could be saying that so we don’t get our hands on it.”
Warwick growled. Ava yanked Tracker back out of the legend’s reach.
“Did it show you anything else?” Tad brought me back to the topic. “Did the book show you where it was taken?”
“No.” I shook my head, my shoulders sagging.
“Not one clue where the pirate took it?”
My head jerked to Tad as if ice water poured down my back, scrambling me up to my feet. “I-I didn’t say anything about a pirate.” Fear clutching my lungs, I rose, stepping back, a warning bell twanging in my chest. “How did you know a pirate took it?”
Sadness furrowed his bushy eyebrows, his blue eyes finding mine with such devastation.
“How did you know that?” I gritted out, his silence storming fear and fury. “Tell me!”
“You remember when I said one day I might need kindness in return from you?” He swallowed, his head dipping. “I am so sorry, dear girl.”
“For what?” Panic heaved my lungs.
“For the fact this was all a setup.” The beautiful voice I had come to know poured over the room like dark chocolate—smoky, bitter, and smooth—spinning me around to one of the unguarded entrances.
Our group was quick to react, guns drawing up, pointing at the lord of the fae.
He merely smirked, looking as handsome as ever in his expensive suit, his hair cut short and styled perfectly.
Groomed and polished, he looked like a true king compared to the man I saw in the book.
His guards filed in behind him, covering all the exits, outnumbering us by triple. I saw a familiar pair of brown eyes among them. Zander kept his expression blank, but his eyes were intently on me. Right next to him, Nyx stared at me just as attentively, but with an opposite emotion.
“You betrayed my kindness, Ms. Kovacs. I house you, feed you, protect you. And this is how you repay me?” Killian’s violet gaze latched on to me, adding more weight to my chest. “As you humans like to state . . . fair is fair.”
“You don’t play fair,” I replied.
A slow smile spread over his face.
“You’re right; I don’t.” His head tipped, indicating the Druid behind me. “But I wasn’t the one who gave you up so easily.”