Chapter 24 #3
My skin tingled as I stepped up to him, my gaze going over his shoulder to what he was writing. Nonsensical letters scrolled over the page as he frantically wrote, his head occasionally darting up to the window with a look of paranoia as if he expected someone to be there.
To find him.
My breath hitched as he muttered the words of the song, copying from a keycode next to him. He started to sketch out the last symbol in that peculiar line in the journal. The dove, rose, forget-me-nots, violets, and a boat.
My heart thumped in my chest. All the things he was drawing were from the song. The song he told me my mother sang to me.
The book shifted something in my sight, and suddenly I could read the line. It wasn’t words, but numbers.
Coordinates.
47°46’25. 18°59’06.
He scribbled out a few more coded lines before his head darted up, tipping to the side as if he heard a noise.
His body went rigid, icing my skin. He hissed under his breath, slamming the journal closed.
Dashing over to the fireplace, he tossed the keycode into the flames.
He wiggled the stone from the side of the hearth before shoving it in the exact place I had found it.
I sensed his fear, his anxiety, as he pulled on his coat, grabbing for his gun.
I had an urge to follow to see what was out there .
. . who was out there? Why he was so scared?
But the book grabbed me. “No! Please!” I tried to push through, overpower its hold on me.
The book easily flicked me out, tumbling me back into oblivion, not letting me see what was coming for my father.
It had given me what I went in there for—no more, no less.
How to break my father’s messages.
I bolted awake, sitting up with a gasp, untangling the arms and legs wrapped around me on the small, demolished cot. Warwick jerked up with me, his body tense and ready to attack.
“Ahhh,” a voice cried, and I felt something tumble into my lap.
I yanked at the sheet, covering myself. My lids blinked, seeing Opie scrambling to stand up.
“Dammit, Fishy! Warn a brownie before you do that. I almost left fudge stains!” He was in a leather-and-lace bodice and thong, with bright red lips, his hair still in Mohawk, and gold glitter all over. A product of Kitty’s.
Chirp.
I twisted my head to see Bitzy on the pillow between Warwick and me, flipping me off. The butt plug strapped onto her head wobbled around with her indignation. Her face had streaks of glitter, her lower half in a leather diaper.
Right then, I couldn’t even focus on their outfits.
I scrambled out of bed, grabbing for my clothes.
“What’s wrong?” Warwick asked.
“I know . . .”
“Know what?” He rose, leaning on his forearm, watching me get dressed, his free hand rubbing his nose. “Why do I smell lube?”
Chirrrp? Bitzy peered around innocently, her ears going down, eyes wide, motioning to Opie.
“That was all her!” Opie pointed back at her, his head waggling. “I just used it to warm my toes.”
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! She flung her fingers at Opie.
“I did not stick my toes in Fishy’s ears!”
“What?” My hands went up, rubbing them.
“She’s kidding.” Opie swished his hand.
Bitzy looked at me deadpan, her head shaking in “no, I’m not.”
“Seriously, gross.” I used my shoulders to rub my ears as I yanked on my boots.
“I swear, imp . . .” Warwick growled. “If those bony fingers get anywhere near me again . . . I’m biting them off, using them as toothpicks, and then showing you where the thing on your head is really meant to go.”
“Warwick!” I stood back up, dressed, yanking his attention back to me. “I know how to break my father’s code.” I tossed his pants to him. “Get up.”
He shoved the blankets away, jumping out of bed.
Even in this moment, I couldn’t help but gape at his unbelievable physique, his muscles flexing and moving under his inked skin. The memory of how it felt over me . . . inside me.
Chhhiiiiiiirrrpppp. Bitzy let out almost a breathy whistle.
“Yeah . . .” Opie sighed. “That is the largest and thickest vacuum hose I’ve ever seen.”
Warwick snorted, his heavy gaze on me while he yanked up his trousers.
“Keep looking at me like that, Kovacs, and the only thing we’re gonna do is break the bed into more pieces.” He strolled up to me, tucking strands of tangled hair behind my ear, his heat and lust encompassing me.
He laughed at my hesitation, kissing me quickly, and twisted me around, pushing me for the door. “Later, I’m fucking you in the shower.”
My chest expanded, my thighs tightening at the idea, but I had to shake it off. This was far more important right now.
The clock on the wall read 9 a.m. The hallways were sprinkled with people moving around, the workout room and dining area buzzing with life as we moved to the operations room.
Ling sat at one of the stations, the journal in front of her, scribbling something on a piece of paper next to it. Her head rose when we neared.
“I have not solved it,” she replied. “I have been through every type of encryption out there.”
“I might know. At least one line.” I swallowed nervously. Was I right? What if it came to nothing? Just a strange dream. “Can I?”
She shrugged, shoving it to me.
I looked over the markings on the page, my heart thumping in my chest. The song echoing in my brain.
The symbols were the only thing on the page that didn’t correspond to a letter—they were numbers.
It might take longer to figure out the rest of the encryption if he used another code, but at least I was certain I had one part of it.
Perspiration licked at my lower back, my hands shaking as I wrote down the memory still strong in my mind. The dove, rose, forget-me-nots, violets, and a boat.
Dove=47°, rose=46’25, forget-me-nots=18°, violets=59’06.
But what did the boat mean?
Ling’s head snapped up as her dark eyes filled with guarded curiosity.
“The code is based off a folksong he used to sing to me.” I tapped the page. “But I’m not sure why the boat is there?” It didn’t fit. Was it to throw people off? Was I wrong?
Ling moved, tapping the numbers into the keyboard, her body stilling, her mouth parting.
“What?” Dread slithered down my throat, wrapping around my stomach.
She twisted the screen to us, a place on the map highlighted.
“Shit.” Warwick breathed out, his head tipping back, his palm rubbing his scruff.
“What?” I looked at him then the screen, not understanding both of their dreaded reactions.
“High Castle.” He wagged his head. “Visegrád.” He said the name of the area as if it was a feared nemesis.
I had heard of the site a few times from teachers.
It was an area not too far northwest of here, following the Danube.
We didn’t give it much interest as it was known to be hallowed ground to the fae.
“It’s sacred land to you guys, right?”
He licked his lips, taking in my puzzled expression.
“Sacred is one way of calling it. But I’d say it is more cursed. Haunted and feared. No living fae enters that area anymore. Ever.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
Warwick huffed, his arms crossing.
“Visegrád is where we fought the fae war twenty years ago.”