Chapter 27
Kit
‘What did you do?’
My eyes flutter open, my head pounding as unconsciousness recedes. Wherever I am, it’s cold and there’s light blaring in from somewhere. Pushing myself up, I scuttle backward until I hit a wall, taking in the sight of an entirely unfamiliar room.
Cold stone at my back and under my bare legs has me fighting a shiver.
The room is large with a high ceiling, it’s stark and gaudy all at once with marble covering every floor and wall.
A huge window sits just in front and to the right of where I’m slumped against the wall, trying to fight the roiling nausea and dizziness.
Daylight is pouring through, making my eyes smart, and I’m aware I must have lost some more hours somewhere.
The last time I was aware of anything, it was the middle of the night and I was being blinded by that curse-damned light.
And then I blinked and found myself here, inside a room that seems too bright to be a crypt, but too empty and cold to be anything else. I can’t see a stick of furniture, yet the room’s scented with the almost overwhelming scent of incense, so strong my eyes are watering.
Or maybe I’m crying.
‘What did you do?’
Those damn words are going around and round my head and I can’t make them stop.
Shifting my sitting position from arse cheek to cheek, I then slump back. Somehow I’ve lost a bunch of time and wound up somewhere entirely unfamiliar, with no clue of how I got here.
This must be what it feels like to lose your mind.
I can hear faint voices coming from upstairs, and there’s one in particular that has me up on my haunches. Tugging on my shirt, I attempt to cover my arse. Since I didn’t exactly have time to grab the rest of my clothes, I’m in a shirt and underwear and a pair of shoes.
It’s frigid in here, so much so that my balls have set up camp inside my body and I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs, feeling oddly vulnerable.
... or maybe there’s no ‘oddly’ about it. I’m sitting somewhere entirely unfamiliar, miles from home with my balls practically hanging out.
The voices grow closer, and I crane to listen.
Unable to make out a single word that’s being said, my gut twists and I step closer to the large wooden door that’s at the furthest wall away from me.
I might not be able to hear exactly what they’re saying, but I do recognise at least one of the voices, and it turns my blood to ice.
I need to get out of here. Now.
I couldn’t forget that high-pitched tone even if I tried. It belongs to the sorceress: Araminta Stone. The same woman who abducted me and dragged her around with her for weeks. The woman who messed with my brain and left me feeling like I can no longer trust my own mind.
And Araminta Stone is not the kind of person I want to come across when I’m feeling vulnerable.
I make my way unsteadily across the cavernous room as quickly as I can without my legs collapsing under me.
The door is ajar, and I swiftly push it open, stepping through into a stone antechamber with another massive wooden door that I’m praying leads out onto the street.
There’s another open door leading to a stone staircase that’s set into the floor, and the voices are carrying from somewhere below me.
There’s also a line of cloaks hanging from one wall, and I don’t think as I grab one and slip it on, making a dash for the door and yanking on the handle.
It’s unlocked, giving way easily and letting more daylight stream in.
Squinting against the assault, I hurry out onto a quiet residential street lined with trees that fragrance the air with a sickly sweet sap.
The world spins around me, and I clutch onto a wrought iron railing that’s acting as a bannister to a flight of steep, marble steps.
Before I can think better of it, I grab onto the front door handle again and mutter a quick curse for whoever comes after.
I hope all their life’s regrets pile on top of them until they can’t bear to sit with themselves.
What I don’t anticipate is the strength of the power that rolls out of me. It doesn’t just touch the door handle, but spreads right down the door and onto the stone steps below me.
I hop off the step to avoid accidentally cursing myself.
Then, without looking back, I head down the wide grey pavement, taking in the gargantuan houses on both sides of the street.
Their windows gleam in the sunlight, like beady black eyes keeping watch over me, and I pull up the borrowed hood to cover my face and head.
Not really paying too much attention to where I’m going, I’m too focused on ignoring the stabbing pain in my head and the growing nausea threatening the integrity of my stomach contents.
My legs both feel like I’ve fallen asleep on them and I’m practically dragging myself along, trying to put some distance between myself and the crypt house.
I’m almost at the end of the street, where it intersects with a busier road that I’m hoping will tell me where I am, when I spot two figures crossing the road.
Two familiar figures.
I don’t know quite what to do with myself. My heart hammers in my throat as I make a mad scramble behind a tree, hoping that either the trunk hides me or that neither of them will pay attention to the weirdo in a hooded cloak in the blazing sunshine.
Holding myself as still as possible when the world still feels like it’s spinning and tilting around me, I grip the tree trunk to keep me from toppling over as I wait for them to pass by.
“The city really is best at this time of year. I must come more often.”
My eyes close involuntarily at Jack’s voice. My friend, my brother’s crewmate. While I might not be as close to him as I am with Finch or even Torin, he’s still been with Finch for a long time now.
And I have no idea what he’s doing here.
‘What did you do?’
Those same words have been haunting me from the moment I came to inside the crypt house. The trouble is, I can’t quite place them or who said them.
“Mother is arriving tomorrow. You’ll want to pick up a new suit before she arrives.” That’s Jack’s brother. Another voice that seems to be seared into my soul, even if it slips out of my memory like sifting sand. He was inside the house, I’m sure of it.
Miles was there on the island. I’m sure of it. I can picture him standing on the causeway while a cold wind blows in my face. His beady eyes bore into mine, and everything in me freezes, trapped in place by a venomous predator about to strike.
But why can’t I remember why he was there or what he said to me? I wrack my brain to recall anything else, any other detail that I can latch onto to try to work out what happened to me or how I ended up here.
But I come up empty.
The two of them pass by, and it’s only once they’re midway up the street that I can finally take a full breath. I keep my chin down, eyes up as I watch them sauntering along the street. When they pause outside the house I just emerged from, my gut twists.
I spin around, stumbling along faster so that I don’t have to witness what happens when either of them touches the cursed door. The intersecting street at the far end is crowded, busy with people milling about with singular focus. Perfect. It’s exactly what I need to disappear into the crowd.
The pavements are grey stone and the buildings are also a dull grey, shops and other businesses alike.
Wagons, pulled by a mixture of horses and bigger beasts, are clogging up the middle of the street.
It’s been a long time since I was last here, but I know exactly where I am.
Somehow I’ve wound up bang in the middle of Ashwick, at least a three-day hard sail from the sanctuary of our mouldering mansion.
How did I get here? And, more importantly, how much time have I lost?
There’s an odd tightness in my chest. Judging by the sluggishness of my thoughts and the dry yet tacky inside of my mouth, I’m guessing it’s been a while since I last ate or drank anything.
I rub at the spot between my ribs and have a shock when it feels like the tightness bites back, snapping at my fingers like my own body is trying to attack.
I really must be losing it.
The feeling morphs into one of warmth and... concern? Almost like that bundle of something inside my chest is reacting to me prodding at it. Another surge of pure worry hits me, but it’s strangely disconnected, almost like it’s a feeling happening to someone else.
That’s the moment that I realise exactly what it is I’m feeling. It’s the mate bond with Reva, the one we thought we’d lost forever. I’m not feeling my own emotions. Instead, I’m feeling a tiny trickle of those coming from Reva.
Concern. Frustration. A heady dose of relief. All chased by this undiluted affection that cuts me off at my knees, nearly sending me rolling into the path of a wagon pulled by an ox that snorts in frustration.
Fuck. I’m a little shaky from the mix of sensations and the love that she’s pumping out at me. Like she knows that I’m here somewhere. She sees me.
And she loves me.
Holy fuck. I might start bawling again.
Then the ox beside me snorts again, stomping one foot in a clear display of frustration.
“Don’t judge me, man,” I mutter as I swipe at my leaky eyeballs.
It snorts again, and I let out a wet chuckle.
But when I look at it properly, I spot the wounds where the harness connects with its flesh and the scarred flesh all around it.
There’s also something off about the way it's looking at me. Something about the look in its eyes has me pausing and cocking my head to one side. It has a metal bit around its mouth, connected to a thick collar around its neck, and I take an involuntary step closer. I wish I had Jack’s spectacles on me, the ones that show you magic and spells. But perhaps I don’t need them.
I don’t know how, but I can sense magic around the thick clasp at the base of their neck. Reaching out slowly, the ox snaps its teeth at me, and my fingertips tingle as awareness itches the back of my mind.
“That’s not very nice, is it?” I say. “Look, buddy, I’m trying to help you. I’m going to try to get that shitty collar off you, all right?”
At my words, the ox freezes in place as though it understands exactly what I’m saying.
It then takes a couple of hesitant steps forward before charging toward a nearby alleyway.
I grab the harness that’s attached to its back, glancing around at the bustling street.
Thankfully, there’s an alleyway nearby and absolutely no one is paying attention to either the ox or the hooded guy it’s dragging along.
The two of us only just fit in the tight space of the alleyway, and I have a feeling I need to work fast before anyone notices the ox is no longer in position.
“Right. I’m going to reach down and take the collar off, okay?”
It huffs again, right into my face. Its breath is hot and rancid, but I don’t react, instead leaning closer until I’m near enough to undo the fastening. The metal stings my fingertips, and on my tongue, I can taste iron.
Again, I don’t know how I know, but I can tell the clasp is ensorcelled to remain closed. That and there’s something else underneath, another form of magic that I can’t quite make sense of.
The ox doesn’t move and I manage to ignore the way the metal burns and blisters my fingertips. But I’m able to locate a loose pin and break the connection.
“Almost done.”
The ox’s flesh looks raw beneath the collar, and I stifle a wince. A twist and snap has the fastening loosening enough for the collar to fall into my hand. I step back, hitting the alley wall while the ox stays in place. It feels like we’re both holding our breath for a moment.
Then the ox shrinks before my eyes, growing smaller and shifting shape until it morphs into a human figure.
Into... a naked woman.
I avert my eyes immediately, but not before my eyes land on the many scars littering her back. I can’t see a single inch of unraised skin.
What the—
My eyes skirt past her to the whole street of wagons, all pulled by various beasts.
Just how many of them are beast-borne people trapped in their animal form?
The woman’s eyes dart all around before landing on her hands and arms as she holds them out in front of her.
“You all right?” I ask softly.
Stupid question, really.
“How long have you been stuck like that?” I continue, already pulling the cloak from my shoulders to wrap around her. “Do you have anywhere to go? Or a stash of clothes somewhere?”
The woman’s eyes scan my body and my bare legs, and I grimace, stepping deeper into the shadows of the alleyway.
“I’m not into whatever this is,” she says in a voice that’s impossibly gravelly, like she hasn’t used it in a long time.
Shoving the collar into the pocket of the robe as I thrust it at the woman, my fingers bash against some material that lets out a loud clink; a hefty coin purse.
“Well, that makes things easier,” I mutter to myself. “I’m not into anything weird either. I just saw the collar and reacted.”
She gives me an impassive stare, not responding even as I thrust the cloak at her more enthusiastically. When she eventually takes it, I then shove half of the coins at her before clutching the rest of the purse to my chest.
The woman eyes my bare legs again as she weighs the coins in her hand. “You expect me to believe you just set me free for no reason?”
“Yep.” I take another step back, heading deeper into the alleyway and further from the street before glancing over my shoulder. I can’t exactly walk around in the middle of the city dressed in just my shirt and underwear.
That’s when I spot the papers plastered all along the damp wall and let out a pained groan. Snatching the nearest one, I inspect it for a moment before scrunching it up.
“Well, that’s all I need.”
The scarred woman appears at my shoulder, surprisingly swift and silent on her feet. “That’s you,” she grunts.
“It is. Me and a whole lot of my brother’s crew.” I rub my tired eyes as another wave of Reva’s concern trickles into my chest. My attempt at sending some soothing energy right back to her doesn’t seem to work as I’m hit with yet more worry as it intermingles with my own.
Plastered on the wall are countless posters detailing missing people. Layered right over the top is a fresh piece of paper with a dozen faces peering out. And right up close to the top, my face is staring back with a fat reward for finding information on any one of our whereabouts, dead or alive.
Well, that’s not good. Our arrest warrants have reached the capital.
“Come on,” the scarred woman says, her eyes darting from the wall to my face and back again. “I know a place.”