Chapter 17
Seventeen
E verinne stared at the arcanic volt , her lips tugging to one side.
She’d seen dozens of them zipping through the city, and she’d seen Atlas ride his own a handful of times, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach at the thought of riding one with him.
The rider and passenger seats were black leather, and given their size, she would be pressed incredibly close to Atlas.
Which was fine. Completely fine. One headlight in the front flashed bright silver while the one in the back burned red.
A curved sheet of shiny black metal glowed where the arcane magic hummed, powering the two-wheeled vehicle to life.
Small pegs stuck out from either side, where she assumed she was supposed to put her feet, and sparks of blue arcane fire shot from a cylinder tube in the rear.
It was fascinating yet oddly terrifying.
“Take this.” Atlas glamoured her a helmet that matched the one he yanked on over his head. Whereas his was a matte black, hers was the color of crushed amethysts.
Everinne grasped the helmet with both hands, then crinkled her nose. “It’ll ruin my hair.”
Atlas glanced over at her, the helmet and visor concealing his face so only the tips of his ears were visible. “Just put it on, Ever.”
She sighed, more dramatically than was necessary, but tugged the helmet on over her head.
The visor covering her eyes tinted the world in a vibrant purple hue.
Fussing with her hair, she attempted to adjust it and shove it back behind her ears, but the snug helmet made it impossible.
Two straps dangled beneath her chin, and though she tried to clip them together, she couldn’t quite line them up on her own.
“Here, let me help you.” Collecting the straps from her, Atlas expertly snapped them in place, securing them for a perfect fit.
She stared up at him, silently longing to flip up his visor to catch a glimpse of his eyes. His knuckles grazed the underside of her jaw, and a heady zing of desire speared right through her. There was something devastatingly attractive about him and that damn helmet.
“There.” He stepped back and slung one leg over the volt , then held out his hand to her. “Climb on.”
“I’ve never ridden on one before.” Everinne grasped his hand, carefully situating herself behind him.
She was absolutely right.
There was no shred of space between them, no clear definition of where he began and where she ended.
“It’s easy.” He raised his voice and revved the volt , the hum of it reverberating all the way to her bones. “Just hold on to me and you’ll be fine.”
Everinne did as she was instructed and wrapped both of her arms around Atlas’s waist. The thrumming intensified, and when Atlas kicked up the stand with the back of his heel, she held onto him even tighter. In the next second, the volt darted forward and she squealed in delight.
Starysa became a dizzying blur of dazzling lights and beautiful colors, a painting smeared by the hands of motion.
She stole quick glances, left and right, desperately trying to take it all in.
The buildings and shops whirred past them, a late-night wonderland come to life, and she’d never witnessed anything more thrilling.
The pulsing district of parlors and bars illuminated the streets in washes of vivid colors, and through the chaotic clusters of people and pounding music, Everinne spotted the Grand Cru.
On the back of Atlas’s volt, it looked like a majestic palace with its mosaic windows and glass ceiling.
“Look!” She pointed as they streaked by its splendid visage, though she doubted he could hear her over the crush of music and magic. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
She didn’t know if Atlas responded, but he grabbed her wrist and linked her arm back around the security of his waist. Then he held her in place, steering the volt with one hand. Everinne tilted her head, resting it against his muscular back. She should’ve asked him for a ride years ago.
Unfortunately, the speed of the volt brought them to the Mystic Obscura much faster than Everinne anticipated and before she knew it, Atlas was parking outside of a dimly lit alley where a thick veil of glamour throbbed in the air.
In one easy movement, he lifted her off the volt , keeping his hand protectively fastened to the small of her back.
Atlas flicked his wrist and their helmets vanished.
Everinne gaped up at him. “Seriously? Why didn’t you just do that in the beginning?”
Mischief glinted in his eyes and he winked down at her. “It was more fun to watch you struggle.”
Together they walked through the glamour, and the wisps of intense magic tickled her cheek yet pricked along her spine. They approached the back of the alley, where the door marked with whorls and runes kept the otherworldly festivities of the Mystic Obscura hidden away from the rest of the world.
Atlas reached for the handle but Everinne caught his arm. “You can just walk in?”
She knew Jarek could do the same, but it was different because he worked there. It seemed wrong that anyone who looked too closely could simply enter through the glamour and waltz inside the Mystic Obscura without being met by some kind of barrier.
“I told you, I’m a member.” Atlas flipped his hand over and showed her his forefinger, where a tiny white scar marked his flesh.
“The Mystic Obscura goes beyond the norms of exclusivity. Only those who received an invitation can open the door, but in order to do so, they also have to forfeit a drop of blood.”
Everinne reared back. “What?”
“A drop of blood for access to an elite parlor boasting the finest exhibitions and the most extraordinary experiences. Seems like a small price to pay, doesn’t it?
” Atlas nodded toward the stone exterior, his gaze trailing from the door up to the highest point of the wall that lacked any windows.
“Except our blood is imbued into the runes on this door. Granted, we can come and go as we please, but at what cost?”
Apprehension prickled the hairs along the back of Everinne’s neck and goosebumps pebbled across her flesh. She rubbed a hand up and down her arm in an effort to rid herself of the troubling sensation.
“Blood magic?” Even she knew that sort of magic should never be trifled with. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It can be.” Atlas pulled open the door. “Yes.”
She peeked around him, then hesitated, drawing back. “This can’t be right.”
Instead of billowing curtains of bronze silk that seemed to move and shift of their own accord, the entrance of the Mystic Obscura was draped in wide ribbons of black velvet that tumbled down from the high ceiling, diminishing the light.
They crafted a new labyrinth, fluttering in time to the haunting strains of a distant, sinister melody.
Ornate daggers with jeweled hilts were embroidered onto every panel with silver thread, each one different, like snowflakes falling from the sky.
At their feet, a thick fog swirled, crawling along the floor and curling like bony skeletal fingers ready to pry her soul from her body.
Atlas nudged her forward, but Everinne dug her heels into the uneven cobblestone, wary. “It’s not the same as it was last night.”
“It changes based on Reine’s mood.” His tone was even and cool, unfettered despite the chilling welcome.
“You know Reine?” she asked, stepping slightly closer to his side.
“We’ve met once or twice.”
Everinne glanced up sharply, one brow arched in silent question.
“Not like that ,” Atlas muttered, grabbing her hand. Then he tugged her into the Mystic Obscura.
He led her through the winding passage, but whereas Atlas was able to move with ease, Everinne found it difficult to keep up.
The unusual mist thickened around her, making each step feel as though she was trying to wade through a bog of sludge.
Dampness settled over her skin, harrowing and chilling.
Warning fired through her as the mist intensified, choking her with the stench of dank air and decay.
Her eyes watered and she stumbled forward, tripping as the opaque murk tangled around her limbs like bestial vines.
Raw panic climbed up her throat, slowly awakening the dark magic lurking in her veins.
Atlas’s grip loosened, and her clammy hand slipped from his hold.
“Atlas!” she shrieked, gasping as the foul air tainted her lungs.
He spun around to face her, and the disturbing wall of fog evaporated.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Everinne launched herself into his arms. He caught her by the waist, pulling her close. She clutched his shirt, fisting the soft fabric with both hands. Gently, he brushed a fallen strand of hair from her face while his free hand slowly slid to her hip. “What’s wrong?”
Everinne swallowed around the knot of fear lodged in the back of her throat. “The mist…it…it vanished.”
His brows knit together in concern as he studied her. “It disappeared as soon as we walked inside, Ever.”
Except it hadn’t…not for her.
“Come on.” He took her hand once more, lacing their fingers together. “The menagerie is right around this corner.”
Once they were fully inside the Mystic Obscura, everything was exactly as Everinne remembered.
The rows of velvet seating and sweeping balconies were brimming with Starysa’s wealthiest patrons while patrons and performers alike roamed the lower level of the menagerie.
An enchanting melody floated through the air, so sensual in sound, she could almost taste the flavor of it on her tongue—lush berries drizzled in dark chocolate.
Pattering rain fell on the main stage where a male and female took the lead.
They danced together, never breaking contact, as every slow twirl, spin, and dip showcased the torture of forbidden desire.
“Everinne.” A cold, deep voice coasted past her ear and she shivered, turning around to find Jarek standing directly behind her.