Chapter 9 Alix
ALIX
“Is that the house?”
Gwen looks up at me and nods. She’s bundled into the sleigh and looking much better now that she’s safe under a pile of blankets.
It didn’t take long for her to explain what happened and for us to retrace her steps back to the cottage.
She hadn’t been outside for very long, judging by the short length of her candy trail, and the snow hadn’t yet completely covered the red sugary path.
We easily found the cottage where, according to Gwen, the witch trapped them in her basement.
As soon as I get Daemon out of there and make sure he’s okay I’m never going to stop making fun of him for this. He’s the first person ever to have escaped the most dangerous prison in the world, but he got trapped in a root cellar by an old lady. It’s too perfect.
“Stay here,” I tell Gwen as I climb out of the sleigh. “We’ll be right back with your brother, I promise.”
“Be careful,” she says in a small voice. “The witch is in there.”
“I’m still not sure I believe she’s a witch,” Dessa mutters under her breath.
Aurelia brushes her hair back from her face and squares her shoulders. “Whatever’s in there, you two should let me handle it. Stay here with Gwen, I’ll go inside by myself.”
I squint at her. “Are you serious?”
“No offense, but you’re human, Alix, and you could get hurt. Dessa, you’re not much better off than she is outside the water. Whatever’s got the guys trapped in there, you should let me handle it.”
I size her up, frowning. I know better than to judge fae by human standards.
Aurelia is tiny and innocent looking, but in reality she’s older than my nana and has absurdly powerful magic.
Still, though, it’s hard to look at a girl who is barely five feet tall and willingly send her off to confront a monster alone.
“What if you need help?” I hedge.
She shrugs and flashes us a slightly manic grin. “Fox, Jett, Daemon, and Kastian are in there. They’ll help.”
“I feel like if they could help they wouldn’t be in there in the first place,” I grumble. “How about you deal with the witch and we’ll focus on finding and freeing the guys in case you do need backup?”
Aurelia rolls her eyes. “Fine, but at least stay behind me.”
“We’ll stay a few paces back,” Dessa says. “Now let’s go!”
We leave Gwen safely in the sleigh and creep up the path toward the tiny cottage. It looks like something out of—for lack of a better comparison—a fairytale. It’s not exactly giving “evil lair” but I guess, like Aurelia, looks can be deceiving.
Right before we reach the door, Aurelia holds out her hand in the universal gesture for “wait.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so focused.
She darts up the front steps and onto the porch, then presses her ear to the door.
After a moment, she takes a step back and drives one tiny foot into the center of the door.
The door shudders, then flies open with a bang and a crash of splintering wood.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
Odessa grins widely. “I’ve got to learn to do that.”
Aurelia steps inside and we dart after her. The moment we enter the cottage I skid to a halt, my eyes going wide. My brain short-circuits, frantically recalculating.
We’re standing in a cozy, one-room cottage. On one side of the room, a fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across a flour-dusted wooden table. On the opposite side of the room, Mrs. Hilde—the baker from town—stands frozen, her spectacles slipping down her nose as she gapes at us.
In her right hand, a pastry bag drips white frosting onto her apron.
In front of her, a five-tiered cake covered in delicate sugar roses teeters on the edge of the table.
It looks like Mrs. Hilde bumped it with her elbow when we burst inside and, as I watch, the cake topples sideways, landing on the floor with a wet splat.
Frosting splatters everywhere like arterial spray.
For a long, horrible second, I’m convinced we fucked up.
Maybe Gwen was wrong; maybe this is just a totally normal bakery emergency; maybe we just busted down the door and destroyed my second wedding cake for no reason.
I start to mouth an apology, but the words get stuck in my throat. “Mrs. Hilde? I—I’m so sorry about your door—”
But Mrs. Hilde isn’t listening. Or maybe she can’t.
The old lady looks from us to the cake on the floor and horror dawns on her face before morphing quickly into rage.
Her lips turn bloodless and flatten into a thin line and she lets out an anguished wail.
Then, faster than I can process, her pupils dilate until her eyes are entirely black.
Her jaw drops, then keeps dropping, the hinge of it distending with a nauseating, wet pop.
I hear her teeth grind against each other as they grow into nightmarish fangs.
Her body grows and morphs, black hair sprouting on leathery skin.
“Oh my God,” I burst out. “What the fuck is that thing?”
“Stay back,” Aurelia hisses, throwing her arms out to block Dessa and I from moving further into the cottage.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice, I’m already scrambling back from…whatever that thing is. It—she—reminds me of a horror movie monster, like Krampus crossed with a werewolf. She’s not an animal or a person, but some horrible blend of both which sends a primal terror shooting through my veins.
Unlike me, Aurelia doesn’t seem afraid at all. She smiles and charges toward the thing that was Mrs. Hilde, hands outstretched.
An electric current seems to crackle in the air and of their own accord, dozens of household objects—dishes, utensils, fire tongs, and even what’s left of my wedding cake—rise into the air and fly toward the monster.
A sack of flour zooms off a shelf and bursts over her monstrous head, cloaking her in a blizzard of white dust. For a moment, she’s blinded and furious, shrieking as the flour clings to every grotesque crevice of her face.
Mrs. Hilde bellows a horrible roar that rattles the entire cottage and lunges after Aurelia. Aurelia darts out of the way and avoids being clawed but manages to slip on the frosting-covered floor and lose her balance. She scrambles across the floor and the monster lumbers after her.
Completely ignoring Aurelia’s instructions to hang back, Dessa grabs a rolling pin off the table and swings it like a baseball bat at Mrs. Hilde’s head.
She misses her target, but still manages to connect with the creature’s huge, hairy shoulder. A resounding crack rattles through the cabin and Mrs. Hilde roars in pain and rage.
Dessa grins, but her excitement is short lived. The monster swipes its injured arm toward Dessa, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her effortlessly, fingers tightening, squeezing so hard Dessa’s feet dangle off the ground.
I scream out of sheer terror, and to my surprise Mrs. Hilde stops shaking Dessa to look at me. Our gazes connect and she abruptly drops Dessa and changes direction, charging toward the next closest intruder—me.
“She can’t focus on all of us at once!” Aurelia yells behind me, having clearly had the same realization I just did.
Not that that knowledge helps me at all as I shriek and try to jump out of the way of the charging creature. My human reflexes are too slow and Mrs. Hilde swipes at me with enormous claws and I close my eyes just before I feel a hand shoving me out of the way.
I land hard against the wall and my vision blurs as Aurelia jumps in front of me. I blink in surprise when I see her wings are out.
I’ve never seen Aurelia’s wings before—or any female fae’s wings for that matter. They’re smaller than any other fae wings I’ve seen and are an electric blueish-green like a hummingbird.
I blink, dazed for half a second, before a loud bang and shouting jogs my attention.
I look around frantically for the source of the sound, my eyes landing on a door on the far wall. Oh fuck, the guys must be in there.
I stay on my hands and knees and crawl across the frosting-covered floor, wincing every time a shadow passes over me or the monster roars.
I reach the other side of the room and pull myself up on the door handle. It’s locked from the outside, but luckily the key is still shoved into the lock. I turn it and yank the door open.
Immediately, four large men and a boy come spilling out.
If the cottage felt small before, now it’s suffocating.
Daemon, Kastian, Fox, and Jett all have their wings out, and their wingspans are far larger than Aurelia’s.
Between the eight bodies, five sets of wings, and one rampaging baker, there’s barely room to breathe.
Daemon grabs me roughly by the upper arms and shoves me back against the wall, shielding me with his body. My heart leaps when I lock eyes with Daemon, but he doesn’t look at all happy to see me. He grips me by the arms and hauls me behind him, practically suffocating me against the wall.
“What are you doing here?” he roars over the sounds of continued fighting.
“I could ask you the same thing!” I shout back. “You’re welcome by the way!”
He looks like he’s not sure if he wants to strangle me or kiss me, and winds up pushing me further behind him as he turns to face the fight.
I peer around his red and brown wing, and find that the fight is nearly over.
Dessa, bruised but back in the fight, swings the rolling pin at Mrs. Hilde’s head with a yell, just before Kastian reaches her. He doesn’t even waste his time on the monster, just grabs his bond and picks her up. She yells in protest as he carries her kicking out of the house.
Aurelia plants her feet wide, arms raised overhead. The air around her fingers crackles and pops, tiny blue-white arcs jumping between her knuckles. Before she can unleash whatever’s building in her palms, Fox lunges between her and Mrs. Hilde.
His towering height and huge muscles cast Aurelia in shadow and put him nearly at eye level with the snarling beast. He snarls back before he throws his full weight forward, slamming Mrs. Hilde into the flour-covered floor.
Fox’s muscles strain, veins popping in his forearms as he pins Mrs. Hilde’s thrashing body to the ground.
Then a blur of movement catches my eye—Archer, darts out of nowhere, his face set in grim determination, fingers white-knuckled around the wooden handle of a serrated bread knife that looks massive in his small hands.
Without hesitation, he drives the knife down into the monster’s chest and a wet, gurgling sound fills the cottage as dark liquid spurts across Archer’s trembling fingers.