Chapter 18
18
DAMIEN
I watched from the shadows as the scene unfolded between Arya and the witch. My plan had been to sneak into the Ryder residence to talk to Arya, but I didn’t expect her not to be home. Fortunately, I saw her outside the gates. Unfortunately, I witnessed her battle the witch. I was about to intervene when the magic bounced off her and I realized Arya had a protection spell on her. She’d come prepared.
When the second magic flame barreled toward her, a man in white suddenly appeared out of thin air. If I blinked, I would have missed it. But my stomach dropped when the magic flame froze in the air, because that meant the man was fae.
What in the name of the immortals was a fae doing outside of Faelight Forest? And how did he know Arya?
Then it all made sense. A little too much sense. Since the accident, she had been claiming she wasn’t Arya. Practically begging everyone to see she wasn’t Arya. And no one believed her.
“You’re not Arya?” I stepped out of my hiding spot.
She and the fae whirled around to face me. Her expression was one of shock, but the fae looked almost bored when he met my gaze. I didn’t recognize him. Not that I knew many fae since they were sequestered in their forest, but still. There were some I’d encountered, but this one? This one I would have remembered. He had a unique look that would be difficult to forget.
“Damien!” She glanced between me and the fae. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” I stepped closer, unable to refute the fact that I missed her. It hadn’t been long since we last spoke, but I felt the tug of our bond pulling me toward her. To this woman who was not Arya. Now I understood why she was so different from the Arya I knew.
She fidgeted, clearly nervous. “Uh… you should have given me a heads up. I, uh…”
“Would have had a lie ready to go?” I finished for her. “Who are you?”
The fae laughed and then sniffed the air. “Ah, so this is the infamous Shadow Prince!” he mused, then offered a slight bow. “A pleasure.”
I frowned and ignored him, turning my attention back to her. “Who are you?”
She blew out a breath. “My name is Cat,” she whispered. “I’m not from Elaria.”
“Then where are you from?”
The fae chuckled as if he was in on a joke I wasn’t.
She grimaced. “From somewhere very far away.”
“From where?” I demanded with a growl.
She sighed as if she was exhausted. “From a place called Earth. You’ve probably never heard of it because it’s another world. Arya sort of pulled me in here and swapped places with me,” she casually offered with a shrug. “I’ve been trying to find my way back home ever since.”
I furrowed my brows. “ That’s why you jumped into the River Elara that day…” I murmured as I started to piece it all together. The switch must have happened the night of the accident.
Cat nodded. “Yes. I thought maybe the portal might be in the river, but...”
“It wasn’t?” I interrupted.
She shook her head. “If it is, I couldn’t find it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good,” I muttered mainly to myself.
“What?” She frowned.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. She could not leave. Not now that I’d found her… my twin flame . She had to stay in Elaria whether she liked it or not.
If she knew the thoughts I was having she’d hate me, and by the immortals, I sort of hated myself. To keep her here against her will… I knew it was wrong, but I had no other choice. My freedom was on the line. It was all I’d ever wanted.
“While this conversation is tantalizing,” the fae interrupted, “my time here is limited.” He turned to Cat. “Can I ask for a favor, my little human?”
A growl slipped out of me as I stepped toward her, grabbed her wrist, and snatched her away from the mystery fae.
His violet eyes widened in surprise and he slightly stumbled backward. “Well, that was rude,” he muttered. “I meant no harm.”
“I don’t know you, fae .” I nudged Cat behind me.
In a flash, she yanked her wrist out of my grasp and scoffed. “But I know him!” In a huff, she stomped around me and approached the fae. “What do you need?”
The fae’s eyes alit with mischief. “Get yourself into some trouble tomorrow, will you, kitty cat? I have something to do here on the mainland and unfortunately, I’ve wasted too much time here with you tonight to get anything done.” He grumbled the last part and gave me an annoyed look.
Cat tilted her head and laughed, the sound melodious to my ears. A thread of jealousy tugged in my chest. I didn’t like that he could make her laugh like that. “Are you seriously asking me to get into trouble on purpose?”
“From our short acquaintance, I gather it won’t be difficult for you to do.” He smirked and winked at her. “I promise to save you in time, so have no fear, little human.”
“Wait a minute…” I stood between them and turned to Cat, incredulous. “Did you make a deal with this fae?”
When she bit her lower lip, the motion made me lose my train of thought. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Why did she affect me so much?
“Well…”
“Well, did you?” I shouted.
She winced and whispered, “Yes.”
My eyes grew so big, I thought they’d fall out of their sockets. “By the immortals!” I whirled around to face the fae. “You obviously know who I am, so you know I’m deadly serious when I say that you have three seconds to undo the deal you made with her. Now !”
The fae smirked. “And why would I do that, Shadow Prince?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you,” I growled.
He laughed and tossed his head back, carefree. His white hair blew in a cold gust that scattered leaves across the cobblestones. With confidence that bordered on insanity, he met my furious gaze and winked. “I’d like to see you try.”
Before I could take a step towards him, he disappeared. My mouth hung open in unrepentant shock. I was angry. Enraged. And the only person nearby to feel my wrath was Cat. I whirled around to face her.
“How could you? How idiotic can you be? Even in your world, surely you’ve heard the folly of making deals with the fae!” My voice boomed, long past the point of caring if we were discovered.
She flinched, but stood her ground. “He’s my only way home,” she replied calmly. “He has the answers I need. Whatever deal I made, I’d make it ten times over if it gets me back to my world.”
I ground my teeth, wanting nothing more than to shake some sense into her and tell her she was never ever going back to her world. But I refrained. By the will of the immortals, I managed to hold it together.
“He can’t be the only answer,” I gritted between my teeth.
“Yes, he is,” she said adamantly. “But don’t worry; as soon as he tells me how to get back, I’ll be out of your hair. Hopefully, you won’t have to deal with me much longer.”
That was not what I wanted. Far from it. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t tell her I had every intention of stealing her away. I had to be smart about this. I couldn’t scare her. She was probably already scared, landing in a world she knew nothing about. When I recalled the few interactions we’d had since the night of the accident, so many things made sense. I felt like a fool. I should have known something was amiss.
“Who else knows the truth?”
She hesitantly bit down on her lower lip. “Maeve knows,” she whispered. “But that’s it.”
I could tell she was lying, but I didn’t refute her claim. Who else had she befriended since her arrival? I needed to get eyes on her during the day. Now that I knew the truth about who she was, I needed to protect her.
“Who was that witch?” I asked, shifting the conversation to earlier events.
“The headmistress of Arya’s art school.” She shifted on her feet. “Maeve and I found out that Arya’s involved in some shady things, which should surprise no one.” She snorted and shook her head. “Mirabel – the headmistress – has been following us all evening.”
Learning that Arya was involved in something nefarious did not, in fact, surprise me. “What is Arya involved in? Does it involve the vampires?”
“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “Look, you don’t have to worry about any of this or get involved. I’m handling it—”
“Tell me everything,” I interrupted. “Start from the beginning.”
“Damien,” she groaned, but I stopped her.
“Cat,” I said, her name evoking a curl of protectiveness, “I know you don’t have much reason to trust me, but I can help you. In all honesty, you might even be helping me ,” I admitted, surprised by my candor.
She frowned and twisted her plump lips to the side, which seemed to be a habit when she was thinking, and one I wholeheartedly approved. After some thought, she nodded. “Fine.” For the next thirty minutes, we stood in the dark while she told me everything that had happened today and what she’d discovered.
I watched her intently; the way she spoke with her hands, the way she looked me directly in the eyes when she spoke without any sense of fear, and how her voice never wavered. She was confident, fearless, and intelligent. She was everything the real Arya wasn’t. How I hadn’t noticed earlier was beyond me.
When she finished her tale, she blew out a breath and jabbed her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I had the answers to the world’s mysteries. “So, what do you think?”
“I believe we might be working the same case.” I scratched at the scruff of my chin. “I’m investigating the vampires to learn what they’re up to in the Underclaw Market. You’ve given me valuable information. Thank you.” I turned to leave.
“Wait. That’s it?” She grabbed my sleeve. “You take but you don’t give? That’s not how quid pro quo works, buddy.”
I peered over my shoulder at her and furrowed my brows, confused by the expression. “Pardon?”
She rolled her eyes, then fixed me with an irritated glare. “Give and take. You can’t just take and not give, Damien. I gave you a shit ton of information, but you didn’t offer me a single thing. What do you know about the vampires?”
I shook my head and touched the hand that clutched my sleeve. It was warm to the touch. I gently pulled it away and forced her to release the fabric, then I dropped it almost immediately as if seared by her skin. “None of my information is imperative to what you’re dealing with,” I said. “Stay at the Ryder residence where it’s safe. I’ll come see you soon.”
Crossing her arms, she scoffed and muttered, “As if. I have things to do and people to see. There’s no way I’m going under house arrest.”
I growled and whirled around to face her. “Cat,” I gritted between my teeth, “don’t test me. Do as I say.”
She narrowed her eyes defiantly. “No.” We stood in a silent stare-off. “Are you going to the Underclaw Market?”
“Why?”
“Take me with you,” she said confidently. “Let me join your investigation. I can help.”
Before the words were out of her mouth, I was already shaking my head. “No, that’s not—”
Stubbornness blazed in her eyes. “I’ll go with or without you.”
She pushed past me and walked down the street. I snorted, knowing very well she didn’t know where she was going. “If you can even find your way to the Underclaw Market,” I said knowingly.
She froze mid-step. “Someone will tell me the way,” she doggedly insisted.
I chuckled. “Perhaps, but you can’t get in without this .” I pulled the token that guaranteed entry to the market from my pocket with a flourish.
She whirled around to face me again and looked at the token in my hand, narrowing her honey brown gaze. “Damnit,” she grumbled. “Come on, Damien. Don’t be an asshole. Let me come with you,” she pouted, sticking out her lower lip.
I rolled my eyes, but I had to admit it wasn’t such a bad idea. Having her near me could guarantee I knew where she was and could protect her. I pocketed the token and walked toward her, seizing her wrist. I fixed her with a no-nonsense stare. “Stick by me and don’t go wandering on your own. Understand?”
She saluted me. “Yes sir!”
I sighed, knowing I would probably regret this later, and dragged her down the street toward the Southern District.
Dimly lit streets wound through the Southern District and spit us out at the entrance of the Underclaw Market, a place as grim as it was secretive. The buildings leaned into each other like tired old men, their facades darkened with grime and the residue of hard urban life. The pungent air reeked of rotting refuse and the sharp tang of iron, possibly from blood spilled in the shadows. Every so often, a gust of wind carried the brine of the distant sea, which mingled with the foul stench of the streets to create a rather unpleasant miasma.
As we neared the nondescript doorway that served as the market's entrance, the atmosphere grew heavier, the shadows deeper. Towering, silent guards scrutinized us from beneath hooded cloaks, their eyes flickering with a cold light.
“State your business,” one of them grunted as they looked between us.
I peered over at Cat, who wore my oversized cloak to hide her distinctive Northern District attire, lest we attract the wrong attention. I was used to dressing like a commoner since I didn’t have the same access to the family money as my brothers and sisters did, and the rough, woolen trousers and tunic helped me blend into the gloom. Instead of answering their brusque request, I flashed the token, its metal cool and heavy in my grip. The guards stepped aside without a word, the door creaking ominously as it opened.
As the door swung open, the change in the air was immediate—a mix of musk and magic. Before we could cross the threshold, masks were thrust into our hands. These weren’t simple disguises, but elaborate, crafted visages of beasts and mythical creatures made from wood and metal twisted into expressions of snarling ferocity or sly enchantment. Cat and I were given masks that resembled a snarling wolf with harsh, commanding features.
She peered up at me and gave a wide smile as she placed the mask over her face and attempted a growl. My face heated and my heart stuttered, momentarily mesmerized by her ability to enjoy herself even in such dangerous circumstances. Her giggles eventually faded and she latched her hand in mine, catching me by surprise.
With our masks firmly in place, we stepped inside, the market unfurling like a den of iniquity. Torches and enchanted globes cast dubious, flickering light over the stalls. The scents were overpowering—exotic spices battled the dank smell of damp earth and mold, and the rich, metallic scent of fresh blood from dark corners mingled with the sweet decay of overripe fruit. Haggling voices mixed with low, dangerous murmurs of deals being struck in secrecy.
The patrons were a gallery of the grotesque and glamorous. Vampires with pale, sharp faces lurked beside warlocks whose fingers twitched with the residue of spells. A witch, her eyes glowing faintly, smiled at me from behind a mask of black lace, her intentions as opaque as the veils that draped her stall.
Each stall we passed was a trove of the forbidden and rare. One boasted skins that shimmered with an inner light, likely flayed from enchanted beasts. Another offered weapons that gleamed with dark promise, their blades etched with runes that whispered death.
“Oh, wow, look at that!” Cat murmured as she pointed to a stall that featured an alarming mix of animal skulls in various stages of decay and size.
My grip on her hand was firm and unyielding as I led her through the crowded aisles. “Stay close,” I growled, low enough for only her to hear over the cacophony. This wasn't a place for softness; every shadow could harbor a threat, and every glance held weight.
Her response was a quick nod. Tension vibrated through her skin, a mix of thrill and excitement as palpable as the electric charge in the air.
Navigating the Underclaw Market required the use of all your senses and a sharp mind. Every rustle of fabric and whispered word held meaning. Here, under the guise of masks and amidst the chaos of dark commerce, alliances were forged and broken with the exchange of coin or blood.
Curiosity glimmered in her eyes, the only feature discernable beneath her mask. Each time her steps faltered or she leaned toward a stall to inspect its wares, I kept us moving, ever vigilant, ever wary of lingering too long or catching the wrong eye. This was a dance on a knife's edge, and one misstep could be our last.
“Damien,” she whispered, “I see a lot of vampires… at least I think I do; I can’t really tell with everyone wearing masks. But I don’t see any artwork.”
I nodded. “I noticed that as well.”
“Maybe it’s not being sold here,” she murmured as she continued to look around. “Maybe they’re selling it to the noblemen and women of the Northern District.”
“Possibly…” I muttered, even though it made more sense to sell it here, rather than out in the open. “Let’s ask around. We might be missing something.”
Weaving through the crowded market, I spotted a stall that seemed out of place amid the opulence and dark glamour surrounding it. The vendor, a burly figure with thick arms and the distinctive broad shoulders of a werewolf, showcased vials of silvery liquid—werewolf venom, a rare and dangerous commodity.
Cat’s gaze locked on the display. “Damien, this might be a good place to start asking questions.”
I nodded, impressed that we were of the same mind. Approaching the stall, I fixed my mask more securely, ensuring my features were hidden. “Evening,” I gruffly greeted the werewolf, keeping my tone casual as I nodded towards the vials. “Heard any rumors of unusual happenings around here? The Underclaw's always buzzing with something, isn't it?” I mentally slapped myself for my amateurish question and hoped I hadn’t approached the wrong vendor.
The werewolf's gaze hardened and his eyes narrowed into slits as he scrutinized us. “People usually don’t come for the gossip, they come with specific needs. What’s yours?” His voice was deep and stern, laced with suspicion.
“Just making conversation,” I replied, keeping my tone light but firm. “We’re always on the lookout for... opportunities. You know, anything that might be considered a special event.”
He leaned forward and crossed his bulky arms over his chest. “Look, mate, I don’t know what you’re fishing for, but maybe you’re casting your net in the wrong part of the sea. This market’s not for the meek or the overly curious.”
Before the tension could escalate, Cat stepped forward. Her voice dripped with a honeyed tone that softened the steel in the werewolf's stance. “Oh, we’re just enthusiasts for the unique. The dangerous, even. You look like someone who appreciates both. Maybe you could show us where the real excitement happens?”
Her flirtatious gaze held the werewolf's and I could almost see the impact of her words physically loosen the rigidity in his shoulders. However, he was still cautious, his reply measured. “Maybe I do know some places, but why should I spill my secrets to a couple of strangers?”
Cat leaned closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, her smile playful yet enticing. “Because it’s not every day you get to impress a curious out-of-towner. We might even come back for more of... whatever you recommend.”
The werewolf chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through the air. “Impress, huh? That's a tall order. But perhaps I'm inclined to try.” His eyes flicked between us, then lingered on Cat. “The underground fights are where the real beasts play. But it's not for the faint-hearted.”
“Oh, we’re anything but faint-hearted,” Cat replied, her hand brushing lightly against the edge of his stall, a subtle but clear signal of her interest.
I clenched my fists at my sides, the sight of her blatant flirting stirring a coil of annoyance within me. The werewolf softened further, his suspicion giving way to the allure of her attention.
“If you're serious, follow the alley past the blacksmith's forge and look for a door guarded by two giants. This token,” he said, pulling a small black piece from underneath the counter, “will show them you're not a couple of aimless wanderers.” He slid it across to Cat, his fingers lingering a tad too long as they brushed against hers.
“Thank you,” she purred, her eyes locked on his with genuine appreciation. “You’ve been incredibly helpful.”
As we turned to leave, I caught the werewolf watching us go, his gaze fixed on Cat and her curves. Heated jealousy flared within me, unexpected and fierce. “Keep it together,” I muttered under my breath, not entirely sure if I was more annoyed at Cat for flirting or at me for caring so much.
“Wasn't that fun?” Cat teased, glancing back at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Just remember why we're here,” I snapped. My voice was sharper than intended, my nerves frayed by the scene I had just witnessed. We walked in silence past another row of stalls, her hand clenched firmly in mine. “You really played him with that charm back there.” My voice pitched low, I tried to shake off the annoyance that had clung to me since our encounter at the werewolf's stall.
Cat, holding the token tightly in her hand, flashed a mischievous smile. “Jealous?”
“No,” I grunted, the irritant tightening further. Her casual demeanor in the face of danger grated on me more than I cared to admit.
She was silent for a moment before softly conceding, “Okay, Damien. But you can't deny it worked.”
As we headed toward the blacksmith’s forge where the underground fights were supposedly located, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was pulling us deeper into the shadows of the Underclaw Market than I originally planned. The narrow alley swallowed us with its looming darkness and the clamor of the Underclaw Market faded into a distant murmur, replaced by our echoing footsteps on the damp cobblestones. The air grew heavier, tinged with the tang of rust and something bitter—fear, perhaps, or anticipation.
We reached the end of the alley where the faint glow from a forge painted shadows on the walls. The door, as described, was guarded by two towering figures that looked more like stone gargoyles than men. As we approached, the thudding of my heart matched the rhythmic pounding of the blacksmith’s hammer somewhere behind us.
Cat confidently stepped forward, the small metal token glinting in her hand under the weak lantern light held by one of the guards. She handed it over with a steadiness that belied the pulse I noticed jumping at her throat.
The guard examined the token with an unreadable expression before nodding stiffly and stepping aside. The door groaned open and revealed a steep, narrow staircase that descended into darkness. Moldy earth and stale sweat wafted up, along with a faint, underlying smell of blood—a sharp reminder of what lay below.
I recaptured Cat’s hand and took the lead. She tightened her grip and I peered over my shoulder at her curiously.
“You said to stay close,” she murmured.
I nodded and turned back around, thankful she decided to listen.
We descended the stairs, each step echoing hollowly around the stone walls. The sounds from below grew louder with each step—a roaring crowd, the thud of flesh against flesh, and sharp cries of pain or victory. It was like walking into the belly of some horrid beast, the atmosphere growing denser, the air heavier.
At the bottom, the underground fighting pit opened up before us, a crude arena lit by torches that tossed harsh shadows onto the eager faces of the crowd. The pit was a circle of trampled earth with ropes marking its boundaries, the earth stained dark from the blood of countless previous bouts.
The spectators, a mix of supernaturals from across Elaria, were a hidden throng with faces concealed behind garish masks that did little to hide their bloodthirsty anticipation. The smell of sweat and blood was overpowering, and the noise was an almost physical thing—a cacophony of cheers, jeers, and gambling stakes being shouted over one another.
“Holy shit,” Cat murmured, her voice barely audible over the crowd. “This is insanity!”
Cat clung slightly to my arm as we found a spot along the edge of the crowd. The fights were brutal, a visceral display of strength and savagery that left nothing to the imagination. Two combatants, their bodies marked by scars and fresh wounds, fought with a desperation that was as compelling as it was horrifying.
“Do you see anything?” I said to her above the noise. I knew we seemed out of place compared to the crowd of ravenous, bloodthirsty gamblers.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Look up there.” She pointed up at the top of the arena.
Mounted against the far wall was a painting that was completely incongruous in an illicit gambling den, but which could be easily missed if I hadn’t been searching for it.
“That’s one of Arya’s,” she said. “I can almost guarantee it.”
“How can you be so sure?” I narrowed my gaze to get a better look at the painting in such dim lighting.
“I got a look at her work today. I don’t know much about art, but it looks like her style,” she said. “Now the million-dollar question is why the hell would they hang it up here?”
“Dollar?” I questioned with raised brows. “What is that?”
She waved me off. “Ignore me. That’s what we call money in my world. But seriously, what the heck is her artwork doing in an underground fight? I thought it was being sold off?”
“It must be for something else; the what is what we don’t know,” I mumbled as I continued to scan the area.
The fight was coming to a gruesome end, with both fighters slowing down. When the winner was announced and money was exchanged, it would turn into chaos. I had to make sure I didn’t lose Cat.
Casually, I slipped my hand in hers and gripped it tightly. She peered over at me. “The fight’s about to end,” I murmured. “I can’t have you getting lost.”
“Oh.” Then her eyes widened. “Hey… what if the victor wins the artwork? In my world, some of our most famous paintings can go for millions of dollars. Duplicate or not, they could be fooling some pretty dangerous people.”
I shook my head. “Do you see the spectators wearing the crow masks?”
She looked around and nodded. “Yeah, I see them. So what?”
“What do you see?”
She shook her head and I saw her furrowed brows above the ridge of her wolf mask. “I’m not following. What are you getting at?”
“What kind of people do you see? They’re certainly not noblemen and women from the Northern District, I can tell you that much,” I confidently asserted. “They’re average folk, or those from the lower class. I would wager none of them are from the North, nor from Dragon Valley, nor from the royal family, yet, rumor has it that people from all walks of life come to the Underclaw. How come we don’t see them?”
Her mouth fell open then shut again. “You’re right. I don’t see them.” Her gaze flitted around the arena and she analyzed our surroundings with a finer eye. She didn’t know much about this world, but she might be able to see something I couldn’t.
I followed her shrewd gaze as it bounced around every corner of the room, following every person. Her gaze returned to the painting mounted at the top of the arena and she stared at it for several minutes. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she turned to me.
“They’re here,” she said knowingly.
“Who’s here?” I questioned, slightly confused.
“The rich people.” When she saw I didn’t understand, she clarified. “The noblemen and women, those from Dragon Valley, and royalty. All of them, they’re here.”
My brows shot up and I whirled around to see what she saw, but it was the same crowd as before. I tightened my grip on her hand. “Where?”
She nodded toward the painting. “Right there.”
I looked at the painting again and frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“The painting is a looking glass,” she said. “From this side, all we see is the painting, but I bet there’s another location where the rich folks are watching in comfort, placing bets with much higher stakes.” She lowered her voice to keep those jostling beside us from overhearing. “No wonder Mirabel is a part of it. I’m sure they need a witch to do it.”
Her theory was far-fetched, and I wasn’t convinced. “How did you reach that conclusion?”
She shrugged. “I read the book The Picture of Dorian Gray in high school,” she offered casually. Cat noticed my bewildered expression, clearly ignorant about the book. She waved away my confusion. “While the plot has nothing to do with what’s going on here, it gave me the idea that artwork could be alive . That painting is too out of place here for it not to be otherwise.”
Magic could certainly play a part in this, but I didn’t know how. While her idea had merit, we didn’t have any proof. And without proof, her idea was just that – an idea.
“Do you know when Arya is scheduled to turn in her artwork each month?”
She nodded. “The third Sunday of each month.”
I tensed. It was too tidy to be a coincidence that it happened to be the same day I was allowed to come onto the mainland. Something didn’t sit right with me. I needed to talk to my brother, Thorne. Whoever was orchestrating this was close to the royal family, if not in the royal family. Which meant it did not bode well for Thorne.