Chapter 26
A strange chill dragged August from sleep, and he pushed up to his elbows with a groan, expecting to see an anchored lurking in the cottage’s shadows. Instead, he found a swirling void; the veil torn open, just inches from where he slept.
His heart stuttered as he scrambled backward, the arm of the chaise lounge digging into his back.
Had he opened it in his sleep? Was that even possible?
He exhaled a ragged breath, eyes fixed on the alluring darkness. Dissonant whispers curled around him, their words indistinct, but their meaning clear. They beckoned him forward, promising nothingness. Peace.
No. August clenched his teeth. Leave me alone!
With a quick swipe, he sealed the tear, the Hollow Dark’s grip abruptly severed.
Silver moonlight spilled through the window onto the rough wooden floor, where imaginary faces formed in the knots. Outside, the night buzzed with the distant sound of crickets.
August shivered as he glanced around the dark room.
He was alone. Nothing was out of place. Everything was fine.
But not entirely. There was something—a gnawing unease he couldn’t shake.
The chill remained, even with the rift closed, and it seeped into his bones, sharp and unnatural.
His breath fogged the air in front of him, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled.
A cold knot of fear twisted in his stomach.
“Lottie?”
No response.
A flicker of movement at the edge of the room.
He drew the dagger from its spot at his hip and held it out with a shaky hand.
“Who’s there?”
The words hung heavy in the silence, a palpable tension broken only by the far-off cry of an owl.
There was nothing. He was losing it. He released a slow breath through barely parted lips.
Calm down.
A hand shot out from beneath the sofa, fingers clamping hard around his leg. August wrenched sideways, clumsy with terror, and crashed to the floor.
The shape beneath the sofa watched him, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Solach!” August shouted, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. “Fucking anchored!” He hurled the dagger at the shadowy form, and it disappeared as the blade clattered beneath the sofa.
It must have followed him home. He knew all the anchored that could reach the cottage, and this didn’t feel like one of the usuals. Sometimes, particularly strong anchored could break free of their tethers, but it was never long before they were yanked back. It would be gone soon.
But August could’ve sworn it touched him. He wrinkled his nose and rubbed the place where he’d felt its fingers through the fabric of his trousers.
His imagination. It must have been. The anchored couldn’t touch things.
Do not be afraid, Mo Aesling.
He flinched at the flash of memory.
No, that was different. That wasn’t a normal anchored. He had felt it the moment he woke to her in his room. It was some rare phenomenon that wouldn’t repeat itself.
This was just fear playing tricks on him. Or a dream bleeding over. It had to have been, because the idea that it could happen again was unbearable. The anchored couldn’t touch him. They couldn’t.
Lottie was beside him now. Had she been there the whole time? “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, grand,” he snapped bitterly as he hauled himself off the floor. “Wonderful. Never fucking better.”
Her gaze dropped to his neck. “Oh, Auggie.”
He went still. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know how much remaining time he’d lost by opening the veil. Again.
But he had to look. He had to know.
He crossed to the giant, ornate mirror, and winced when he met his reflection. The black veins stretched halfway up his neck, more prominent than ever. He stared, horrified, his unsteady fingers tracing the shadowed tendrils to where they disappeared beneath his collar.
With clumsy movements, he unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a tangled web of inky black clustered around his heart.
“I told you I’m dying,” August said grimly. So much for making it to summer. He’d be lucky to make it another month.
Lottie had no reply. She knew he was right.
His gaze moved past his own reflection to the empty spot over his shoulder.
“We’ll fix this,” she told him. “You’re not going to die. I won’t allow it. Do you understand?”
He turned to face her, and nodded.
Despite being younger (if twenty minutes could really count as younger), Lottie had spent her whole life protecting him. She stood up to their mother, snapped back at tutors. She was his shield.
But as much as Lottie wanted to believe she could protect him like she always had, he knew she couldn’t anymore.
Her eyes widened and jumped to the front door. “Someone’s here.”
“I know,” he muttered, glowering at the sofa. “Scared the hells out of me.”
“No, not an anchored.”
His entire body tensed. “What?” That wasn’t possible. The cottage was a three-hour walk from Bedwyck, hidden by miles of woods. Who would be way out here?
“Grab the blade,” she whispered.
August dropped to snatch the dagger from beneath the sofa, and Lottie was gone by the time he scrambled back to his feet. He slipped quickly into the cottage’s single bedroom, flattened himself against the rough stone wall beside the door, and waited.
Quiet, punctuated by the persistent owl and a chorus of crickets. A breeze whistled through the cracks, and a tree branch scraped gently against the window.
Still, nothing.
Maybe she was wrong.
Something slammed against the front door. Holding his breath, he strained to hear if it opened. Had he even locked it?
Lottie was in front of him a moment later. “You need to run, Auggie. Now!”
The look she gave was heavy enough to crush him.
Felix.
How did he find him? August had escaped through the Hollow Dark. There was no way he could’ve followed.
But there it was—the clank of metal against the wooden floorboards.
“Open the veil,” she whispered.
“You told me not to.”
“Well, now I’m telling you to open it.”
August flexed his fingers and closed his eyes, reaching desperately for his power.
Nothing.
“I can’t.” His muscles were weak, his body fatigued from opening it while he slept.
Lottie was gone again when he opened his eyes, and he searched for her in the darkness, his gaze landing on the window across the room. It was a way out, but the latch was old and stubborn, and it sounded like a grinding stone when it opened.
He was still weighing the risk when the bedroom door whispered open. It groaned to a stop, leaving him hidden behind it. The silent hum in the air was all too familiar. August stayed pressed to the wall, praying to all six of the gods for Felix to turn around and leave.
“Aug-gie,” Felix called, his singsong tone laced with a manic, shadowed edge.
August clasped the hilt of Lottie’s dagger hard enough to make his knuckles hurt. One quick, deep slash across Felix’s throat to sever the vocal cords before he could say a word.
The door creaked again. The moment their eyes met, he swung.
Gold flared in Felix’s eyes. “Stop,” he commanded, voice smooth as glass.
August froze, and any thoughts of fighting back scattered like fallen leaves.
“Hand it to me.”
He did as he was told.
Felix flipped the dagger around and touched the edge of the blade to August’s throat as the gold faded, releasing the hold. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at August.
“Talking to anchored now? I thought you were above that.”
August scanned the room. No sign of Lottie.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had worse company.” There was no way he’d tell Felix she was here.
Felix grinned. He looked as put-together as always, which was impressive, considering he’d been shot only hours before.
He’d changed shirts, this one a sleek, rich black.
The only sign of the carnage that had covered him in the park were the few stubborn splatters that still matted his light hair.
He wore a dark tailcoat with a dramatic collar and a row of pewter buttons, the handles of two daggers and two flintlock pistols peeking out from the leather holster underneath.
He no longer smelled of the warm spices of The Raven’s Perch. Instead, the faint metallic scent of dried blood twisted with the crisp fragrance of the night forest.
“Oh, the things I plan to do to you, Aesling.”
August couldn’t fight him on his best days, but in this condition, he was struggling just to stay on his feet. Fear coiled tight in his gut. He didn’t want to die, but he wouldn’t beg for mercy when he knew Felix had none to offer.
“Just do it, then,” he said through gritted teeth.
Felix let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”
He took a step back and called for Marlow.
Great. They were both here.
She appeared in the doorway a second later with a coiled rope over her shoulder, dressed in a slim jacket and form-fitting trousers, her hair just past her shoulders now, topped with a wool beret.
“I reckon I’m seeing anchored now, too,” she said incredulously. “Because you were most definitely dead.”
Felix gave her a wry look. “If I weren’t the mature, forgiving person I am, I’d say ‘I told you so’ and point out that you should really stop doubting me.”
“And this is you not saying it?”
His mouth lifted into a wide grin. When he turned to August, it fell away.
“Hands,” he ordered.
When August only glared in response, he rolled his eyes, and the gold returned.
“Hold out your hands.”
When his control returned, the rope was tight around his wrists, digging into his already aching skin.
“We’ll get to the fun revenge bit,” Felix told him, “but first you’re going to fix the mess you made.”
“The mess I made?” August’s face twisted into a scowl, fury burning through him in a rush.
The jagged edge of betrayal was still an open wound, raw and stinging.
After what Felix had done—all the damage, all he’d stolen—there was nothing August wanted more than to drive a dagger straight through his heart.
And now Felix had the nerve to blame him?
“Don’t you dare pin any of what happened on me, you arrogant—”
Felix clasped a hand tight around his throat and slammed him hard against the wall, cutting the sentence short.
He leaned in close enough for August to see the gold flecks in his eyes in vivid detail.
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” In a blink, his expression smoothed back into calm, and his hand fell away.
“We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. Best get moving.
” A quick flash of a smile, then he spun and slipped through the door.
August twisted a bound hand to rub his throat. He found Lottie on the other side of the room, concealed by shadows. Her worried gaze held his for a moment before Marlow grabbed his shoulder and shoved him forward.