21. Azzie
Twenty-One
Azzie
I didn’t mean to fall asleep next to Zeke. Fucking without protection was one thing, but letting my guard down like this was dangerous.
So why was lying next to him, relaxed and exposed, one of the few things that felt right in my life?
Zeke’s clock said it was nearly one in the afternoon. I should do something with my day. Try to reach Davyn again. Do more research about how many different ways one could interpret a prophecy where one life must end before the next begins .
Not that I hadn’t researched the fuck out of that over the years—I’d never wanted to end someone’s life in order to become more—but I needed answers now .
But first, the essentials. I forced myself out of bed, careful not to wake Zeke, and headed into my own room to take a shower and get dressed.
I called Davyn, and when he didn’t answer, I scrambled for a cryptic-to-anyone-but-him message to leave. Should’ve thought of that before I dialed. “Hey. Um, still on vacation. Did you ever call the bookstore back? Hope you’re all right.” I couldn’t stop the wish from escaping. “See you soon.” Please .
The prophecy journal was tucked inside my bag, and I cast a glance in that direction. None of this was what I expected. The way we’d interpreted everything—Mom, me, Enid, most recently Davyn—painted a picture of non-stop magical violence for me to confront head-on and one-on-one.
Not gunmen in buildings destroying city blocks. Killing the people around me. Not a man who’d lived a life completely different from mine, yet with such similar experiences. Who I was drawn to like he was a drug.
I finally understood why moths flew to flames, and I didn’t want to stop when it came to Zeke. I didn’t want to change any of my behavior around him.
Should I leave? Walk away while he was sleeping, with a note and payment for any work he’d already done? If I couldn’t find my blade and grips, was I willing to leave them behind?
Staying for the weapon was an excuse, and my being here was dangerous. To me. To him. To Gabby and that diner and anyone nearby.
I’d see first if I could locate the pieces of my knife, and decide from there. Moving as quietly as I ever had, I left my room and headed toward Zeke’s forge. Inside, I looked around the room. I wouldn’t take the new steel—I couldn’t do anything with that anyway—I only needed my grips.
There was a shelf running floor to ceiling on the far side of the room that held materials for handles, but those were raw supplies. His worktable, with the sketchpad and a handful of tools, was a short distance from that. Would he have tucked the grips into one of the shelves in there?
I felt more like a criminal than I wanted to as I moved further into the room, searching visible surfaces first.
I really didn’t want to go through his drawers. How did thieves do this? It was more nerve-wracking than preparing to face off against a grandmaster who had the ability to disable or kill me with one calculated move.
“They’re in the safe.” Zeke’s voice came from behind, startling me.
How the fuck did he keep sneaking up on me?
“You know, cuz it would suck to have someone steal something like elven enchanted knife grips,” he said.
Busted . I felt so horrible about getting caught, I didn’t try to come up with an excuse as I turned to face him. The best I could offer was a shrug.
“We promised to stick together.” His tone was flat rather than accusatory.
Flat was worse. “We promised not to hurt each other, and I didn’t say I was leaving.”
“But you are.” Zeke moved into the room, heading directly for what looked like a barn door, but was decorative.
At least, based on the fact that outside, there was nothing but a blank wall in that part of the building.
He brushed his palm over a portion of the wood, and a tingle passed over me. The door moved a few centimeters, and he pushed it open wider, to expose a shelf inside. A magic lock? But one that I could feel him using?
Was he more powerful than me?
Given I didn’t have any magic of my own, that wouldn’t be difficult, but the faintest hint of envy and fear slipped into me at the thought.
He grabbed a cloth-wrapped package from a series of others, tapped the shelf, and the safe door slid shut behind him as he turned back to me. He held out the grips wrapped in cotton. “If you want to go. Or I can finish the work first.”
Great. I’d grab my things and be on my way. “I’m not leaving.” What? No. Stupid mouth. “I’d like you to finish the work.”
Zeke gave a terse nod. “Do you want to stay while I work?”
No. I tru— I did not trust him. I barely knew him. Still, the correct answer was to reinforce that I trusted him, but for me to be ready to leave the moment he was done. “Sure.”
I took a spot on one of the stools. A battle raged to life in my mind; a back and forth between feeling guilty that he’d shut off when he saw I was going to sneak out, and wondering why the hell I was still here.
Watching him work pushed all that aside. What he was doing didn’t allow for much conversation. He moved from a flaming forge to hammering white-hot steel on an anvil. There was drilling and tempering and engraving. Things I knew the names of from watching others work, but that were far more complicated steps than it seemed on the surface.
Sitting in silence like this, with Zeke nearby and focused, was soothing in a way I didn’t care for. Every time I tried to summon the mental reminder that this was a work arrangement, a calm pushed the thoughts aside.
This was a similar experience to when we’d watched the movie. When he was sketching me earlier. To falling asleep next to him.
It was dangerous.
It’s nice .
I’d made a concession to trust Davyn and travel with him, but that was different.
Why ?
Because Davyn wasn’t destined to kill me.
What if the prophecy is wrong? What if it’s not rea ? —
I couldn’t think that. Down that path lay madness.
None of the thoughts mattered, because they evaporated the moment I forced them to form, in favor of experiencing the craftsman in front of me. Time slipped away as he worked. And then he was nearly done.
As he wrapped a fresh strip of leather around the grip, I slipped from my seat and moved to the Tip jar on his desk. I dropped in an appropriate payment, including money for the room, and turned to face him in time to catch his brows furrowed together as he looked away from me and back to the blade.
Zeke made a few more adjustments, then placed the knife a few feet away from him on the table. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you.” The moment my fingers touched the weapon, a familiar hum zinged through me. This was stronger than before, and not just because I’d missed the feeling. “You did something to it.”
He shrugged. “I cleaned it up. You watched me replace the runes. Nothing more than shoring up what was already there.”
He undersold himself. No wonder his customers wanted to keep his name and work to themselves.
I hefted the knife, its weight and balance instantly familiar. I twirled it a few times between my fingers, tossed it in the air, and caught it by the handle. “It’s perfect.”
“Uh-huh. Are you heading out now, or do you need the room for another night?” Zeke might as well be ice.
I should be grateful for that. It would make parting ways easier. I’m heading out now. “Thank you again. It’s good to have it back.” I was about to start repeating myself.
He stared at me blankly.
This wasn’t home. The closest thing I had to a home was in Salt Lake and I couldn’t go back. Davyn would catch up to me, we’d regroup, and we’d find a new place to go. We’d be more careful this time, and not settle into an easily trackable routine.
My feet were frozen to the ground. Every time I tried to pull out the words to say ‘kay, bye , a powerful wave of resistance stopped me.
Magic? Fate?
Stubborn horniness.
There was a loud slamming sound against the outside door, and Zeke and I both jumped. My heart hammered against my ribs. Was that a body hitting the building?
In a blink, I had both blades in my hands, and the power of the matched set coursed through my veins. “Are you expecting visitors?” I asked.
It looked like Zeke said no , but. Another crash against the door drowned out his voice. Then there was another noise and another. The frame groaned.
His door was steel framed in concrete. What the fuck was out there?
Zeke sprinted toward his room, as I slid into a defensive posture.
Metal creaked, then rock splintered through the air, striking me in the face and arms. My T-shirt and jeans kept the covered portions of me safe, and now that I had both knives again, the cuts on my exposed skin healed quickly.
Zeke was back, gun in hand, taking up a position next to me. I couldn’t go hand-to-hand if he was shooting—that was dangerous for me and would obstruct him.
It hadn’t been an issue in the alley a few days ago.
Draugar spilled in through the newly-widened doorway, and ambled toward us.
“I’ll go around the edges.” Combat mode activated.
“I’ve got your back,” Zeke said.
Past experience said that knocking them down wasn’t the goal, and I had my wits about me today so I could fight them the right way. I worked my way through one edge of the wave, while Zeke started at the other. Each time he fired, the hollow echo screeched in my eardrums, leaving my ears ringing, but I had my own creatures to deal with.
I drew out one at a time, slicing at limbs to slow them down, and decapitating each beast as I reached it. Within seconds, Zeke’s gunfire became as much a part of the background as the Draugr’s loud groans.
The tiny whisper in the back of my head said I couldn’t trust Zeke. This was dangerous.
Fuck that fear. We moved in a synchronization that took me months to start to have with Davyn. If one of us barked an order, the other one was already acting.
A draugr would fall next to me, thanks to a bullet to the brain, and I would slide low through the pack to pick one off from behind if it got too close to my gunman.
I didn’t know how long we fought for, and I lost track of how many Draugar we executed. When the last one fell, I was poised for another. It took me a minute to convince my brain there weren’t anymore.
There was no message. No Loki sends his love .
Why not?
Everything in Zeke’s forge, including the two of us, was covered in ash and shrapnel.
It was messy.
It was horrifying.
It was because I’d stayed. “This was a mistake.” I rubbed my cheek with the back of my hand, and pulled away with fresh soot covering the back of my wrist. “I shouldn’t have come here and I definitely shouldn’t have hung around.” The words were more for my sake than his. if I vocalized the thoughts, maybe I’d pay attention to myself this time.
“This isn’t your fault.” Zeke reached for me, and my breath caught. He barely touched my hair, and pulled away with a piece of exploded flannel between his fingers.
Clothing from one of the beasts.
I stepped back, needing distance between us. “It was. It is. They’re here for me. Unless you’ve dealt with this before.”
“Being attacked in my own home? No. Who deals with that on a regular basis?”
I pursed my lips and met his stare blankly. Me. I’ve dealt with it my entire life .
“Oh, fuck me.” Understanding spread across his face. “What makes you so special?” His question was hesitation and teasing.
I puffed out a breath of air. “Aside from three ancient beings who made me part of their bedtime stories? I wish I knew.” I needed to get as far away from Zeke as possible.
“Then you need backup. You can’t do this alone.” He made it sound like the only logical conclusion. “It’s a good thing we made that blood oath.”
That didn’t encompass as much as Zeke was implying. It?—
“You made a blood oath?” Davyn’s angry roar interrupted.
Wait. Davyn ?
My elation vanished when he sprinted across the room—he was fast, especially for such a large man—and gripped Zeke by the throat, pinning him to the nearest wall.
Was this what Zeke saw when I met Finn?
The oddly detached thought kicked me into gear. “He’s not the enemy,” I said.
“Did you convince her of that before or after you fucked her?” Davyn’s growl was primal.
Fuck fuck fuck. I needed to stop him.