Chapter Eleven #3
The grumpy troll bouncer stands next to him, looking as annoyed as last time. He scans our faces and costumes in one quick glance before jerking his head in a nod for us to enter. He must remember us from last time because he lets us through without another word, pulling the door closed behind us.
We’re suddenly immersed in such pitch darkness that the only thing I can see is the strange pulsing red glow from the stone on my ring.
“Down here,” Pax says, hurrying me through the place. I stumble my way along, trying not to trip and fall. I dart a glance around, but I can’t find True anywhere, and I’m suddenly terrified he went back out to fight.
“True?” I cry.
Pax releases me, and I bump into someone as I try to move forward through the bar.
“Is she wearing the ring?” a voice mutters from the darkness nearby.
“Yes.”
“Take her down.”
Suddenly, a hot, dry hand clamps over my mouth. “Don’t make a sound,” a low voice growls in my ear.
I’m marched forward, then turned, marched forward again. I cry out behind the hand muffling my voice, trying to twist away. The hands holding me are stronger than iron, tightening when I try to break free. Some supernatural grabbed me, and I can’t get back to the guys!
There’s the sound of scraping wood, and I feel a rush of cool, damp air and smell the dirt and mildew of a basement.
“Duck your head,” says the guy holding me, and the familiarity of my professor’s voice settles my nerves enough to make me obey. He rests a guiding hand on top of my head and pushes me under something—the bar, I think. I crouch to protect my head, but suddenly, I’m shoved forward.
The world beneath my feet drops out, my stomach flips, and I fall.
I scream, but the sound quickly chokes off.
I should have hit the ground by now—or water.
Whatever the hatch opened to, it couldn’t be deeper than a well.
This close to the beach, the water table is low enough that nothing penetrates far without hitting it.
And yet, I find myself tumbling for long moments before the air is suddenly cold and wild, like I’m in an artic storm.
I shriek in shock, wrapping my arms around myself as I fall through space. The instinctual terror that flashed through me when I fell is replaced with a cold, horrible truth. I feel like I’ve been falling for miles, but no matter how far it is, I know one thing. No one can survive a fall this long.
I scream again, and the next second, something swoops under me.
My legs and arms whip around it automatically, like the koala-monkey hugs I give Pax.
The first thing I notice is that it’s alive, moving and flexing as it navigates the biting air.
I squeeze my eyes closed, my heart racing so hard I can’t think straight.
Finally, I open my eyes again. They sting with tears against the cold wind, but I can see a bit now.
We’re not in the pitch darkness of the basement at the alehouse anymore.
Somehow, we’re outside, in the open air.
Wind whips around us, though I can’t tell who us is.
I can’t see anything under me except a hulking dark shape.
My fingers find leathery skin, and when I run my fingers over it, pale lines appear in the dark hide.
I gasp, sitting up. Wide wings spread out on either side of us, pumping the air.
My ring pulses a soft red glow, and far below, I can see a scattering like stars in the velvet blackness of the landscape.
My stomach dips and then swells as I realize with a shock of exhilaration and terror that I’m sitting on a dragon.
I’m riding a freaking dragon!
It swoops long and low, spreading its wingspan wide and flat, and I sit awestruck, forgetting how to breathe. Then it beats its powerful wings again, tipping upwards and soaring higher. I let out a whoop of sheer joy, unable to stop myself.
I start to slide when its body tilts further, and I throw myself forward, wrapping my arms around its neck again, my heart careening. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming.
But then I remember Bradley standing in the alleyway, talking about one king ruling them all. I curse myself for not getting more out of him… Like what exactly that had to do with me.
Suddenly, my dragon ride doesn’t feel so fun. Am I riding the Sun King? And if so, what does he want with me?
“Who are you?” I yell, but my voice is whipped away by the wind, and obviously, dragons can’t answer in human words.
Can they?
Before I can find out, I see a flash of something hurtling toward us in the night, a torpedo coming at us so fast it’s nothing but a glimmering golden blur streaking our way.
I can’t even tell if it’s some fae weapon to take down a dragon—the Wild Hunters were out tonight, after all—or something else entirely.
All I can do is try to scream out a warning before it hits.
When it does, my steed goes spinning out through the air, and my grip is broken. My hands slip from around its neck, and I’m thrown free. For one second I’m weightless. I’m flying. Then I plummet at breakneck speed toward the earth, and everything goes black.