37. Evanee #2
“Let me go first. I put a plan in place.” She waggled her eyebrows, and before we could stop her, she shot out.
“This can’t be good,” I groaned as we waited.
It wasn’t.
Lyra came back, grinning from ear to ear as she led us from that darkened war room.
Even worse, Malachai had to keep his wings shifted, making it awkward to walk the narrow hall.
It was more of a shuffle, his injuries more severe than we’d realized.
His leg had a nasty gash, but he brushed it off as a shallow wound.
However, blood trailed behind us, and he leaned more heavily on Aniah than he let on.
We all, by some miracle, managed to make it down the stairs undetected.
The castle was too quiet for my liking. A large number of soldiers and Werewolves yelled and snarled outside over whatever hell Ryker was raining down upon them, but it was too quiet in here. They wouldn’t have all run to a threat.
The scuff of shoes down another corridor had us all tensing.
“In there,” Lyra hissed as she looped Malachai’s other arm over her own shoulders. We ducked into the room, pressing ourselves against the shadows of the walls right as a Fae guard shuffled by, holding his backside, cursing as a wet, humiliating sound echoed down the hall.
“What the hell was that?” I whispered to a beaming Lyra, covering my nose as a noxious odor floated into the room. Malachai’s nose shriveled as he pulled the tattered remains of his tunic over his face, and Aniah’s eyes began to water as she used her free hand to cover her own mouth and nose.
“He ate my muffin.” Lyra turned to me, smiling triumphantly while pinching her nose. Revulsion flashed across my face. I definitely did not want to know about her muffin.
I started to check if it was clear when another string of curses floated into the room, and yet another guard moved past, only this one was waddling with a brown stain running down his cream britches and a trail of curses.
“Great moon, Lyra. How many guards ate your muffin?” What in the hell was in her muffin?
“Just the two…” she responded in a sing-song voice.
More footsteps echoed in the hall.
“Seriously?!” I mouthed. She only shrugged. Aniah let out a frustrated noise behind me.
I ran a hand over my face as I peered around the corner of the wall to see several guards, utterly pale-faced as they shoved one another, some holding their stomachs while others clenched their ass cheeks so tight it was a wonder they could walk at all.
Then there, bringing up the rear was a Werewolf, the whites of his eyes showing stark against his black fur, dragging his ass across the floor.
Poor bastard probably stayed shifted just to keep anything from coming out.
Once no more suffering guards or Shadow Stalkers were visible, we all turned to Lyra.
“What?” she said, a look of innocence on her face.
“I thought you said you made two muffins,” Malachai snarled from beneath his shirt.
“Yeah. Two… hundred,” she admitted.
Malachai shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the image of Zephyr dragging his ass across the floor like a common house dog out of my head.”
“Why didn’t you just give them a sleeping draft? The one guard actually shit himself!” I made a mental note to never piss her off.
“Eh. They deserve to shit themselves. Besides, I thought the runs would help get the stick to slide right out their asses.” She shrugged, looping Malachai’s arm around her once more.
She and Aniah eased into the hallway, cutting across to the eerie sitting room I’d been in earlier. I shook my head, following after.
I was nearly to the room when a voice sounded behind me, sending icy tendrils of rage down my spine.
“I knew I smelled you earlier.” Aiden’s cold voice was like talons scraping underneath my skin.
I slowly turned, my dagger in hand instantly, with my other hand ready to grab the sword at my back.
He had his hands laced behind him, eyes narrowing as he took in my attire and natural hair. His nose flared, and I froze—could he smell Ryker on me? I’d scrubbed myself raw and drank an awful tincture that was supposed to be cleansing. Something other females had used in the village.
“Evanee—” Aniah’s worried whisper floated from the room behind me.
Aiden smirked. “I see the Witch managed to use what pitiful power remains to release you from your glamour. What else has she done, I wonder?” His eyes flashed, raking over my body in a way that had set my blood on fire with desire a few weeks ago. Now, it ran cold.
“Go, Aniah. Get them away from here.” My voice was deep as some of my Gargoyle came out.
“Yes,” he crooned, gaze flicking past me. “Run, little Witch. The Shadow Stalkers will feel the need to… regain some dignity after their misfortune this evening, and love nothing more than a good hunt. And by the looks of that traitorous bastard behind you, you won’t get far.”
A growl tore from Malachai, eyes flashing.
“Go,” I demanded of Aniah. Thankfully, I heard their footsteps recede as Lyra and Aniah got Malachai down the steps beyond the other entry.
“You’re the only traitorous bastard here,” I snarled.
The deep blue in his eyes flashed, a movement I now recognized as the warning before our Gargoyle breaks free.
“I take it your memories are back,” he stated, voice deeper. Deadlier.
“Every. Fucking. One,” I said through gritted teeth, as I reached behind and unsheathed my sword.
“Sure you want to do this?” He tilted his head. “It’d be easier to come willingly. That was the entire reason for that irksome quest.” He stepped toward me. “Would have been much easier for Cressida to have used her shadowtravel to bring you here.”
I pointed the tip of my sword at him, jaw aching from how tight I clenched my teeth.
“I went through that for you. So you could get to know the other side of me. Maybe even fall in love with me.”
“Fall in love with you?” I scoffed. “Another side? Is there another side to a male who threatens to force himself on me? All because you and your bitch of a mother are delusional and think I have powers in my blood?”
“You belong to me!” he roared, his voice deepening as his gargoyle emerged.
His skin turned dark blue as he grew taller, the leather tearing from his upper body. Fangs flashed as he snarled and talons grew to sharpened points from his hands, and tore through his boots.
My Gargoyle answered.
Heat flooded my veins, bones stretching, reshaping beneath my skin. Leather strained across my chest as I grew, wings snapping open behind me. Claws split through my fingertips, talons cutting into the stone as I bared my fangs back at him—my tail lashing behind me.
His eyes widened in outrage, scouring over my body. My coloring.
“No, Aiden.” My voice was deeper now, otherworldly as my lip curled. “I don’t.”
Then I lunged.