Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
When there’s fire, someone burns.
LUCA
I shove past Alistair and slam into the locked door again. My shoulder dislocates, but the wood doesn’t budge.
“Luca, please.” Ciprian slides between me and the door. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
“Move,” I snarl. “I’ve got to get to her. Something’s not right, listen to those fucking noises.”
The wind whips the sides of the cabin, bringing with it sounds of pain and violence. Something huge is going down, and it’s coming from the arena.
“I agree with you, but the only thing getting battered is you.” Alistair slides in next to Ciprian to block me too. “These doors are magically secured. I would know. I couldn’t get through them, and neither will you.”
I gnash my teeth and look to Malach for help.
He massages his temples, his green eyes cloudy. After Riven took Celine away, he completely checked out, but my head is too messy to help him. My girl is in trouble, and we’re stuck in here. “We can’t just—”
There’s a popping sound, and the door clicks.
“What the fuck was that?”
“It sounded like a power failure.” Alistair pushes Ciprian to the side and grabs the doorknob. He twists, but it doesn’t move. I hiss.
“Luca, you’ve got to chill out,” Ciprian snaps. “If the power went out and we heard a click, that probably means the magical security layer is gone. Wait—yes!” He punches the air. “I feel your fear; gods, you’re charging me up fast.”
Ciprian sways on his feet, and Alistair catches him before he can fall over. “Malach can break it,” Ciprian mutters. “If it’s only a door, we can get through it.”
“The cold, though.” Alistair frowns. “The sun is down. You and I will be hypothermic in minutes. Dead weight.”
Ciprian shakes his head and eyes my dislocated shoulder. “We can’t waste this opportunity. The door is practically open.”
My basilisk lifts its head, waking up slowly now that the magic dampener is offline.
I glance at the fire. It’s crackling cheerfully in the hearth, as if there isn’t a massacre happening outside. Without the magical barrier . . . I grab the table, tear one of the legs off, and shove it into the fire. The flames lick along the edge of the wood eagerly.
I pull the torch out and hand it to Alistair. “We’ll have to take that chance. Ciprian’s right. There may never be a better opportunity, and Celine needs us.”
Alistair takes the makeshift torch and nods.
“Malach and I won’t leave either of you behind,” I say, looking between them. “I swear it on my life. Either we all make it out or no one does.”
Ciprian snorts. “That’s ominous as fuck. A simple ‘I’ve got your back’ would have been better.”
I shake my head and snap the rest of the table legs off, setting them on fire one by one. “Grab the blanket. You two need to stay under it.”
“For fuck’s sake, we’ll look pathetic,” Ciprian complains.
“We need your nightmares,” I say. “If you pass out . . .”
Ciprian holds up his hands. “I get it. Cuddle with the vampire or get everyone killed.” He comes to my side and snaps my shoulder back into place without warning.
I snarl.
“Sorry, but it needed to be done.”
I nod, breathing through the pain as Alistair yanks the blanket off the bed and wraps it around Ciprian’s shoulders.
Ciprian bats his hands away and yanks him under the fabric too, knotting it around their necks and creating a two-person cloak. “You’re going to have to get closer, or this will be pointless.”
Alistair scoots into his side until they’re half curled around each other.
“We’re ready for the door, Malach.” I grip my torch and his in one hand and wait. He doesn’t move. Is he having a mental breakdown? We don’t have time for that.
I shout his name and nudge his foot with my boot. “We have to go get Celine. Break down the door.” He glances up at me then, green eyes foggy and confused. I’m not sure he’s even hearing me.
“You can freak out later,” I tell him. “But Celine needs you. We need you. Please.” I rack my brain for a way to get through to him, then reach for his hand, keeping my thumb separated from the rest of my fingers. “Nai khirith, mash n’tel.”
I’m sure I butchered the pronunciation, but hearing the thatsha dialect seems to work. Malach blinks several times, locks his thumb with mine, and lets me yank him to his feet. “You okay?” I ask, patting his shoulder with my free hand.
He nods, squeezing my fingers as he sizes up the door. After half a second, he walks up to it and drives the bottom of his foot into the center.
Wood splinters, and the door separates from its hinges as easily as a beer cap popping off a bottle at the end of a long day. After two weeks of captivity, the sound is almost as satisfying.
“Good job.” I clap my hand on Malach’s back, then snatch the sheet from the bed and hand it to him. “Take it,” I say. “I might have to shift.”
He wraps it around his shoulders loosely, a grim expression crossing his face. If he needs to fly, the sheet will be the first thing to go, but any barrier against the wind is better than nothing.
I look at Ciprian and Alistair, and worry splits my gut down the middle.
They matter to me. Both of them. The feelings are newer than my feelings for Celine, but they still matter to me.
Malach does too. Keeping them safe is impossible in my cursed home realm, and the longer we’re here, the more likely I am to lose one of them.
“Ready?” I ask. They nod, and I hand Malach his torch. “Kill anyone who gets in our way.”
Together, we run through the door and out onto the wraparound porch.
The wind slaps me in the face, tossing my hair into my eyes and stealing the air from my lungs. I spare one final look at the one-room cabin. It’s a physical manifestation of weeks of suffering, and it’s got to go.
I press my torch to the outside wall, watching with satisfaction as the sheet of ice melts and the logs catch fire.
“Come on,” Ciprian hisses. “We need to cross now while I can keep us invisible.”
I nod, following the three of them out onto the rickety, swaying death trap these assholes call a bridge. It rocks under our combined weight, and I resist the urge to glance down.
“B-b-bollocks, how anyone lives here is a m-mystery to me.” Alistair’s teeth are chattering so violently I can barely make out the words.
“Keep moving,” I say, holding my torch as close to their backs as possible without accidentally setting them on fire.
“I hate this bridge,” Ciprian grumbles.
The arena looms ahead of us, a monster-made mountain. No lights, but plenty of screams. It’s beyond creepy, and my basilisk rattles angrily in my chest. It’s not thrilled that I lost track of Celine, and I doubt I’ll be able to stop my arms from trembling until they’re wrapped around her.
“What’s going on over there?” I ask. It’s too dark to see much, but the noises are insane. Howling. Squawks. Wails.
“It sounds like a prison break getting fucked by a massacre,” Ciprian says.
My eyes water from the wind, and I snort a laugh. That’s a graphic description, but it’s fucking accurate. Whatever’s going on, we’ve got to find Celine and get out fast. If we don’t, Alistair and Ciprian won’t survive the cold.
“I see her,” Malach says, his deep voice carrying to me as we reach the middle of the bridge. “She’s with Riven.”
“Kill him,” Alistair hisses. “While you’re hidden by the nightmare.”
“H-hurry,” Ciprian says. “Cold hurts m-my magic.”
Malach charges across the planks of the bridge, sending shockwaves through the base. My palms prickle. If he gets too far away from Ciprian, will the nightmare crack?
“Careful,” I say as loudly as I dare. “Can you two move any faster?”
“S-sorry,” Ciprian says. “I’m trying.”
Fuck. They’re freezing even faster than I expected.
“You’re okay.” I press my free hand against his back. “I won’t leave you.”
And I won’t, but that means Malach is alone. I watch from thirty feet back, heart in my throat, as he reaches the end of the bridge and barrels into Riven.