Chapter 46 Carwynn
CARWYNN
“What?” Keeffe gaped in horror, unsure if he heard me right.
David would kill me for sharing this with Lochlainn. But they needed to know.
“David doesn’t believe the collapse was natural.” I paused, as a building tremor of anxiety stole a breath. “My mom suspected the Skell King was stealing Vinter Coal. Thought he was making weapons of some sort.”
Keeffe’s freckles darkened against his paling skin.
Lochlainn ran both hands through his hair, then hooked them behind his neck. He groaned, the sound bordering on a growl.
A hiss slipped through Keeffe’s teeth, then he swore.
“David thinks Loveland was an experiment,” I said. “That whatever the Skell King did, it only worked by sheer dumb luck. Just enough to somehow trigger an extinct volcano . . . or weaponize something else entirely.”
“Bury me with fecking snake eyes,” Lochlainn cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
His thick forearms tensed as he crossed them over his chest and gnawed at his bottom lip. For a long beat, he stared off in the distance. As if projecting his soul elsewhere to escape this bullshit.
Then, he blinked out of it.
“Keeffe.” He nodded as if sifting through heavy thought.
Keeffe instantly stiffened, shoulders tight with anticipation.
“It’s time,” Lochlainn proclaimed, locking eyes with him. A silent message passed between the two.
Time for what, exactly?
I wouldn’t be opposed to a snack. The sudden spike of stress was making my blood sugar drop.
“Tell the men we’ll convene shortly. But first—” He flashed me an unexpectedly cunning smile that had my intestines coiling. “Have them head to the Rattle Run balconies. I don’t want them to miss the show.”
Keeffe strode back toward the doorway.
“The what now?” My head cocked to the side.
“The Rattle Run.” He nodded toward the interactive shooting area beyond. “Or what was it you called it? Disco-tech simulation?” Lochlainn’s lip curled ever so slightly.
As if he even knew what a Disco was. The Rattle Run sounded like some disgusting, snake-infested labyrinth they used to torture prisoners. What a horrid name.
“Is this payback?” I shot him an annoyed stare. “Making your men watch me—a form of humiliation and punishment?”
I only wanted to do the simulation because it looked fun, like reliving a childhood laser tag dream. But having a bunch of Luckmen watch me miss target after target, all while placing bets on how badly I sucked? Yeah. Not so fun. Hard pass, actually . . .
“Don’t worry. Them watching isn’t for you.” Lochlainn’s words were cryptic as he brushed past me with a wink.
Smack!
His hand low-fived my ass like I was some kid subbing into a baseball game. It didn’t hurt. But his audacity.
Power prickled beneath my skin. I snapped. My hand whipped out, catching his wrist, and twisted it at a vicious, unnatural angle.
Thank you, Wyatt.
Lochlainn recoiled, dragging in a sharp breath.
I stepped into his space, chin lifted. “Slap my ass again,” I whispered, close enough to share breath. “And I’ll show you just how fast your luck can run out.”
His brows pinched, the only indication he felt any pain from my tightening grip.
Then, a loud thunderous laugh.
“Knew that’d get ya spittin’ feathers,” he said with a wink. “Had to get ya warmed up a bit. Although, I do prefer other methods for that.”
I twisted harder. He hissed, still half-chuckling.
“All right, love. I won’t do it again,” he said. A shit-eating grin grew on his face like a fungus.
I let go.
“Unless, of course, you beg me to,” he muttered under a breath as he walked by, just loud enough to make damn sure I heard it.
“Carwynn!” Lochlainn yelled from the balcony above.
I didn’t bother looking up. I already knew that tone. Him grilling me for still not using magic with that one little wrinkle on his forehead, judging me from up high.
There had to be over seventy Luckmen crowding the balconies above, chattering and laughing like this was another goddamn Friday night event.
“I’m parched—why don’t ya bring those jugs over here and water me down, eh?” a man bellowed.
I spun toward the ruckus just in time to witness one of the Brassers getting motorboated.
A grown-ass man having dove head-first into her bare breasts, nuzzling a head back and forth like it was a fucking pillow.
The men around him roared, cheering as if it were a bachelor party at a back-alley titty bar.
Pigs.
I speared a look toward Lochlainn, brows arched high as if to ask, these are the idiots protecting your city? Seriously?
Then I saw it, another familiar smile on the balcony beside him. Warm eyes, adorably handsome features, and a tongue that could make me forget my own name . . . Finley.
A twinge of nausea rolled through me.
Great. Just what I needed. More eyes to witness my complete humiliation.
I turned back toward the course in front of me, swearing off the sudden flush.
The floors and walls were dark gray stone.
Very minimalistic and cold. The space was wide open, large enough for the magic simulation to form a course.
Though so far, I hadn’t gotten the cool rainbow strobe lights like I’d seen others get.
Nope. Instead, it’d been a solid ten minutes of pitch black, with neon-glowing orbs blinking to life and darting around the room like fireflies on crack.
And my job was to shoot each one. Easy enough.
Except I missed every single one. Well, two I’d gotten pretty close—ish.
Lochlainn must’ve been paying his men overtime, because not one of them booed. A few chuckles echoed here and there but were quickly silenced.
I think I’d rather the loud booing—the unnerving silence that settled right before I fired was far worse. Dozens of eyes watched, waiting. The quiet pressure of them pinned to me like a hundred little sharp darts.
At the back wall, the only thing I was able to see through the dark was a beautiful, intricate carving of a three-leafed shamrock etched into the stone. A faint golden glow pulsed at its center like a living heartbeat.
Within seconds, the course changed. Shadows shifted and the orbs disappeared. I stood and waited for it to decide what form of humiliation to throw at me next.
I sucked and this was far beyond my experience level. It didn’t make sense—the sentient course was supposed to adjust to each person’s proficiency.
The air dimmed around me again, like a black velvet curtain being drawn across the sky. But this time, there were no flashing orbs in sight.
Just a sound—a deep, guttural growl.
A predator lurking . . . on the hunt.
Um. This thing can’t actually attack me, right?
Sharp scraping sounded off the stone. Claws dragging. Then came the thuds of heavy paws meticulously approaching.
My chest started to rise and fall quicker, heartbeat screaming in my ears. My inkling speared an electric shock through my core.
This didn’t feel like a simulation anymore. This felt real. Like being at a haunted house as a kid where you knew some clown with a chainsaw was around the corner waiting to pop out.
It was too dark to see anything to take aim.
Focus. Ground yourself.
I’d found Pogue in the caves. I could find this thing too.
I sucked in a breath and reached inward. Energy swirled around me as I felt my Soulsayer rise. Power glided up my spine, spreading across my skin like smoke and static.
Wait—if this thing wasn’t real, only a simulated training monster, it wouldn’t have a soul. Which meant I couldn’t sense it. My Soulsayer would be useless here . . .
“Ugh,” I groaned, frustrated.
Then, a menacing growl. Loud. Close.
On right—
Bang!
Bang!
I fired blindly into the dark. No visibility. No target. Just my rising panic guiding me.
How the hell was I supposed to do this? I can’t see anything!
Another growl—and then my feet left the ground.
Something massive slammed into my chest, knocking the air straight from my lungs as I flew backward. I landed hard on the ground, spine scraping stone. My breath stolen away.
Well, guess that answers the question about whether it can actually attack.
Murmurs and shouting erupted from up above. I’d hoped the dark blanketed me from their view, but no such luck. Clearly, the magic provided them with a front-row seat.
Grinding my teeth, I forced myself upright, pushing past the ache of the new bruise on my back.
Another snarl. This time, just steps away.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I shot toward the sound, chest heaving. I didn’t like this.
“Prick,” I muttered.
Something slammed into my side this time. I hurled into a wall. My shoulder took the brunt of the impact before I collapsed like a ton of bricks, face first on the cold floor.
My chin pressed against the sandpaper ground. A new pain radiated up my ribs.
I moaned, begging for air.
That was it. Enough.
Deep rage rose inside me, thick and freshly dipped in venom. The steady stream of my magic burst open, no longer a calm trickle, but a violent, rising flood.
“For luck’s sake!” Lochlainn’s voice rang out from above, laced with stabbing frustration. At me? At himself? I didn’t care.
Then a new voice broke through, more gentle but equally firm.
“You can do this, Carwynn!” Finley’s words flung out like a helping hand I wanted to grasp.
I can do this.
My entire body screamed as I pushed off the floor, still clutching the gun.
This was total bullshit. I should’ve been on the beginner level. Not advanced beast-hunter-with-night-vision-and-a-death-wish mode. If I’d wanted to be slapped around, I’d have stayed back with Lights-Out Louisa.
Simulated creature or not, if it laid one more filthy paw on me—
Thud!
Two cinderblocks of weight crashed into my shoulders, pinning me against the wall. A growl, hot and humid, sprayed against my cheek.
I screamed, thrashing. But claws dug in deeper, ripping skin. I couldn’t see it but could feel each ragged breath and hear the hungry laps of its mouth just inches away from my face.
All sound stilled.
“Is that feckin’ real?” someone hissed from above.
“It’s never done that before!”