Chapter Eight
Dante
Itrail behind Lark, trying to ignore the constant pounding of my heart in my chest. Am I angry? Yeah, I think so. But the anger is buried under layers of hurt and disappointment and other dark, ugly feelings that I’ve always done my best to keep to myself.
Grant lingers by my side. Well, I think he’s lingering—he’s a vampire, after all; he could keep up with Lark easily. The magic really has done a number on him, I think. We’ve been walking for an hour or so, but he’s still squinting, and every so often, he winces.
“I could try to heal you,” I murmur. I’m not very good at it. But we’re in the middle of a pine forest, and while I don’t have the time to make a tincture or anything like that, I can at least draw on the spirit of the thing.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Grant says. He flashes me a smile, and he means it, even if it makes him wince again. “Fuck. I’m sure I didn’t complain this much about hangovers before. And Vlad’s not even here to try to make me feel better…”
He pouts, and I huff in amusement. Ahead of us, Lark’s shoulders stiffen for a second. Grant catches the movement, of course, because he’s watching Lark just as closely as I am, albeit for different reasons.
“What happened?” he mumbles. “While I was out?”
I shake my head. I can’t say it. Maybe I was still clinging onto some semblance of hope, even though the emotionless way he said I’m his soulbond back at the base wasn’t particularly enthusiastic.
And I trapped him a little bit. I know that. But wanting to get to know me, waiting around and never leaving his café and never even trying to involve himself in my life… He doesn’t want to get to know me. Maybe the bond made him want to stay close, but I don’t think he likes me, never mind—
“What a dick,” Grant says, a little louder this time.
I shove him, only gently, because there’s no way Lark didn’t hear that, though he doesn’t miss a step. “Grant…”
“They can be,” Grant replies with a shrug. “Vlad was a dick about it, too, but at least he got over it when I did. I mean, I wasn’t any better. And you—”
He cuts himself off, but my face heats all the same. I’ve been pining after Lark for years. Everyone knows that. Lark has to know that. I don’t think the fact that he can’t lie means that he can’t read that from my behaviour.
Anger rises in my throat, but I shove it back down.
We don’t have time for that any more than we have time to chat or time to waste.
Ophelia is my friend. She didn’t watch me from a distance and not bother learning anything about me; she came up to me on my first gloomy day of school in a grey, distant country and gave me no choice but to be her friend.
The thought makes my lips quirk. We’ll get her back, though I won’t be surprised if she’s started a small revolution in the meantime.
All in all, the Otherworld is so far… underwhelming. Aside from the press of magic, I mean, but these pine trees are pine trees, and as the shadows around us deepen, the air cools and it feels a lot like home.
Grant sticks even closer as night falls. Good thing, too. I don’t want to use my phone to light the way, and though the moon rises brightly above us, I’m still in danger of tripping at any moment.
I don’t know how long passes before Lark slows. “We are in the heart of her territory now,” he says, voice hushed.
“Is that dangerous?” Grant asks. “You’re saying that like it’s dangerous.”
“Perhaps.”
I look in Grant’s direction. Maybe he understands better than I do; he definitely knows more fae, even with all the ones who’ve joined our pack of late.
“She can be fickle,” Lark elaborates when neither of us asks. “I believe she is interested in a conversation, but she may not grant what I wish for.”
My stomach drops. “She might not give your magic back?”
“I gave it to her to do with as she wished. I never intended to ask for it back.”
“Fuck. You couldn’t have told us this earlier?” My magic twists up inside me. It won’t do anything, but if I get agitated enough, it will react, just like my temper. “We should have been planning the entire time. What are our options if you don’t have any more magic at the end of this?”
“We will still go to the court,” Lark says.
“Without your magic?” I can’t see Grant’s raised eyebrow, but I’m sure I can hear it. “They’ll eat you alive.”
Lark snorts but doesn’t dispute the comment. Now I feel sick. Great. Sam should have come instead of me. We could have talked Cassian round, surely. He looked guilty—Sam could have guilted him into it.
Lark stops. I almost walk into the back of him, and when I raise my hands to keep my balance, he catches one of my wrists and holds on tight.
I freeze. My skin prickles, and all my awareness focuses on that touch. I don’t think—No, I know he’s never touched me before. Not even a sneaking brush of our fingers when he handed me a drink. My heart is beating so fast I might choke.
“No matter what, I will do everything within my power to return you both, and Ophelia, back to your realm,” he says. I can’t quite make it out, but I think his eyes are on mine. “I swear it.”
Grant sucks in a breath, and the quiet sounds of the forest come rushing back into my ears. That’s important. That he swore it—it’s important.
“I know you will,” I say. “But we need a backup plan. God, we should have—We need to know what to expect at court and who might be there, and—”
Lark squeezes my wrist and my mouth snaps shut. I want to hate him. I want to be better than I am, to have the same confidence and self-worth that Ophelia and Felix embody so effortlessly.
I don’t want him to keep holding me, to slide his hand down and wrap our fingers together and give me some comfort as we journey through these dense, dark woods. I don’t.
When he lets go, I bite my lower lip to keep in the sound that wants to escape my throat. If Lark notices, he doesn’t show it; he starts walking again.
For a second, I can’t catch my breath. Grant moves closer, standing by my side close enough that I can feel his faint warmth. “Come on,” he murmurs. “We’ll plan while he talks to the witch.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Except this night seems to be never-ending.
At first, Grant is silent, but I’m twitchy, jumping at every distant sound like fae might rush out of the darkness and attack us, so he starts speaking in an undertone.
He rambles on about what he thinks Vlad might be doing right now and what the Hunt have been up to and maybe Sam and Cassian are getting on better and maybe Kieran has joined them and—
I huff a little laugh and shake my head when he says we’ll get back and find Sam wants to add even more mates to his repertoire. We both know that’s not true. Him and Adam and Drew; that’s it for them. But it’s a silly enough conversation to distract me for now.
Lark suddenly stops. Grant snaps his mouth shut and his magic brushes against me as he sends out a curious wave. “What is it?” he whispers, apparently turning up nothing.
“We need to be quiet,” Lark says curtly. “It is doubtful that the witch has allowed any other fae into her territory, but we cannot know that for sure.”
My cheeks heat. Grant huffs. But neither of us says anything as Lark starts walking again.
I don’t want silence. The dark trees are freaking me out and all I can think about now is the fact that we’re not really closer to finding Ophelia than we were a few hours ago.
Grant sidles in my direction. I jump when he slides his hand into mine, squeezing tight.
I’m no wolf, despite belonging to a pack, and neither is he, but maybe Quinn’s rubbed off on him a little.
I let out a shaky breath. I wish he hadn’t had to be dragged into this, all things considered, but right now it feels better than being alone.
Just when I’m about to seriously consider passing out—it might not be Lark’s fault it’s taken longer than the half day he originally claimed, but I’m uncharitably blaming him for it all the same—Grant squeezes my hand again.
That’s all the warning either of us gets. He darts forward and drags Lark back, out of the range of magic that suddenly flares up before us.
“Fuck,” Grant says.
“Is either of you—” I try to hurry, being careful not to stumble. “Are you both okay?”
“Fine,” Lark says. Grant lets go of him and steps back. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no worries,” Grant says absently. “What was that?”
“The witch’s final wards.”
“I thought she knew we were coming?” I ask. “Is she even going to talk to us?”
If Lark can’t get his magic back, I know Grant will come with me to find Ophelia. Lark’s already said he’ll help. But it’ll put him in danger, and as much as I’m trying to dislike him right now, I don’t want that.
“What’s that?” Grant murmurs. He’s looking up ahead, and when I squint, I see what looks like a building nestled among the pine trees.
“The witch’s house,” Lark says. “Come along. If we can see it, we can approach.”
I sigh. Grant waits for me to walk before he moves, even though his whole body is straining with his obvious curiosity and, I think, excitement.
I really hope this is going to work. I hold onto that hope as we make our way towards the house, which is really more like a cottage, squat and homey-looking, with smoke trailing from its stone chimney.
All kinds of flowers surround us, some that I recognise and many more that I don’t.
Magic ripples through them, too. This witch has built herself a powerful garden.
Lark comes to a stop as soon as we can see the front door. It’s been painted a deep crimson, with a small, round window set at the top. His fingers twitch. Is he nervous? Scared?
He whips around to look at us all at once. “There are some things you need to be aware of before we go in there.”
We both nod. The air feels heavier than it did amongst the trees. Is she listening to us?
“Do not eat anything. Do not drink anything.” The moment he says it, I realise how dry my throat is, and like he can read my mind, he shakes his head. “Do not offend her.”
He turns toward the door again, but I reach out and snag his sleeve. “Wait! Wait. I can… Am I going to be able to drink anything while I’m here?”
If not, I’m fucked. Grant might be able to last, well, forever without it. He’s a vampire, and from what Quinn’s mentioned, I don’t think he needs that much blood. Any blood, even.
Lark puts his opposite hand on mine. “If I offer it to you, you can take it. But any other fae… You cannot trust them.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I let go of his sleeve and he squares his shoulders before he sweeps his hair back so it falls down in a sleek wave. I take a step back, standing alongside Grant again.
Lark lifts his hand and knocks on the door.