Chapter 12
Sylvia
Iheld my breath as Cliff walked straight past the small hallway that branched into the security room. After staring at the blueprints of the hotel for so long, I felt as though I’d navigated this area a dozen times already.
But no amount of mapping or warnings could prepare me for how tight security would be.
We’d have to double back to the security booth after Eros was dead, but it wouldn’t be easy.
Guards would have to die too if they didn’t surrender.
And here I had hoped that revealing myself would be the most difficult part.
Focus.
Eros was within reach. I fidgeted in Cliff’s palms, shivering at the thought of what that terrible man was responsible for.
One of the many recurring images from my nightmares dwelled within the church basement in Louisiana: the charred room and stacked cages.
At last, I confirmed why those bars had been made of iron.
Cliff might be weaponless now, but I pictured him getting his hands on a guard’s gun to put an end to a man who had been acquiring my people through beastly hunters like Rhett.
Maybe I could strike the final blow alongside him. It couldn't be long now.
“You okay?” Cliff whispered.
A cold, light fog was billowing from my skin, turning his hand pink. Nodding, I forced the murderous look off my face and sat primly. The waiting room we were herded into was small but furnished with a stocked bar cart and plush sofas that looked like they’d barely been touched.
Amidst the luxuries, there were more industrial touches.
A metallic door with a strip curtain stood halfway open across the room, leading to a small lot outside.
A few men were transporting covered glass cases of different sizes through the door.
It seemed Eros really had been planning to wrap up for the evening.
My stomach churned as I glimpsed a tank crammed with a muzzled siren being wheeled away.
Only one cloth-covered tank remained upon a sturdy, handsomely carved wooden table against the wall. The appraiser snapped his fingers at a worker who was preparing to take the final tank.
“Leave it.” The appraiser’s eyes slid toward me. “Eros will likely require it.”
“More than likely,” Cliff said smoothly.
I stared at my lap, certain I’d lose my cool if I looked at Cliff or the tank. We needed him to play his part for this to work, but a part of me began to resent how good he was at playing the villain.
“Have a seat and help yourself to the amenities,” the appraiser said, his voice still sour as he rubbed the back of his right hand. “I’ll fetch Eros and explain the special circumstances.”
He briskly exited to the lot after stationing a guard at both of the doors in the room. Only then did I allow myself to fully look around again. Cliff approached the table casually enough.
“Stand clear,” the nearest guard said firmly.
But Delilah was the one who took a step closer, her expression carefully composed even while fixated on the covered tank. She slowly lifted a hand, reaching for the cloth.
The guard took a threatening step forward. “Lady, seriously. I can't make exceptions.”
She offered a false smile that made my spine prickle. “I’m only curious. We all know how rare these creatures are.” She trailed off when she lifted the cloth halfway. I couldn’t see what was inside, but the widening of Delilah’s eyes and the hard set of her mouth made me stand abruptly.
“What have you done to their wings?” she intoned hollowly.
“I said hands off!” The guard aimed his gun at her in a final, stark warning, while the other man started to close in from the opposite side.
Delilah’s lips pulled back in a snarl. But could even someone of her prowess be faster than a bullet barreling towards her head?
A dark shiver of magic crackled through the air–but it wasn't the trademark singed rose petal scent I'd come to associate with her spellwork. This magic tasted bitter, like a bad dream.
The nearest guard abruptly turned his gun on the other, his face impassive.
“What the fuck?” the other snapped, staggering back and taking aim at his comrade.
Rather than shoot, the possessed guard knocked him out with an uncannily swift blow to the head with his weapon.
Then he dropped the gun and calmly walked away until he was inches from the wall.
He leaned his head back and threw it forward, smashing his face against the wallpaper once, twice—three times. The crunch of his nose made me whimper.
He sank to the ground, as unconscious as the other.
“Holy fuck,” Cliff muttered. I flinched at the nearness of his voice, realizing he had brought me closer protectively during the unsettling turn of events.
Overhead, Ben flickered into view, pale and shaking. His eyes found me first, his expression twisting with shame when I could only gape at him in wordless disbelief.
“I-I’m sorry,” he murmured, dropping his head and kneading his temples.
Compulsion is maddening, he had told me.
His pained expression made my stomach drop—he had felt every impact of the guard he had possessed.
He breathed heavily, looking like he might drop out of the air.
Without a second thought, I bolted from Cliff’s hands and approached Ben, ignoring his attempts to shy away from me.
I took his arm and supported him into a safe landing on the table.
“Benny!” Delilah’s voice was choked. She was upon him at once, gentle fingertips touching his arms and tilting his chin up to check his exhausted features.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured. “Your glamour… If it’s depleted, you won’t be able to hide now.”
“They were going to hurt you,” he said weakly.
“I can handle being hurt. Lee would never forgive me if you went into another coma.”
Ben managed a smirk. “Oh, please. He has no backbone when it comes to you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t forgive myself, so enough with the heroics.”
Ben’s smile widened into something crooked, almost drunk, as he chuckled. “You do like me.”
“Of course I do, you idiot.”
“You never said it before,” Ben said. “Not out loud. Even after all this time.”
The exhaustion was untethering long-held inhibitions in him; I’d been in his place many times myself when stretching my magic to its very limit.
But Delilah merely sighed—a fond, exasperated noise.
Her long lashes fluttered as she scanned him once more, as though to confirm Ben would stay conscious.
“Didn’t think I needed to,” she said.
Stepping around the two of us clustered near Ben, Cliff hurriedly scooped up the fallen gun and checked the chamber. Satisfied, he kept a firm hold on it, glancing between the door and the tank.
A seed of satisfaction rooted in me at the sight of Cliff armed once again. For all the monstrous creatures housed in this building right now, I was fairly certain nothing was more deadly than Cliff Everett with a gun in his hand.
“Eros will be here any second,” Cliff muttered. “Doubt a guy like this travels alone. We need to get them out of here while we still have a clear path to the security room.”
He removed the cloth, revealing a pair of fairies who had sequestered themselves as best they could in the corner of the tank.
One stood in front of the other like a shield, making only himself visible. He was perhaps thirty summers old, olive-skinned with nape-length raven hair. He glared at everyone in turn with unsettling rigidity, waiting for someone to make a move.
Muscling down a disturbed expression, Cliff reached for the top of the tank.
“Stay away!” the fairy snapped, and though his voice was muffled by the glass, his tone sliced like a blade.
“Take it easy. Just trying to get this damn thing open.”
Even when the top swung open, the fairies did not immediately fly out in search of escape, and I remembered Delilah’s utterance about their wings. My mouth went dry at the thought they might have been removed entirely, but I caught a glimpse of glossy purple wing membrane at the first fairy’s back.
Instincts took hold, spurring my own wings into motion. I flew through the opening, aiming to speak with them directly. If they couldn’t come out, I would go to them. Though still weakened, Ben joined me as I descended into the tank.
A shiver snaked through me the moment I touched down. A faint thrum of iron lined the edges of the glass, but the enclosure was no longer sealed, allowing me to muscle through the sensation.
The fairy in front narrowed his eyes. “Come to fetch us for your masters?”
“We don’t have much time,” I said, raising my hands in peace. “We’re here to help, but you have to trust us. We’re going to get you away from here and kill the man who’s doing this.”
He sneered. “Tell me why we should trust the word of a traitor.”
My hand jumped to my cheek, which warmed immediately under my touch.
“She’s telling the truth,” Ben said. “This hunter—” He jutted his chin at Cliff. “—he’s not a murderous wretch. Not to us, anyway. You have to believe us. What other choice do you have?”
The stranger snorted, unmoved. “It will take more than that to earn the benefit of the doubt.”
A fire lit in my core. Didn’t he want to be saved?
Just as I was about to take a leaf from Cliff’s book and snap at him to get his head out of his ass, another voice piped up.
“Always with the barbed insults, Rowan. I doubt that’ll get us anywhere here. Please, let me speak with them.”
A pale, elegant hand appeared on Rowan’s arm, and the other fairy finally eased into view. My breath caught when I spotted long waves of bright seafoam-colored hair. A heart-shaped face with turquoise eyes observed me, coral lips parted curiously.
“You’ll have to forgive him,” the other fairy said. “As I’m sure you can imagine, trust is a precious thing after what we’ve been through.”
After faltering a moment, Ben and I both dropped to a knee and lowered our heads. We peeked sideways at each other. I tried to discern whether he had met anyone like her before, and it seemed he was trying to figure out the same from me.