4. Escape Plan Pt.2
Escape Plan Pt.2
Malcolm
C astian was doing his best to cover for Malcolm, but Malcolm knew that it wouldn’t take long for Tiller to sniff out that something was wrong. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d broken the glass around the female’s body. Only that she was his and he needed to free her.
He rubbed a frustrated hand down the side of his face; he’d been so sure that he’d live the rest of his life as a sinner and an unmated wolf. Yet, it would seem the fates had their own twisted sense of humor. She was here, his mate. Her smell was like wildflowers, with a hint of mint that reminded him of the icy winds of his home in the Tennessee mountains.
When he’d come into his kitchen to find her standing nude in the sunlight of the window, it had taken everything in him not to move towards her. Her body was long and rounded slightly at the hips and chest; he couldn’t say if this was her natural shape or due to her being locked away for so long without proper sustenance.
Malcolm fought the instinct to go find her enemies and tear their throats out. He pushed his beast down, as he’d done several times in the past. The minute he gave it leeway, it wanted to rampage. Veil City wasn’t its home, and its pack was gone. He felt the years moving like molasses as he tried to piece together an existence here.
He moved over to the window and moved his hand to his neck, clicking his teeth together. He felt the burn of the letter his sister had written to him in his back pocket. It had been many years since he’d last seen his sister or even heard from anyone from his family.
He wondered how she’d even figured out his address.
Werewolves’ had kept to their reservations ever since their first clash with the council. Those aged dogs enjoyed the snakeskin they lived in. He hadn’t been lying to Castian, he’d been thinking over it for a while whether he should return to see his people since that day.
Still, she was his sister; she’d protected him when he’d been a pup, a pup who’d acted too big for his short pants. The number of times she’d kept his head on his shoulders was numerous, but the last time he’d helped her, she’d burned him along with his people.
“What are you thinking about?” A soft voice called to him from the door; he turned around and groaned. The hunted look in her eyes was gone; she looked at him as if she could see inside his soul. Eliza had finished washing up, and her hair was now twisted and piled atop her head in a bun. Her skin glowed slightly, and he could scent that the smell of flowers had been reduced. She lifted a hand and pointed at the surgical scar around her wrist. “You didn’t mention this.”
He frowned. “I assumed you knew of it, as well as the tattoos.”
The corners of her lips kicked up, and she dropped her hand down and crossed her arms, pursed her lips. “I haven’t gotten your name, and I can’t keep calling you ‘you’ just to avoid the awkwardness.”
Malcolm was fascinated with every move his mate made. She tended to shift and twitch like a cat. Everything about how she breathed in and breathed out filled his mind. “Malcolm, Malcolm McLaren.”
“Ooh, Scottish? Irish?” she asked, walking over to the trey, her shirt stuck to her wet skin. He could see the shape of the underwear he’d picked up; he’d forgotten to get her a bra but the sizes had been beyond him. She snatched up the bread from the tray and lifted it to her lips, her teeth tore into it. He watched her lashes flutter as she released a low moan of pleasure.
“My ancestors were, but you could say I’m as Scottish as you are," he joked. The truth was that his people had moved from Scotland to the States many years ago. Seeking freedom, they’d come to the new world. The Council had offered them a space within their walls once the Unseelie had been defeated. So, some were still tied tightly to their traditions, while others sought out newer ways of living.
He’d been a traditionalist and had eagerly done what he needed to follow his father’s words. Then his sister had been taken and bitten by an alpha. He turned his mind away from his thoughts of the past.
“Well, I’m not Scottish, at least not that I know of,” she joked. Finishing the thick piece of bread, she picked up the bowl. Lifting it, she gave it a sniff before she hummed with pleasure. “Good choice. I’m not sure how much I could actually eat,” she said.
“Your name?” Malcolm asked, moving over to the bed.
Malcolm wanted to be closer to her. The natural urge to reach out and touch her was burning him up inside, but he had to be patient. She was acting strong now, but he knew it would fall apart soon, if the slight trembling she tried to hide was anything to go by.
Seeing herself in the mirror had affected her far more than he’d thought it would. However, he couldn’t see her as anything other than beautiful. “I, too, want to avoid the awkwardness of not saying your name.”
She lifted the bowl to her lips and drank the broth. Hearing his words, she lowered the bowl and turned her head towards him. “It’s Eliza. Apparently, my birth mother liked ‘Elizabeth’ but wanted something cuter.”
“Eliza,” he repeated, tasting it on his tongue. He had her name, and it was now carved inside of him, on his soul. He wasn’t going to lose it, ever. He grabbed the spoon and held it out to her. “This will make getting the bits in there easier.”
She blinked before she sheepishly took the spoon from him. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.” They both winced as they both realized why she’d have the habit of drinking from the bowl rather than using the cutlery.
“So, what do you intend to do with me?” she asked, obviously in an effort to change the subject.
He thought over his next words, Malcolm was still on edge as he could still sense the magic that thrummed inside her. Ever since the attack on Castian, he’d been tense for the other one to appear, but she hadn’t moved to attack him so far. The person from then seemed completely different from the woman sitting in front of him now.
“I only have two choices; one is to return you to the lab and let?—”
“No.”
She reached out and grabbed his hand, her eyes narrowed. “I will never go back. Never.” She nearly growled, and the hand that gripped him trembled. The intensity in her eyes told him she wouldn’t. “I will never return to that place, ever again.”
He patiently placed his free hand atop hers. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to the people who captured you. I’m talking about the people who saved those like you. They are investigating as we speak, and those like you, who were held in tanks, are being gathered so that they can be awoken safely.”
She squinted her eyes, looking at him with suspicion. Before she shook her head, she said, “I don’t want to go anywhere like that place again; I am here and awake. I don’t need to see your people.”
“Eliza, then that leaves me only one choice,” he said, his voice heavy. He wanted to give her options, but he also wanted to take her with him and burrow away. The coward inside himself didn’t want to fight his brothers over her, but the ruthless male he’d come to be was ready to do what was needed to keep his mate near him. “Then I will have to take you away from here, or they will hunt you down.”
“Why can’t I just go back home?” she demanded, jerking her hands from his. “Why can’t I just go back to my life?”
“Because, darling, you’re a well-made weapon. Tiller and the Council would do anything to get you back.”
Malcolm didn’t flinch at the sudden appearance of the warlock; he was used to Castian’s eccentric behavior. The warlock had become wilder with his mating with Oye, though he didn’t seem to act this way around her.
Eliza pulled her chin up, her eyes narrowing on him. “You’re the one who told him to return me.”
Castian scoffed, holding his cane behind his back. His blue eyes narrowed, “I was, but if we’re going to start with accusations as greetings. You attacked me, and I was merely speaking with our dear Malcolm here.”
She didn’t say anything, but Malcolm could feel the air change. He reached out, grabbing her arm, “Don’t. He isn’t a threat.”
She whipped her eyes to him, “If I attack him, you can’t stop me.” She snapped, clearly eager to do something, and Malcolm was sure she would have done it if not for his kindness to her. She looked back at Castian, “But is what he says true?”
Malcolm gave a short nod. “It is.”
“Darling, while I sincerely wish you were someone else’s problem, Malcolm has taken it upon himself to make you his,” Castian said with a drawl.
“Why?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes on Castian.
Castian sent Malcolm a look, clearly asking him if he had told her she was his mate. He gave a short shake of his head. He should have known the damn Warlock wouldn’t feel any sympathy for him.
Instead, he said, “Awe, your poor sap.” With that, he again faced her. “Malcolm has a soft spot for certain females in distress, and you’re just the damsel he was looking for.” Castian gave her once over, “Mmm, but I’m sure it was personality.”
Malcolm moved before she could leap off the bed at him. Wrapping his arms around her stomach, he pulled her back. “Shh, he’s joking.”
Eliza’s hand swung out, and as she clawed the air, her eyes narrowed on Castian. “Fuck him,” she shouted. “Do you think I asked for this?” she loudly demanded, anger clear in her voice.
“I-I—” He didn’t finish as Malcolm pulled her against his chest and held her close. Her fighting weakened as her voice grew scratchy. “I just want to go back to my life.”
She whispered, “No magic, no mystery.”
Malcolm shot Castian an angry look from over Eliza’s head. The damn warlock ignored it and shrugged. “Look, if you intend to leave, you should do it now. I can only palm the others off for so long, and Oye isn’t exactly the average trophy wife; she’ll catch on. All she needs is one of those damn triplets not to cause havoc for one second, and she’ll scent something.”
“I understand,” Malcolm said, giving a short nod. “I thank you for what you’ve done for me.”
Castian sneered, “I have to protect the brothers I have." His voice grew somber as he turned to walk away. “I don’t have an abundance of family after all.” Shadow swallowed his form as he slipped between the floor's cracks.
“I’m okay,” Eliza whispered.
Malcolm looked down and found her head upturned. Her nose was wrinkled. As she met his eyes, she said, “I’m better. He wasn’t lying.”
He wondered how she knew so surely that Castian hadn’t lied.
She lowered her head and stared ahead, still in the circle of his arms. “I got angry because he was right. I am the one in distress. I’m lucky you even took a chance to save me.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I didn’t just choose you because you were in distress. And—” He could hold back his humor. “I wouldn’t call you a damsel.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know why I’m feeling so normal. I should be screaming and losing my mind. I am even more shocked at my strength than you are.” Her voice lost its humor as she turned in his arms to look up at him. “I know I can’t return to my place, and as he said, they did something to me.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. She continued to speak. “Is it okay if I go with you till everything calms down?”
He weighed her request for a long, silent moment. He was afraid at how happy he felt at her words; she hadn’t declared herself his, but the idea she was willing to stay with him. No, she trusts him enough to stay with him.
He nodded. “I will take you with me.”
Eliza
Veil City was louder at night; she sat on a stool near the window and watched the wisps of fairies flying along on pieces of clouds above the building. She couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t true. She didn’t want to sleep; she’d been locked in the dark place for so long that the idea of willingly going there was horrific to her.
She lifted her hand, opening its palm. She stared at the center. She mildly considered what the words could mean. As she lifted it closer to her face, her eyes widened as the letter brightened until it glowed. She watched as the words moved and shifted along her skin until she held a ball of light in her palm.
“Wow,” she breathlessly exclaimed. She moved the ball of light back and forth; she was a dub witch. Barely any magic in her to impress a grey witch, but now, as she held the glowing ball in her hand, she could feel the visceral knowledge that she wasn’t the same; she slowly unfolded herself from the stool and stood. Breathing deeply, she looked at the window and saw her reflection there. “That’s me.”
She looked from the ball of light to the exposed stone wall. Not hesitating, she shot her arm out and watched as it slammed into it with a sizzling sound. The smoke flew up along with the rubble.
“Power,” a voice whispered . She felt a shiver run down her spine as fingers stroked along her arms, and she felt the faceless sensation of someone pressing against her back. “Accept it, accept me.”
She shivered, dropping her arm and turning away from the small wreckage. She shook her head, pressing the bottom of her hand against her temple. “Shush, stay quiet.” She demanded, but the other voice only chuckled, its voice sultry and full of humor.
“You know why you’re free; it's because of me.”
Eliza wrapped her arms around herself. “I know.”
“And I want something, this—werewolf has it. Get it, and we can be free.”
Eliza bit her bottom lip and gave a short nod. “I will do it. Promise.”
“My child, it is not a promise but a command.”
The shiver abated, and she swallowed. The world wasn’t a kind place. Everything in it came with a price tag, and Eliza had made a deal with the higher being as she hung on the edge of death. She had been so angry and hurt that if the devil had held out a gun to her, she would have sold her soul for it. Instead, she’d gotten an ancient goddess who wanted to kill those who’d captured her as much as she did.
Death wasn’t scary, but the fact that those who’d done this to her were still living was; her rage couldn’t cool. She felt guilty for using Malcolm for her own agenda, but she’d finished playing the damsel when she’d watched the life drain from Ashe’s eyes.
She closed her eyes and felt the familiar sensation of vertigo. When she reopened them, she was standing atop the building, watching the traffic as it sped by. This place held rotting corpses under its streets, and one of them wore golden robes. She would get the goddess what she needed and then use her newfound powers to tear those people apart.
She sat on the railing and let her legs swing back and forth. In the morning, she’d try to convince Malcolm to let her stop by her old apartment; there were a few things she needed to get before they left.
She relaxed to the song of the city below and the rushing traffic. The bite of cool air made her smile.
Here’s to being a damsel with a secret. She slipped down off the railing and out of sight.