Chapter 9
Reva
It feels like the world keeps shifting under my feet, like a poorly put together rope bridge. With every step it swings and sways, making it impossible to know where I’ll land.
As strange as the past day’s events have been, something tells me that heading onboard a cursed pirate ship will only lead to things taking an even stranger turn.
Still, I’m focusing my attention on the parts of the chaos I can actually control.
I need clothes, my stash of coins, and the couple of trinkets hidden around the house in Ambleby, which I’d be loath to lose.
We also need to see if Frannie’s wards are holding up so far.
Which means heading back to Ambleby.
We need to be quick, in and out and back here in the morning since Finch wasn’t exactly specific with his instructions and I really don’t want to miss the boat.
Frannie and I decide to take Aster with us, while we leave Kit to sort out the shop and his own affairs ready for us to leave town for a few days.
After explaining the situation, Aster is surprisingly happy to be getting away.
He must be trusting that we’re not leading him into an even worse situation.
It has to be the mate bond talking, as otherwise, he truly has terrible survival instincts.
He’s not the only one feeling unexpected effects of our sudden bond. We’ve barely rowed away from the shore when I feel a hollow ache start up in my gut. It seems to grow worse the further we travel from Port Yarrow. From Kit.
Something inside me feels stretched further and further, causing my insides to cramp and my breath to come out unsteady.
Frannie’s got the oars and is focused on rowing three adults through the churning waves, but Aster keeps his eyes focused on me, his expression filled with concern as I clutch my stomach.
Maybe it’s not the distance from Kit that’s the problem. It also feels unnatural to have left Noush in Kit’s care even after I reassure myself she’s locked away in his special little box and I’ll be able to pick her up on our return.
Try telling that to my body, though. Frannie continues to row us around the headland toward Ambleby and something screams at me we need to turn around.
Sweat beads at my armpits and my palms, and I keep my face turned toward the wind, trying to keep cool and soothe my raging instincts with the sea’s spray.
I cling to the side of the little boat, fighting the instinct to toss myself into the water and swim back the way we came.
It takes a couple of hours of Frannie’s powerful strokes ploughing through the water until we reach the dull, familiar sight of Ambleby Bay.
By this point, my body seems to have calmed down slightly, and my pounding heart and overactive sweat glands have been replaced with a dull unease in the pit of my stomach.
The drizzle has returned, and after dragging the boat onto the beach, we hurry along to the house.
Everything seems to be exactly as we left it.
There are no signs of the authorities pounding on the door or blackmailers having come to call.
After seeing the freshly painted fronts over in Port Yarrow, I’m vaguely ashamed to show our little hovel of a village to Aster.
Not that we’ll be doing much exploring here.
Last night left a nasty taste in my mouth, and I’d be perfectly fine with packing up all of my things and never coming back.
So long as Frannie came with me, that is. She’s been the best thing about this place, and I don’t want to leave her in the lurch.
“I never even asked if you wanted to come with us,” I say to her as I watch her neatly folding clothing and shoving it into a duffel bag.
She looks up at me in surprise. “I spoke to Kit before we left. I’m going to look after his shop for a few days while you’re gone. That way I can keep an ear out if anyone knows anything about your man’s sorcerers and avoid any trouble here.”
“What about Mag?”
“I’m sure he’ll keep an eye on the house for us,” she replies.
That’s not what I meant, and I’m sure she knows it. She avoids my eyes and gives a little shrug.
“This was the first place I came after I left the caves,” she says. “It seemed good enough. Quiet. But I’m thinking it’s about time to expand my horizons.” Her eyes glimmer, and she waggles her eyebrows.
“The firehouse guy and his hose. Right.” I smirk.
She lets out a low chuckle, adding another neat pile of clothes to her bag.
“We both know the two of us have been hiding out here for long enough. Maybe it’s about time we pushed ourselves outside of survival mode.
Things can’t exactly stay the same, can they?
Not when you’ve got two mates in tow.” Frannie steps closer and the next thing I know, she’s pulling me into a fierce hug that knocks the wind out of me.
Pulling back, she peers into my face, and I can see my distorted reflection in her big, black eyes.
“Gus asked me out for coffee. An actual date.” She drops onto the side of her bed with a sad little smile.
“Do you know how many times I’ve been asked out before?
Never. Not once. Ogres don’t date in the caves.
It’s just not a thing that we do—more of a courting period, followed by jumping straight into marriage.
And since I left the caves, no one has ever asked. ”
By no one, she means Mag. He’s the only male I’ve ever seen speak to her in this little village.
“I’m sure he—” I protest.
“He might want to,” she replies sharply. “But he’s afraid if he’s seen with me, it’ll remind all his human buddies that he’s not all that much like them after all.”
I snort. Mag is an orc. A half-orc, sure. But he doesn’t look anything like the humans in his pub.
“He thinks if he acts like them, they’ll forget,” she continues. “It’s that kind of small-town thinking I left the caves to escape.”
I’m not sure that Port Yarrow is any more open-minded, although I don’t say that out loud.
Selfishly, I’m glad she’s getting away from this place for a few days. If things do take a turn, she won’t be around to take the heat.
We spend the rest of the day packing, forcing more food into Aster and then forcing him to sleep in my bed when he starts to droop.
He needs sleep more than I do, so I relegate myself to the sofa for the night.
With my feet popping out over the edge and a tassel-covered cushion for my pillow, not to mention the vague sense of impending doom churning my gut, my night is far from restful.
It takes hours before I’m able to fall into a light doze that’s broken every hour as I’m half-expecting the customs authorities to come swarming onto the beach any moment.
The night drags on endlessly, and when I finally wake, my eyes are gritty and there’s a pulsing ache at the top of my head.
We pile back into the little rowing boat at first light and then we’re away.
The vague sense of unease from yesterday is still present in my gut and still doesn’t fade even when we step back onto land in Port Yarrow.
Instead, the feeling grows deeper and more twisted as we make our way toward Kit’s shop.
Frannie’s charging in front, clearly enthusiastic to get started on whatever she imagines running Kit’s shop will entail. She turns back, frowning at our pace as Aster and I lag behind.
“We’re not all ten feet tall, you know,” I pant at her.
She huffs and slows her pace a little, but it still means she’s in front when we reach the alleyway leading to Kit’s apartment. She freezes, hand raised to knock.
“Reva.”
My stomach drops as I try to peer around her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Is there another mate hanging around in this alleyway?
“It’s open,” Frannie says.
I take a few steps closer. “He left the door unlocked?”
She shakes her head, stepping out of the way so that I can see Kit’s doorway.
The door isn’t unlocked.
It’s off its hinges.
Broken open.
The dread from yesterday surges through me again and I stumble inside, heading up the stairs on numb feet and fighting the rising sense of panic that’s trying to take over. So his door is broken, maybe there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe—
A creak sounds from somewhere in the apartment, followed by several heavy clomping footsteps and a pair of male voices that I’m certain don’t belong to Kit.
There’s someone inside.