Chapter 18 #2
I gasped as I pulled the dagger free. The thing staggered and then broke apart—shattering into a fine dusting of dirt and black oil that gleamed purple in the light.
The Royal Knights had done something similar upon being stabbed with bloodstone, but the knights’ skin and bodies had cracked first. These things just exploded in a geyser of purple yuck that smelled like stale lilacs.
As the other creature started to regain his footing, I spun, wrapping my arm around his masked head. I jerked back and thrust the dagger into the weak spot at the base of his skull. I let go, jumping back before the thing erupted.
“What are these things?” I yelled, backing away from the oily stain the two had left behind.
“I have no idea.” Kieran took out another as his lip curled in disgust. “Just kill them.”
“Oh, well, I was thinking about keeping one.” Cold, clammy fingers grazed my arm as I whirled around. “You know, as a—”
“If you say pet, I’m going to think you’re more demented than Cas.”
“I was going to say friend.”
Kieran looked over at me, brows arched. “That’s even worse.”
I snapped forward, grabbing the edge of a mask. I yanked hard. Rope snapped. The mask slipped free—
“Oh, my gods!” I shrieked as I staggered back.
The thing didn’t have a face.
Not really. There was no nose. No mouth. Just thin, black slits where eyes should’ve been. Everything else was smooth, thin, pale flesh.
I would never unsee this.
“Take it back! Here.” I flung the bronze mask back at the thing. The metal bounced off its chest and hit the ground. It cocked its head to the side.
“What?” Kieran shifted toward me. “Holy shit, it’s a—I think it’s a Gyrm.”
“A what ?”
“Something that does not belong here.”
“That’s not helpful.” I pointed at it with my dagger. “It has no face!”
“I can see that.”
“How does it even breathe?”
“Now”—he grunted as one of the things jumped on his back. Bending, he flipped it over—“is not the time for questions, Poppy .”
Good point, but still, how did it breathe with no mouth or nose?
The Gyrm thing came at me, and I forced myself past being creeped out.
I needed to focus because the one who apparently had a mouth and could speak, knew about Lockswood.
I would have to freak out about these things later.
I met its attack, shoving my blade deep into the creature’s chest. I wasn’t as quick as before, and black liquid sprayed the front of Casteel’s shirt.
Whirling around, I spotted the male on the wall. I stalked forward, ignoring the sharp stones under my bare feet.
Another Gyrm shot toward me, and I braced myself.
He lifted his sword, but I struck first, jamming my dagger up under the edge of his mask.
I jerked back as he fell, his body fracturing into nothing within seconds.
I turned to see Kieran jerk his blade through the neck of another.
Purple goo sprayed out as his gaze found mine.
“Your eyes,” he uttered, dragging the back of his hand over his face. “They’re glowing quite brightly.”
They were?
The hum in my chest was a whisper in my blood as I turned back to the wall.
The man was still there, and the energy building inside me felt like it had at the Chambers of Nyktos.
My heart tripped over itself as another masked creature appeared in the bright light.
I tightened my grip on the dagger, resisting the pull of that vibration.
I didn’t want to do that again. Not until I fully understood it and knew I could stop it.
A damp hand clamped around my arm. Letting all those early mornings and afternoons spent with Vikter take hold, I twisted inward and swept out with my leg.
The Gyrm hadn’t expected the move, or maybe I had simply moved faster than it could react to.
I took his legs out from under him and then brought the dagger down, a direct hit to the chest. Springing to my feet, I turned to find another.
The creature lifted his sword, and I snapped forward, blocking its blow as I shoved the dagger deep into its chest. Yanking the blade free, I darted to the side as it fell apart. I lifted my gaze to the tall form that had replaced the one who’d now fallen—
I drew back a step. Casteel’s father stood there, his own cream-colored shirt splattered with purplish-red liquid.
How many of these things were roaming about?
Surprise radiated from him in waves as his wide gaze swept over me, and that was about when I remembered that I wore nothing but Casteel’s shirt—his now-ruined shirt.
Gods.
Could I not meet Casteel’s family under normal circumstances?
“Hello,” I murmured, straightening.
King Valyn’s brows lifted, and then he lurched toward me, his sword rising. My heart stuttered as panic seized me. I froze in horrified disbelief. He was going to—
Grabbing my arm as he thrust out with his sword, he yanked me to the side. Air punched out of my lungs as I stumbled, finding a masked Gyrm impaled on the King’s sword.
“T-thank you,” I stuttered as the thing shattered.
Amber eyes flashed to mine. “Did you think my strike was meant for you?” he asked.
“I…” Good gods, I really had.
Casteel prowled out of the shadows then, drops of the purplish blood dotting the striking lines and angles of his face.
He wasn’t alone. Several guards flanked him.
His gaze zeroed in on me, searching for signs of any new injury or wound.
There were none, but if there had been, I knew he would’ve found them.
He stalked right to me, his sword slick with whatever existed in those creatures lowered at his side.
His star-bright eyes snagged mine and held.
My breath caught as he curled his arm around my waist, drawing me hard against his chest. The heat of his body quickly seeped through our shirts.
It was like no one else was in the garden as he lowered his mouth to mine—surely not his father, because the kiss was fierce and deep, making my heart race.
When Casteel’s mouth left mine, my breath came out in short pants. He pressed his forehead against mine, holding me tightly. His voice was rich and smoky as he asked, “How many of them did you kill?”
“A few,” I answered, curling my free hand into the front of his shirt.
His lips brushed my ear. “A few?”
“A decent amount,” I amended.
Casteel kissed my cheek. “That’s my girl.”
A throat cleared, and I suspected it had come from Casteel’s father. My cheeks heated and then caught fire as Kieran said, “You have no one to blame but yourself for Cas’s inability to remember that he isn’t alone.”
King Valyn chuckled roughly. “Good point.”
Casteel kissed the center of my forehead. “You okay?”
“Yes. You?”
“Always.”
I smiled faintly at that, but it quickly faded. I wiggled free of Casteel’s embrace and turned to the wall, scanning the entire length of it.
Dammit, the wall was empty.
“He’s gone,” I bit out.
“Who?” Casteel asked.
Frustration burned through me. “There was a man with these things. He knew about Lockswood.”
“Lockswood?” Casteel’s father echoed.
“It’s near Niel Valley in Solis.” I twisted toward Casteel.
He’d gone unnaturally still, and I could sense his throbbing anger.
“The inn my parents stopped at for the night—the one the Craven attacked—was in the village of Lockswood. Where my parents died. Alastir obviously told this Descenter about that night.”
“That was no Descenter,” King Valyn remarked, and both Casteel and I turned to him.
He bent, picking up one of the masks that had fallen from the creature.
“And those things wearing these masks? Gods, not only do they not belong here, the masks they were wearing have nothing to do with the Descenters.”
Confused, I looked at Casteel. He frowned as he glanced down at what his father held. “The Descenters wore those masks in Solis to hide their identities,” he stated.
“But they weren’t the first,” his father stated. “The Unseen were.”