Chapter 30 Envy #2
Envy doesn’t see blood red. He fucking sees death black.
Fury scorches his veins like lava, and his pulse accelerates like a full-throttle berserker. Five more deities patrol the perimeter. He’s going to massacre them, he’s going to whittle them down to the bone, he’s going to… to make this fucking kid pay for restraining him!
The moppet wrestles with Envy, putting his whole pint-sized frame into the effort because, at some unhinged point, Envy had leaped into the courtyard like a rabid mutt.
He rips away from the little menace, the force nearly prying the juvenile’s arm from its socket. “Hands. Off.”
“Contain yourself, dumbass,” the imp hisses under his breath. “They’re expecting you.”
Indeed. The guards anticipate a rescue, either from Envy or their crew. If he charges in there like a hot mess, it will end in disaster. Sorrow will bleed out even worse than she already has.
The sight of her chars a hole through Envy’s pupils. His heart needs to calm the fuck down, his rage needs a timeout, and his fear needs a sedative. Although it’s clear those sentinels weren’t the ones who laid a hand on Sorrow, they’re participating in her agony, preventing anyone from saving her.
Envy snarls. The price they’re about to pay isn’t going to tickle.
Focusing on the silhouettes patrolling the vicinity, he seethes in a low register, “You might want to look away.”
“You might want to treat me like a deity, not a human,” the moppet huffs.
Accurate point. Not to mention, Envy made this same conclusion several minutes ago. Carrying a small set of clover archery, the child has already been taught the reality of combat.
Regardless, Envy urges him farther into the hedges, then prowls along the border. Every step propels him faster, until all he sees is more black while slithering behind the first set of archers. His teeth sharpen like fangs, violence detonating inside him like a mushroom cloud.
Two arrowhead jabs to the skull bring the male and female down, blood spurting from the head gashes.
Half a second later, Envy twirls one of his glass arrows.
The third guard squeals like a chew toy, then shuts the fuck up as the lash of Envy’s weapon splits his mouth, widening the gap and spilling crimson.
Next, another arrow skewers through a masculine chest, polishing off the cocksucker, more crimson spritzing Envy’s torso.
By the time his remaining target registers this slaughter, the god’s eye socket meets the tip of a glass arrow.
With a maddened growl, Envy jams the weapon through the male’s oculus and impales his scalp.
Fluid sprays from the guard’s orb, his howl cutting off as Envy snatches the male’s cranium and executes a quick, serpentine twist. The guard’s head spins like a marble, snapping from his neck seconds before he topples.
To be sure, Envy would have preferred to draw this out, torturing them as they’d tortured Sorrow. However, that would delay things. The longer his killing spree lasts, the longer those bonds hurt her.
Sorrow.
Envy storms across the divide. Reaching the unconscious female, he grasps the sides of her face and lifts it gently, red coating his fingers and staining her cheeks. “My nymph.”
She moans, lost in dreams. Desperate, he assesses the chains. The stardusted manacles glitter with enchantment, impervious to brute strength.
Fuck. As if a set of inflated muscles and a wrathful temper will get the job done, Envy seizes the links and grits his teeth while shaking, pulling, wrenching.
But other than a key, the only thing that will sever the manacles is a dose of Asterra Flora, which wouldn’t be an issue if Malice and Wonder were here.
The moppet jogs into the amphitheater. “She’s waking up.”
“Envy,” Sorrow mumbles, her bleary eyelids fluttering, catching sight of something behind them.
The child gasps. Envy vaults around, nocking his bow.
Standing before them is a gangly male with a cleft chin and a braid dangling over his shoulder, his expression heavy as he peers at Sorrow, who blinks with unshed tears. Her Guide, Echo.
Despite the recognition, Envy tightens his grip on the longbow while Sorrow’s mentor cautiously withdraws an arrow from his robe, the weapon forged of blue moonstone. An arrow that belongs to a member of The Fate Court. The female known for her astral-woven, iridescent gowns.
Manacles can be unlocked by the tip of an arrow, so long as that arrow belongs to the one who crafted the restraints. Envy and his crew had done this to Malice, back when he was their prisoner, before he became Wonder’s soulmate.
Echo must have gone to dangerous lengths, smuggling the weapon from its owner’s suite. A treasonous infringement. Nonetheless, Envy is hard-pressed to lower his archery, maintaining aim as the mentor approaches and jimmies the arrow’s tip into the bolt.
“The fact remains,” Echo begins, his words shaky. “We may no longer agree. But that doesn’t mean we stop caring.”
He kisses Sorrow’s trembling cheek. She gives a choked, half-conscious sob.
The lock shudders open. On a wounded cry, the goddess falls forward. Envy drops his weapons and catches her, cradling Sorrow’s limp form to his chest. They must have pushed her to the physical limit, because she passes out again, the scathing cuts along her arms clotting.
“Take care of her,” Echo pleads.
“Always,” Envy promises.
But the deity smiles sadly. “Siren has a message.”
Envy stiffens. A lump forms in his throat as the male indicates the west waterfall and conveys instructions to flee through the cascade. “She said it would take you to a place you know.”
An alternate route to the waterfall enclave. One The Fate Court doesn’t know about.
Siren isn’t here, but she hasn’t forsaken Envy. His mentor must have conferenced with Echo sometime after Sorrow’s capture. Like the guards, they had anticipated this rescue, prepared, and waited.
Based on the looks between Echo and the anonymous youth, this child is a conspirator. Envy moves to thank them, but commotion erupts from inside the palace. Scooping Sorrow higher into his arms, he nods with gratitude.
The child’s eyes glisten. “I’m sorry,” he says. “About the valley… I’m sorry.”
So the moppet blames himself for making the existence of the crew known. “This isn’t your fault,” Envy says. “You didn’t know us back then.”
“I stole the iron archery from those elders and hid it under the Goddess of Love’s bed. I was bored and sought to prank them. I didn’t mean for your mate to find it and get caught.”
“Never apologize for making fools of them. Besides, they were scoping out our homes with or without the archery. In the end, you’ve given her back to me.” Envy musters a half-hearted quip. “And pranks are excusable. Just don’t quote me on that. I get blamed for enough.”
The moppet’s lips crook into the makings of a trickster smile. Then he grimaces and shoves Envy. “Go! Fuck off!”
The shouts ring louder, closer. Envy spins and jets across the amphitheater, splashing through the moat. He glances over his shoulder, only to find the mentor and child have sprinted out of sight. Hopefully, Echo will return that arrow before its owner realizes it’s missing.
But why isn’t The Court here? If they expect a rescue, why not station themselves close at hand?
Projectiles slice through the air, showering toward Envy. He dodges the first stream and crashes through the cascade, Sorrow nothing but leaden weight in his arms. Jagged rocks pierce his limbs as he runs at a breakneck pace, mist thickening, waterfalls hissing around them.
Envy bolts down the cavity, the conduit expanding into the cave where he stashed Love’s bow. On second inspection, this area seems to be a grotto.
The sounds of pursuit ring from behind. Carting Sorrow’s weight through precarious terrain means he can’t outrun the ones hunting them. Not in the long-term.
“Shoot the rocks,” a voice mumbles.
Envy glances at Sorrow’s half-lidded eyes. She raises her arm and points feebly at an unstable foundation.
“The rocks,” she instructs, then collapses once more against him.
Left with no choice, Envy sets her on a ledge and nocks his bow. Aiming at the crags, he looses an arrow.
A flurry of rocks crack, followed by more, then more, then more. Chunks break from the walls and slam into the ground. The avalanche piles, filling in the gap, cutting off the shouts.
Then it plummets Envy and Sorrow in darkness.