Chapter 21
Ishove open the door of the Holy Grail, the hinges groaning in protest as if they’re not quite awake yet.
The heavy scent of fried food and stale ale hits me like a brick wall, but it’s a welcome reprieve from the sharp morning air that nips at my exposed skin.
Revelin grumbles under his breath behind me, still fuming from last night’s debacle with the mayor.
“Could’ve punched that smug look right off his face,” he mutters, his hands clenched into fists at his side.
I can’t help but agree silently, my irritation simmering just beneath the surface.
But the chaos of the charity dinner seems trivial now, overshadowed by the grim news that greeted us afterwards.
After all, who cares about some smug asshole claiming credit for work that isn’t theirs when there are much bigger problems in this world?
The police arriving to whisk away officials was a scene straight out of some crime thriller, except this was not fiction.
A girl my age, her life snuffed out, found in an alley where we’d all walked past countless times.
It sends a shiver down my spine—not from fear, but from anger.
There should be an outcry, a flood of reports and social media posts.
Instead, there’s a strange silence that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Fi, you coming?” Dezi calls, already seated at a worn wooden table near the hearth. The warm glow from the fire dances across his features, softening the lines of concern that have taken up residence there since last night.
“Right behind you,” I reply, forcing my legs to move towards the group.
We settle into our seats, the benches creaking with our combined weight.
Across from us, the tavern owner—a grumpy old orc knight with more metal in his legs than bone—hobbles over, his prosthetics clanking against the stone floor.
“Oi, keep your boots off the tables, or I’ll fight every last one of ya,” he growls, though there’s a glint of something that might pass for humor in his good eye.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Khol responds with a smirk, earning a snort from the orc’s grubby wife as she ambles over to take our order.
She launches into a tirade about government corruption and systemic violence, her voice rasping like gravel on pavement.
By the time she’s scribbled it all down, we’ve all been given a lesson on how the only people who don’t have shit on them are royalty—patently untrue in Arrowwood—and how the monarchy thrives by ‘hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society.’ But she curtsies to Revelin before she leaves, and he looks at us with confusion in his lilac eyes.
I don’t blame him; what the fuck is he going to say to all that?
Dezi chuckles, clearly entertained by the couple’s dynamic. “Quite the pair, aren’t they?”
“Better than last night’s circus,” I concede, the tension inching out of my shoulders as the familiar banter swirls around us.
This might not be the breakfast spot we’re used to, but somehow, the Holy Grail’s rough-around-the-edges charm is exactly what we need to regroup after the disastrous charity event.
Eventually, our food arrives—along with a brief lecture on imperialism this time—and we all dig in. It’s hot, home-style, and tasty, thank hell. I’d hate to call that screaming harpy over for a problem because she’d likely bitch me out about late stage capitalism.
Not that I don’t agree with her, because I definitely do—eat the rich, except, maybe not my guys, right?
I’m scraping the last of my eggs onto my fork when the indistinct murmur from the next table snags my attention.
“Did you hear about the girl they found?” one local whispers to another, his voice carrying despite the hush.
“Body all mutilated, heart missing, and dark magic stink all over the alley.”
“Damn,” Khol murmurs, his eyes narrowing with a kind of predatory calculation. “Sounds like something our friends in the underground might pull off. That Minotaur, or that... creature from the last fight. Even the demon mage could have been involved.”
Dezi leans back, considering this with a frown. “If legends are more than just stories here, then maybe those who vanish are prey to some supe hiding right under our noses. This town’s rot runs deep.”
Tiernan’s features twist with unease. “You guys think you can manage his security at the school? I need to hit a weaponry shop before we venture into the woods. I don’t like this shit at all. It’s way more dangerous in this damn place than I’m comfortable with.”
“You trust Rev and Sassy to me and the mosquito?” Khol chuckles, a glimmer of pride lighting up his face. “We’ll keep the kids safe without causing an international incident. Promise.”
“Try not to flash your scary basilisk face, then,” I mutter, though my lips twitch.
His laughter is a rumble that shakes the table, and we’re on our feet, leaving the Holy Grail behind for the bustle of the small town school.
The students’ excited energy greets us like a physical force when we walk through the front doors. A little fae girl with wings like iridescent soap bubbles flutters up to my face, her giggle like wind chimes. “Hi!” she chirps before darting away.
“Adorable,” I can’t help but say, even as a runaway werewolf pup barrels into my legs, nearly knocking me down. “Okay, scratch that—my ovaries are officially on indefinite leave of absence.”
Laughter bubbles up around me, and the teachers herd their charges with practiced ease. The younger ones are mostly sweet, if a bit too energetic, but once we reach the oldest classes, it’s like stepping into a different world.
“Can you teach us how to snag a famous rock star?” a smirking teen girl asks, and I feel my patience snap like a frayed string.
“No, but I can show you how to punch someone hard enough to send their nose bone into their brain,” I retort, earning snickers from the others. “It’s very helpful for girls to learn self-defense.”
Khol chokes back a laugh, hiding his face in my hair, and even Dezi has to cloak his snickering. Revelin redirects the girl, charming her with his usual flirty bit, and I roll my eyes.
Why can’t I snap back when the little shit is being a cunty bitch? She knew what she was asking.
“Changing my stance on liking people at driving age,” I grumble as we exit the classroom. “Let’s move that up to drinking age.”
“Can you imagine our lass as an auntie?” Revelin teases, his voice dripping with mischief. “Litters upon litters of nieces and nephews of all species, clamoring to climb her legs and rub sticky stuff all over her…”
My heart does a nosedive into panic, the very idea sending a shiver down my spine. The guys find my horror absolutely hilarious, their laughter following me down the hallway like a taunting echo.
“Hilarious,” I snap, but my scowl doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Despite everything, there’s warmth bubbling in my chest—a reluctant affection for these idiots and their relentless teasing.
The next place we step into is the music room, and I hang back, leaning against the doorframe.
What unfolds next is nothing short of magical.
Revelin sheds his usual shield of mischief and rakishness like an old cloak.
He approaches a piano, fingers gliding over the keys, coaxing out a melody so haunting it raises goosebumps on my arms.
“Beautiful,” slips from my lips before I can stop it.
The children gather around him, wide-eyed, as he transitions to a guitar, a violin, and then his voice—a rich baritone that seems to resonate with every fiber in the room. They join in, an imperfect but passionate chorus that fills the space with pure, untainted hope.
My chest tightens as I watch them, their innocence a stark contrast to our grim reality. Revelin’s joy is infectious, and for a moment, I forget about the dark cloud hanging over us.
“Never seen that look on you before, witchling,” Dezi teases, sidling up beside me. “You’re all... gooey.”
I flip him off without looking, a smile betraying my annoyance. “Shut it, bloodsucker.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he says with a smug grin. “The soft stuff grows on you.”
“Like mold,” I mutter, but inside, I’m not so sure.
Emotions are treacherous things, and I’m not keen on being ambushed by them.
The Holy Grail is a welcome sight after the rollercoaster morning, even in the busy lunch hour.
We find Tiernan at our previous table, checking an impressive array of weaponry and supplies he has spread out on the table.
His face lights up as we approach the proud gleam of a professional who has thoroughly enjoyed his job.
“It took me a bit, but I found the right fit for everyone,” he says, pointing to the gear. “With what could lurk in the woods, I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Nice,” Khol breathes out, already wrapping his hands around the spike-wrapped bos that are clearly for him. Revelin lifts the fae steel sword, testing its weight, his eyes bright with approval as he nods at his old friend.
“Fiadh, these are magic focusing blades,” Tiernan nods toward the elegant weapons embedded with channeling stones. “They should help amplify your magic, but be close to what you’re used to wielding.”
Fuck yeah. Now this is what I’m talking about.
I pick them up, feeling the thrum of magic beneath my fingertips. It’s tantalizing, powerful, and frighteningly intimate. The guys chuckle as I gaze at the blades with something akin to reverence.
“Guess we know the way to our witchling’s heart now,” Dezi quips, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.
“Sharp objects she can use to smite her enemies?” Khol asks innocently, and they erupt in laughter.
I shrug, not even a little embarrassed. “It’s funny you didn’t realize that until now, dudes.”
“Bring her shiny weapons and she’ll fall at your feet,” Revelin chimes in, eyes dancing with mirth.
“Keep it up, and you’ll be the first to find out how well they work,” I threaten, but my heart isn’t in it. There’s comfort in their banter, a sense of camaraderie that I didn’t realize I’d been craving. “I kneel for no one, asshole.”
Dezi arches a brow with a dark smirk, and I give him an equally challenging look.
“Let’s focus,” Tiernan interjects, a stern commander once more. “We’ve got a dark magic trail to follow and a forest that doesn’t play nice with strangers.”
“Right,” I affirm, sliding the blades into their sheaths. “Let’s eat and then we’ll do this.”
The late afternoon sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the Holy Grail, casting a mosaic of colors across the rough-hewn table where we sit. We’ve had our fill of the loudmouthed anarchist wife of the owner as we ate, and now we’re back to contemplating the journey coming once we leave.
“Check everything carefully,” I murmur as I look around. The feeling of being watched edged into my consciousness midway through our meal, but I couldn’t find a good way to tell them without being overheard. “We don’t need surprises.”
The others nod, expressions grim as they catch my meaning.
Revelin runs a whetstone borrowed from the goblin knight along the blade of his sword with methodical precision, the sound a soothing whisper against the backdrop of our collective focus.
Dezi polishes his scythe, the curve of the blade gleaming menacingly.
Khol flexes his fingers around the bos, getting used to where the grips are.
Tiernan inspects the goblin forged hammer he brought for himself—its head forged in the likeness of a snarling beast which is fitting for a shifter.
I slip the focusing blades into the holsters strapped to my thighs.
That Tier knew I’d want something like this makes me soft again, but I push that away to feel the cool leather against my skin.
The channeling stones set into the hilts pulse faintly, attuned to the energy coursing through my veins.
Yes, these will work nicely as long as my magic cooperates.
“Remember, we have to stick together,” Tiernan says, locking eyes with each of us. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Or what’s walking into us,” Revelin adds, his usual levity absent from his tone.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dezi chimes in, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Agreed,” I say, standing up and shouldering my pack. “We have the element of surprise on our side. We need to keep it that way.”
The others rise, a silent agreement passing between us.
We step outside, the clink of metal and the soft thud of boots against the dirt road punctuating our departure from the sanctuary of the tavern.
The air is crisp, the scent of pine and earth mingling with the unease that hangs over us.
We move as one entity, a unit bound by purpose and the shared knowledge of the dark secrets we’re about to unearth.
“Tonight, we are going to find answers,” I declare, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “Even if it’s not about the artifact, maybe we’ll find out what happened to the treasure hunters or even that poor dead chick.”
“We could also find more questions we’re not ready for,” Khol mutters. I give him a dirty look and he shrugs. “It’s true, Sassy. I think we have to be ready for that.”
“Either way, we’ll face them together,” Revelin affirms, stepping in line beside me.
The woods loom ahead, an expanse of darkness that swallows the waning light. But we stride forward undeterred, our resolve unwavering. The night awaits, and with it, the hidden truths of a town shrouded in mystery.
Too bad I’m not scared of the dark.