by Rosalie Redd
Another screech of a dumpster lid, this one much closer, reminded Damian of a child’s scream.
The fae chuckled. “Ah, here’s one.”
“Time to rumble.” Damian burst from his hiding spot, Grayson right behind him.
Still camouflaged to match his surroundings, Damian withdrew his dagger from the sheath at his waist and stalked toward the closest fae.
The fae must’ve sensed him, for his eyes widened. He released the dumpster’s lid and jumped out of the way. The cover crashed against the frame, and the entire box shuddered from the impact.
The fae hissed, revealing a set of long fangs. He darted his gaze down the alley and back.
“Show yourself,” he yelled, and his fingernails lengthened into claws.
The second fae bolted down the street away from them.
What a coward…
“I got him.” Grayson snuck past Damian in pursuit.
Damian shifted, his dark jeans and black shirt reappearing in an instant. He palmed his dagger and studied the fae. With the quiver in his lip and a shifty gleam in his eyes, Damian branded him as a rookie. Easy pickings for a kill, but that wasn’t the goal, not tonight.
“Gargoyle. You interrupted me.” The fae paced from one foot to the other, his gaze tracking over Damian as if searching for a weakness.
He’d find none.
“You won’t kill anyone tonight.” Damian flicked his dagger. “Make this easier for both of us. Come closer.”
At the end of the alley, the sounds of a scuffle echoed against the brick buildings.
“Good job, Grayson.” Damian could always count on his partner to handle his share of a night’s work.
The fae glanced after his cohort, and his brow furrowed.
“Don’t run—”
The idiot fled after his companion.
As if he could escape him. I don’t think so…
Damian bolted after the fae. The guy was fast, putting distance between them.
Damian’s mouth dried. He couldn’t lose his opportunity, and he quickened his pace.
He pulled on his intense need to save Wynne and launched himself at the fae.
Would he make it in time?
The tips of his fingers slid over one pant leg, and he gripped the creature’s ankle.
Both crashed to the pavement. Bits of rubble ripped into the skin along Damian’s arms, shredding the flesh. The scent of blood permeated his senses.
A sharp hiss burst from the fae’s lips.
His foe kicked him in the shoulder. Pain rippled down his arm, but he refused to release his enemy.
Damian yanked him closer. “Come here. You need to—”
This time, the fae’s kick hit its mark, connecting with Damian’s nose. Pain erupted between his eyes and into his brain. Blood gushed from the wound.
The fae squirmed from Damian’s grasp.
He pawed after the creature. The loosened end of a shoestring dragged along the ground. Damian snagged the cord between his fingers, and the fae slipped to his knees.
Damian blinked through the pain, forcing himself to stay focused on his prize.
The fae glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw Damian.
A whirlwind burst to life around him.
Damian’s pulse raced. Here was his opportunity to catch a ride to the Otherworld.
Determined not to miss his chance, he seized the fae’s shoe and held on.
A short hiss burst from the guy’s lips. The whirlwind grew in intensity, and he kicked Damian in the shoulder.
Focused on his goal, the pain didn’t even register in Damian’s mind.
He reached his other hand toward the fae to snag the guy’s leg.
The creature’s mouth opened. With his free foot, he toed off his shoe and disappeared in the swirl. A moment later, the churn ceased.
Damian stared at the black and white Adidas shoe in his hand. The untied laces swept back and forth in the breeze.
He opened his mouth, closed it again. By the strength given to him from his goddess, he crushed the shoe in his palm then launched it down the alley.
“Hey, that almost hit me.” Grayson strode toward him and held out his palm. His curly dark hair hung from his shoulders. “Want up?”
Damian exhaled and grasped his partner’s hand. As he rose, his gaze tracked to the place the fae had disappeared. A heavy weight settled onto his shoulders. He’d come so close.
Grayson’s mouth twitched. “Ouch. The fae nailed you a good one, didn’t he?”
The pain in Damian’s nose returned with a vengeance, but he’d take that over the ache in his chest any night. He’d failed, and that hurt worse than any physical injury ever could.
“You bag yours?” Damian changed the subject.
“Yeah. Stupid fae. Seems like there’s a lot more newbies these days. That makes the job easier, but there’s no challenge.” Grayson rubbed his chin. “Sometimes, I long for a better, stronger enemy.”
Damian shook his head. “Don’t invite trouble. We don’t need the aggravation.”
The slightest hint of dawn tinged the sky, bathing it in an orange glow.
“Time to return to our posts.” Grayson exhaled.
The squeak of a dumpster lid echoed down the alley. A human male rose from the debris. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Is there something going on out here?”
Grayson nudged Damian. “I’m out. See you there.”
Before Damian could respond, his friend dematerialized.
The man cocked his head. “Oh, man. I better stay off the booze.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Damian followed his teammate and dematerialized to his post.
He prayed to Rhiannon that Neira, Sasha, and Trixie had better luck in trying to find a way to free Wynne.
After his disappointing failure, they’d need all the luck they could get.
CHAPTER 13
Wynne adjusted the book in her lap and traced her finger over the paper’s smooth surface. She read the same sentence for the third time, but although she’d read every word, she couldn’t remember one.
How many hours had she buried her head in that text, searching for a cure for her mother? Enough to make her braindead. She slammed the book shut and tossed the text onto the mattress.
With a quick shove, she rose to her feet then wiped her brow. Light from the wall sconces reflected off her bracelet, casting a strange glow onto the opposite wall.
Frustration fueled her fire, and she clawed at the hard metal. Her sharp fingernails scored her flesh, but she continued her painful onslaught. When her breath wheezed from her lungs and red welts marred the skin to her elbow, she gave up on her attempt to free herself of the thing.
Who knew she was missing? Sasha and Neira for sure, but anyone else?
The breath squeezed from her lungs.
Damian…
Would he worry about her?
She bit the inside of her cheek. It wasn’t like they had a steady relationship. Shoot, they hadn’t even kissed. Afraid to let him in, she’d kept the walls up. He was a gargoyle, after all. Not like any kind of relationship with him could go anywhere, but she enjoyed his company and damn, his teasing ways made her head spin.
Her mind drifted to Zain and the intensity of his kiss. He’d left her breathless, mewling for more, and had given her a lesson up close and personal of what he could do to her. A pleasant warmth heated her cheeks and settled deep inside, making her squirm. What if she used that to her advantage?
Sourness churned in her stomach, and she scrunched her nose. She couldn’t live with herself if she sunk to a low level and played that kind of game. It just wasn’t in her to pretend.
She strode to the bars and glanced into her mother’s cell. In the gloom, the outline of Victoria’s thin form lay across the bed. Deep breathing echoed from the enclosed space.
After mom had woken from her nap, they’d chatted for a long time. Mom had pegged her with questions, hungry for every detai
l of Wynne’s life, and had reluctantly shared some of the awful events she’d witnessed as Gwawl’s slave. Then, like a battery running low, exhaustion set in, probably from both the emotional toll and the talking, and her mother had to lie down once again.
Wynne’s heart ached. She hated to see her mother’s frailty, and she remembered the strong, smart, and confident mother from her childhood. There must be a cure for her in that book.
“I’ll continue to search, Mom. I promise.” The whisper wound into her soul, binding her to the commitment. “A little rest, and I’ll start on the book again.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Several yards down the hall, Zain strode from the shadows. He wore dark jeans, an olive T-shirt that accentuated the firm muscles of his chest, and a pair of steel-toed boots. Gone was his trademark black biker jacket. With every step he took, his muscles bulged beneath his shirt.
Wynne’s blood pressure spiked. A roar built in her ears, a mixture of hate, desire, and frustration. She gripped the bars, and her accursed bracelet clinked against the metal.
He drew close enough for her to see his features, and firelight from the wall sconces reflected the diamond studs in his ears and along his nose, giving him an almost angelic appearance. A throw, the soft and downy kind, rested over one arm.
Her stomach fluttered. Had he brought the blanket for Victoria?
Zain stopped in front of her cell. His dark braid hung over his shoulder, the ends teasing the skin on his bicep. He glanced at her bracelet then at the scratches on her arm before focusing on her eyes.
The edge of his mouth curled into a frown. “I can’t blame you for trying, but only the key will work.”
He raised his arm, indicating the blanket. “Per your request, I brought this.”
As if a sprite had flown into her mouth and stolen her voice box, she couldn’t speak. Anger, bitterness, and hatred for him were something she’d come to expect, but how was she supposed to react to his compassion?
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Mom’s sleeping now, but…”
“That’s okay. It’ll be here when she wakes.” He hung the blanket through the food slot in her mother’s cell, turned around, and extended another toward her. “For you.”
She blinked. “You brought one for me, too? Why?”
The muscles in his shoulders stiffened. “You don’t want it?”
“I didn’t say that.” She snatched the blanket through the bars before he changed his mind.
The soft material tickled her fingers and she brought it to her nose. On an inhale, the barest hint of Zain’s spicy scent swept into her senses. Against her will, a familiar warmth settled at her core, and the urge to snuggle deeper into the blanket swept along her nerves like fire. The emotion threatened to overwhelm her, and she tossed the blanket onto her cot.
Footsteps echoed from down the hallway. A moment later, a young woman with dark eyeliner and short, purple hair stepped into view. She focused on Zain, and her eyes widened. “I can come back another time.”
Zain smiled. “No need. What is your name and your purpose here?”
“My name is Allie, and I’m a fairly new arrival to the Otherworld. I’ve come for Victoria. It’s time for her bi-weekly shower.” An odd, hysterical giggle burst from the teenage girl, and she rubbed her arm. Several round depression scars, evidence of drug use, marred her skin. Perhaps she’d sold illegal drugs in her human life.
He held out his hand. “By all means.”
Allie’s eyes radiated with an exuberance that left chills along Wynne’s arms. Was she insane? Living down here could certainly do that to someone.
Allie unlocked the door and entered the cell. A moment later, she reemerged, Mom at her elbow.
“Thank you, dear. I appreciate your help.” Victoria patted Allie’s arm.
“Mom?” Wynne wanted to run to her mother’s side, and she silently cursed the damn bars.
Victoria glanced at Wynne and sent her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, dear. Allie’s harmless, just a bit…off. Don’t worry. Oh, and thank you, Zain, for the blanket. You quite surprised me.”
He gave her a quick nod of his head, and a gleam, pride perhaps, flickered through his eyes. If Wynne hadn’t been looking at him, she would’ve missed it.
“Allie,” Zain tapped his chin, “see if you can round up some new clothes for Victoria while you’re at it.”
“You bet.” Allie disappeared down the hall with Wynne’s mother in tow. The young girl’s eerie laughter echoed off the walls in their wake.
Wynne opened her mouth but closed it again. Words wouldn’t come. Besides, what would she say? Mom had lived down here for thirteen years. The ramifications blew through Wynne’s mind with the force of a hurricane. She couldn’t process it all, and she sat on the bed, her shoulders slumping.
Zain focused his penetrating hazel eyes on her. “Wynne, what have you learned from the book on controlling the crystals?”
His firm biceps bulged beneath the T-shirt’s sleeve, accentuating his formidable strength. What would it be like to meet up with him in a dark alley? Better yet, what would it be like to meet up with him in a bedroom with a king-sized bed and silky sheets?
She gripped the edge of the cot and forced the image from her mind. “What did you ask?”
“You’re going to make me repeat myself?” He crossed his arms, and his tight biceps flexed.
Gods, she wanted to run her hands over the smooth flesh to find out if they were as firm as they seemed, and her fingers twitched. She shoved her hands under her legs where they’d stay out of trouble.
“No, I heard you.” Wynne peered at the book. “I’ve learned a thing or two.”
“Really?” He purred. “About what?”
The urge to lie hung on the tip of her tongue, but her gaze drifted over the throw. He’d brought blankets for both her and her mother. Was that just another way to entice her to do what he wanted?
Her pulse quickened. Two could play at that game.
She yanked one hand from under her thigh and trailed a finger along the binding. “I can show you. Come see.”
The muscles in his shoulders tensed. “Tell me.”
Wynne flipped to a page on healing spells. “It’s right here.”
Zain’s features hardened. A tic pulsed to life in his jaw.
Wynne smiled. What better way to take out her frustrations than on her captor? Now that she’d taunted him, he’d leave in a rush again.
A mini-tornado burst to life at his feet and grew until the swirling wind encompassed his entire body. A moment later, he disappeared.
Victorious, Wynne sucked in a deep, relieved breath.
Dust and a few pebbles churned at the foot of her bed.
Wynne stood. “No, no, no.”
The dust devil increased in speed and intensity, as if spurned by anger.
Her heartbeat quickened. She took a step back then another until her bottom collided with the cell bars.
The swirling mass ceased, and Zain glared at her.
He snagged the book off the bed and peered at the page.
His lip curled into a snarl. “Is this what you’ve been reading?”
Wynne pressed further into the bars. She’d thought him illiterate. Was she wrong or was he testing her?
“I…I…” She didn’t know how to respond.
He stomped to her side, cradled the book in one large palm, and pointed at the page. “This is a healing spell. You’re to read the section on the crystal.”
Was he bluffing or had he read the chapter heading?
Between his beautiful hazel eyes, a furrow marred the edge of one dark eyebrow.
Bluff…
A twinge tightened her stomach. She shouldn’t care whether he could read or not. He was her captor. Yet, empathy for his plight tugged on one of the strings around her heart.
He closed the distance until only the book separated them. “It’s commendable you want to help your mother, but my job is to ensure you lea
rn to control the crystal.”
“If you want me to learn about the crystal, you’ll have to read it to me.” Wynne blurted the remark before she’d considered the ramifications.
His gaze narrowed. “Feisty witch. You have no idea…”
He threw the book across the cell. The spine hit the stone wall, and a loud crack ricocheted off the walls. Papers flew as the book landed on the floor face down with a hard thunk.
“The healing spells!” Wynne rushed to the damaged book.
With gentle care, she flipped the text onto its back. The cracked spine held, but several pages protruded from between the covers like the broken feathers of a dove.
Heat, born of anger, flushed through Wynne. She cradled the book in her arms and glared at Zain. “Why did you do that?”
His profile to her, h gripped the bars, his fingers white with strain. The long length of his elegant nose accentuated his handsome features in a way she hadn’t noticed before. A grimace tightened his lips. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Zain shook his head and glanced at the wall sconce. The bars groaned from his tight hold.
Heaviness settled onto her shoulders. Before he’d turned into a fae, he had a human life, one where he’d fought for a living. What obstacles had he faced? Some fierce ones, no doubt.
Compassion for him bubbled from somewhere deep inside. She scooted closer and softened her voice. “I overheard Marco. You can’t read. I’ll teach you.”
He peered at her over his shoulder. His eyes flicked back and forth as he studied her.
Wynne held her breath. Would he trust her? For some reason, that mattered to her, but she didn’t understand why.
“You’re willing to teach me to read? After I captured you and brought you to Gwawl?” Zain’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
She raised her chin. “Does it matter? Bottom line, I won’t read the spells unless you read them with me.”
The lie turned into a ball in her stomach. She had every intention of learning the crystal spells while she looked for a cure for her mother. After so many years without Mom, finding a viable treatment was her number one priority. Well, that, and escaping with her, but Zain had shown her some kindness by bringing the blankets. She wanted to return the favor.