by A. D. Winter
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I see.”
“Yes, my dear,” the dwarf whispered. “It is rather dangerous. Believe me, I know.”
I glanced at the dwarf’s torn body. “Looks like he’s a slow eater.”
“Fortunately for me, he is.”
“Good enough.” I began to untie his restraints. “You got a name?”
“Of course, my dear. It’s Crag Anvilhead.”
Crag Anvilhead? “The famous fashion designer?” I asked.
“The one and only,” he replied.
By Danu’s long eyelashes.
I’d seen his work before in the papers. Really nice stuff—expensive, though, and bit too girly for me. But top-shelf for sure.
I wiped my hand on my jacket and reached behind his back to shake one of his bound hands. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
“Yes, yes,” he said dismissively as he curled a meaty finger around my hand. “Now, can you please let me down?”
“Oh, sorry.” I hurried as I sliced his restraints. His wrists were huge, and his hands were even bigger. But I worked fast and cut through the extra inches of rope.
When I was done, he bent at the waist, flexing his muscled stomach, and undid the restraints around his ankles.
Once he was free, he carefully and quietly lowered himself to the floor.
“All right, let’s get out of here,” I said. “We don’t want to wake up Old Smelly up there.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, my dear,” he said.
With gentle steps, we rushed across the room. The last thing we needed was for one of our boots to wake the slumbering bat.
We were already halfway there when, striding through the doorway with Dryden at her heels, Sophie appeared.
“Crag!” Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.
She leaped into the dwarf’s arms and burst into tears, the sound of her crying echoing through the great room.
I glanced up at the ceiling.
The bat’s wings shout out from behind its back, and a terrifying shriek escaped its maw. Whatever plan of escape we had was dead.
23
Ivy
“Well, that doesn’t look very promising.” Dryden scratched his chin as he glared up at the stirring bat. “Not promising at all.”
He was right. This was definitely not good. Shifters were incredibly strong, and difficult to kill, a lesson that I’d learned on my first mission into the human world. And by the looks of it, this one was even worse.
“I don’t suppose they teach transportation spells on the Isles,” I said.
“About as much as the Order teaches manners to their initiates.”
I twisted a stare at him.
Sophie lifted her head from Crag’s muscled chest and wiped her eyes. “What happened? Did I miss something?”
“Oh, no,” Crag assured her, patting the princess gently on the head. “Just a little pest problem.”
“A little?” I shot him a glance.
He shrugged.
We stilled as the bat flapped its wings, the reek of feral stench wafting through the room like a ruptured sewer. Its nose twitched as it picked up our scent, and its eyes suddenly glowed red with menacing intent.
Bats from the human world were blind. They saw through the night using reflected sound waves. Shifters, on the other hand—magical creatures who could become animals—were not. They could see just as good as anyone.
“We need to get Sophie out of here,” I said.
“No,” Sophie said. “I’m not leaving Crag.”
Crag set Sophie down and gripped her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, my dear, this is definitely no place for you. Wait for me downstairs, and I’ll come for you when all of this is over.”
“And you listen to me, Crag Anvilhead,” she declared haughtily, “I’ve just lost my father, and my entire family is missing. I’m not going to lose you as well.”
“I would never lie to you, my little rose petal,” he assured. “Now go. And afterward we’ll try on some of your mother’s dresses, like we used to.”
Her face screwed up into a look of warning. “You’d better, Crag Anvilhead. Or I promise you that I will banish you from my sight forever.”
“Yes, yes, understood,” he replied.
The bat began jutting out its wings with tremendous force, and Crag quickly ushered Sophie away. “Run!”
Sophie sped off toward the exit, her tiny body looking adorable in her flared-out dress. She was just about to reach the doorway, when the bat made its move.
It leaped from the ceiling and crashed to the floor, blocking the princess’s escape.
“Sophie!” Crag called out.
I drew my dagger, while Dryden conjured a ball of fire. But we might as well have been in the next room. She was too far away for us to help.
Sophie fell back from the force of it, her head bouncing off the wooden floor. Crag raced out to get her, but it was no use. His legs were too short and the bat was too quick. Instead, I gripped him by the arm. “I’m faster.”
“Save her,” he pleaded.
Time seemed to stop as I bolted forward, leaping and stretching as I raced out for the young princess.
She was already crawling back on her elbows, hurrying to escape the frightening bat that was now hovering above her, when I reached her.
I caught her by the waist and swung her behind me. It was just in time, too. The bat was already opening its maw.
“Blood!” Its voice was a tortured whisper. “I need blood!”
The bat dove for in for the kill. But I moved out of the way, shifting to the side and keeping Sophie next to me. The bat’s maw plunged into the wooden floor, nearly sinking in a foot deep, and we were assaulted by a storm of splinters.
By Danu’s nightmare.
Before I could move, it was up again, turning its blood-thirsty eyes upon us once more. There was no way of escaping, I knew. The bat was too fast. So I did the next best thing. I slid Sophie behind me and held out my dagger, hoping to at least take out an eye.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.
A series of fireballs crashed into the bat’s face, belting it back and causing it to shut its wings around itself. It was a momentary distraction, but one I didn’t waste.
“Better to hurry, my dears,” Crag called out.
I picked up Sophie and raced toward the mighty dwarf, ducking as one of Dryden’s fireballs nearly took off my head. When I reached the center of the room, I set her down and kneeled before her. “Stay here,” I ordered her.
She nodded, still overcome by the shock of the bat.
“Good.” I raced back into the fray, suddenly renewed by the chance of battle. Fighting was what I did best, and I was all too ready to let this fanged monster learn that.
Dryden was still hitting the bat with his fireballs, when I reached him, while Crag yanked a mace from one of the suits of armor along the wall. No doubt effective weaponry, but I preferred the more direct approach.
“Drop to a knee!” I screamed.
Dryden glanced back at me, saw that I was coming, and did what I’d asked.
I sprang off his shoulder like a chimera, somersaulting through the air, and aimed my foot at the bat’s face. He may have been big, but I was going to dent its skull with the force of my boot.
Yet before I could reach its ugly face, it hit me with one of its wings, and I was sent through the air with the force of a sledgehammer.
I crashed into the wall, sinking into the wooden paneling, then fell face-first to the floor where I lay motionless. Blood filled my lungs, and it felt like my spine was made of crackers. To make things worse, my hair was completely covered in splinters.
By Danu’s big toe.
“If you’re done taking a nap, it’d be an excellent time to join us,” Dryden said as he struck the bat with another round of fireballs.
All right, no more playing around, I told myself as I rose to my feet. If this b
at wants to play rough, I can play rough, too. I drew upon the power of my spirit and felt the power of Danu surging through my body.
Round two.
The fireballs were effective, but the bat’s skin was dense and able to absorb their impacts with ease. It was a bruiser that could handle superficial attacks.
Fortunately, we had a bruiser of our own.
Crag raced into the fight, shedding the grace of his demeanor, and cracked the mace across the bat’s skull with the might of a dwarf. Steel bent. The bat shrieked. And the triumphant yell of a dwarf filled the room.
You get him, Crag!
Dazed, the bat leaped into the air, trying to create some distance.
But Dryden was on top of it.
He hit the bat with a series of fireballs, striking it with amazing precision. The bat shrieked as it was spun through the air, belted from all sides. And in a wild spin, it plummeted to the ground, falling aimlessly to the floor.
I followed its trajectory and realized it was headed toward the center of the room.
Sophie!
I sped off as fast as I could, racing for the plummeting bat. I needed to reach her. I needed to save her.
The bat was only feet away when I sprang forward, able to shove Sophie’s tiny body to the side before she was crushed under the weight of it.
Behind me, Dryden and Crag continued the assault, hitting it with both steel and fire. Still, it wasn’t enough. We needed something stronger, something that was big and heavy and could cut through the beast’s body.
I looked up at the ceiling and saw our chance.
“Stay here,” I said to Sophie.
“The last time you told me that, I was almost killed.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Take off.”
Sophie sprang to her feet and raced toward the door.
I called out to Dryden and Crag. “Keep it in the center.”
Dryden followed my gaze to the ceiling, where he caught sight of what I was referring to and nodded. “Good show!”
I leaped onto the curtains along the wall and climbed them as fast as I could. When I reached the top, I set my boots against the wooden paneling and pushed with all of my might, leaping backward through the air and landing on one of the golden arms of the chandelier.
Gotcha.
Reaching into my belt for my dagger, I suddenly realized that it was missing.
Rats!
“My dagger!” I called out.
Crag looked around, found it, and threw it up as hard as he could. His aim was good—too good—and he almost took out my eye. Luckily, I caught it at the last second.
“Got it?” Crag yelled.
“Yeah,” I called back. “Thanks.”
As quickly as I could, I began cutting through the rope. But it was thick and lined with wires, double reinforced to keep it from snapping. Just my luck.
Finally, just as the bat was pressing Dryden against the wall, the rope snapped, and the chandelier broke loose. It fell through the air, diving straight for the shifter, its eyes widening in shock as it was about to shriek.
It never got the chance.
The chandelier slammed it to the ground, and its entire body ruptured like an exploding grape. Skin flew everywhere, and we were instantly immersed in a bath of rotten meat and stinking blood.
Stepping off the chandelier, my body jolted from the crash, I stumbled forward to join both Dryden and Crag in their view of the monster. They were just as shaken as I was and clearly unable to speak.
I broke the silence for them. “Well,” I said, “that was fun.”
24
Ivy
I plopped down onto the plush recliner in Crag's bedroom, getting a glimpse of what it felt like to be an elf.
I'd never been in a room like this before. Soft pillows. Cushy recliners. The air scented with the kiss of rose perfume. Heck, even the bed comforter was embroidered with the golden flowers of the Ancient East.
The bathroom wasn't bad, either.
I'd used it to take a shower, allowing the warm water to slide over my taut muscles as I washed away the day's troubles.
Fortunately, Crag had been sweet enough to lend me a white robe. I tied the belt around my waist and dug my toes into the gentle carpet, breathing a sigh of relief. This was definitely the life.
But I couldn’t relax.
The Tower bells would ring soon, and my excommunication from the Order would go into effect. I needed to focus. I needed to find the evidence to prove my innocence.
Still, it was hard in these plush surroundings. I took a sip from the bottle of Elven Sparkle that I’d stolen from the family’s wine cellar, and allowed myself a moment of peace. Well, if my life is coming to an end, might as well do it in style.
“If you don’t mind, my dear?” Crag held out a glass flute for me to fill.
“Not at all.”
I had begun to fill his glass when I was suddenly distracted by the most delicious sight.
Dryden had entered the room and was striding across the carpeted floor with a towel wrapped around his toned waist. His hair was still wet from his shower, and his bare chest and six-pack were glistening with droplets of water.
Ouch!
I turned as I heard the sound of wine hitting the carpet. I’d been letting it spill over Crag’s glass the entire time.
“By the goddess,” I said, pulling back the bottle and quickly apologizing for the mess.
But Crag didn’t seem to care. He’d been as distracted by Dryden’s body as much as I had.
A smile curled beneath the dwarf’s red mustache as he sashayed across the room to the young wizard.
Dryden lit a ciggy and took a drag.
“Is that dragon’s weed?” Crag asked, taking a seat next to him at the edge of the bed.
Dryden arched a brow at the dwarf, seeming impressed. “You partake?”
“I must admit,” Crag said, “it’s not my thing. The smoke and all. But I do dabble in it from time to time, whenever the opportunity arises.”
“Ah,” Dryden said, seeming pleased. “A fellow connoisseur.” He handed Crag the ciggy, motioning for him to try it, and the dwarf took the longest drag I’d ever seen.
Not a good idea. Seconds later he was coughing up a lung, and his eyes were filling with tears. Dryden and I laughed.
“Good show, old boy,” Dryden said, patting the dwarf on the back.
“It’s been a while,” Crag admitted with another series of coughs. “But that is definitely quality substance.”
“Not as strong as the stench of that shifter though,” Dryden complained. He took a whiff of his arm and cringed. “I can still smell it on me.”
“Maybe you should’ve scrubbed harder,” I told him.
“Perhaps,” he admitted with a grin. “Or maybe I could’ve used some help.” He held my gaze from across the room, and I felt my heart begin to race.
By Danu’s dirty ears, he’s hot.
But as tempting as he was, I had more pressing issues to deal with—namely, the events of the other night.
I stared at Crag and studied the wounds across his chest. At best they’d been superficial and had already begun to heal.
The fact that he’d survived the break-in meant that there was either a purpose behind the decision to let him live or, worse, an agreement between him and the assailants.
To put it plainly, it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had hired thugs to exact revenge on an employer, a friend, or I daresay a lover for reasons unknown. And as far-fetched as it might have been, it was a possibility that I couldn’t overlook.
“Crag,” I said, sitting up in my seat. “There are some questions I have to ask you.”
“About the other night?” he asked.
“About your relationship …” I said, “with the grand duke.”
He took a sip of his wine and smiled. “I wasn’t the grand duke’s type, if that’s what you’re implying. He liked them taller and more feminine.”
“You mean females?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” he said, bemused. “Besides, he loved his wife a great deal, regardless of what the papers wrote.”
“Did he owe you any money?” I asked.
“Loads,” he said without taking a breath. “But it never worried me.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
He gestured to his plush surroundings. “The grand duke knew how to take care of his people. Besides, as stingy as he was, he always paid his debts. You can check the ledgers if you wish.”
I nodded. “I will. Thank you. Did you like him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you obviously spent a great deal of time with the grand duke. You must’ve had an opinion of him.”
“Oh, I had an opinion of him all right. As did most.”
“Meaning?”
“He was a monster,” he said plainly. “A cruel and vindictive monster. He stole from his business partners, lied to his friends, rarely spent time with his siblings. In fact, I can’t remember a single time when he said anything nice to me.”
“Why’d you stay, then?” I asked.
“For her.” He motioned to Sophie, who was asleep on the bed. “I never had children of my own, and my parents disowned me long ago. She’s the only thing I have left now, the only thing that matters.”
I studied him for a moment, searching for signs of falseness, noticed something peculiar, then dismissed it. “Very well,” I said. “How’d you two meet?”
“Ten years ago the grand duke was visiting the Forged Lands. He was searching for new workers for his design house in Hispala. Apparently, he was impressed with my skills, and shortly afterward he offered me a job.”
“Which then shot you to the top of the fashion world.”
“The talent was always mine, my dear,” he said, a bit defensively. “It was simply the grand duke’s money that got me the attention.”
“And you resented him for that?” I said.
“At first,” he admitted with a shrug. “But eventually, I learned to accept it.”
“What changed?” I asked.
“Very little,” he replied.
“I don’t understand.”