by J. Kearston
He nods. “We’re far enough from Elorie’s domain that the risk of using one will be greatly diminished. We might want to wait until we have more distance between us before attempting it, but worth considering.”
Atlas bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at his feet before sighing. “But won’t that just take us home? None of us have seen the prison, so it was a long shot plan in the first place, even if I had managed to pull it off.”
“Hey, at least you can make one,” Cambria points out in an attempt to make him feel better. “You took my magic and did something with it that even I can’t.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure if you put more effort into your attempts that you could. It’s just harder to piss you off than anyone, you optimist. We absorbed your magic. So even if it morphed a bit because Luce came in and diluted the magical gene pool, it’s not like any of us are chucking fireballs or commanding the oceans. It’s like musical chairs; juggernaut-changeling edition.”
She runs a hand through her hair and closes her eyes, using Lucien as a wall to lean against. Just that small bit of defeat, that’s all she lets shine through, and then it’s gone, stuffed into a box to be used as a stepstool to bring her to new heights. She climbs on her pile of repressed problems as easily as she scales the wasteland’s mountains, standing on top of the fragile foundation to look down on a brutal world of deception.
“But if we use a ring that we know won’t suck the life out of us, we can try again and again.”
Lucien points to me, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Exactly. We were hinging our plan on one of the two of you being able to manipulate it like Dorian did that first day we found Cambria, since...”
Atlas finishes his train of thought, but doesn’t look as upset about it as he’s been. Honestly, after days of channeling both his and Lucien’s anger to practice creating rings, I think he’s worked most of his frustrations out about the predicament. “Since the two of you are fae and bound by the need to visualize a place, whereas the two of us have less limitations.”
Lucien presses his lips into a thin line, but nods, worried about getting into it again. Atlas simply claps his hands together sharply before bending over to offer a palm for Azazel to climb up on. “We didn’t consider these guys though. They know what the prison looks like. If we can get them all thinking about it the same time that we’re all trying to, we have a better chance at pulling this off.”
I lick my dry lips, nervous. “How do you plan on pulling that off?”
Reluctantly, we all head towards the rock wall and start the last leg of the journey, Azazel riding on Atlas’ shoulder this time and the other changelings nowhere to be seen. He hoists himself up and I memorize the path he takes, starting in after him. Cambria follows behind me while Luce gives us all a head start before starting in.
“Subliminal messaging,” he retorts and I wish I could flip him off.
“Seriously.”
He takes in my harsh tone and knocks it off. “They love Cambria, but they also recognize her as part of the line that acted as their jailors. I’m sure we can come up with something to trigger those memories.”
“Too risky,” Cambria dismisses before I can voice my numerous objections. “We piss them off, there’s nothing to stop them from eating us. Right now we’re safe because they like us for whatever stupid reason. Honestly, we offer very little in this relationship. We destroy that, it won’t matter if we make it to the prison. They’ll kill us the second our feet touch ground.” Atlas sighs, like he knew it was a dumb plan before he ever brought it up.
“It doesn’t hurt to explore our options,” Lucien placates, trying to keep the peace with as strained as things have been where Atlas has been concerned lately. “Even if we don’t go that route, it’s good to bounce ideas around and see if it sparks anything else.”
We finish the rest of our ascent in silence, focusing on not dying now instead of worrying about not dying later. When I pull myself over the ledge to the top, I roll onto my back, arms trembling and gasping for air. My ribs crash into Atlas’ feet and I hurry to scoot out of the way so that there’s room for the others, even as my muscles scream in protest.
“The hell, Atlas?”
But he doesn’t speak, and my rapidly beating heart plummets to the pit of my stomach in preparation, trying to find what’s captured his attention with a sense of dread. A stone’s throw away, Raziel and Loki’s forms morph as the energy they ingested is siphoned from their bodies, leaving something out of my nightmares in their wake.
Their bodies appear as little more than black smoke at first, twisting and writhing at the edges as they try to hold onto some semblance of a solid form, only to find it impossible. The light flashes off of their eyes, the only way to see them in the seemingly endless oblivion. I joked about them being black holes, but right now? If I tried to grab one, I have no doubt I’d be wiped from existence.
The wavering shape of arms appear and both figures twist until solidifying a bit more. Soon, they resemble demons straight from the pits of Hell, claws dragging along the ashen surface in jagged strokes. Dust stirs up with each swipe of their hands, a death rattle slipping from mouths that I can’t see as they try to suck air into bodies not meant to breathe.
They claw at the earth with frantic desperation, parting in opposite directions as they follow an arcing path. The keening shriek that rends the air has all of us clutching our hands to our ears to keep them from bleeding. Azazel skitters away from Atlas to join the others, and soon, the wailing fades as heavy splats of water flatten the ash at their feet. Thick tears stream down their faces as their cries taper off, coating the earthen circle at their feet.
From those tears, small blooms push through the desolate earth, life forming in the face of their laments. The ring gradually takes shape, the forget-me-nots taking on a new meaning that we never considered.
They were created by creatures begging not to be forgotten.
“At least we know what you were doing wrong now,” Cambria whispers. I glance at her, matching tears snaking over her cheeks that she doesn’t bother to swipe away.
She faces the changelings that radiate so much misery, sharing their pain. Lucien may have thought that he should swap namesakes with Atlas, but if anyone deserves to, it’s her.
No wonder she handles everything as well as she does. The changelings might mirror whatever energy they consume, but Cambria reflects the pain that their true forms conceal to a world that refuses to care. Cursed to be their keeper and bear the burdens that most people will never even know exist.
The ring finishes forming, and gradually, the surrounding ash gives way to a hint of green, a bit of grass appearing where there was nothing before. Over the course of several minutes, it only makes it a couple of inches, but it’s enough to confirm our theory of the purpose of the rings being to steal energy rather than transport a person; that’s just a perk.
The changelings curl up around the outer ring, and when Luce takes a step closer, a warning rumbles through their monstrous chests that have him instantly stepping back. Their eyes fall on us as they guard the ring until we’re all left confused as hell, but not nearly dumb enough to try using it right now.
“Yeah, Atlas.” He glances up at me and the grin that’s currently splitting my face. “You forgot to cry. Do it again; once more with feeling.”
He flips me off. “Oh fuck off, D.”
I turn to Lucien, and the look he gives me could flay skin. “I’m not doing it. He needs to cry, he can fucking do it himself.”
“Oh come on, you big babies,” Cambria chuckles, wiping the evidence of her own tears from her face. “For the good of the realm.”
They don’t even miss a beat, replying in tandem, “Fuck the realm.”
Chapter 12
Atlas
Two hours later, the changelings are still guarding the ring like it’s their precious, and the other three are staring at me like I hold the answers to the universe
. “How the hell do you expect me to just cry on demand? Over what?”
“How your father never loved you?” Cambria retorts instantly and I shoot her a withering glare.
“Let’s just go find another ring.”
Dorian stretches out on the tiny patch of grass beside Azazel’s demonic form, reclining on his elbows to look at me. “If they won’t let us in this one, what makes you think they won’t act the same at the next ring we find? Maybe people using them fucks with the energy transfer, or whatever, and fae have been misusing them all of these years. The changelings could be little Cerberus’ that guard the gates of Faerie.”
Sitting down, I cross my legs and rest my elbow on my knee, supporting my chin. “I just want to go home.”
Lucien meets my defeated gaze with one of understanding, but gently reminds me, “There’s no home to go back to anymore.”
I hate that he’s treating me with kid gloves. He’s the one that finally turned into a damn real boy, not me. I just seem to be the only one not willing to accept the bullshit being thrown our way and rolling with it like we have no other choice.
There’s always a goddamn choice. Every option might be shittier than the last, but that doesn’t mean we can’t pick the lesser evil.
“We’re not required to save people that treat us like shit. Cambria can sever the magical ties that require us to come back and we can just leave the fae to deal with the consequences of their ancestors.”
It’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, but I don’t regret voicing the words. Lucien finally breaks the silence, restrained anger flickering in his eyes. “You’d ask her to give up everything that she is and become human because it’s more convenient for you?” Luce and I have been butting heads for weeks, and by that hard edge to his tone, it’s clear that it’s finally coming to a head.
Cambria interjects, not-so-subtly repositioning herself between us. “To be fair, I imbued you three with the fae magic that made you...less human. It’d be hypocritical for me to turn you into mock fae-bies and not be willing to do the same if it was better for our family.”
Of all of the things Lucien could have said, it wouldn’t have compared to the remorse Cambria’s words inspire. It isn’t even her fault we got into this mess in the first place; it’s mine. I’m the one that followed her through the fairy ring that first day at the club. If anyone should have to sacrifice something in penance, it’s me. But not her, not the girl whose life we upended worse than it already was.
“No.” I scrub a hand over my face, the scruff on my jaw scraping my palm. “I’m just pissed that we’re on some damn quest to save a world that I couldn’t care less about.” I meet her silver gaze, rapt on my face and far more patient than I deserve when I’ve been such an ass the last few weeks. “How can you want to protect the people that made your life hell? That are actively trying to kill you?”
She cants her head to the side, assessing my face; watching me with all of the deadly grace of a changeling. “Do you want me to give you some line about how it isn’t all fae? That people like the woman Dorian and I met in the bookstore are innocent in all of this? That I want to save people from the pain I was forced to endure?” I wisely keep my mouth shut, knowing she’s just getting started. “Because I hate to tell you, Atlas, but you’ll be disappointed. I’m not that benevolent, and I’m sure as shit not a martyr.”
Blinking, I risk asking, “Then why?”
She rolls to her knees in front of me and flicks me on the forehead. “For you three, genius. We don’t get this resolved one way or another, none of us are safe here. And eventually, Elorie will send people to the human world to hunt for me. We can’t hide there forever, and if I sacrifice my abilities so that we can live solely mortal-side, we’ll be at even more of a disadvantage. You don’t get to just opt out when things are hard because it’s more convenient. The hunt is on, and a queen doesn’t allow her prey to simply quit the game because they don’t want to play.”
She pulls back, sitting on her heels with sad understanding. Softer, she adds, “And we’re doing it for them-“ she hitches a thumb over her shoulders at the living nightmares, attention fully rapt on us “-because they deserve to have someone fight for them for once in their lives.”
Resting my cheek on my fist, I stare at the woman that I barely can keep up with, knowing that I don’t deserve her. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jackass lately.”
She smiles, the tension bleeding from her posture. “No apologies needed. You might be as bad as I am on the thrill-seeker front, but if you were laughing and grinning while half-starved and people trying to kill you, I’d have to question your sanity. It’s been a hell of a lot to adjust to in a short span of time. Some growing pains are to be expected.”
Getting to her feet, she winks. “Just try to remember the important things, yeah? Luce isn’t the enemy here.” I open my mouth to clarify, but she holds a hand up. “Not saying you hate him. But it’s clear you’ve been focusing the brunt of your anger on him to spare the rest of us. It’s not fair.” She extends a hand to help me to my feet and I take the olive branch happily. “What’s the point of finding somewhere safe to live out our days if we destroy our family in the process? It’s us against the world, Atlas, not each other.”
“When did you get so wise?” I tease, feeling that constant ball of anger that’s been curled in the pit of my stomach start to unfurl. “I’ve got five years on you; you shouldn’t be better at being an adult.”
“About the same time I realized I have a thing for stalkers. Makes me feel all pretty and desirable,” she tosses out flippantly, forcing the serious conversations to come to a halt before they overwhelm us.
Dorian grins up at her. “Of course you are. Why else would we have stalked you through the woods like a bunch of creepy weirdos? You’re definitely worth risking jail for.”
She barks out a genuine laugh before turning back to me, still chuckling. “Better?”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, I kiss the crown of her head. “Yeah.”
“As sweet as this all is, we’re going to have to ruin it,” Lucien points out and I sigh.
He’s right. But dousing the embers of my constant, low simmering rage was a necessary step before we could move forward. A temporary reprieve that I want to cling to, finally feeling content since the moment Victor’s lackey fired that first shot in front of the charred remains of our house. Yet nothing can last forever, especially a flicker of good in this damn world.
“How do we get him to cry though when he doesn’t give a shit about, well, anything?” Dorian asks, tentatively reaching over to stroke a hand over Azazel’s head to see how the changeling will react. When a low, warning rumble sounds from his chest, Dorian promptly yanks his hand back, curling his fingers into his palm before they get bitten off.
“I would pretend to be offended, but you aren’t wrong.”
Stepping back, Cambria gives me a strange look before fingering the hem of her shirt. Without a word, she suddenly flashes me, lifting her bra above her breasts.
“Not sure where you’re going with this, but I wholehear-“ she drops her shirt and my face falls- “awe.”
Stuffing her tits back in her bra and adjusting herself, a broad grin greets me. “Disappointment might be a good place to start.”
But I just chuckle, stretching my stiff limbs. “A valiant effort, but I’m not going to break down sobbing because I don’t get to stick my face in your chest.”
Dorian raises his hand from where he’s seated beside us. “I might. Not worth the risk really, so,” he trails off suggestively and waggles his eyebrows.
Cambria situates herself on his lap, smiling as he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. “So all those claims of angels weeping at my beauty were bullshit.” She dramatically sighs, feigning being put out. “Then I’m out of ideas. Want us to call you mean names?”
Rolling my eyes, I glance around, scanning our surroundings to make su
re no one else is in the wasteland. From our perch atop the mountain, it’d be damn near impossible for someone to get the drop on us, especially with the noise that would come from scaling the unstable rock, but I don’t want to let our guard down. After all, there are fae that can fly. Hell, Elorie can teleport people besides herself, I’m just not sure of the range. We’re also not sure what creatures besides scorpions are hiding in the crevices and caves surrounding us.
“You’re the worst playground bully I’ve ever met.”
She tosses hands up with her overly dramatic shrug. “I’m delightful, what can I say?”
As ridiculous and flippant as she’s trying to come off, it’s easy to see through the act. Without any food up here, she can still feed off of adoration to keep her strength up. If the rest of us continue to get weaker, at least she’ll have a little bit of energy stored up to take point if something happens, to try and protect us however she can.
“Charming and witty. How did we get so lucky?”
She winks, silently mouthing her thanks and snuggling closer into Dorian as we brainstorm. Lucien rolls his shoulders, working out the stiff kinks that we’re all getting from sitting around up here with nothing to do but stress and think.
“Cambria, you’re better at this than we are. Think you can manage it?” he asks and she closes her eyes, contemplating.
“An hour ago I’d have said no, but now that the ring is pulling in energy, the earth is starting to breathe, for lack of a better word. I can give it a go, but something tells me it’s going to piss them off that I’m stealing the energy they just worked so hard to get back.” Her eyes remain shut, mentally feeling out the invisible energy that I’m barely beginning to understand.
Feeling like a complete idiot, I give it a shot too. All of them are trying so hard to keep it together while I’ve let myself become an angry mess, making things harder than they already were because I was having trouble coping. And she’s looking to me for help with this. Not Lucien. Not Dorian. Me.