Reach for You

by Pat Esden

  Dad coughed. Lotli gagged. But none of us slowed and none of us asked the obvious and terrifying question: Why wasn’t there any sound coming from below? When we’d looked through the grate, there’d been lots of noise. This place wasn’t soundproof like the harem and Malphic’s inner sanctum.

  The pungent smell of blood mixed with the other stenches. A moment later, we rounded a curve and the stairway opened up to a view of the grim chamber below, washed in torchlight and a macabre blue haze. The chamber was laid out like a wheel. Black carpets hung on the curved outer wall interspersed with dark-mouthed tunnels. In the center of the room, the grated fighting cage rose from floor to ceiling.

  Chase crouched in the cage, his face pressed against the bars. A long chain went from a post in the middle of the cage to the shackle on his left ankle. His fisted hand clenched the knife he’d taken from Malphic in that infamous fight. So much dirt and blood caked his face and body that it was impossible at this distance to tell if he was hurt and how badly—or if the blood belonged to someone else.

  A brown-robed eunuch and two guards hunched over a figure that lay outside of the bars. The other fighter. He was motionless, his mouth slack open, blood oozing from it and both his eyes. I glimpsed a coil of intestine protruding from his stomach. I turned away, swallowing hard to keep from vomiting. I succeeded at that, but the acrid taste of bile flavored my mouth.

  One of the guards straightened up and thrust his thumb in Chase’s direction. “Tend to him,” he said to the eunuch. “We’ll get the next contender.”

  The eunuch rose to his full height, matching the guard’s posture. “He needs more than tending. He needs rest and food.”

  “Malphic’s orders. This one keeps fighting.” The guard glared at the eunuch for a long moment, before he and the other guard seized the dead fighter by the wrists and dragged him across the room and into a tunnel, leaving a slick trail of blood in their wake.

  Something thumped into my leg. Lotli’s bucket.

  I turned to glare at her. Why the hell had she done that? Then I realized I’d stared longer than was wise, considering that the guards could see us. Dad was still doing the same thing a few steps above.

  “He’s even sexier like that,” Lotli whispered.

  Anger roared into every part of my being. I hauled my arm back and slapped her across the face. Unfortunately, her hood got in my way, taking the force out of the blow.

  Lotli quietly set the bucket down. Her hand snaked into the folds of her robe.

  Her flute. I clenched my teeth, bracing myself for the pain, preparing to not cry out.... An ear-splitting howl erupted from Chase. He dropped his knife and collapsed to the ground, whimpering. Oh God. My hair wasn’t the only thing wrapped around Lotli’s flute. Chase’s yarn was on there as well.

  The eunuch squatted up close to the bars, right in front of Chase. “Give into it. Let the change take you. It’ll be over then.”

  “No,” Chase groaned.

  Rage fisted my hands. My nostrils flared and I struggled against an urge to shove my knife into Lotli’s ice-cold heart. Chase might have been changing and hurting in a million ways, but what he was feeling this instant had nothing to do with that and everything to do with her.

  Lotli tilted her head, dark eyes sparking at me. “Last warning,” she said, barely above a breath.

  I ground my teeth, but lowered my eyes. I wanted to kill her. Kill her dead. Wrap her in duct tape and send her back to the Sons of Ophiuchus.

  Dad’s boots shushed against the stairs as he came down to us. He nodded at the scene below. “Any suggestions?”

  But his words were lost on Lotli. She was already slithering down the rest of the stairwell, bucket clutched in both hands. She crept across the room to the cage. Sinking down, next to the eunuch, she retrieved the rag from her bucket, reached through the bars, and dabbed wetness against Chase’s neck.

  The eunuch rose from his crouch, studying her as if trying to figure out what she was doing—or who she was. Suddenly he whirled and looked directly at where Dad and I still stood on the stairs.

  Without missing a beat, Dad set down his pail and strode downward like a lord descending into his own grand ballroom. His right hand reached into the folds of his robe as if going for his salt or shank. “Time for your break, boy.”

  I ran after Dad and grabbed his forearm. “No,” I said forcefully.

  His arm relaxed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  The eunuch’s gaze darted from us to Lotli and back. He raised his arms out from his body to show he wasn’t going to reach for a weapon. “How about if I leave? Get dinner. Take a piss.”

  “Make it a long one,” Dad suggested.

  The eunuch hushed his voice. “You should wait. He’s got one more fight. After that, he’ll be put in a cell.” He nodded at the sparks crackling across the cage’s open doorway. “That’s warded. There’s no way you—or I—can get in or get him out.” He turned on his heel and started toward the stairwell, but swiveled back. “Stay strong. Stay proud. Stay free.”

  “Same to you,” I said in the deepest tone I could muster.

  He nodded and took off up the stairs.

  “What was that about?” Dad said.

  “It’s some kind of rebel motto. Chase’s half brother Jaquith said it when he was helping us escape the last time,” I said. That was questionably true. Jaquith had said that, but I wasn’t sure if my breaking the egg was solely responsible for our escape going horribly wrong or if Jaquith had double-crossed us and was partially at fault.

  Chase grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his knees, face pressed against the metal. His face was dark with beard stubble. One of his eyes was bruised and swollen shut, blood crusting along the lid. His nose lay flat. His lips split open. Bruises. Blood. So much blood.

  “Here,” Lotli said, pressing the damp rag to his lips. “This will help.”

  He lolled away from her hand, a faint blue aura oozing from his marks as his unfocused eyes strained to look my way.

  My chest squeezed. My heart, my soul, every part of me longed to comfort him, to hold the cloth to his lips, to charge through the sparking cage doorway and get him out of there.

  I clamped my eyes shut and planted my feet, struggling against the urge to race to him. If I made one wrong move, Lotli would reach for her flute. And it wouldn’t be me who felt its sting. It would be him, and it would be worse this time.

  Lotli dampened the rag with fresh water, touched it to his swollen eye, and cooed, “Don’t worry about her. She does not like what you are becoming. We will not desert you like she will. The blood, the death, it does not bother us.”

  Dad crouched down, up close to the bars. “Chase,” he said firmly. “Was the eunuch right—will they put you in a cell later?”

  Hope fluttered in my stomach. I pulled my hands up into my robe’s sleeves, scrunching the fabric tightly. I couldn’t do or say anything to help Chase, but Dad could. Please, Dad. Let him know I care.

  Chase gazed blindly at Dad. “Later good.” His head moved, eyes searching again, finding mine. His lips parted and he rasped, “Annie, I lov—”

  Lotli sliced a look at me.

  I wheeled away, turning my back on Chase’s needy eyes. For a heartbeat, I held my breath, unable to do what I had to. Then I fled.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Moon. The Ace of Swords . . .

  —Tarot cards drawn for Annie Freemont

  I fled across the training yard, the thump of fists and weapons, the jeers of the onlookers, the screams, the shouts, all blurring into a dizzying roar. I ran under the colonnade and down into the empty arena. Not a single torch marked the way, only the light from the aurora and the waning moon.

  My sides ached from running. I could hardly breathe. I stopped and hunched over, clasping my hands behind my neck. Chase. His last words rang in my head. I could see the anguish in his eyes. His ruined nose. The bruises. The blood. The blue of his aura oozing from the marks drawn on his skin.
>
  Last year, I’d taken an ethics class with some of my home-school friends. The instructor had asked us if we could kill. I’d said no. But I’d attacked the shadow-genies and Culus to save my dad when he was possessed. I’d attacked the guy at the yacht club. And now I was certain. I could kill. Lotli.

  “Annie.” Dad sprinted up next to me, his breath ragged. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to find Mom,” I said brusquely.

  I clenched my teeth against the pain in my side, straightened up, and started walking again, heading for a tunnel entry on the other end of the arena. I knew where it went. I knew its tricks: deadly glass rosebushes that could block off retreat, magic carpets that could lead to anywhere. But the tunnel was also one of the fortress’s main arteries and was regularly used without dire consequences.

  I lengthened my strides. In the distance a bell began to toll, marking the hour or the changing of the guard, I didn’t know which and didn’t care.

  Dad grabbed me by the arms, jerking me to a standstill. “Stop this. What was that bullshit Lotli said about you not liking what Chase is becoming? What did she do to you?”

  “She didn’t do anything,” I snapped.

  “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me the truth.”

  I yanked free. “We have to get Mother.”

  “Did she threaten you?”

  “No, she told me she’d vanish. Without her, we’ll never get Mother or Chase.” I ground my teeth. “Is that enough for you, or do you want to stand here all day?”

  I clenched my hands, my pulse ratcheting so high my head felt like it might burst. Just as I was about to scream from utter anguish and frustration, I realized my feet were planted next to the arena platform where Lotli had performed in front of Malphic and everyone. Where she’d played her flute and made Chase act like her sex-starved puppet. I stood on exactly the same spot where I’d smashed the hummingbird egg. The spot where I’d caused our last mission to fall apart.

  Dad lowered his voice, a demanding growl. “What else?”

  I shook my head, readying to repeat my denial, but I couldn’t. Last time, I’d let Lotli drive me into being stupid. I couldn’t—no—I wouldn’t let her do that again. Besides, Dad loved me. I loved him. Until recently, we’d never kept anything from each other. Together we were stronger, smarter.

  Cold hard determination lifted my chin. No more craziness. No more lies. Focus, work as a team, that’s what Chase would say—and do. I met Dad’s eyes. “I agreed to forsake Chase. . . .”

  I gave him an abbreviated rundown. I even told him how Lotli had opened a hellmouth in the elevator. “I don’t know if it was real or an illusion. But I know Lotli is way more powerful than she’s letting on. If we’re lucky, Kate and Olya will find out exactly how much from Zea. But we have to play by her rules for now, even if it hurts.”

  Dad crossed his arms; then he unfolded them. He gave a resigned sigh. “I don’t like the idea. But I suppose you’re right.” His gaze darted back toward the colonnade. “Chase and Lotli are expecting us to get your mom, then meet up with them once he’s put in the cell after—” His voice dropped off abruptly. The detail he’d avoided mentioning hung in the air between us. The fight. Chase had to survive one more, both physically and mentally. Then he’d be alone with her.

  I bit my tongue, struggling to shove thoughts of what could happen from my mind, the fight, the change, Lotli. “This way,” I said, taking off at a fast walk.

  Dad caught up with me, his hand swept my arm. “Annie, remember, if something does happen between them, it doesn’t matter. Sex isn’t everything.”

  I hurried my steps, jogging out of the moonlight and into the eerie brightness of the tunnel’s flickering torches. My brain knew it was true. But my heart rebelled against the possibility. Of course sex mattered. Or at least it had to a little.

  The march of footsteps came from ahead of us, followed by the distant outline of a swiftly approaching guard. We slowed our steps and bowed our heads submissively. The guard passed without a glance.

  Once his footsteps faded Dad continued, his voice a cautious whisper, “I’m serious. Lotli and Chase. Your mother. Malphic. What happened or happens between them. That doesn’t matter.”

  “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to see Malphic dead,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Okay, I did for a long time. But in the scope of things that could happen, Chase and Lotli . . . it doesn’t matter.” He patted his chest. “What’s in here matters, right?”

  “I guess.” But mostly I didn’t want to talk or even think about it.

  We came to where the tunnel intersected another. I turned right. My muscles were tense, my insides on fire from so many emotions going every which way.

  Dad leaned in close to me and chuckled. “To tell you the truth, I wish Malphic’s nuts would shrivel up and drop off.”

  I let out a long breath, my tension melting away. “I wish all her hair would fall out—and her teeth.”

  Dad gave my hand a squeeze. “That’s my girl. Now let’s get this done.”

  In silence we hurried on toward the portico and main palace, the swish of our robes loud in the empty tunnel. On either side of us, frescos of glowing genies battling with humans, shadows, and wolfmen that were transforming into whirlwinds decorated the walls. Swords. Knives. Rods. Whips. Hatchets. Blood. Guts. The deeper we went into the tunnel, the more alive the frescos seemed in the gloom and torchlight.

  Finally, I slowed. “It’s awful quiet around here.”

  Dad nodded. “Where do you think Malphic is?”

  “Too close,” I said as two guards and a man in flowing black robes appeared in the tunnel ahead of us.

  CHAPTER 22

  When we headed into the arena to spar or fight, I used to calm myself instead of getting hyped up like most of the slaves . . . I’d walk down that tunnel and pretend I was walking down my parents’ driveway, the trees’ canopy overhead, my mother holding my hand.

  —Chase Abrams

  The genie in a flowing black robe and his retinue of guards strode straight down the tunnel toward us. The robed genie was too short to be Malphic. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

  Dad dipped his head and stepped close to the tunnel wall.

  I fell in behind him, glancing up from lowered lids.

  “I’m hungry enough to eat a goat’s asshole,” the guy in the robe said to the bulkier guard.

  The guard grunted. “That would be better than the shit they fed us this morning.”

  A lump knotted in my throat. My legs trembled. The march of their boots and the rustle of their leather armor and the robe’s swish seemed deafening as they passed. But they were moving on. And that’s what mattered.

  The footsteps stopped, replaced by the scrape of boots doing an about-face.

  A voice boomed. “You there, eunuch. Halt!”

  The air went out of my lungs. I slowly turned to face them. I was dead. So dead.

  I peeked up subserviently through the keyhole frame of my hood. The bulkier guard was striding back toward us. But he wasn’t aiming for me!

  In two strides, the guard swaggered up to within inches of Dad and glowered down. “I don’t recognize you.”

  The guard had a shaven head, and a narrow strip of dark beard—Fuck! The Hulk.

  I glanced at the other guard. He was taller and loaded with scars, tattoos, and gold piercings. His sleek ponytail was pulled up high on his head. Crap. I knew him, too. The last time I was here, we’d outsmarted him.

  The Hulk took another step and yanked Dad’s hood back.

  Shock rocked me to the core. I bit my lip, holding in a gasp. The man beneath the hood was Dad. But not the Dad I knew. His mop of graying brown hair was gone; his head was now shaven and smudged with tribal swaths of red and black. A gruesome scar that I’d never noticed through his hair puckered and zigzagged across his skull and ended in a large dent. He’d told me about a car accident he
’d been in as a teenager, but I’d never dreamed he’d been quite so disfigured. He looked forbidding, powerful—and crazy, like . . . Well, like he belonged in the realm.

  Dad smoothed his hood back even farther, exposing his entire head and neck. He folded his arms across his chest, casually scratching his elbow. “Now do you recognize me?”

  Pride replaced my terror. Dad was amazing. And if he could fake it like a pro, then so could I. After all, I’d learned from the best. Namely, him. I pulled my shoulders back, stepped forward, and grunted. “We’re lookin’ for Jaquith.”

  Hulk ignored me and gave Dad another once-over. No recognition showed in his eyes. He harrumphed. “They should have taken your head with your nuts.”

  The black-robed genie stepped toward us. “I think Jaquith’s in the magi’s study,” he said to me. His gaze shifted to the Hulk. “Are you done screwing around? I’m starved.”

  The Hulk shot Dad another glare. His top lip curled in disgust. “You smell horrible.”

  “Been inspecting the kitchen.” Dad grinned.

  Hulk rolled his eyes. “No wonder you stink.” He spun around and marched off down the tunnel, his buddies going with him.

  Dad dropped his voice to a hush. “You don’t really think we should find Jaquith, do you?”

  “Of course not. But he’s the head eunuch. We’re eunuchs. It made sense for us to be looking for him.”

  Smiling, Dad pulled his hood up. “Well, it was a marvelous bit of fast thinking on your part.”

  “Kind of like your hair?” I whispered.

  He cuffed me in the shoulder. “Don’t go getting any ideas. Leave the hair loss to Lotli.”

  As we started walking again, a new level of worry began prickling under my skin. We’d been incredibly lucky so far, but the chance of that continuing was getting slimmer with each step.

  We came out of the tunnel and strode into the open air of a raised portico. The faint scent of musk wafted out of the palace’s arched doorway, only a few yards to our left. On the other side of us, stone terraces and walks dropped down into torchlit gardens. Way below that, I could make out the glow of buildings and the awnings of perhaps a bazaar, and the dark line of the outer wall, then the endless darkness of the Red Desert beyond that. The moon was halfway across the sky. Almost midnight. At best, there was another five hours until sunrise.