Wild Hunger (An Heirs of Chicagoland Novel)

by Chloe Neill

  The idea made something clench in my abdomen. “To hurt people?”

  His eyes were equally kind and fierce. “No, Lis. To save people. To fight because violence had been done against people you cared about.”

  I didn’t know what to say about that . . . or what to feel.

  “The next time you feel the monster, as you call it, the urge to fight—instead of pushing it down or letting it go or pretending it’s not you, accept that it is. And fight the good fight.”

  I thought about the church, about my attack on the fairy. “I’ve tried to manage it. I can’t. I just went berserker again. I hurt a fairy when we were rescuing Claudia.”

  “Why did you go berserker, then?”

  “Because the fairy would have killed me and Theo if she’d had a chance.”

  “Is the monster in control right now?”

  “No.”

  His smile was sly. “So you managed to force it back after that fight?”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m a shifter, and I know about managing those two minds. The point is this: You’re in control, and you always were. And yeah, that thought may not be comfortable. But there is nothing wrong with you.”

  His eyes darkened, the blue swirling like dark ocean water. “You are exactly who you should be.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Thirty minutes later, Petra, Connor, and I were in an SUV and approaching the site. Yuen, Theo, Claudia, and Gabriel would travel separately, and we’d rendezvous at Aqua, one of the skyscrapers that edged the park. They’d handle the magic and keep an eye on Claudia. We were responsible for helping round up the fairies—or taking Claudia down if this all went bad.

  “Nearly there,” said the driver, a vampire named Brody, who was also one of Cadogan’s guards.

  Adrenaline began to pump, speeding my blood. The monster knew a fight was brewing, and it knew what I’d been thinking. What I’d been feeling. It waited and it wondered.

  We’d had to avoid Lake Shore Drive because of the intrusion, and he cruised up Michigan, which was nearly empty of people because of the relocation. We made it nearly to Randolph when the world rose in front of us.

  Michigan Avenue became a hill, soft and green—and right in front of the SUV.

  Petra screamed, and Brody slammed on the brakes—and we slammed directly into dirt and grass, the impact throwing all of us forward.

  Air bags inflated, and the world went silent but for the roar of blood in my ears.

  The prickle of magic and the scent of blood filled the car.

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked.

  “I’m good,” Connor said, working on his seat belt. “But my neck may never be the same. Check on Petra.”

  I fumbled trying to unclip my seat belt, finally managed it, then lurched over the second-row seat to check on her.

  There was no visible blood, but her eyes were closed. “Petra?” I patted her cheeks. “Petra? Are you all right?”

  She opened one eye. “I’m fine. Why are you yelling at me? Ow.”

  “Brody? You okay up there?”

  “I’m—” He put a hand to his head, drew it back to find blood. “I’m just cut, I think. But everything’s attached.”

  “Warn the other SUV,” I said. “Tell them Michigan is blocked. And let’s get the hell out of this vehicle.”

  Connor wrenched open the door, helped Petra and me out of the car. My head spun when my feet touched pavement, but my legs held.

  “You’re all right?” Connor asked, tipping up my chin to check my eyes.

  “Immortal,” I reminded him.

  “But not unbreakable.”

  “I’m going to try not to get broken.” It was the best I could do.

  * * *

  • • •

  While Millennium Park was fine, skyscrapers were becoming hills east of Michigan and south of the river. These hills were rockier than we’d seen near the United Center, a mix of grassy fields and craggy hills, moving slowly west.

  “You’ve told them?” I asked Brody, staring at a craggy peak that rose over State Street.

  “I told them. They’re changing routes.”

  “Then we’ll meet them at the rendezvous. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

  We walked through Millennium Park, Cloud Gate shooting our reflections back at us, then over to Randolph and up Columbus to Aqua, which rose nearly nine hundred feet above our heads. Its undulating edges looked more organic than glass and steel, like a bridge between the two worlds we faced right now.

  Yuen wore a black jacket with OMBUDSMAN in white letters, and he directed members of the CPD into action.

  “No Dearborn?” Connor asked, glancing around.

  “He’s monitoring with the mayor,” Yuen said dryly. “You’re all okay?” he asked, looking us over.

  “Dented, but fine,” I said. “The SUV’s a total loss. The fairies?”

  “Claudia is waiting. No sign of Ruadan.”

  “The trembling is starting,” Connor said, and we all went quiet. The vibration was subtle, but it grew stronger. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “Then we’ll be quick,” Yuen said. “Connor, Elisa, this is Hammett. His people will be backing you up out there.”

  Hammett was short but stocky, with muscle packed into dark fatigues. His hair was cropped, his eyes bright blue. A dozen men and women in the same ensembles stood behind him.

  “Hammett,” he said, shaking my hand, then Connor’s. “I saw the footage from Grant Park,” he said, smiling at me. “You have nice moves.”

  “I had good teachers.”

  He nodded approvingly. “Good answer. We’ve got Tasers”—he pointed to the weapon belted at his waist—“and guns if we need them. But we’re hoping to incapacitate if we can.”

  “Always a good strategy,” I said. “Once they figure out what’s happening, they might try to rush Claudia.”

  “We can stay on them, let you run the field.”

  I nodded, glanced at Connor.

  “Fine by me,” he said with a nod. He lifted his shirt, showed the gun holstered there. “I’m fighting in this form. There’s going to be too much confusion otherwise, and too much magic.”

  “Understood,” Hammett said. He gestured toward another group of uniformed cops. “That’s the round-up team. Off to the brick factory they’ll go.”

  “Here’s the lay of the land,” Yuen said, and offered a larger screen with an overhead plan of the park.

  “Claudia’s here,” Yuen said, pointing to the largest spot of open lawn.

  “She said it’s possible there will be some stuttering,” Petra said. “You should be prepared.”

  “What do you mean by ‘stuttering’?” I asked.

  “Incomplete phase shifting,” she said. “Ruadan is going to try to bring more of the green land here, while she tries to reverse it. In the meantime, the green land might stutter in and out of existence.”

  “So, you’re saying you could be on a bridge over the river,” Gabriel said, “then it’s a nice, green hill, then it’s a bridge again, and you might or might not end up in the water?”

  Petra smiled at him. “Yep.”

  Gabriel just shook his head. “At least I know how to swim.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Connor and I crept in from the west, came to a stop behind a copse of trees while Claudia waited in the grass, looking perfectly serene in her gown. Petra and Theo were on the other side of the park, and members of the CPD’s SWAT team surrounded it.

  The earth was vibrating harder now, an unnerving sensation since the leaves above us didn’t so much as rustle.

  “You can feel that, right?” I whispered.

  “Yeah. I don’t like
it.”

  Magic flashed, and the fairies appeared in their single-file formation over the ley line, Ruadan in front.

  He walked forward, confident and calm, and looked over his queen. “You are well.”

  “No thanks to you.” Claudia let her gaze dance along the fairies behind him, then back to Ruadan. “You sought to dethrone me. Your betrayal, Ruadan, was keenly felt.”

  “I have proven—have I not?—that it was necessary. We have done what was required of us, what was necessary to bring back our kingdom. To place our kingdom here, in this world, where it should be.”

  “And you have succeeded . . . in part,” she said, the phrase perfectly calibrated not to compliment. His face didn’t register it.

  “Ouch,” Connor murmured beside me.

  “Seriously,” I agreed.

  “I did not think this much was possible,” Claudia said. “And so I was wrong. But I believe there are . . . improvements to be made in the process.”

  “And you would show us how to correct them? To fully repair our world?”

  “That would depend on what you have to offer.”

  “Your kingdom,” he said. “And our fealty.” He took a step forward. “We would rule together, as in old times. As queen and king.”

  She closed the distance between them, lifted her hand to his face. He leaned into her, and I saw that same desire in his eyes, recognized it for what it was now. Not for love, but for power.

  “There would be power between us,” she said. “Such as the world has never seen. My magic is ancient and wise. Yours is young and vigorous. Together, they would be . . . unprecedented.”

  “She’s going to betray us,” Connor said, but I put a hand on his arm to keep him from running forward.

  “I don’t think so.” I thought of Claudia at the reception, the arrogance and confidence, the seeming refusal to acknowledge Ruadan as anything other than her companion. “I don’t think she really wants to share power.”

  “Then let us begin,” he said, and offered his hand to her. She placed her hand atop his.

  Power began to ripple through the park again, in slow undulations that were different from the frenzied vibrations Ruadan had managed.

  “Yes,” Ruadan said as light began to glow between her hands. “Yes.”

  But in the gap between the buildings, we could see the grass that had been Lake Shore Drive. And once again, as Claudia began to reverse the magic he’d wrought, well-lit concrete took its place.

  Ruadan saw it, too, and stared back at her, looking confused.

  “If you’re going to attempt to depose your queen,” Claudia said, her voice darker and rougher, “you should be more careful. The fae have never needed a king before, and they do not need one now.”

  Ruadan screamed, and his magic faltered as fairies stared at their powerful queen and the man who would depose her, uncertain what to do.

  “No!” Ruadan screamed, holding a hand behind him, pointing at those who looked more than willing to run. “You will stay and we will finish what we have wrought.”

  “We will finish it together,” Claudia said, and grabbed Ruadan’s wrist.

  Ruadan might not have been as ancient as Claudia, but he was still capable and skilled. The burning fury in his eyes said he knew that he’d been beaten, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Magic filled the park, thick enough to fog the air, as they battled for control. I’d wanted Ruadan for myself. But I’d known that wasn’t going to happen. Not when Claudia could get to him first.

  The world paid the price for the war that they waged. The neat lines of sidewalk across the park lifted and fractured, then spread with a thick carpet of undulating grass. Trees disappeared, reappeared.

  The stuttering had begun, and the rest of the fairies wanted none of it. They scattered, trying to leave the field of battle to the generals. And we were there to meet them. Humans and supernaturals emerged from their positions on the edge of the park.

  Connor and I stepped out of the trees, into the paths of two running fairies.

  “I’ll take the right,” I said, heart speeding as I unsheathed my katana.

  “I’ll take left,” Connor said, pulling a dagger from his boot.

  The monster clawed at me. And this time, instead of pushing it down or giving it control, I let the monster step beside me. It didn’t so much as hesitate. Two consciousnesses in one body, with all the combined strength and power.

  I looked back at Connor, saw the acceptance—the encouragement—in his eyes.

  “Use it!” he yelled to me, before turning to avoid the downward thrust of a dagger.

  If the fairy understood what the scarlet shade of my eyes meant, he didn’t mention it. And he didn’t wait for me. He advanced, horn-handled blade held aloft and ready to strike.

  “I guess we’re skipping the preliminaries,” I said, and met his blade with mine. He was strong, and the force rattled my bones nearly as effectively as the magic.

  I lunged forward at the fairy, blade raised, and sliced a line of red across his shoulder as he pivoted away. He screamed with pain and stabbed out again, the tip of his blade catching the edge of my hip and sending searing heat through my abdomen.

  Together we pushed forward and swung our katana, tearing skin and muscle across the fairy’s calf and sending him to the ground.

  Part of me was afraid. Part of me was thrilled.

  Another fairy came toward us, and we spun the katana and sent the man sprawling to the ground.

  “LSD is back!” said the voice reporting through my comm. “United Center is stuttering.”

  “No!”

  The scream was sharp and shrill. I glanced over, saw a fairy with his blade at the neck of an officer he’d grabbed from behind. The fairy slit the officer’s throat and let him drop to the ground. Then he looked up and met my gaze. He was the fairy who’d killed Tomas, who’d held the knife on me.

  He turned to run and saw a woman at the edge of the park, a human who hadn’t relocated or who’d come back to see what was becoming of her city, camera aimed at the unfolding drama.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  He grabbed her, started running, dragging her along. So I ran, too.

  “Elisa!” I heard Connor’s voice behind me as I darted toward the edge of the park.

  The ground rumbled beneath me. A hill of grass bubbled up, disappeared, then bubbled up again as the masters fought for superiority.

  The woman screamed, and I ran harder, but the fairy was fast.

  The hill just got larger, the grass spreading as Aqua shrank and disappeared beneath a carpet of stone and sky. And then the stones rose, a dozen of them. Four feet wide and growing taller with each second, atop the mound where humans had once lived.

  The fairy spun, tried to avoid them, came face-to-face with a new stone. He turned around, his back to it, his thin fingers around the wrist of the screaming woman.

  “Let her go.”

  The fairy looked back at me, eyes all but spitting with rage. “Bloodletter,” he muttered.

  “Let her go,” I said as we swung the katana. “Or learn what a bloodletter is.”

  His eyes narrowed. He shoved her behind him but kept a grip on her wrist, the blade—still scented with human blood—in his free hand.

  “I see what you are,” he said, and sliced forward. But he was literally fighting with one hand behind his back, and it was an easy dodge.

  I grabbed his wrist, twisted until he dropped the knife, and loosened his hold on the woman. She skittered back.

  He kicked, caught the back of my knee, and sent me sprawling. I grabbed a tuft of grass to keep from falling down the hill, and when he lunged again, I lifted my katana. He spun across it, ripping a wound across his abdomen, then fell to the ground and rolled down the hill.

  And then h
e was still.

  Chest heaving, I looked back at the human, could feel the monster looking, watching, through my eyes. “Are you all right?”

  The human screamed. “Don’t touch me! You’re as crazy as he is!” She scrambled to her feet and ran down the hill.

  I sat there for a moment, dew seeping through the knees of my jeans.

  Connor strode toward me. “Lis! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I took the hand he offered and climbed to my feet. “The human saw what I am.”

  He glanced at her disappearing form, then back at me. His expression was flat. “You put your life on the line because the fairy would have killed her. And instead of thanking you, she insulted you. She’s the monster. Not you.”

  I didn’t have time to argue. And I had only a moment to look down, to realize where we stood, when the world began to shift again.

  The soft hill grew harder, and we rose so quickly my ears popped, like a phoenix hurtling toward the stars on feathers of steel and glass.

  We came to a bouncing stop on a thin strip of concrete between waving balconies on the Aqua building.

  There was a scream, and then Connor disappeared over the edge.

  * * *

  • • •

  The world went silent except for the roar of blood in my ears. The world went still except for the hot pulse of fear that twisted my gut.

  “Connor!” I screamed, dropping to my knees. I caught the edge of fingers gripping the six-inch-wide lip of concrete.

  His face was a study in focus and concentration, his gaze on his fingers as his body dangled four hundred feet above the street below.

  He grunted, and I went down on my stomach, wedged one foot into the railing on the edge of the next apartment’s balcony and prayed the railing would hold. “Don’t you dare fall, because I am not breaking that news to the Pack.”

  His forehead was beaded with sweat, muscles corded with effort. “And you’d have to live without my charm and devastatingly good looks.”

  I blew out a breath between pursed lips. “The world would probably stop turning.