“Hey.” Flint stopped, turning so that she could look her friend head-on. “I’m sure he’s not. The queen tricked us all.”
“She almost killed you, Flint. Cain went half out of his mind when he picked up your blood trail. And then we couldn’t find you. You disappeared for hours. We scoured those woods. You weren’t there. You were just gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Rhiannon grumped. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We used you as bait, and it’s all our fault.”
That part was mostly true. Flint didn’t blame any of them—the idea to be used as bait had been her own. She just wished she could go back in time and fix things, or at the very least realize the trap they’d all fallen into.
She had so many questions, but a golden-eyed female performer whom she knew had to be a Nephilim pride demon was gesturing at them both to hurry up. Other performers were headed in the direction of the tent as well.
Most of them carried on heated, whispered conversations amongst themselves, sparing her passing glances every now and then.
Clearly she was at the top of their gossip.
“Do you have any idea where they’ve taken Abel?” Flint asked, determined to ignore the pointed stares from the performers.
Rhiannon sighed loudly. “No. We’ve all taken shifts going out there, looking for him in the obvious places. But it’s like they’ve all vanished. We can’t find a trace of the hive anywhere. Janet’s going to go nuclear soon if we don’t find him. Cain blames himself for this whole mess. And Adam—” She shuddered. “He barely talks to any of us, which is probably a good thing when you think about it.”
“Hey.” Flint grabbed her arm, giving it a quick squeeze. “Don’t forget that we all thought it was the right idea to go to that dance. I know it didn’t turn out the way we’d hoped, but no one was expecting Layla to be the traitor.”
“Girls, come!” The pride Neph all but snarled at them, gesturing forcefully in their direction.
“So this is class now, huh?” Flint asked when they got to the flap.
Rhiannon nodded. “Yup. But, it’s not exactly what you’re used to.”
She didn’t get a chance to ponder that before the Nephilim was shoving them through.
The chatter inside was a low hum of several voices talking all at once. Adam stood front and center in the ring wearing the red ringmaster jacket and black silk pants. As always, he commanded all eyes to him the moment he lifted his hand.
Once his gaze alighted on hers, he dipped his head and thundered, “Stop talking, all of you. Thank you all for coming. What I have to say won’t take long, but it is something you’ll need to hear.”
Rhiannon yanked Flint down in the seat next to her.
Flint quickly glanced around for her father, he wasn’t there. But she did spot a slight shadow sitting behind Adam.
The shape and size of it was familiar enough to let Flint know it had to be her grandmother.
“For the past week we’ve come up dry in our search for drones.” Adam’s voice was big and booming and easy to hear, even without the benefit of a megaphone behind it. “Staying here for much longer isn’t going to be a suitable option.”
Rhiannon’s fingers gripped the armrest.
“Layla knows our habits, and I’ve no doubt she’s got her spies on us. I’m giving us a few more days to scout out any places we’ve not hit yet. That means double duty for most of you. We’ll be switching our show hours from midnight showings to morning showings. Any and all available monster bodies will join up ranks in the evenings and go in search of drones. Even rumors of drones will be investigated. We will find Abel, and we are going to bring him back.”
Flint released a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, but then his next words broke her out in a wash of goose bumps.
“Because of limited access, we’ll have to outsource our food for now. I’ll be lifting the no-feeding-outside-the-fairgrounds rule for the foreseeable future. Only make sure to keep things under wraps. No bodies that can be traced back here. This town is now on high alert, and we don’t need to bring any heat down on ourselves. Got it?”
Heart fluttering violently in her throat, Flint clenched the edge of her seat with a white-knuckled grip. She still didn’t know much about the people who lived and worked in the carnival, but she did know that when Adam had said feed, he’d meant feed off the humans.
She shivered.
The shadowy figure stood and shuffled slowly over to where Adam was. Grace glanced once at Flint before turning her steely gaze to the crowd.
“Allow me, Adam, if you will.”
Dressed in a frilly blue-and-white muumuu that fell to just below her ankles, her grandmother stood out like a sore thumb among the beauty and glamour of the creatures around her. But her bearing was just as confident as the rest of them.
“I am Grace—”
Strong inhalations and whispers rolled through the crowd.
Frowning, Flint leaned toward Rhi. “Why is everyone suddenly acting all weirded out by my grandma?”
Rhiannon gave her a disbelieving snort. “Girl, your granny’s infamous among our kind. She’s kind of what you’d call a living legend.”
“—and I’ m sure many of you have heard of me,” Grace continued, silencing the murmuring crowd with a lift of her liver-spotted hand. “As to why I’m here, the Order’s sent me to assess whether or not you’re a security threat.”
Flint could practically feel the collective breath the crowd took.
“I leave this afternoon with my report. But know this: you’re on their radar, so tread lightly, my friends.”
Adam’s jaw clenched, and Flint felt fear and anxiety punch through her in waves from those surrounding her.
“The type of damage control we had to do in this town...” Grace twisted her lips. “It won’t come without great cost.”
Rhiannon trembled violently beside her. Flint frowned. “You okay?”
“No, Flint.” She gave her the side-eye. “I’m not okay.”
She didn’t say more and Flint didn’t ask. She felt like she should feel a lot more scared than she was—everyone around her was seeping fear from their pores—but she really didn’t understand why a bunch of monsters were so afraid of humans. Look what’d happened to her when the queen had cornered her. Flint had gone down without much of a fight—and she wasn’t even totally human.
“Which is why,” Grace said, “we’re going to make this right. We’re going to make them see that you all did everything you could.”
“Why do you care?” Someone to the right of Flint called out to Grace.
It was a man’s voice, and when he stood up, she could see that it was a green-eyed Nephilim. His hair was dark and thick and wavy, his features exotic and his skin burnished. All the Nephilim were strangely appealing, which was part of their lure and why the circus could stay in the same place for weeks on end and still command large crowds.
Most traveling carnivals she’d ever been involved with would stay a maximum of a couple of days to a week tops before they maxed out the profitability of the town and were forced to move on.
Flint couldn’t quite remember which of the seven deadly sins possessed the green-eyed Nephs, but she was betting envy. Each Nephilim carried around inside them one of the cardinal sins, and whichever sin they carried correlated to their particular eye color. Adam with his hypnotic and star-dusted blue eyes was a greed Nephilim.
But that was about all she knew. She’d only recently begun learning about their world before the bomb happened.
“I have my reasons.” Grace spoke up, and even though her body was rigid and tense, she never once looked over at Flint.
The envy Neph was yanked down by a feminine hand, causing him to disappear from Flint’s sight once again.
Grace held up a finger. “When you go out on a hunt, go in teams. No more solo search parties. At this point we have to assume that if Layla has left any dron
es behind, their intention will be shoot to kill.”
“Do you think she’s planning another attack?” a female voice in the audience asked.
“Absolutely, she is,” Grace replied with conviction.
The assembly scattered soon after that, and just as Flint made to stand, Adam came over to her side, crooked a finger in her direction and said, “Follow me.”
Chapter 5
Flint
Adam waited for her grandmother to join them. Once Grace got to them, he led them both to his trailer.
Flint remembered the first night she’d ever met him and how much she’d immediately despised him for the arrogant display he’d shown to her father. And while she couldn’t exactly say she liked the guy, she didn’t really hate him now either. All things considered, she felt bad for him.
After helping her grandmother to sit, Flint took the seat beside her.
“Thank ye, child.” Her nana sighed and it was weird, but suddenly Grace seemed old. Tired.
Patting her hand, Flint whispered, “How are you feeling?”
Adam sat behind his desk, grabbed for an orange, and peeled it quickly before saying, “You look like death, old woman.”
Brows gathering, Flint would have ripped into him for being so rude if her grandmother hadn’t chuckled softly.
“Well, I feel like it. And considering he’s my constant companion these days, I would say your statement’s not too far off the mark.”
Grace rubbed her thumb across Flint’s wrist as if to say “No worries, lass.”
Flint shook her head and brushed her way-too-long hair back. Already she was witnessing yet another side effect of her shifts. Just during the period of her coma, her hair had grown about five inches longer than it’d been before, now reaching well past her butt and hovering dangerously close to her thighs. She needed a haircut stat, and preferably some bangs.
Ugh. She shoved another loose lock behind her ear.
“So, someone care to tell me just what kind of school I’ll be going to now?” Flint asked with a heavy sigh, stomach a mass of twisted nerves as she envisioned just what kind of teacher she’d have.
A demon.
Vampire.
Heck, maybe even a werewolf.
Considering the types of creatures that worked at Diabolique, nothing was outside the realm of possibility.
“Easy,” Adam said after swallowing a slice of orange.
The powerful scent of citrus caused Flint’s stomach to practically grind against itself with its desperate need for food. Lips tipping, Adam reached into his desk and extracted two oranges before tossing them both at her.
She picked them out of the air cleanly, one in each hand.
Grace merely grinned.
“Impressive,” Adam murmured.
“I didn’t exaggerate,” Grace murmured, to which Flint frowned.
Had they been talking about her behind her back?
“No, crone, you rarely do,” Adam said gruffly. Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his thumbs on the polished wood surface. “Flint, you’ll not be required to become an act in the circus. You will, however, be trained again.”
“What?” Flint cried, nearly dropping her half-peeled orange onto her lap. “No way. I didn’t sign up for that. I’m done being a walker.”
Scoffing, Grace patted her silver bun as if to smooth out any flyways, but her grandmother was a study in poise. “Child, ye’ve no need to learn a skill you’ve already mastered.”
“Then what exactly—”
Giving her a no-nonsense assessment, Adam said, “If you’re going to be a part of this circus, you need to be a contributing member. We don’t accept freeloaders.”
A slice of orange dangled half in and half out of her mouth as she gasped. “Freeloader!” she shrieked, causing them both to wince. “I’m not a freeloader. I’m not even sure why you’d call me that. I’ve never asked for—”
Adam’s jaw visibly ground together before he said, “You’re moving here permanently, girl. It’s the safest place for you to be right now. Which means you’ll be given a trailer and a daily ration of food and money. In return, you will do as we require.”
Her eyes bugged. How dare he decide her life for her? “How could—”
“Flint.” Her grandmother’s commanding voice stopped her tirade cold. “We’ve talked this through with your father. You probably noticed most of your clothes and even some of your furniture gone; it’s because it’s here.”
Most of the fight left her then. “And he said okay to this? He just let me leave?”
It wasn’t that Flint hadn’t wanted to move away from home. She was seventeen, practically eighteen in just a few short weeks. Of course she’d wanted to leave. But it sucked and hurt to think that her dad was cool with her just skipping out.
Stomach churning with a thread of anger and maybe even a prickling of rage, she turned her face to the side, studying the door with unseeing eyes.
“He still loves you, Flint,” Grace said softly after a minute.
Huffing back the wet tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, she shook her head. “I’m not upset.” She was quick to correct her grandmother. “He can do whatever he wants. He’s a grown man. Not like I took care of him when mom died and he was drunk almost every night and wasting his life. Oh wait,” she snarled and crossed her arms. “I did.”
“Flint,” Grace said her name cautiously, “Don’t do that. He’s not abandoning you.”
Uncaring that the stupid tears were rolling down her cheeks now, she whirled fully on her grandmother. “Yeah, well, excuse me if it feels that way. Katy comes waltzing into our lives and he could give a crap less about me now. Whatever. I’m over it. I’m a big girl.”
She swiped angrily at her tears, noticing the looks both Adam and Grace got at the mention of Katy.
“One other thing.” Adam’s voice rolled deeply. “I didn’t want to say this out where we could be heard.”
Flint shivered at the sound of those ominous words. “What?”
He shook his head. “It’s going to be obvious to many in the next few weeks that you’re changing, no longer quite so human. For now I think it’s best—”
“Not just you, Adam,” Grace chimed in. “Honestly, Flint, we both think it’s in your best interest to not mingle too much, remain hidden. Just until it’s all over.”
She’d been thinking much the same thing herself lately. If she was gonna turn into a Legolas type, she was cool with that. But what if she didn’t? What if she became that giant booger with arms and legs?
She shuddered.
“Your normal group is fine,” Grace continued, “as they know you fairly well, but—”
Flint wrinkled her nose. “Nah. I mean I’ll hang with them, but actually I kind of don’t want anyone knowing about me or who I really am for right now.”
Adam shrugged. “Might be best. Thing is, Flint, the fae are steeped in a lot of myth and lore, and superstitions abound among our kind. So lying low might be just the thing.”
“Good. I didn’t want you guys to think I was saying they aren’t my friends and all, but—”
Adam lifted a hand, stalling her words. “First mistake, never assume any of us are your friends. Even those who profess love for each other will just as soon betray you than protect you for the right price.”
There was a definite thickness to his words. And where he’d seemed unaffected before in the tent, now he didn’t. Taking a deep breath, Adam rolled his shoulders and stared off to the side. A massive muscle in his cheek twitched as he ground his molars.
How quickly she’d forgotten about Layla. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He didn’t turn back to look at her, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement.
Grace laid a hand on Flint’s knee and said, “For the most part I think your friends would understand and even accept who you are, should you ever feel the need to break your self-imposed silence, but Adam is right. Centuries of belief is a hard do
ctrine to shake.”
“More than that though,” Adam drawled. “The fae, while feared, are also revered as mystical and powerful beings. You are an untried, untrained quarterling. Prime pickings for those less honorable among us. You are an enigma. So let’s just agree to let it remain that way, at least until you’ve learned how to fight and defend yourself.”
Flint shoved an orange slice past her lips. Its juices were sweet and slid down her throat, but she couldn’t help but shiver at his words.
“It’s not like anyone would come and snatch me away,” she mumbled, looking wide-eyed at Adam, who merely shrugged.
“We don’t know that. And considering Layla went to great lengths to take Abel and bite you, I have to believe that somewhere deep down she knows of your differences and if she could exploit them, she would.”
Her nail accidentally dug into one of the slices, causing the juice to drip down her fingers and make them sticky.
“So,” Grace said, “I guess for now we’ll be telling others that Layla’s bite has altered you. Considering we’ve never seen a drone’s actual metamorphosis occur, none of them could claim contrary.”
There was no way she’d be able to keep this hidden for long. Which meant she’d either have to tell her friends or move away to Alaska. Neither option sounded all that promising.
“I don’t look like a drone.” She lifted a brow. She—who’d never gone hunting for one in her life—still knew what a drone looked like.
Flaking skin and double eyelids were just a couple of the more notable changes, not to mention the red freaky eyes.
“This is the story we’re running with.” Grace’s words were resolute. “You want us to keep your secret. We’ll try, but like you said, you don’t look like a drone.”
She understood the implication very well, but chose not to follow that line of thinking further. “Are the fae powerful, like the rest of you guys?”
Adam shrugged. “Because of their naturally secretive nature, we just don’t know.”
Grace chimed in. “The Order knows more about the fae than probably anyone else, but even so, our information is limited at best. We believe them to be incredibly powerful, and some would even say a sneaky lot, but so much of who they are is tightly intertwined in myth that it’s hard to suss out fact from fiction. What we do know for sure is that everything—to include the fae—has weaknesses.”
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