by N. M. Howell
Keaven perked up. “So, you’ll come back?”
She turned to him, frowning. “I’ll come back, but not as Queen.”
Grayson leaned back in his chair, the thin wood squeaking under his massive frame. “How so?”
Rhea rubbed her eyes again as she mentally accepted the decision she had just made. “I’ll go back, but I’m not claiming the throne. I refused that life. I won’t accept it.” She bit her lip as she thought to the horrors that were happening in her world at that very moment. “But I will go and see what I can do to restore peace. There has to be a way to protect the Otherworld and stop the war so that I can return here and live my life quietly, away from it all.”
Arry bounced in his chair, his smile returned to his face. He was positively glowing. “Great, that’s a start! Let’s go.”
Rhea blinked. “Now?”
Grayson nodded and pushed himself up off the chair. “Yes, we can’t waste any time. We’ll return tonight and come up with a plan once we’re there.” He turned to Rhea, his expression darkening. “You’ll have to see the world for yourself to fully understand the horrors we’re dealing with. Only then will you see how much your people need you.”
Rhea sighed. “This isn’t a one-way trip, Grayson,” she said. “I’m going in, seeing what’s what, then coming back. Chances are there’s nothing I can do, and if, as you say, the majority of the people there want me dead, then I doubt I’ll be able to make much of a difference.”
Keaven ran from the room to go pay the waitress as they all piled out of the small café. They had been there longer than Rhea had thought, and the sun was already setting by the time they came out into fresh air. The snow had stopped, at least, and the wind had died down. It wasn’t as cold as it had been earlier.
“Where to?” Rhea asked.
Taelor led the group down the sidewalk, pausing at every intersection they arrived at to look back and forth along traffic. He bristled every time a car went past, and it was clear to Rhea that he wasn’t all that comfortable in the human world. “To the car.”
Rhea paused. “What car?”
“The car we stole to follow your sneaky ass to Chicago,” Keaven winked.
“Right, of course,” Rhea nodded as she followed in silence. She could hardly believe she had decided to return to her home world. What the hell was she doing? She cursed herself for being so stupid. If she wasn’t safe here in the human realm, she had no hope of surviving back home. And if her world was, in fact, worse off than when she left it, she didn’t think she wanted to see it for herself.
“Guys,” she asked as they rounded the corner back toward the bus station. The streets were wide and there were a surprising number of people out walking. Horns honked and voices carried, sounds as familiar as those she was used to hearing every day in Detroit.
“Yeah?” Arry replied, nudging his elbow softly into her side as he passed her, skipping ahead to join Grayson. His trademark smile spread across his face as he walked to a beat only he could hear. His orange hair stood out like fire against the faded backdrop of the city.
“Promise me something,” Rhea said.
Keaven walked alongside her, his shoulders tense as he inspected their surroundings for danger. “Anything.”
Rhea sucked in a breath as she held her arms tight around her middle, unable to keep herself from thinking that she was being led to her own funeral. “Just try and make sure I come back alive, okay?”
Grayson stopped in his tracks, causing Rhea to step right into his solid back. He turned and looked down at her, a look of pure, unadulterated devotion filling his eyes. “That’s what we were born to do.”
7
“Are you sure you guys know where you’re going?” Rhea sat squished between Roan and Keaven in the back seat of the minivan. Grayson drove and navigated the streets with ease, as if he’d been there a thousand times.
“Don’t worry Rhea, we’ve got this.” Keaven smiled as he patted her knee with his pale hand.
Rhea offered him a small smile and shrugged. “There’s no portal in Chicago, as far as I know. I visited all the portals within a hundred-mile range of Detroit when I first got here. The nearest one is hours away.”
“The nearest documented one,” Keaven agreed. “Since you left, there have been a number of portals that have opened up around the world. Mostly for people to escape or slip through without anyone noticing. They’re much smaller and usually hidden away.”
“Your father was aware of some of them,” Taelor added, turning his head from the passenger seat next to Grayson. “He shut a few down, of course, but every time he closed one, another two or more would open up. It was a form of silent rebellion against his tyranny.”
“Makes sense,” Rhea said. “I hadn’t even considered the possibility that there might be new portals made. So, where’s the closest one to here?”
“Right here,” Keaven beamed as Grayson pulled the van over. He was practically vibrating, he looked so excited.
They had parked at the end of a narrow road, mostly residential with rows of stone and brick buildings, many of them decrepit and boarded up. A long line of people stood along the sidewalk, next to the car, and Rhea leaned over Taelor to look out the window. She noticed they were all waiting in line to get in somewhere, though it didn’t look like there was anywhere for them to go.
“What is it?” she asked as they all poured out of the van. When she stepped outside, she could hear the deep thump of dance music. She stood up on her tiptoes to see where the line was headed, but it went all the way to the end of the block, and she couldn’t tell where it ended.
“Silverpoint Nightclub,” Keaven said. “Super hot spot, mostly for its music, but also for its drink selection.”
Rhea raised her eyebrow and glanced at the few people who stood near her who were completely oblivious to them exiting the car. “Bit early for people to be going clubbing, isn’t it?”
The sun hung low in the sky, but it was still daylight. Most people would be having dinner at that time, not lining up for a nightclub.
“It’s a popular spot,” Taelor said. “Some people line up for days.”
Rhea whistled, shaking her head in disbelief. Most of the people wore long black trench coats, sparkly makeup, and neon dyed hair. In fact, looking closer she noticed that most of them wore colored contacts and dyed their eyebrows, too. She glanced up to Taelor and raised her eyebrows. “They look like they’re mimicking elven fashion.”
Taelor nodded. “Yes, and you’ll see why in just a minute.”
Rhea’s guardians led her down along the sidewalk, pushing the clusters of people out of their way as they went. There were a few angry cries from the few who realized they were cutting to the front, but Rhea ignored them, as did the rest of her group. When they finally reached the front of the line, Rhea glanced around, confused.
There was nothing more than a small wooden door down a set of stairs, and it looked to be going to one of the house’s basements. There were no markings and no suggestions that it was a club of any sort. The only hint that there was something more beyond the door than a cellar was the booming music that she could feel vibrating through her feet.
“Back of the line, kids,” a high-pitched voice sounded from in front of her. Rhea looked down and noticed a very small, very slim woman glaring up at her with deep crimson eyes. She wore a tight black vinyl catsuit and short spiky red hair atop a face full of piercings and a tattoo of a star on her right cheek. A soft gasp spilled from Rhea’s throat when she noticed the woman’s large pointed ears.
She turned to Taelor, her voice a whisper. “Is she an elf?” The woman had no wings, so she couldn’t have been fae. Possibly a half-breed, like Rhea, but those were rare from what she understood.
Taelor nodded. Folding his arms, he looked down at the spritely-looking woman with a sly smile. “Hey Lola, how are you on this fine evening?”
She shot Taelor an angry look. “You again? Back of the line like the rest
of them.”
“Aw, but it’s been so long,” he winked. “How about letting us in? That line is for humans, you and I both know that.”
This was the first she’d really seen him put on a happy face, albeit forced. He was always so serious, his lips always pulled down in a frown and his eyes constantly assessing his surroundings as if an enemy were about to jump from the shadows at any second. Rhea eyed him, unable to pull her gaze from the unfamiliar smile he wore.
“What do you say?” Keaven asked, stepping forward next to Taelor. “We all know he’s right.”
She didn’t think it possible, but the elf’s eyes darkened even more. “Back. Of. The. Line.” She huffed as she spoke, clinging her clipboard to her chest with a white-knuckled grip. Rhea got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach and made a mental note to ask Taelor about his connection to this woman next time they were in private. His flirty demeanor made her muscles go strangely rigid.
“Distant cousins or something like that,” Keaven whispered to her when he caught her staring back and forth between the two elves.
“Ah,” she replied. The tension in her shoulders eased somewhat, though she wasn’t sure why the idea of he and this elf having any kind of history would have bothered her in the slightest.
After a while of listening to Taelor and Lola bicker back and forth, it became clear that she wasn’t going to let them inside. Rhea turned to Grayson and leaned in so her words were private. “The portal’s in the club?”
Grayson nodded grimly, his eyes flicking back and forth among all the people standing in line, his body tense as if to pounce at any moment should danger arise. Rhea bit her lower lip as she nodded, diverting her gaze back to Taelor and his failing attempt to gain them entry.
“The elves were always against my father, right?” She whispered to Grayson. Again, he nodded. Rhea considered a moment, coming up with a plan. “That means they probably oppose my uncle too, right?”
Grayson’s eyes reverted down to her for a quick second before turning back to their surroundings. “The elves are one of the few races who seek peace beyond anything else. Why?”
Rhea ignored him and stepped forward, towering over the diminutive woman. She put her hands on her hips and gazed down at her, her eyes setting in an expression of authority. “My name is Rhea Greystone,” she said in a steady voice, but low enough for just her ears.
Taelor hissed his disapproval, turning to her with a wide-eyed glare, but Rhea ignored him.
“I’m returning to the Otherworld to restore peace. You don’t want to make us wait any longer than we have to, do you?”
The woman’s eyes went wide, round saucers that stared up at her with a mix of fear and awe. Rhea allowed her glamor to flicker away for the briefest moment and the elf gasped, glancing back to Taelor with an expression of wild curiosity. Taelor shrugged and raised his hands in surrender. “I told you, didn’t I? Seriously, woman, you always have to be so difficult.”
The woman quickly stepped aside, her face pale and her mouth hanging slack. She unhinged the small chain that hung loose in front of the door. “Of course, please forgive me,” she stammered, stepping aside and motioned them through. She lowered her voice to a whisper and bowed her head slightly, adding, “your Grace.”
The few eager people waiting at the front of the line erupted in rage, shouting profanities at them and screeching their disdain for the fact that she let Rhea and her group in before them.
The small elf stood up on her tiptoes and screeched so loud it caused Rhea to nearly fall to her knees. “Shut. The. Ever. Living. Hell. Up,” She shouted at them. Her voice was surprisingly loud and commanding coming from someone so tiny.
Everyone stopped frozen in place, silence suddenly making its way back through the line. Everyone stared at her, their expressions shocked, and took a tentative step back.
Lola nodded and wiped her hands together, her face clearly demonstrating her satisfaction with a job well done. Rhea looked at her thankfully, and she nodded back.
“Welcome home, Princess,” she whispered as they passed.
Rhea thanked her as she followed Grayson down the stairs, surrounded by the rest of her guardians to her side and behind her. They went through the inconspicuous entrance, which led to a long set of stairs. Down they went, three or more stories down a long, winding, creaky wooden staircase. It was dark and Rhea could hardly see. She craned her neck and focused on her enhanced hearing, the echo of their footsteps nearly deafening in her ears. Through the echoes she heard the heavy beat of the music and the sound of a hundred voices talking in unison. It was disorienting.
She placed the palm of her hand firmly against Grayson’s back as they descended, following him step by step so that she wouldn’t trip and fall. Finally, a long five minutes later, they came to a small, concrete-floored room where they all stopped. The room was muggy and the air felt heavy, and Rhea slid off her sweater, revealing her faded black spaghetti-strap top.
Rhea glanced around, confused. “Is this supposed to be a club? Doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before, that’s for sure.”
Keaven beamed, his pale skin alight with an otherworldly glow in the dark space, drawing her attention toward him. “Just you wait, Princess,” he winked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was clearly excited about what they were about to see. He really did have an obsession with all things human. It made her smile, seeing such a strong connection between the magical realm and the human world. Most creatures spat at human tendencies.
“Ready?” Arry asked. He was also grinning from ear to ear and looked nearly as excited as Keaven.
Rhea shrugged. “I guess so, but I don’t really know what we’re doing.”
Grayson stepped in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder. An electric shock coursed through her skin at his touch, and she fought not to jump back. She looked up into his eyes and sucked in a quick breath at the sudden influx of cold magic she felt from his touch.
“Just follow my lead,” he commanded. “Do not step away from me, do not leave under any circumstance. Do not run. You stay next to me, and if anything should happen, let us deal with it, okay?”
Rhea laughed. “Run? Where would I go?”
Arry rolled his eyes and nudged her with his elbow. “You are a bit of a flight risk, Princess.” He mimicked the elf’s high-pitched voice when he spoke, dark mischief behind those emerald eyes of his.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m serious,” Grayson growled, his voice menacing. “Do not leave our side, do you understand?”
Rhea swallowed and nodded, unsure of what dangers could possibly stand an underground nightclub when she had five strong bodyguards to protect her. But even still, he looked worried.
“Promise me you won’t run,” Grayson repeated.
Furrowing her eyebrows together, Rhea nodded, firmly this time. “I promise.”
Seeming to accept her promise, Grayson turned and reached toward a handle on a door Rhea hadn’t noticed before. He gave it a tug. The scene that emerged from the other side of the door could only be explained as a violent assault on her senses, both magical and natural. The shock she felt go through her system at the sudden pulse of magical energy nearly knocked her to her knees.
Bracing herself, she stepped through the open door and into a glowing room that flashed neon shades of red and purple, with music so thunderously loud that it numbed her eardrums. The lights were blinding and people thrashed around on the dance floor with such fury Rhea could hardly tell one person from the next below the low ceiling that made the space feel cramped. She found it difficult to take it all in. It was unlike any club she’d ever heard of.
Humans and creatures of all magical walks of life mingled together in the deep underground space. Rhea’s eyes settled on a couple dancing close together against the wall nearby. The woman was tall and thin and her skin glowed blue as if it were under a black light. Her head was tossed back and sharp fangs glinte
d in the flashing light, a smear of blood visible along her lower lip. The man who was grinding up against her was much shorter, his hair a deep purple and an intricate network of foreign-looking tattoos laced across his entire body. Rhea’s stomach lurched as she noticed two bite marks on his neck and a smear of blood that matched the one on the woman’s lips.
“Through here,” Taelor called, his voice muted from the blaring music. He linked his arm with Rhea’s and pulled her away from the vampire and the elf, winding them through the sea of people on the dance floor toward the far corner of the room.
Rhea’s heart raced in her chest and it felt like it was going to explode from the sudden influx of magic that pushed its way inside of her. From all the magical creatures around her, she could feel and hear and smell and taste each one of them and their unique magical footprint as it penetrated her skin and into her core. She tried to put up a mental block, willing the energy out of her, but it was no use. It was simply too overwhelming with so many magic users around her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she let Taelor lead her through the room, her shoulder and hip crashing against the dancers as they passed. She felt drunk by the time they reached the other end of the room, the flow of energy so overwhelming she could hardly stand.
“Rhea,” Keaven asked, shaking her shoulders as he pulled her out of the crowd. “Rhea, are you all right?”
Allowing her eyes to open slightly, Rhea shook her head. Her white lips pressed together and her body shook. “I can’t…” Her lower lip began to tremble.
Keaven’s eyes went wide. He turned to the others. “You guys, something is happening to Rhea.”
Grayson pushed everyone out of the way and clasped his hands tightly on Rhea’s shoulders. He directed her through the small opening in the corner, away from the crowd. The other four followed close behind. Rhea allowed herself to be led blindly, her vision blurred as she hiccupped from the pulses of magic that consumed her body and mind. She could feel every individual in that room; everyone’s unique magic and blend of flavors, a much too personal introduction than she would’ve ever been interested in under even the most intimate of situations.