by K. A. Linde
Fordham shot her a look of alarm. “Are you sure?”
Dozan ignored him. “That’s what the little birdies in the mountain tell me.”
“But… he’s on the council,” Fordham said.
Kerrigan’s head buzzed with that information. Lorian Van Horn was being watched as a suspect for the murder of Basem Nix. The only one still being watched by Helly’s spies. Did that make him a Red Mask? Did that make him the leader?
She remembered every interaction she’d had with him. Every single one had been unpleasant. He was the one who refused her a spot in the Society. He tried to get her kicked out of the program. He sent his best fighter after her on her testing. He told her countless times that she was worthless and her kind didn’t belong. Why hadn’t she seen it for what it was before? She had just assumed him a bigot, an annoyance.
But all the warnings were there. Bastian had told her not to let Lorian find out that she was here. Helly had stood up for her time and time again against him. She had just been too tired to put the pieces together.
“It’s Lorian,” she said. “It all makes sense.”
“We cannot accuse him without evidence,” Fordham said hastily.
“Then we get evidence.”
Dozan nodded. “I’m working on it.”
“Good.”
She would do the same. If Lorian wasn’t the killer, then she would find out who had done it. But it was the only suspect they had, and it would be sweet justice to see him put away by her.
Before they could say anything more, Thea had whipped the crowd up into a frenzy, and the march was beginning.
Dozan grasped her hand once more before she could be pulled away by the crowd. “Be careful.”
“Not really in my repertoire.”
“They tried to kill you once.”
“Aww, Dozan, is this sentiment?”
His amber eyes gleamed. “You know how I feel about protecting my investments.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
She snatched her hand away and hurried after Clover and Fordham. He was no more than two steps ahead of her, waiting.
“What did he want?”
“Nothing. He’s just Dozan.”
“Why do you put up with him?” he asked.
“I don’t really believe you’re in a position to judge my actions or associates.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Kerrigan whirled on him. She’d wanted today to be celebratory. For her and Fordham to reconcile. To even sneak that kiss in, but now, it was clear that wasn’t happening. No matter how jealous and defensive he acted around Dozan, it didn’t change anything.
“Then what do you mean? Because last I checked, you made your stance perfectly clear.”
He froze at her words. “You’re right. I did.”
“Good. Then, if I want to associate with Dozan,” she said, letting the insinuation in the words linger, “you have no right to say anything.”
His thunderstorm eyes swirled at the words. As if the thought sent him reeling. Like he’d expected her to wait and pine for him. Which she was—not that she’d admit it. But let him get a taste of how she was feeling all this time.
“He’s not good enough for you,” Fordham couldn’t keep from saying.
Kerrigan took a step forward and poked him in the chest. “Then man the fuck up.”
She didn’t wait for his response, just jogged up to Clover and Hadrian.
“Everything all right?” Hadrian asked.
He’d known Kerrigan for so long that he could judge her moods by a glance. She missed him so much sometimes.
“Fine,” she lied. “Let’s go.”
They fell into step with the rest of the march. A swell of protestors chanting and yelling out for others to join them. Fordham was a step behind them. Near enough that he wouldn’t lose them but far enough back that he was giving her space. She hated it. Hated the position they were in. Hated getting her hopes up that he’d change his mind, only to be reminded that he wouldn’t.
She threw herself into the march. They were with so many people that no one even pointed her out in the crowd. She wasn’t the only redhead in the bunch, and with the sheer numbers taking over the streets, she felt safe enough to go as herself and not hide.
“Rights for all!” Kerrigan cheered along with the crowd.
It felt good. Right.
Five years ago, the streets had filled with Red Masks. They’d killed people and destroyed property to protest their hate of a human winning the tournament. Now, those humans and half-Fae were banding together to fight for what they believed in. The Red Masks were the past. This was the future.
As the sun set on the horizon, the crowds only grew. Society Guards were posted at many of the alleys they passed. Their hands on the elemental weapons on their belts. Their eyes uninterested in what was happening, only judging each person as they passed, as if they were waiting for someone to slip up. They should have been cheering the crowds on. Not looking at them like they were the enemy.
Kerrigan had never gotten a bad vibe from the Guard. Most of them knew who she was since she’d grown up in the mountain. But here, it was as if they were altogether different Fae.
“Keep moving,” one barked at her.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “We have the right to be here.”
“Are you talking back to us?” the guard asked, stepping forward threateningly.
Clover put her hand on Kerrigan’s shoulder. “Don’t provoke them. They don’t need a reason.”
Kerrigan frowned and backed down. What the hell was with the power trip? It was so unnecessary. She let Clover drag her away. She wished that she’d gotten his name. It would have been good to report him to his superior, Mistress Corinna. There was no reason for that response.
“What are they doing?” Clover asked, standing on her tiptoes to look ahead. “That isn’t the approved path. We’re supposed to turn right here and head toward the Artisan Village.”
Fordham came closer. “It looks like the Guard are herding them in the opposite direction. Using some kind of magic to force them left. What’s left?”
“Row Park,” Kerrigan said. “We’d never get permission to walk through the Row.”
“Then why are they directing us there?” Clover asked.
None of them had an answer, and as they turned the corner, guards blocked off their retreat. Kerrigan looked back in confusion as barriers were put in place behind them. Suddenly, the march stalled, leaving the huge crowd stopped in the middle of the road, almost to Row Park.
“What are they doing?” Clover asked.
Fordham shook his head. “It’s too far ahead. I can’t tell.”
A chill ran down Kerrigan’s back. “Something’s wrong.”
“What?” Hadrian asked. He was straining his neck. “There’s some kind of light ahead.”
Fordham followed where he was looking. “Fire.”
And then the screams began as the last rays of light died on the horizon, plunging them into near total darkness. People jostled all around them, but they were stuck.
Kerrigan grabbed on to Clover’s hand. “Stay close.”
Fordham put his chest to her back protectively. “We need to get out of here.”
“Lead the way.” She slid her hand into his.
He nodded and pulled the four of them through the crowd. It was slow going. Everyone was trying to escape at once, but there were no exits. They were trapped in a part of Central district with high buildings on either side. The alleys were clogged. Fordham tried to move them back the way they’d come but stalled when he saw what awaited them.
Red Masks.
Kerrigan’s stomach dropped. The Guard had vanished from their posts, and in their place were men standing in all black with red masks over their faces. Or… the guards were Red Masks. That thought was chilling.
A loud bang exploded behind them. Screams grew to a deafening volume. And to Kerrigan’s horror, she watched
one of the buildings shift. Rubble rained down on the crowd. The building listed sideways and collapsed, trapping countless people.
Kerrigan gasped. “We need to help.”
Another building exploded nearby. Kerrigan ducked to the ground, ash and rock falling down on her. Her eyes darted left and right as the world that she knew and the city she loved dissolved into chaos. Fear crept up her throat. She was paralyzed with inaction. All she could think and feel was that night so long ago when she’d been trapped by Red Masks. When she’d seen her life flash before her eyes and known it would be her last.
“Kerrigan!” Fordham yelled. “We have to get out of here. Help me get through the Red Masks.”
She stared up at him with tears in her eyes. “How?”
“Call Tieran. I’m going to get Netta here. We can bust through them ourselves while we wait and get people out of here,” he said, calm in the face of danger.
A plan. Yes, she could execute a plan. She wasn’t helpless here anymore. That was in the past.
Kerrigan braced herself to slip into the spirit plane and call Tieran, but then the Red Masks lobbed black orbs into the crowd. One fell right in front of Clover and Hadrian, who had been huddled together, waiting for direction. Black smoke exploded out of the shattered orb, wrapping around Clover and Hadrian and the people nearest them.
Fordham jerked her cloak up over her face. “Don’t breathe it in.”
Kerrigan couldn’t see anything, but she could hear the shouts as Fordham wrenched her backward, away from the smoke.
“Clover,” she screamed, pulling the cloak down.
But Clover and Hadrian were gone.
Kerrigan turned in a circle, panic seizing her. “Where did they go?”
“I don’t know,” Fordham said. “Gods.”
More buildings were coming down. Kerrigan couldn’t see anything in front of her. The smoke was everywhere. More of the orbs being lobbed into the crowd and taking out the demonstrators.
“I can’t reach Netta. She must be too far away. Tieran?” Fordham asked as he continued to pull her away from the smoke and toward the opening.
“No,” she said. Her throat was scratchy and painful. She must have inhaled some of the smoke because, suddenly, she was coughing and couldn’t seem to stop. Her eyes itched, and tears welled in them. “We need to get out of here. We need to get the others out.”
“Charge the line with me,” he said.
She pulled her magic to her, weak with terror, and followed behind Fordham as they approached the Red Masks at the entrance. But they must have seen them coming because one threw an orange orb into the nearest building. People screamed as it tilted sideways.
“Fordham!”
His eyes widened in fear. Then, in a second, he had his arms around her. Black smoke enveloped him. This was an altogether different feeling, like being trapped in darkness. Secure and content. One minute, the building had been falling on top of them, and the next, she was in shadow.
She dared not breathe as Fordham’s magic swept them away.
33
The Smoke
CLOVER
Clover couldn’t breathe.
Smoke filled her lungs and burned her eyes and choked her throat. Everything was hazy with the substance. Fire burned in the distance, a fiery blur. Screams and screams and more screams. All around her. Coming from her.
“Clover!” Hadrian yelled next to her over the cacophony.
She coughed, trying to form words but she couldn’t manage it. Her hands were starting to shake. It made no sense. She’d had a loch cigarette before she arrived. A nice long one that should have left her buzzing for hours. But it was as if the black smoke was filling her up and pushing all of that healing out of her. Everything that kept her from the chronic, debilitating pain.
And now, it was creeping in. First along her spine, where it always started. Then up to her neck. Just twisting in place sent a spasm through her. She wanted to vomit from it wrecking through her body.
Hadrian must have seen it on her because he grasped her arm and slung it over his shoulder. She cried out as the shoulder joined the neck and spine. Then, he carefully slid his arm around her waist and supported most of her weight.
That helped some. It took the pressure off of her back.
He was speaking, but she couldn’t gather what he was saying. He started to walk, and she picked it up. He wanted her to go with him.
It had been a long time since she’d hurt this bad. In her early years, before she’d found loch, before her parents had dare dreamed of giving it to her, knowing she’d be addicted her entire life, pain had been a constant companion. This level of hurt would have been manageable. But now, it felt like sharp stabs of death at every step.
At least they were moving, avoiding the worst of the crowds and the rubble. There were dead bodies splattered all over the ground. Heaps of bodies. She tried not to look at faces, to remember seeing her world upside down like this once before. The dead all around her in the catacombs.
She blinked away the memory. She couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t think of anything but this moment. Because they’d lost Kerrigan and Fordham. No use in looking. They needed to get to safety.
Red Masks flooded through one of the open alleyways. Hadrian pressed her against the remains of an overturned building as they passed. They held their breath, not daring to move a muscle until they were gone. Clover’s back seized, and she gritted her teeth to keep from groaning.
Then, they were past the worst of it, and Hadrian hurried down the alley. Their feet thundered against the rubble. Neither daring to speak. They needed to escape this horrid place. She couldn’t believe the protest had dissolved into this. How had it even happened? The Society Guard were never their friend, but they were supposed to protect and serve the people. Did that only mean Fae? Had they sold them out to the Red Masks?
Her breathing was ragged as she pushed those intrusive thoughts away. They’d just bring more fear. And they had to survive first.
Hadrian helped her out of the mouth of the alley. This side of the street was much better than the other, but the people who had escaped were now being targeted by awaiting Red Masks. Blasting them with the black smoke bombs or using magic to hurt them. It was a war zone, and Clover had no magic. Hadrian barely had enough to get by. Certainly nothing like Kerrigan or Fordham.
“Scales,” she coughed out.
“There.” Hadrian pointed to a grate back in the alleyway.
They pushed back out of the way of the Red Masks. Hadrian rested her against the building wall and then pried the grate up to reveal the sewer system beneath the city.
“This isn’t going to be fun,” he yelled over the explosions. “I’ll go first, then you lower yourself, and I’ll catch you.”
She nodded because speaking hurt too much. She didn’t know if she had enough strength in her arms right now to lower herself down. But if she didn’t, she’d die. Hadrian dropped into the sewer tunnel as if he’d been doing it all of his life. She went to a place in herself where pain no longer existed. She shut a gate over the pain and then crawled down to the grate. Her body shook with exertion as she put her legs into it and then slid the cover back over part of the opening, hoping it was enough to conceal where they’d gone.
“I’ve got you,” Hadrian yelled up.
And then without letting herself consider what else might be down there, she fell into the sewer.
Hadrian’s arms came around her tight, and this time, she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.
He set her on her feet and then hustled down the sewer with no light to guide them. The street above them rattled, sending dust and the gods only knew what else raining down on them. She coughed again as fear that the tunnel would collapse seized her.
“Here,” Hadrian said.
He was shaking. She realized that he’d been keeping it together for her. But fear and pain
lanced through his face.
What he’d found was a small break in the wall big enough for the two of them to huddle together, unseen in the tunnel. She didn’t care how he’d found it or if he had known it was here all along. The only thing that mattered was safety.
Hadrian sat down first, holding his arms out so that he could cradle her in his lap. He put his arms around her, hugging her tight against his firm body. Both of them could barely breathe. Her body was catching up with her. Everything was shutting down.
“How’d you know this was here?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Benefits of being a street rat,” he murmured. After a minute of her body shaking uncontrollably, he asked, “Do you have a smoke?”
She nodded. “But I can’t light the match.”
“Give it to me.”
She dug through her pockets, her hands shaking too bad that she couldn’t even reach them. Tears fell down her cheeks. Hadrian put his hands on hers to still her and then carefully looked for the smoke and matches she carried with her everywhere. He pulled one out, lit the cigarette, and put it to her lips.
She inhaled sweet loch. Her very life force. The shaking didn’t completely subside—some of it had to be shock—but it wasn’t as debilitating.
She took the cigarette out of her hands and pressed it to his lips. It was a testament to how terrified he was that he actually inhaled. Straitlaced Hadrian smoking loch.
After she finished the cigarette, she stubbed it out next to them and settled back into Hadrian’s arms. She turned her head to face him. “You saved my life.”
“We did it together,” he said, his voice raw.
Clover put her fingers to his lips to silence him. She could barely see the outline of his face, just a bit of blue hair and a sharp jawline and those big brown eyes. “Thank you.”
He pulled her hand away and crushed his mouth onto hers. The last hour vanished as he devoured her. She didn’t care if it was the terror still coursing through them. She needed him in that moment like her life depended on it. And there was no world where she would stop him.