Clearly, she thinks she made some sort of spiritual impact, and her job is done. Because she smiles a full grin at me, showcasing the few teeth she has left, turns around, and walks away, humming a tune I’m not familiar with.
I’m too stunned to move or say anything in return, playing her words over in my head like a recording, willing it to make sense, but I fail. I shake my head like I can reset my brain if I rattle it hard enough. This place is officially giving me the creeps. Atticus and Odeyssa have to be around here somewhere.
However, when I search the room, they’re nowhere to be found. Granted, it’s difficult to see more than five feet in front of me, but still, Atticus at least is hard to miss.
Keeping my head down, I take a few quick steps to the back counter. I make a slow, unsuspicious lap behind it, pretending to give a damn about whatever’s festering in the containers, as if I’m just browsing. My eyes instinctively flick to the door. Locked. Of course. And posted in front of it, it looks like some sort of rabid little gremlin is guarding it. I could take him. Probably. Okay, fifty-fifty shot. But chaos has always been a friend of mine.
Where did they go? There’s nowhere to hide. The store is basically a box for Gods’ sake. I’ll have to burn it down or hold someone hostage for him to open the door.
What if I need the password to leave? I didn’t hear Atticus.
I’m trapped. Locked in without an escape.
Maybe I don’t have to burn thewholeplace down, maybe just start a small fire somewhere, draw him away from the door so I can slip out.
But what if they’re in trouble? Goddess, why wouldn’t they tellme where they were going? Pressure builds in my chest, and the familiar warmth spreads over my body, heating me from the inside out.
Just as I’m about to do somethingincrediblystupid, a door in the very back—concealed by a curtain behind the counter—is pulled open, and Atticus and Odeyssa walk out.
Odeyssa keeps her head down, following on Atticus’s heels. I don’t have a chance to ask them any questions, because they beeline for the door, and the hobbit begrudgingly opens it and lets all of us out without any trouble.
Once the door closes, I feel like I can finally breathe. Relief is a fleeting thing—barely a full breath—before dread coils in my gut, and my body tenses. I whip my head toward the mouth of the alley, heart thundering, certain one of my captors is there, watching. Waiting.
A hand lands on my shoulder, the pressure of it grounding me. “Are you okay?” Odeyssa’s worry threads through her words, like magic I can almost feel. Despite her comforting touch, my body stays rigid, and I fight the instinct to retaliate.
“Fine,” I clip, wanting to get as far away from here as I can. “Did you get it?”
Atticus gives me a curt nod and wordlessly walks back toward the bustling town. I hesitate, just for a heartbeat, a split second where doubt creeps in, wondering if it’s worth it. The constant fear, the need to look over my shoulder every damn day, always waiting for the worst to hit. But what choice do I have? There’s no turning back now.
Odeyssa and I follow suit, not wanting to stay out longer than either of us has to. Once we’re free of the crowd and back over to Voraxis, I notice Atticus isn’t carrying anything back with him.
“I thought you said you got it?” My head tilts to the side in question. Atticus turns to look at me and pulls out a pouch from his pocket. He opens it and flips it over his palm. What falls outis the smallest version of a saddle I could imagine. It looks like it might fit on a Barbie horse.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s fitting on him.”
“No shit,” he bites, and it is a bit abrasive. “There’s an enchantment on it. Couldn’t exactly walk through the town holding a saddle big enough to go on a dragon, now could I?” I brush off the attitude he throws and, instead, focus my brain cells on how we are supposed to make it life size again.
Odeyssa walks past me and over to him, pulling a vial from her pocket and dumping the contents onto the miniature furniture once it’s placed on the ground. Plumes of smoke billow from it, and before my eyes, it transforms to a ginormous accessory.
Atticus heaves the saddle over his shoulder, and it nearly swallows him whole, engulfing him and blocking his frame from view.
Be nice,I tell Voraxis, and he huffs out a breath of annoyance. Atticus handles the assembly with ease, and much to my surprise, Voraxis only threatens him twice. That’s an improvement if you ask me.
I don’t know how, but it fits him perfectly. It’s a sleek black leather with strapping underneath his stomach and multiple compartments resting on either side of him, behind his wings, to give him the most range of motion.
“It’s perfect. Really. But I know it couldn’t have been cheap,” I say, guilt bubbling up beneath my gratitude.
“Don’t worry about it. There’s even some left over,” he tells me, a reassuring quip of his lips flashing.
“Is that where you went to…exchange?” I look up at him under hooded eyes, wanting the answer, but afraid he does that a lot. It seemed well past sketchy, and the people that are mixed in with all of that can’t be the best company.
“Yes. But don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” Atticus loads up the saddle with various types of food, blankets, and other itemshe thinks we’ll need. And the pang in my chest, the one I’m all too familiar with, becomes present as the weight of the situation settles heavy.
“Remind me again why you aren’t portalling?” Atticus asks, and the sheer thought of it makes my stomach lurch.
Just as I go to explain invividdetail all the reasons why we aren’t, Odeyssa beats me to it. “My portals might be good, but even I can’t make one big enough to get this guy through,” she states, hoisting a thumb in Voraxis’s direction.
Atticus rolls his eyes. “You guys should get going.”
