Yes, I did.
No, I…
The screen door slammed shut behind me as I barreled through it and down the stairs. I found 306 not too far away and only muttered, “Excidium,” as I passed, leading the way down the dirt trail.
Right now, as we get closer to the town, I’m hoping 306 didn’t notice they were still alive, because I don’t have a good explanation—or any explanation, for that matter.
Excidium is a town most people forget about. Nothing extraordinary, just average fae living out their day-to-day lives. A seemingly perfect place for someone to hide. Unfortunately, we don’t look like we’re from here and stick out like sore thumbs.
Entering the heart of the town, both of our heads stay on a swivel, analyzing each bystander as we pass. I’m not naive. She probably fled the second her mind was her own, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to find something—or someone—to figure out where her next attempt at sanctuary is.
The wind blows, and it’s then I get the bread crumb I’ve been searching for. The faintest hint ofher.So subtle that if it wasn’t ingrained into my very being, I wouldn’t think twice. But it’s there.
“This way,” I tell 306, indicating toward a side path just after the last market. The snowfall was heavy in this area, my boots sinking in with each step. Out in the distance is a small cottage. Smoke billows from the chimney, and it’s then I notice the boarded-up wall.
“You think she’s in there?” 306 questions.
“Only one way to find out.”
The cottage rests on secluded land surrounded by the snowfall from last night. Only one set of shoeprints is molded within the soft powder, leaving all the others to be lost forever. We walk with precision, not wanting our arrival to be known until the last minute—the element of surprise and all that. We pass by the low cement wall, and the scent is stronger than ever. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was right next to me.
I look to 306, making sure he’s at the ready before flinging the door open. I’m not surprised when the inside matches the size of the outside. The door opens to a living room and kitchen, with only two doors off to the left. The first room is completely empty, but the scent carries me to one of the doors. Without hesitation, my shadows lash out and obliterate the wood separating the space.
Instantly, her scent consumes me. All my senses go haywire, and I need to get to her. A primal urge takes over, and I’m instantly drawn to the clothes discarded by the bed.
The bed.
Not our bed.
Not her clothes. Her scent is all over another man’s clothes, and everything I’ve known, everything I’ve been sent here to do, is muffled under the need to find who touched her. Who hadhercovered in their clothes.
Then, as if pulling me out of whatever trance I’ve found myself in, someone enters the room.
“Who are you?” he asks.
The man is freshly showered, but her scent still lingers. That sweet, indulgent vanilla and lavender is on his fuckingskin.My lips pull back, and I lunge at him. I vaguely feel 306 pulling me back, but with a single thought, my shadows push him off, and he crashes somewhere behind me.
Wrapping my hand around the man’s throat, I pin him against the fractured door frame. “Why do you smell like her?” She was here, in his bedroom, in hisbed.
Why do I care so much?
You don’t.
I do.
I fucking do care, because she doesn’t belong here.Inhere. Inhisroom.
“Smell like who?” Bastard wants to play dumb. I smash his head against the corner, and he winces as blood spews from the open wound.
“Kalliope.” Her name sounds foreign on my tongue—something about calling her by name doesn’t feel right. “Where. Is. She?” With each word, my face gets closer to his. His lips spread in a wide smile, then vines sprout from the ground, breaking through the floor and wrapping around my wrists. My smile mimics his as my shadows eat away at them. But that doesn’t deter him. Oh no, he has fight. And somewhere deep down, I’ve been itching for this feeling again.
The greenery wraps around me a second time, stronger and more secure. They pulse with an emerald glow—matching her eyes perfectly—pulling at my arms with punishing force. Inch by inch, they pry my grip from his throat, and he’s able to slip free. Countless more spring to life, snaking around my legs and curling tight around my torso. The ringing in my ears returns along with the throbbing ache in the back of my head. There are too many to count, and I have the briefest moment of déjà vu.
Watching her break down before my eyes isn’t what I wasexpecting. But all the power she’s been holding back has come to fruition. And she’s ready. Fire licks up her limbs, consuming her flesh like it’s always belonged there. The wind she creates causes them to sway as I’m taken prisoner by the vines she wills my way. It’s amazing, watching her. As each of her powers comes and goes, her eyes flash like the mirage of colors I had painted for our bedroom. The orange turns green then turns blue as the water begins to pool at my feet, and as the onyx tentacles emerge from her back, the whites of her eyes are non-existent, like staring into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean.
I fall to my knees, squeezing my eyes shut as the pain becomes unbearable. My hands cover my ears as the ringing persists, growing louder and louder as the memory surfaces.
What is that?
