I make a faint, pathetic sound when he moves his wrist away. The world around me swims in and out, and the pain might be ebbing again, but something has its claws in my belly, and I have the distinct feeling that things are about to get worse.
“Hush now,” he says. We’ve moved, but I don’t know when. I don’t remember. My head is in his lap. He’s sitting on the ground, fingers softly carding through my hair. “Rest. I will take you home.”
Home? I part my lips but can’t form the words.
“Ourhome.”
I close my eyes—or they close of their own accord at this point—and drift away to the sound of his deep voice crooning a gentle lullaby.
Chapter One
Grant
“No,tipit—Left.Yourotherleft. Fucking hell, would you just—”
I watch with rapt fascination as Maurice holds his phone up to the very obvious tear in the fabric of reality in the middle of the warehouse. He scowls, even though Cassian can’t see him, and when he checks what we’re doing, he brings the phone around in an arc again.
“Maurice!”
Maurice sighs and turns the phone back to face the tear. I duck further into my hoodie. Across the warehouse, Asher rolls his eyes.
Okay, Maurice might not have been the best person to call Cassian, but considering everything that’s happened in the last few hours, none of the Guardians can risk coming to us, and he’s the one who knows the most about magic.
Reluctantly, my gaze wanders to the Huntsman, who’s standing a few feet from Maurice and watching him just as intently as I am. Well, maybe he knows more about magic. He doesn’t know anything about this, though. That much is clear.
It’s only been a day since I came across a fae performing a ritual in this abandoned Limehouse building. They used traces of Asher’s and Quinn’s magic that two high fae twins had stolen a few weeks before, and then…
They tore straight through the veil that separates our realm from the Otherworld. At least five or six high fae came through before I ran off, and considering the time it took us to reach the Huntsman and get back, we have no idea how many could be here.
I eye the Huntsman again. One high fae is enough trouble. This many… It might be a slaughter. It might be a series of small tricks for their entertainment. Who knows.
“Well, fuck,” Cassian says, tinny voice echoing around the space. The Huntsman takes that as his cue, but I see the way he bares his teeth as he approaches the tear. He doesn’t like it.
“You understand what they have done?” he asks. He doesn’t take Maurice’s phone, and Cassian squawks again as Maurice swings the device towards the Huntsman’s face.
He’s a powerful mage, apparently. One of the only ones left. And he’s one of the Guardians, too, a group of creatures who usetheir magic to protect the true crossing between the Otherworld and here.
So this is right in his wheelhouse, is what I mean. Should be, anyway.
“Yeah, they’ve punched straight fucking through it,” Cassian says. “Can’t you feel it? It should be calling to you.”
The Huntsman nods shortly. I shrink back again. I can feel that. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to, but I know I need to keep the fact that I can to myself. Vlad looms behind me, his presence always on my radar. Is he looking at me? Probably.
He’s hardly had me out of his sight all day, which is saying something because usually he’s telling me to go off to my room and rest as soon as the sun comes up. I shove my hands into the pocket at the front of my hoodie and twist my fingers together. I wasn’t beaten up or anything when I got back yesterday, just had a few scrapes from running away, but I know that scared him.
And he doesn’t like me being so close to the Huntsman, either. I know that, even if I’m not sure why.
“Grant, come here,” Maurice says.
I swallow, hesitating long enough that he looks at me sharply. I don’t glance back at Vlad as I cross the space, but the glimpse I get of Asher’s expression is encouraging.
“What is it?” I keep my eyes low, avoiding the Huntsman. That’s how that works, right? If I don’t look at him, he can’t see me, either.
“First of all, here,” Maurice says and presses his phone into my hand. “You can move this fucking thing around since I’m doing such a shitty job.”
He hisses the last part, but Cassian only laughs. “You are.”
“Secondly, you need to tell Cassian everything you saw yesterday,” the Huntsman says. I dart my eyes up. He’s not wearing a glamour, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him in one. His dark, flat gaze bores into mine.
