Untangle it.The thought is loud. It demands that I clean up after myself. Am I capable? I did it with Luca tonight, but Casanell is different. While he’s quick to tell a joke, he can hold a grudge as well as I can.
“Alistair,” Malach’s urgent whisper startles me.Gods. Has he been awake the whole time?“Something’s outside.”
I tense, tightening my arm around Luca.
Then I hear it. A scraping shuffle, claws against wood.
Heavy, wet panting.
It’s coming through the locked door.
“I hear it,” I whisper.
Something smacks against the wall nearest his cot.
“Shit,” I hiss. “Get away from the wall.”
Malach climbs out of bed and shuffles closer to me and Luca. “I don’t know what it could”—a hideous scream pierces the log walls—“possibly be.”
Luca sits upright. “What?—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth. Whatever this thing is, it’s listening to us. There’s another loud thump. Wood splinters, and the entire room lurches. The spike our cell is mounted on groans under the pressure.
Malach stumbles as the floor tilts, and I grab his arm to steady him.
A chill rolls down my back. Whatever is attacking us isn’t trying to get in; it’s trying to knock the cabin over. Like cracking a nut. It doesn’t care if we’re in pieces at the end. Broken or whole, we’ll taste the same.
Another hard blow rocks our cell. The cot slides into the wall and my head smacks against the wood, leaving me momentarily stunned.
“Get to the middle,” Malach says. “We need to put our weight in the center, or it’s going to knock us over.”
“Maybe it’s trying to free us,” Luca whispers.
The creature cackles with unmistakable glee—a cross between laughter and clicking. “Doesn’t sound like a jailbreak to me,” I mutter. “I vote for Malach’s idea.”
Luca grunts and rolls off the cot with me. It slides across the slate floor and crashes into the opposite wall. We crawl to the middle of the round room, but there’s nothing to hold on to.
Malach’s elbow collides with my belly. I scratch Luca’s calf while scrambling for leverage, and the basin of water flies at my face. I duck, and it sails over my head, falling into the fire with a hiss. The cabin fills with smoke.
“What the fuck?” Luca grunts as he kicks a cot away. All three remaining beds—Ciprian’s was gone when we returned—are ricocheting around like pinballs as the cabin rocks. “Is it trying to tenderize us?”
“Back-to-back.” Malach coughs. “Protect your heads.” He stretches his legs out in front of him, blocking an incoming cot by wedging it against the opposite wall.
It gives him a much-needed anchor point.
Eyes burning, I lock my arms with his and Luca’s and hook the next cot with my foot. It slams into the rounded wall andbucks off the floor—three legs wobbling ominously midair. I shove against the base with my other foot until all four legs are planted on the cabin floor, and the top of the bed is wedged against the wall.
The remaining cot hurtles toward the fire. Barely visible through the thick smoke, it rebounds off the magical barrier that prevents us from using the flames to burn our way out. We’ve tried everything to reach it with no success. It’s interesting that the spilled water made it through the barrier with no problem. A safety measure?
Focus, you fool.
Another blow lands against the outside of the cabin.
My stomach rolls as we tip almost completely over. Feet planted against the cot; I’m sitting and standing at the same time.
The spike that supports our cell whines.
I stiffen and brace for it to snap. It can’t last. Wood isn’t known for its elasticity.
