He nods, squeezing my fingers as he sizes up the door. After half a second, he walks up to it and drives the bottom of his foot into the center.
Wood splinters, and the door separates from its hinges as easily as a beer cap popping off a bottle at the end of a long day. After two weeks of captivity, the sound is almost as satisfying.
“Good job.” I clap my hand on Malach’s back, then snatch the sheet from the bed and hand it to him. “Take it,” I say. “I might have to shift.”
He wraps it around his shoulders loosely, a grim expression crossing his face. If he needs to fly, the sheet will be the first thing to go, but any barrier against the wind is better than nothing.
I look at Ciprian and Alistair, and worry splits my gut down the middle. They matter to me. Both of them. The feelings are newer than my feelings for Celine, but they still matter to me. Malach does too. Keeping them safe is impossible in my cursed home realm, and the longer we’re here, the more likely I am to lose one of them.
“Ready?” I ask. They nod, and I hand Malach his torch. “Kill anyone who gets in our way.”
Together, we run through the door and out onto the wraparound porch.
The wind slaps me in the face, tossing my hair into my eyes and stealing the air from my lungs. I spare one final look at the one-room cabin. It’s a physical manifestation of weeks of suffering, and it’s got to go.
I press my torch to the outside wall, watching with satisfaction as the sheet of ice melts and the logs catch fire.
“Come on,” Ciprian hisses. “We need to cross now while I can keep us invisible.”
I nod, following the three of them out onto the rickety, swaying death trap these assholes call a bridge. It rocks under our combined weight, and I resist the urge to glance down.
“B-b-bollocks, how anyone lives here is a m-mystery to me.” Alistair’s teeth are chattering so violently I can barely make out the words.
“Keep moving,” I say, holding my torch as close to their backs as possible without accidentally setting them on fire.
“I hate this bridge,” Ciprian grumbles.
The arena looms ahead of us, a monster-made mountain. No lights, but plenty of screams. It’s beyond creepy, and my basilisk rattles angrily in my chest. It’s not thrilled that I lost track of Celine, and I doubt I’ll be able to stop my arms from trembling until they’re wrapped around her.
“What’s going on over there?” I ask. It’s too dark to see much, but the noises are insane. Howling. Squawks. Wails.
“It sounds like a prison break getting fucked by a massacre,” Ciprian says.
My eyes water from the wind, and I snort a laugh. That’s a graphic description, but it’s fucking accurate. Whatever’s going on, we’ve got to find Celine and get out fast. If we don’t, Alistair and Ciprian won’t survive the cold.
“I see her,” Malach says, his deep voice carrying to me as we reach the middle of the bridge. “She’s with Riven.”
“Kill him,” Alistair hisses. “While you’re hidden by the nightmare.”
“H-hurry,” Ciprian says. “Cold hurts m-my magic.”
Malach charges across the planks of the bridge, sending shockwaves through the base. My palms prickle. If he gets too far away from Ciprian, will the nightmare crack?
“Careful,” I say as loudly as I dare. “Can you two move any faster?”
“S-sorry,” Ciprian says. “I’m trying.”
Fuck. They’re freezing even faster than I expected.
“You’re okay.” I press my free hand against his back. “I won’t leave you.”
And I won’t, but that means Malach is alone. I watch from thirty feet back, heart in my throat, as he reaches the end of the bridge and barrels into Riven.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Monster Realm Survival Tip #9:
Cold is eternal.
