The car we borrowed from Jeremy is gone; towed, no doubt. Which leaves us out here in the middle of the night, about an hour’s drive from home. Which of course means around, what, seventeen hours’ walk at a quick guess?
We were all a bit surprised at how little of a fight Achlys put up to us leaving, mostly just begging Cambria to come back as soon as we handled things human side. There was real terror on the queen’s face, but she didn’t make a move to restrain us. Whether that was from fear of Cambria refusing to protect them from what’s to come, or the fact that she’s afraid of her retaliation, who knows. But it’s a nice change of pace to see fae actually recognizing the power she wields and treating her with respect.
Even if I’m jealous.
“Guess we better start walking.” Atlas shrugs, setting off like this doesn’t completely suck.
Of the two of us, he seems to be handling things better, and I’m actually hoping I get the chance to catch him alone soon. He’ll understand where I’m coming from, what I’m struggling to accept. Maybe he can offer advice on how to compartmentalize things so I’m not resigned to a life of feeling like second fiddle.
“Can’t we just call a taxi or something?” Cambria asks, but I’m already shaking my head.
“If someone’s tracing our calls, they could find our location, hence why they’re staying off unless absolutely no other choice. Inconvenience doesn’t constitute an emergency. And sadly, I doubt we have enough cash on us, and a credit card would be a dead giveaway. If someone’s trying to kill us, the less we broadcast our position, the better.”
We carry on for several miles before she suddenly stops, flagging a passing car down. “What are you doing?” Lucien hisses, but she ignores him in favor of strutting over to the passenger window and leaning in.
My skin tingles as she starts weaving her lies, garnering sympathy from the driver and using her abilities to influence him. Next thing I know, we’re climbing in the car with this stranger, his eyes glazed and hanging on Cambria’s every word. But more notably? Even without earplugs, I don’t feel the same urge as before, the desire to do whatever she asks in a bid to please her.
She flicks her gaze back to us, grinning when it’s clear our tolerance levels are increasing. We’re growing immune to her charms and it actually makes me feel better, but not for the reasons I think she’s trying to prove. Because I’ve always known that what I felt for her was authentic, no magic required. And maybe I just need to remember that, that the magic was never the point. A bonus, sure, but I’d love her whether she was fae or human. So it shouldn’t matter in regards to Lucien either, who has been a brother and mentor to me for my entire adult life.
It’s just hard, accepting that magical things are happening all around me, and I’m the guy in charge of carrying the bags.
Well, that’s mostly Atlas, but whatever. I should be grateful that I have as much as I do, that I survived long enough to even be here. I just hate that I have to try and find excuses to justify things, that I need to convince myself to be happy with the way things panned out.
I’m content. I’m luckier than most. But I also want more, and hate that I feel guilty for that.
Cambria has the man drop us off a few blocks from the house just to be safe and we walk the rest of the way, all of us eyeing our surroundings warily. Each shadow seems like it’s going to jump out and bite us, and now that we know what else might be lurking in them?
She wasn’t wrong when she said the fae are our werewolves and vampires, the witches and boogeymen. Monsters in pretty packages, and humans don’t have any means of defending themselves beyond hoping they get distracted by the next shiny thing in their path.
When the desolate remains that used to be our house come into view, all of my inner rambling dies off as problems are put into much clearer perspective. My inferiority complex doesn’t really rank high on the list of immediate concerns when someone is out there willing to burn a place to the ground, hoping we’re in it.
The structure is intact, but barely. It’s mostly charred remains masquerading as a home’s skeleton. Chunks of the walls are completely gone, leaving gaping holes to view the inner wreckage. A few pieces of barely distinguishable furniture and disaster are all I can see from here, and it’s far more of a mess than I gave credit to. I imagined just a pile of ash; not a haphazard labyrinth of debris to navigate. Hesitantly, we duck beneath the caution tape roping the house off and start picking our way through the wreckage.
“Stay close together,” Atlas decrees, better suited than any of us to make decisions in this scenario. He scrutinizes everything, trying to find the best route to Luce’s office that won’t trigger a collapse.
We unanimously agree, ceding control over to the closest thing we have to an expert. It’s less time efficient, but the smarter choice. It wouldn’t matter if we uncovered the safe if someone got their head sliced off by a falling beam. And with the way Achlys made it sound, if Cambria were to end up fatally wounded, we’d be following her to the grave.
Supernatural custodians are just full of fun surprises like that.
Atlas carefully shifts a few things out of our way, testing areas before gesturing us to follow him or rerouting us. By the time we’re fighting with the door to get into the office, I’m exhausted. Being in a constant state of adrenaline and high anxiety drains you faster than a changeling.
Not funny, shut up, you’re tired.
It takes all four of us to unbury the desk and shove it out of the way, revealing the panel on the floor. “You crafty bastard,” Cambria praises, smirking. Luce snorts in amusement, crouching down to punch in the key code. It’s fireproof, so thankfully everything is intact. He withdraws a couple of flash drives, tucking them in his pockets before pausing.
Wavering, he ultimately reaches back in and withdraws an old Polaroid photo of him, his father, and Maddox. He slips it into his pocket as well, choosing to leave the other little mementos behind.
“We should start figuring out how we’re going to get back; this took far longer than I anticipated,” he announces, dawn now breaking over the horizon.
“I can just ask someone to give us another ride, don’t worry,” Cambria offers, sounding far less hesitant to use her abilities than before.
Elorie just doesn’t seem as big of a threat compared to monsters that can kill you and assume your identity. And having a safe place to hide out in the shadow court helps as well. It’s not flawless, and I’m sure we don’t have too long before soldiers from the light court start searching for us in other kingdoms of Faerie, but she’s less of an immediate threat.
Atlas leads the way out of the house, carefully of his footing and retracing our path back. He steps out first, the three of us filing out behind him. I almost crash into Cambria’s back, because she’s stopped dead on the front step just past the threshold.
It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing, some man I’ve never seen before standing on the lawn. The sound of him cocking his gun echoes in the otherwise still peace of morning, causing my breath to seize in my chest.
With as early as it is, there isn’t anyone else out on this section of the street. And even if there was, what would some old lady out walking her dog even do beyond call for help that would never get here in time?
