Approaching Luce I nearly slip, glancing down to see a puddle of blood rapidly spreading beneath the chair. “No, no, no. Shit!” I crouch down in front of him, but I don’t slap him like I did to Dorian. His face is already a swollen, bloody mess and I don’t want to do more damage.
It takes only a few seconds to see his shirt matted to his stomach and I hurry over to Victor, patting him down until finding the knife he stabbed Luce with. Flicking the pocket knife open, the blade still coated in blood, I start hacking through all of his bindings.
Rapid shots fire out in the hallway and I saw faster, getting through the ropes before moving to the zip tie keeping his handcuffs tethered to a chain fastened to the floor.
Pressing two fingers to his neck, I’m relieved to feel a faint, but steady pulse. I send up a silent thanks to whatever fae voodoo is at work that’s keeping him alive right now, and just hope it’ll stay that way. Cursing, I scramble back to Victor’s body, stealing his keys. I fumble my way through freeing him, my fingers slick.
More shots and yelling ring out in the hallway and I waver, trying to think of the best way to do this. With as fucked up as my shoulder is, there’s no way I’ll be able to just toss him over one arm so that I can still have use of my weapon. And honestly, I’m not sure I would have been able to pull that off under the best of conditions. Battered and bruised, with adrenaline the only energy keeping me going? Hell no.
“God damn it, Luce.”
Tossing his arms over my shoulders, I crouch down in front of him. With one hand gripping his forearm for dear life, I use the other on his thigh to heft him onto my back, hoping the added pressure against his stomach will help staunch the bleeding at least a little.
He’s deadweight, and I nearly drop him. It takes some cursing and adjusting, but I finally get a firm enough hold on him that I can walk. Hunched over, I head back to the door, pausing to listen before sticking my head out there. I’m wide open like this, completely vulnerable and less likely to have solid aim, let alone fight, but I can’t think of another option.
There’s silence, and I bite my tongue, warring with myself. “Dorian?” I hiss, and then again louder when he doesn’t respond. The door to my cell creaks open and I could kiss the man, I’m so relieved. “How many did you take out after we separated?”
“Three,” he replies instantly, eyes widening with panic as he catches sight of Luce’s bloody, still form. “Is he,” he trails off, unable to voice the words.
“Alive,” I grunt, running through a quick mental tally. “That means there are still at least two guys around here somewhere, maybe more.” We don’t have a clue how big this place even is or how abandoned the area around it is either. “Cover me.”
Kicking the guard out of the way, I step into the hallway and in his direction. I only make it a few steps before there’s a searing pain in my leg and I go down, hard. Luce doesn’t even groan, just an unyielding weight pressing me into the ground and adding more pain to the bullet wound in my leg.
I work my gun out of my pocket while plastered to the floor, twisting and firing off a couple of shots before it clicks, empty. Dorian takes out the last one and starts rushing towards me as I glare.
“What part of ‘cover me’, did you not understand?” I growl, dragging myself out from beneath Lucien’s unconscious form.
“They came from both ends of the hallway; I could only shoot one at a time!” He passes his gun to me and grips beneath Luce’s arms, hauling him back to the room while I crawl the last couple of feet. No use putting extra weight on my leg, and I’d rather stay low in case all of the gunfire draws more men to the area.
“One fucking job,” I snap, my throbbing leg causing me to lash out now that the adrenaline is starting to fade without immediate threats.
My bitching dies in my throat when I see the gruesome mess lying still just outside of the ring. Logically, I know she has to still be alive, or I wouldn’t be. But it’s hard to believe that with the sight laid out before me.
“What did they do to her?” The words are whispered with horror. He finishes dragging Luce into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. Just to be safe, I struggle to my feet. “Come on, help me roll this guy in front of the door.”
He gently eases Lucien to the ground beside Cambria and helps me roll the guard’s corpse over to bar the door. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that there are other men somewhere in this place beyond the ones we saw, and now that I know a human has to watch a fae use a ring to be able to activate one? This would all be pointless if someone followed us like we did to Cambria all those weeks ago.
“I don’t think I want to know,” he answers, gaze flicking back in her direction. “But fuck, Atlas...be glad you didn’t see that room. It’s like they were trying to take her apart to see what makes her tick.”
Gently, he scoops her up, cradling her against his chest while I haul Lucien far less elegantly into the ring. “Picture our house in Achlys’ court, alright? That way we don’t screw it up.”
Before I even see it, I hear the frown and hesitation in Dorian’s voice. “Why’s it different?” I glance at the circle, the typically blue and purple flowers red this time. There’s no charred scorch of earth either, though that could just as easily be the fact that it’s not out in nature where it belongs, but formed on the cement floor of a prison.
“Yeah, because I’m a damn expert.” Scoffing, I try to focus my racing mind.
There’s shouting out in the hallway and I shut my eyes, feeling as ridiculous as the first time. Cambria’s taken point ever since, but it made sense for magical things to happen with her. This? Just makes me feel dumb. All I need is a white fluff of a dandelion to make a wish and clack my heels three times. I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that I created it in the first place.
I picture the small city and its eerie glow. The river, leading the way to the house offered up, the dark fae looking at Cambria with such confidence that she could protect them from creatures that I could only imagine. The bed, actually big enough for all of us to sleep in comfortably at last, and the small lanterns of jars filled with river water strung up around the interior in lieu of lamps or candles.
And nothing happens.
“Atlas?” Dorian worries, more so when we hear footsteps just outside the door.
No, no, no. This has to work, it has to. It wouldn’t have shown up without a reason.
I sink to my knees, running my fingers over the tiny blooms as if there was a hidden switch I’d forgotten to flip. “God damn it!” I smack my palms on the floor, trying to keep my voice down so as not to draw the attention of the men outside. Dorian’s got to be down to a bullet, maybe two. We’re trapped like rats, and that corpse isn’t going to hold them off forever.
My hands had only started to scab over and they reopen easily, blood absorbed quickly into the cement. “That’s it,” I whisper as it starts to make sense.
