Chapter 9
Cambria
The scent of bloodsettles on my tongue until I can taste it, trying to slow my breathing to lessen its effect. Footsteps thunder around me; the silent footfalls of the fae are impossible to manage when fear and panic are riding them so heavily. A shoulder slams into mine as someone crashes into me, rushing past.
Lucien’s hand darts out to grip my elbow and keep me upright. “What the hell did she do?” he seethes, eyes scanning everything, lingering too long on the luminescent river that’s steadily changing color.
A familiar face catches in my peripherals and I turn, the pale pink hair a dead giveaway. My lips press into a thin line as the two of us press our backs against the building to get out of the way of a few more people.
“Overestimated herself.” I don’t wait for Lucien to ask before grabbing his hand and running back towards the house. “She said light court fae were testing the borders, right?” At his confirmation, I press on. “Bet your ass she thought she could compel them the way that she does her own people. Whether she thought to use them to prove her abilities, to ensure she’d protect us from Elorie if we protected her from the changelings, or she wanted to use them to threaten me, who the fuck even knows. I don’t really care either way at this point, and anything out of her mouth is just going to be more bullshit anyway.”
He grunts his agreement before suddenly shoving me out of the way. My shoulder slams into the stone building beside us hard enough to bruise. I turn in time for my blood to turn to ice in my veins.
This...this is what Atlas tried to tell me. But the stories don’t even come close to doing him justice.
I’m stuck, paralyzed, as Lucien steps to the side, narrowly avoiding the short sword that swings down where I was just standing. He uses the man’s own momentum against him, slamming his foot into the fae’s ankle hard enough there’s an audible crack, while simultaneously palming the back of the man’s head. His shoulder tenses as he grips a handful of golden hair, and for just a moment, he’s the only thing keeping this stranger upright.
But that moment is over in a blink as he slams him down into the sidewalk, face first. He never once releases his grip, crouching beside him as he draws him back enough to do it again. And again. Blood steadily pools in the pit created from the impact, and each new blow has blood spraying up.
I know there are still people screaming around us, but I hear none of it. Just a dull roar and a steady, wet thudding. Lucien stands, but he doesn’t look at me with horror at what he’s done, at losing control. He simply places his foot on the back of the dead man’s neck and stomps down hard enough that his spine snaps.
Finally, Lucien looks at me, his amber eyes wild and blood spatter coating his face, his neck; just...everything. He brushes a lock of his dark hair out of his face, leaving a bloody streak behind, and just watches me, saying nothing. Waiting; for judgment, for me to make the first move, I’m not entirely sure.
So I reach out a steady hand despite my shock, intertwining our fingers and gently tugging him into motion, attempting to ignore how slick his grip is. “We need to find the others.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely audible amidst the chaos happening around us. But right now, every bit of me is tuned into Lucien, hyperaware of his presence.
“No, you’re a juggernaut.” A shaky breath escapes me. “A rare ability, but not unheard of. No wonder your dad wanted to hide you in the human realm. Things...don’t typically end well, and they get put down sooner or later. Usually sooner.”
I swallow as we turn another corner. “That day, with Atlas’ father; somehow you managed to tap into your abilities, even after my parents severed your ties to Faerie, when it should have been impossible. And now that my abilities have blended with yours,” I trail off, shaking my head. “Fuck, Luce. You could inspire so much rage in someone that they emulate you.”
He’s quiet, mulling it all over as we reach our street, fighting through the crowd. Another body slams into mine and I tense, anticipating a repeat performance as it sets Luce off, but I sag in relief when I see who it is.
Quickly grabbing his arm to stop him before we get separated, I do a quick scan for my other mate. “Dorian, thank the fates. Where’s Atlas?”
Luce’s relief ripples out around me, like setting eyes on the man helps to take the edge off of the fear driving his actions. But as Dorian turns to face me, I drop my hand like he burned me, taking a quick step backward.
“No.”
Not Dorian; Azazel, wearing his skin.
My hand covers my mouth to stifle a sob, looking into those pitch black eyes with horror. Lucien drives a fist into his cheek in the next instant, vibrating with fury. The changeling goes down with a cry and scrambles back, blinking up at us.
“Motherfucker,” Atlas hisses, forcing his way through the crowd, shoving people out of the way and sliding to a stop between us. “Not what it looks like, I’ll explain later, but we need togo!” He grabs not-Dorian by the front of his shirt and hauls him to his feet, gripping his elbow and dragging him with him as he ushers us forward.
Lucien and I exchange a look, but we follow behind Atlas. I trust the three of them implicitly, and Fates’ know if I had a dollar for every time things weren’t as they appeared, I’d be able to retire for the rest of my immortal life.
We circle back halfway towards Achlys’ home, where they were on their way to find us when shit hit the fan. “Azazel freaked out as soon as the attacks started and when someone crashed into D, he went after them.” Atlas takes another corner, but the crowd has started to thin out; murdered or in hiding. “But we were able to haul him back before he did too much damage, and he latched onto Dorian like a fucking binky.”
As if he can feel my spike of fear, he rushes to clarify. “No different than how he was already tapping into him, he’s not dead. But after living off of his blood and energy for this long, it looks like he’s absorbed enough to transform into him, even without devouring him. And with the stampede of people, being small was making his panic worse and he changed.”
“Then what was he doing alone?” Azazel flinches as Lucien speaks and leans closer into Atlas’ hold.
“He got lost in the crowd,” Atlas explains, “but we couldn’t very well have Dorian hunting for himself in case anyone saw the two of them together.”
