In the narrow, shadowy alley between two buildings, Dorian’s form appears and I nearly collapse with relief. Seeing is believing, and though Atlas had no reason to lie to us, I still needed to lay eyes on him to accept it. Azazel wrenches free of Atlas’ firm grip and tears down the alley, preternatural speed turning him into a golden-streaked blur. He tackles into Dorian who barely manages to remain upright, his back slamming into the side of the building.
“He’s like a toddler.” I cock my head to the side, watching Dorian try to support himself, Azazel’s face pressed against his neck and legs wrapped around his waist.
“He’s scared. We all are.” Atlas turns to face us now that we have a temporary reprieve, raking his gaze over the both of us. “What the hell happened?” We give them the abridged version and by the time we’re done, they’re gazes are both as murderous as Lucien’s.
“Fuck this place,” Dorian seethes, forcing Azazel to his feet before he topples over. “Why should we defend her after pulling this shit?”
I swallow, leaning against the stone wall. “Elorie knew about Achlys and decided to wipe the kingdom from her subject’s memories. She knew full well what Achlys was capable of. I highly doubt she’d have sent scouts to scope out Achlys’ court without assessing the risk. She’d have sent ones that couldn’t be compelled, have them fake it, and then they Trojan horse-d their way in to slaughter everyone the second they had an opportunity.”
As if summoned by our words, four light court fae appear at the end of the alley. “Guys.” My word is a whisper, and they all look up with an assortment of nervousness, and pure loathing.
“You guys get a head start,” Lucien offers, but I put a hand on his arm and stop him.
“Fuck self-sacrifice. No one is playing the martyr and we’re not separating again. That clearly hasn’t ended well any of the times we’ve tried it.”
“The littlest lark,” one of the men coos, and my stomach flips. “Your fathers’ have quite the bounty out on your head.” His eyes glint red in the darkness, light brown hair tipped in gold covered in patches of dried blood.
He takes a step forward with two of his men, another staying behind to guard the entrance to the alley. I don’t automatically take a step backwards, let them see that fear.
One trick ponies. Just need to know what they can do.
“An unconventional way of offering up a dowry, but I’m flattered nonetheless. You went through all of this effort just for my hand?” I flutter said hand to my chest and grin. “I’m honored.”
His eyes flash as his jaw tightens. And there, the smallest tendril of smoke rising from his clenched fist. “You think pretty highly of yourself for being the bane of the realm.”
I trail a finger down Lucien’s arm coyly, subtly drawing the mens’ attention to the blood coating him head to toe and the cold look in his amber eyes, the grim set of his mouth. Death incarnate, hiding in what they think is a human form.
It works, and I get to enjoy the way two of the men share a quick glance, one slightly lowering the bow he has drawn in hesitation. They’re soldiers; they recognize the blood pattern on his face for what would put it there. A scuff of feet far behind us and I know we’re caged in without having to look.
“And why shouldn’t I?” I give him a wink to hide the way my pulse is hammering away. “All these men coming for me? I didn’t even need to lift so much as a finger to make it happen either. Makes a girl feel pretty.”
“I’m going to enjoy breaking you, girl,” he growls.
And a second later, he’s on the ground, staring unblinkingly at the night sky with a hole in his head as I whirl around in shock. Atlas doesn’t lower his gun, just turns it onto the man beside the first and fires a shot through his heart before anyone even fully registers what happened.
“Where the hell did you get a gun?!” I step closer to him and Dorian, getting out of the way and preparing myself for however they're going to retaliate, not knowing what any of their abilities are besides the one that’s already dead, so the information is useless.
“Dorian used up his ammo getting us out of the warehouse so I didn’t have to as I hauled Luce out.” His voice is hard as he lurches forward to grab my wrist and tug me out of the way as the men that were behind us fire an arrow.
When it strikes the ground, electric sparks flair out and I cringe. I might be able to drain him, but I’ll have to get close to accomplish it. And if he can wield electricity well enough that it manifests in a projectile, it’s going to be a bitch to get my hands on him. Dorian has an iron grip on Azazel’s wrist, eyes flitting as he weighs the risk of someone seeing, or if we can get out of this by our own merit. Atlas fires another shot and I brace myself for the pain as I lunge for his gun, ripping it from his hands a split second before my body convulses, the metal acting as a conduit for the small lightning strike.
It could have lasted a lifetime or only minutes, but when it finally stops, I nearly sob in relief, dropping the gun and glancing at the burns on my hands. Atlas is suddenly there, palming the side of my face and cursing.
“Fuck were you thinking?” He kisses me quickly before hauling me to my feet, dragging me towards Dorian and his doppelganger.
“Didn’t have time to warn you,” I stutter out, phantom shocks still lacing through my body.
Dorian wraps an arm around my waist as a brutal tearing sound echoes down the narrow passageway. I glance up, struggling to catch my breath as my lungs scream, expecting to see Lucien ripping limbs from bodies. But instead, I see him standing there, mouth parted in muted shock as a fae finishes tearing the head from one of our attacker’s necks.
Her hair is a silken curtain as deep of a red as the blood pumping out of her human fountain, dipping her head to lap up a drink. But those eyes...
“Shit.”
If I thought it was chaotic before, it’s nothing compared to now. My mates and I are completely forgotten as the few remaining soldiers turn their attention to the more pressing threat. A wave of water assaults her before that electricity is released in full force, screams splitting the air in full force.
And though my muscles protest, I ignore the hissing shouts of my men as I sprint down the alley. Capitalizing on his distraction, I slap my palms on either side of wannabe Zeus’ face, using my momentum to jump onto his back and send him stumbling forward. My skin is on fire, and I get a more muted version of the shock from before as I inhale deeply, forcing my eyes to stay open, to stay on guard rather than lose myself in concentration.
My knees drive into his kidneys as he crumples to the ground, my teeth jarring with the impact. When I glance up, I’m seeing double. My ears ring and I have to blink several times, but as I pry my fingers away from the dead man’s face, I see a sopping wet changeling eyeing me warily.
