“You’re not wrong, but I thought you were more of a gentleman than that. Calling me out on shit; how rude.”
He barks out a laugh as we continue to rise. “What the hell did I do to give you that ridiculous impression?”
I’m feeling better already, but it’s only amplified as a light off to the left up ahead shows that Atlas was right and we’re almost out of the weird wall labyrinth. “You’re right, I don’t know what got into me. Thinking you were a decent person?” I shudder. “No thank you. Give me the asshole that fucks harder than he runs his mouth any day.”
His laughter echoes down the tunnel as we finally emerge into semi-fresh air and it spawns an idea. Releasing his hand, I cup mine beside my mouth and whistle three notes before waiting. A few seconds later they’re echoed back and I grin as we follow the skywalk towards the sound.
The metallic echo of our footsteps fills the space as we cross the open space, but the floating bridge is solid beneath our feet. The guard rails are only waist high though, and it wouldn’t take much effort to push someone off or accidently topple over if you weren’t watching your step. From this height, the impact on the iron grate would do some serious damage, but l doubt it would actually kill someone unless they went head first. Still, it’d be a better fate than being torn limb from limb by hungry monsters.
Approaching the entrance in the wall on the opposite side, I whistle again. We enter and head to the right, using the series of parroting calls to weave our way through one of the smaller branch hallways until we steadily rise at a decent incline. We follow it for several minutes before lights make me flinch back like a mole person, fresh air slapping me in the face as I blink rapidly to adjust to the setting sun.
“Holy fuck.”
It’s a natural oasis; no other way to describe it. There’s a small lake feeding a river that twines between rolling hills, dense trees...and greenhouse after greenhouse set in rows stretching along one side. Anyone that didn’t know better would be completely unaware of what was hiding in the massive pocket beneath their feet. Hell, if you weren’t careful and dug enough in the bottom of the lake, you could completely flood the underground labyrinth, drowning everyone that might have been inside it at the time. It must have taken a hell of a lot of magic and a few miracles to construct something like this, to keep it in the air and from the entire thing from collapsing despite no one bringing energy up from the ground.
There are a few smashed walls on the greenhouses and glass littering the ground as changelings fed before abandoning ship. But it looks like they only took enough to appease the gnawing ache of desperation before they fled, getting as far away as possible before getting locked up again.
Dorian, Lucien, and my clones are seated beside the river, tearing into some of the food that continued to grow unattended in the greenhouses. Atlas and I rush over, and I waste no time kneeling beside the river, cupping my hands to appease the raw ache still lingering in my throat. I drink enough to take the edge of hunger off, not knowing what remains in the greenhouses, how much we have to ration. And with the way the changelings are going to town inhaling food, it might not last long as it is.
Lucien passes me an orange and I suck that thing dry in thirty seconds flat, diving into some type of vegetable I’ve never seen before next. I force myself to stop though, as much as it kills me, when I see the frantic way the changelings are eating, like they’re worried they’ll never see food again.
“We need to get them to slow down,” I warn, and by Lucien and Dorian’s grimaces, I’m not telling them anything they weren’t already concerned about.
“I tried and almost lost a finger,” Dorian says, eyeing my clones warily.
But beyond the small amount of food, the ground feels richer up here, full of life. The changelings might not be able to suck energy directly out of the earth, forced to either devour creatures or be fed via our weird connection, but I can.
Closing my eyes, I thread my fingers between the plush blades of grass, breathing deeply. When I feel nearly like myself, I open my eyes. “Raziel.”
But the changeling’s eyes are manic, not the familiar cold, calculating gleam I’m used to seeing. Being back in this place has them all freaking out, struggling to keep it together. My breakdown didn’t help, poured gasoline on the fire, and now they’re spiraling.
Grabbing a jagged rock, I slice it over my palm until blood wells. “Raziel.” My voice comes out as a barked, no nonsense command. Between the tone and the scent of blood, I finally have his full, unnervingly still attention. Holding his gaze unflinchingly, I lean forward, hand outstretched in offering.
“Cambria,” Lucien warns, but I don’t back down.
They’re keyed up, and for a changeling, that makes them ten times more dangerous. But as we’ve clearly seen, they can be rational and semi-well behaved. They just need a firm, loving hand to keep them in check. The fact that the loving hand is currently pooling blood is just an unfortunate necessity.
Raziel approaches warily, as if anticipating it to be a trap. A flick of a tongue across my palm has a shiver running down my spine, and I doubt I’ll ever get used to seeing me lick myself.
Head out of the gutter, head out of the gutter. But I mean, Iampretty talented... No, stop being a degenerate and focus on not getting eaten. Damn it...
There’s a moment where things seem to click and Raziel flips an internal switch, returning back to his usual self. Not a second too soon either, because Loki shoves past Azazel, teeth bared in a snarl like she means to tear into my arm rather than take the slow trickle being offered. Raziel grips her by the throat, yanking her back with a warning snarl of his own before biting Loki’s ear. She whimpers, and the next time she faces me, her obsidian eyes shimmer with penance.
Getting to my feet, I make a show of feeding Azazel first to reward his patience before striding in front of where Raziel still has Loki restrained. Tentatively, she swipes her tongue over my palm, and I wait until the wound stops bleeding before pulling away.
“Everything about this is weird,” Atlas states, breaking through the weird atmosphere that’s developed. Though honestly, I’m getting accustomed to how everything changes in an instant anymore and then phasing back to normal like we’re crazy and nothing ever even happened.
A lesser person might have mentally snapped from the whiplash by now, so thank fuck I’ve never been normal.
“Unless anyone has objections, can we crash up here tonight? I know it’s not as comfortable, but,” I trail off, leaving the statement open ended.
“Head still killing you?” Atlas asks and I bite my lip, noting the way Lucien and Dorian’s eyes flash with concern.
“Yeah, I just need to lay down for a while and I’ll be fine.”
Lucien rises to his feet, jaw tense. “If you didn’t have the extra energy to heal yourself, you shouldn’t have been feeding the changelings too. We could have done it.”
Stretching my arms above me, we start wandering for somewhere to set up for the night. “Just a side effect of a meltdown, Luce; crying takes a toll.” And just because I’m an ass sometimes, I toss over my shoulder with a smirk, “Right, Atlas?” He lifts both hands to flip me off while sticking his tongue out and my answering grin splits my face. “Just call me selfish. I didn’t want them eating all of our food while I slept. We’re already beyond lucky there’s anything here in the first place.”
