Page 20 of Devoured

“I know.” My pulse thunders in my chest, loud enough to be easily detected, but there are no werewolves patrolling this stairwell. I’ve been counting them, tracking Cora’s guards. It’s all I’ve done since the solstice. I allow myself a moment to breathe, to steady my heart, before I say, “And so do the rest of Cora’s werewolves. Our friends are—they’re dead because of them.” Evie flinches, but I harden my grasp on her wrist. “None of that matters if we’re caught tonight. We won’t get any revenge if we take it all out on Amethyst and expose ourselves. Cora is watching us. We can’t do anything hasty.” Evie’s gaze clashes with mine, simmering with loathing. “Remember the plan,” I implore.

She inhales. Exhales. Thankfully, her body relaxes under my touch. I pull away, and she sags against the wall. “Fine, Hart. We’ll stick to the fucking plan.”

I offer her a pathetic smile. It feels all wrong—my lips stretched too far, too tight to ever be believable. She almost smiles in turn. Instead, the instant before her lips twitch, she pivots on her heel and glides up the stairs. Her footsteps land softly, and I tread after them as quickly as I can manage. Evie is stronger than me. Faster too. She’s trained to become queen of this court since her birth. And though that future no longer exists for her, it doesn’t make her any less deadly. Her body is lithe, her steps graceful and undetectable. I do everything I can to match them.

“If we survive this,” she hisses over her shoulder, “promise me you’ll start training again. You need it. Badly.”

I glower at her, offering a swift middle finger. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, your footsteps are about as quiet as throwing a tin can at a metal roof.”

“Liar.”

“Am I?” She narrows her gaze on my sneakers. “Stars above, Hart, what size shoes do you wear? If I knew you had gargantuan feet, I wouldn’t have brought you—”

I shove her into the wall directly behind us and push up against her. Her breath blows warm at my ear, but I raise a finger to my lips. With wide eyes, I stare down at her. Shut up, I mouth, more desperately this time. She blinks at me before glancing over my shoulder. A shadow moves in the darkness. The scent of amber musk chokes the corridor. If I listen closely, I can just make out the tap tap tap tap of a wolf pacing. Patrolling. Amethyst, I mouth.

She is only four doors away.

We are only four doors away from being caught.

Evie’s gaze flashes. Darkens. She lifts her chin in understanding, and I loosen my grasp on her. When the steps fade—when Amethyst prowls away from us—Evie slips free and creeps farther along the wall. She raises two fingers and beckons me forward to join her. Then she taps a finger to her ear, her lips, and points at the floor.

I glare at her, those nerves rolling into a noxious boil in my veins. “Does it look like my public school taught special ops sign language?”

She glares right back at me. “Listen. For. Her. Steps. And. Be. Quiet.” She presses a finger to her lips again, as if I’m the problem here, before falling preternaturally still. Silent.

Amethyst prowls toward us, still far enough that we don’t catch more than writhing shadows amidst infinite black. But we can smell her. We can hear her. Ten steps. Fifteen. Then Amethyst turns and walks fifteen steps the other way. Each step lasts about one second. Her path doesn’t deviate. The steps are almost identical. Militaristic. Precise.

Which gives us about fifteen seconds to break into a sealed records room—without being caught or killed.

Evie pulls a golden key from her pocket, a skeleton engraved on the teeth. “My brother’s,” she explained when we were planning. “A key that fits every single doorway on this Earth.”

I sat there for a moment, unsure if I wanted to pry open her grief, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why the hell did Eric need a key to every single room on Earth?”

“Because he could.” She closed her palm around the gold, her expression darkening, warning me not to press her further about Eric. “Because we are werewolves, and locked doors shouldn’t stop us.”

I pray that it still works now. Even after Cora’s destruction, after her redecoration. I pray to any god that whatever magic Eric used to create the key still holds after his death. Please please please.

When Amethyst carves a path away from us once more, Evie leans close. “It would be easier to kill her.”

I don’t say a word in turn. I don’t need to. She knows as well as I do that killing Amethyst—even knocking the wolf out—would only lead Cora straight to her. We wait. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. Forty-five. Amethyst’s movements don’t change, yet neither of us moves. Every muscle in my body locks as we continue to count, to wait. We need to be absolutely certain. We can’t make any mistakes.

After three excruciatingly long minutes, Evie holds up two fingers and beckons me forward. Let’s go, she mouths.

My breath tightens in my chest until I feel close to rupturing. But there is no more time for running, no more time for hiding. I inhale—a single, shallow breath—and jerk my chin in acknowledgment. There is no more time for fear.

Evie moves like a gentle night breeze. Swift but delicate. Entirely imperceptible. I trail after her, slower, muting my steps just as she taught me. We reach the door in three seconds. She grabs the handle at four, moves to insert the key at five—

And turns back to glance at me with wild, frightened eyes at six.

What? I mouth.

The key trembles in her grasp, beside the handle where—I squint hastily—there isn’t a keyhole at all. Shit. Amethyst’s steps reach their farthest point. We have seven seconds left. Seven measly seconds to get inside without detection. Shit shit shit. My head swims. Panic clogs my throat, and I can’t breathe as Evie jostles the handle as quietly as possible. Six seconds. It doesn’t budge, and we—we’re going to get caught. Five. Evie will die. Cora will kill her; she’ll kill my father. Four. I can’t think. I—I—

No. The word bursts in my mind with sudden clarity, streaking through the panic like a red-hot meteor. Without another thought, with only two seconds left to react, I grab the handle and twist. Hard. Using all the strength in my bones, all the fear in my body, I try my hardest to break it open.

Something inside the door snaps, and the handle loosens.