CHAPTER 9

Nika

We took another tunnel, crawling at first before getting to our feet. There was a hatch to the outside only a few feet away, but something struck me as suspicious, and I hesitated to move towards it. Silas seemed to feel it as well because he stopped and drew out a long blade sheathed to his back.

The air shuddered and moved, then a figure loomed straight in front of us, materializing out of thin air. I knew without asking who it was. The mysterious stranger wore a mask that was all white hidden under an oversized cloak which kept most of his identity veiled, but a pair of red eyes beamed in the darkness. It was probably the most damning information I could learn about my enemy. Red eyes indicated the heavy use of blood magic, and I wasn't too excited to find out what kind of things he could do with it.

Blood magic came at the cost of innocent lives, often Light Fae or human, and it was one of the things I detested most about the Dark Fae. Sacrificial magic was barbaric and the very definition of evil. Once used, it was tough to find one's compassion and empathy again. The caster lost themselves to the darkness of it, and the Fae who practiced it were the vilest of the vile. Unfortunately, it was powerful and difficult to fight against, so I was already preparing my magic for a losing battle.

Silas had something in his hand, his other still wrapped around his sword, and he clicked his tongue loudly. "I wanted to wait to use this, but this wanker is a bitch to fight when I have something to protect."

Our enemy's red eyes dropped to Silas's hand before widening visibly. Before the dark, sinister mist surrounding our foe could reach us, the world twisted and morphed into a completely different landscape.

I landed on firm muscle, the impact taking the wind out of my lungs. Then I was somehow pinned under the heavy jerk with my back laid out over wet grass and earth. Silas had a smile on his face for all of three seconds before my knee, powered by my magic, connected with his stomach. It was a hit that'd break bone, but something told me the mercenary would find some way to avoid that painful future. After noticing how his hands immediately wrapped around my knee to soften the impact, I sighed loudly and got to my feet.

"We part ways here," I hissed, walking away from the man laid out over the floor, who was no longer jovial or anything closely related to the word.

"Oi!" he coughed, stumbling to his feet like the troll he was.

I didn't look back, just scanned the horizon and honed in on whatever was nearby. Marking the stars and sensing out the space with my magic, it appeared that we weren't far from a city. I'd take refuge there and regroup. It was all I could do now that my plans had changed. Without the connections of another person, I'd need to stay on the move and get to the location my father indicated quickly. I didn't have any other option. It'd be better than taking my chances with the rake.

Silas was beside me, and before he could get a word out, I was using the arm he put out to grab a hold of me and throwing the two-hundred-and-something pound man over my shoulder, judo-style. I landed a knee on him again, pinning the brute to the floor with his own dagger laid across his throat.

His golden eyes beamed pure sunlight and strayed to the weapon ready to cut his head straight from his neck. "Aye, you're right to be mad, love. I buggered it all up, and I'm man enough to admit it. But I did get us out of there."

"Barely," I remarked, smacking him across the cheek spitefully and then leaving him on the floor. Again. "They're likely tracking you, and we're better off splitting up from here. Good luck not dying, asshole."

I started my trek again, picking up the pace so I didn't stay in one place for too long. There wasn't any telling if the group of killers after me knew where Silas's little enchanted amulet took the two of us. Brushing my hair up with shaky fingers, I tied the mess up into a ponytail. Anything at this stage was a disadvantage, and I'd need to be on my toes. But before I could walk any farther, an obnoxious oaf blocked my path.

This persistent ass.

"I'm in this now, princess. You'd better kill me off here if you want me gone," Silas entreated huskily, and I ignored how his tone reminded me about what the two of us had done only a few minutes ago. "You're right to be fuming, but let's not be rash. You stand a better chance with me than you do alone. You don't know these Fae. They're nothing like the Fae you've fought. Their tricks are dirty and their power insurmountable."

It was the first time I'd heard the mercenary speak without an ounce of play. His jaw was set, his body tensed to stone, and everything about what he said put across how strongly he believed in the words he was uttering.

"If it's money you want," I started slowly, not sure how to respond to this new version of Silas, "then I'll give you what I've come with. It's not what you would've gotten from Lev, but it's enough to make up for whatever item you just—"

"Stop."

Suddenly, there wasn't a breath between us. Silas's height easily conquered mine, and the glint in his eyes was intensely haunting. The fear I hadn't thought I could feel around him reached my throat, and I worked hard to keep it from appearing on my face.

His glare was the same as someone who'd killed countless times without remorse—someone who'd kill again without thought. It reminded me of the times when my father spoke about my mother's death and his intention to discover every single person responsible for it. It was the look of someone who had nothing left to lose but themselves to the darkness within, and it was the first time I ever regarded Silas as the killer he was.

The predatory way Silas's eyes slid down my body made my heart beat faster. "I'm not the only one who felt something in those tunnels. You haven't gotten a chance to know what kind of man I am, so let me enlighten you, little bird." His voice slithered over my body, making the hair on my limbs stand on end. "I'm not the sort of bloke to let a woman who buggers up the senses get away. Sod the bloody quid, I want you. If killing some Brotherhood tossers means I can have you, then consider their lives forfeit. I'm not a mercenary many can conquer, believe you me, love."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his proclamation. "Pretty words," I whispered.

The Fae's snarky grin was back. "Aye, but words I'll make good on, nonetheless. I've got more than quid to motivate me now, yeah?"

Licking my lips and not missing the way his golden eyes followed the movement, I struggled to string a sentence together, not used to the new air Silas was putting out. It was violently sexual, but I didn't necessarily fear for my life. No, I feared for my body if the gorgeous mercenary got his hands on me. I might not be strong enough to fight him off this time. I might give into him like I did in those tunnels, and that was scarier than dying at the hands of some self-proclaimed Brotherhood asshole.

"Don't make me regret trusting you, mercenary," I finally muttered, voice quieter because of the reignited lust.

His expression softened for the first time in minutes, and the oversized Fae cradled my jaw with his large hands, thumbs brushing my cooling cheeks. Silas bent his head down and our lips met, a static shock sparking before his tongue twined with mine. "No promises, princess."

I landed a hard blowon Silas's upper arm, and the asshole took the hit like he hadn't expected it. We both knew he did. "All this time, and we could've come straight here," I hissed, only feet away from the location my father gave me. "What game are you playing, asshole?!"

Silas rubbed his arm, failing to hide a sneaky smile. He glanced at the building we approached with cautious eyes. "I needed to know what kind of danger you were in." When I lifted my fist, his hands went up in mock surrender. "And that little trinket was only good for one time, love! A ‘get out of jail free' card, if you're a fan of games."

I wasn't.

"I wouldn't have used it without a bloody good reason to. It's not something you use willy-nilly. It's a massively expensive item, it was," Silas went on, angrily carding through his silver locks. "Took me two years of gigs and a few close encounters with death to buy it. Don't even get me started on what it took to find an enchanter strong enough to make one. Summoning Lilith herself would've been easier."

Enchanted items were difficult to produce. They required a special type of Fae to do it, and even then, the power itself was often specific to that Enchanter. Certain enchantments were more common than others, requiring only a knowledge of enchantment to create it. But like what Silas used, some required locating a Fae powerful enough to enchant and insert their own power—or another Fae's power—into something that could effectively store and deploy it when needed.

I'd done a little reading on enchantment, known talented Fae Enchanters, and understood the value of each item produced. It was made clear only certain items could be used for a period of time or a number of times, and those types were relatively uncommon. Most enchanted items were a one-time use. Traveling distances was something very few Fae could do without help, and portals required a great deal of magic to create—not to mention a certain type of caster. Worse, portal-inclined Fae were as uncommon as clairvoyants, even more so the ones who were talented with enchantment.

I side-eyed the bastard reproachfully. "But your commitment ends here, so why wait to use it at all?"

I played stupid, but his proclamation earlier still swirled in my head on repeat. I absently wondered what caused this unfortunate attraction to a man who was quite literally the worst, if I couldn't blame a total absence of sense.

Whatever this thing was between us, it didn't occur until we reached his safe tunnel, and Silas could've used the enchanted item back at his weird friends' house. He knew the Brotherhood was after me, and that his only responsibility was to get me here—to the location my father indicated in the book he left for me. Nothing else. So why? Why did he choose not to leave? Because of some nonsense a guy he'd crossed paths with in a fight uttered to him once?

"Well, call it curiosity or boredom. Whatever suits your fancy, princess. Thing is, I've been meaning to end those wankers from the Brotherhood for a while now. Let's just say you've given me an excuse to finally take out the rubbish," Silas remarked self-importantly, but I didn't buy what he was selling.

"Nice try, but no. You can leave now," I rebuked sharply, then headed for the front door without waiting for him.

I'd rather not get distracted by the mercenary again. If I let him come along, I'd never get rid of him. But the telling oaf-like footfalls following me into the house suggested I'd have better luck making nice with my enemies. It didn't serve me any purpose to punish the man when I was so close to finding out what it was Father wanted me to know.

My thrumming pulse suffered as I made my way through the abandoned property.

Everywhere I looked wallpaper was in different stages of rotting and falling off the plaster. The floors were covered in a thick layer of dust, and the deepest chill a person could feel took hold of the space the deeper inside we traveled. But nothing would distract me from finding what Father left for me. I was half-expecting to see him somewhere hidden in the several-level home, but it'd be a fatal mistake to be at the one location he'd given me.

My pink magic flittered out, swirling and escaping through every open space nearby, before flying up the stairs to the second floor. Breath catching, the sensation of my father's magic echoed back in my core and I rushed up the stairs, two at a time. I heard the mercenary follow, but I quickly searched for where my father's magic pulsed. On the floor, a small box sat. It was the only thing not covered in dust and worn by time.

And it was one I'd recognize anywhere.

The family crest—my mother's—gleamed in moonlight, encased in gold. I removed the lid with the small crest-imprinted stone my father had given me a few months prior. It was evident in that moment it served as a key for this jewelry box when I lined it up with the seal.

So, he'd been planning this for months...

Silas peered down at the box in my hand, the lid flying open and disturbing the dust free-floating around us. "What's that?"

"My mother's jewelry box," I answered absently, staring down at the ornate necklace my father left in it. "It's one of the many things my father kept of hers."

I removed the delicate necklace, and a throbbing pulse took hold of me. An electric, all-magic sensation reached every space inside my body, then tickled across my skin and fed out of my chest in a bright glow of light. The air shuddered violently, and Silas took strong hold of my hand, ready to devise an escape. But I sensed my father's magic flowing around us and squeezed his hand, keeping him there.

The room bled away, no longer time-worn and deserted. Walls covered in bright colors and decorations erected in front of us. Marble floors rolled out to the left and right, going on for as far as the eye could see. Everything was gleaming in candlelight, while shadows stretched out eerily to the other side of the corridor from large bay windows every few feet along the opposite wall.

My eyes strayed to the ceilings, which were easily twenty or so feet high. Nothing around me was familiar, but a sharp feeling of nostalgia struck me as I looked around, trying to figure out if this was a cleverly crafted illusion or memory.

Silas was on his feet, a tight hold on his sword and even tighter grip on my hand as our surroundings morphed and transformed. "A vision?"

A memory.

I caught sight of my father's imposing figure, taking large strides down the hallway. He went straight through Silas, and then me. Closing my eyes, I swallowed the lump in my throat. A part of me never thought I'd see his face again, and I took a second to burn every color, every curve, and every line into my head.

"Bane," someone said from behind us. I turned to see a woman I only knew from my own broken recollection and the few moving photos we kept of her walking down the hallway towards my father. "Have you spoken to them?"

What I did remember of her didn't do this woman standing in front of us justice. The air she projected was powerful and serene, rushing over me like a warm rain in summer. It put my heart at instant ease, and I'd forgotten how much my mother's mere presence soothed me to the bones.

The delicate, elfish features of her face and body words would fail to describe. They were haunting but beautiful. They sunk into you like a melody that never left your head. They teased memories of her gentle smile and comforting words, and I couldn't temper the sudden rush of emotion constricting my throat. I missed her, and seeing the manifested vision of her was nearly too much to comprehend in the few minutes I stood there, wishing she'd just look over and smile at me.

The way she always did.

The way I craved to see her do again.

My mother's long, purple-tinted hair and ice-blue eyes were cast in luminous candlelight, but it was easy to see she'd been crying. Her curvy body was covered in a red velvet cloak over a thin white slip, and it was evident that wherever we were, it was somewhere they weren't concerned about being seen or heard.

Many of the Fae who'd known my mother at one time said looking at me was like staring at her ghost—our features were so similar—but it always felt odd for me to think so. Surely, I wasn't this beautiful, not this otherworldly and captivating at a mere glance.

As my mother's lashes fluttered and her pink-tinted lips soothed the child in her arms, I could say without hesitation she was the most gorgeous Fae I'd ever seen.

My father, whose dark hair and piercing green eyes always gave me the warmest feeling, had my mother by the shoulders, his eyes directed at a baby in her arms. I knew right away that the babe could be no one else but me.

Unfortunately, I was distracted by my father's expression. It twisted my stomach into knots. I'd never seen the man openly grieve the way he was in this memory, not since my mother was killed, and it tugged at my heart to see it.

"They will not hear it. The power they say must be sealed," was all my green-eyed father uttered, his black, body-length cloak shifting over the floor as he took the grunting baby from my mother's arms. "Should we not, they will come for her life."

"She's only a baby!" my mother screamed, blinking away tears. "So what if some clairvoyant know-it-all says she'll one day turn against our kind. Visions have been wrong before. Plenty of times. The future isn't certain. Why punish our sweet Nika?"

My father brought my mother into his arms, hushing her, and the intimate moment hit me harder than I expected. "They fear the tides of change she will bring. Yuma knows she's too powerful to be stopped. But if we don't bind her power now, they'll..."

"Kill her?" My mother finished and took a sobbing breath. "Because they've condemned her before she's even lived?! Because they're afraid of what my grandmother could do? Because those old bats fear our progressive opinions and want to ensure the traditional ways remain the only way? What a bunch of dicks."

Silas made a sound in his throat, failing to smother a laugh, and my lips tilted, being told about my mother's classic potty mouth more than anything else. Father said it never took much to drag out a curse or seven from my gorgeous mother, and he always laughed the same way Silas was now. Her innocent face and omniscient air always contradicted the creative list of curses she used.

"You two have so much in common," Silas whispered, then grunted a second later when he got an elbow to the side.

It didn't surprise me the mercenary would catch on to what was unfolding in front of us. Given his line of work, dissecting intel was a necessary part of the job. He'd met my father, so it wouldn't take a genius to deduce who the woman and child were. Not to mention they'd called me by name. Still, I was impressed he caught on as quickly as he had.

My father caressed the baby in his arms and tenderly cupped my mother's face, the love projected in his eyes was acid in my throat. He loved her so much, and he'd lost her. Maybe because of what unfolded here. Maybe because of whatever the Dark Fae were afraid I'd become.

"We'll seal her power," my father started, and when my mother went to cut him off, he smiled and shook his head to silence her. "But this necklace," he whispered, lifting my mother's necklace with a gentle hand, "this will unseal it when the time comes, my love."

It was the same necklace that had called forth the vision. I looked down at the delicate piece of jewelry still cradled in my palm. Before I could utter another word to Silas, everything around me bled back to the abandoned building my father's location led us to. I searched the space for any remnants of my mother and father's faces and couldn't help the grieving sigh I let loose when it was clear everything was gone.

They were gone.