Chapter Twenty-six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he air felt heavy with tension as they approached the small village. It was more primitive than she'd expected, consisting of small huts instead of real buildings. And while a few places had lights flickering in the windows, there was an emptiness to the place that gave it a haunted, abandoned feel.

Like the people were in such a rush that they just got up and left everything behind.

She rubbed her arms as they paused near the edge of the village, trying to get rid of that eerie sensation. "We can just continue walking until we find something else."

Both men immediately shook their heads, and she glanced at the dark forest around them, wondering what could make two experienced fae warriors uneasy.

"I'll go first." Caedmon kept his sword in his hands, then gave her a pointed look. "Let me do the talking and follow my lead."

"Of course." When they both turned their incredulous looks her way, she scowled. "What? I can let others take the lead. I've been doing it ever since we stepped foot in Faerie."

Instead of being appeased, they appeared even more suspicious. She huffed and rolled her eyes, doing her best to hold back her snark. "If I promise, would that make you feel better?"

If their expressions were anything to go by, she failed miserably, and she grimaced. "Sorry, I will do my best. Promise."

Atlas cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb lovingly over her cheek. "Don't promise something that will put you in danger. Your best is good enough."

She gave a jerky nod, her heart giving an extra beat at being the center of his attention. She used to hate it, assuming he was judging her every move.

She'd been so wrong!

All of his glowering and stomping had merely been him trying to keep his distance. He'd been fascinated by her, and Morgan would be forever grateful that she got to know the real man beneath. She kissed his palm before he could pull away, then smiled up at him when his umber eyes darkened with hunger.

He closed his fingers over the kiss and lowered his arm, growling under his breath. "We'll finish this later."

"I hope that's a promise." Morgan gave him a cheeky grin, then nearly swallowed her tongue when he gave a sharp nod.

"Count on it." He sent her a sexy grin, his fangs flashing.

She couldn't hold back a shiver as she imagined him nibbling along at her flesh and barely resisted the need to fan her face. Heat filled her cheeks when she saw Caedmon observing them so closely, a deep yearning in his eyes, and her stomach fluttered wildly at the thought of him watching them.

She had to shake her head to banish her thoughts, then cleared her throat, her voice raspy when she spoke. "What's your plan?"

Something reflected in Caedmon's yellow eyes, like he could almost read her thoughts, and she flushed when she realized that he could no doubt smell her arousal. He licked his lips, a tiny, sexy smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

Then he blinked, and the heat between them vanished. " Follow my lead. No matter what happens, you must not get caught up in the trap. You need to finish the trials, or none of us will get out of Faerie alive. Understand?"

She nodded at his solemn tone. "I'll run, but know that I'll come back for you."

It was a vow.

She would not be swayed from her decision, and she glared at them, daring them to protest.

"I know." Caedmon's face softened, like he'd never had anyone care enough to watch his back.

The knowledge made her heart ache, and she vowed to do better and show him he now had a family.

Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and entered the village. The hushed silence was eerie. Not even the insects dared make a sound and draw attention to themselves. There was a wrongness to the village that she couldn't quite name, and icy fingers of dread slid down her back like the grim reaper was reaching for them.

"Do elves really live like this?" Morgan glanced around the humble surroundings. For some reason, she was expecting majestic buildings and beautiful artistry, not a village just one step up from a hovel.

"Not all fae are of a royal family." Atlas kept his response simple, but there was a darkness in his tone that worried her. "When you displease the royals, you are banished and forced to make your own way. In a place where rules are valued above all else, it leaves many people with few options."

He was speaking from personal experiences.

Her throat ached as she imagined him living in such a place like this as a small child. No wonder he came to the Academy. "Why do they stay?"

She didn't understand why people wouldn't want a fresh start away from people who'd turned their backs on them.

"Most refuse to leave Faerie. They're connected to the land on a deeper level. We can feel the wind, the scent of plants, the brush of sun on our skin. It's like it talks to us. It's where we get our magic. Leaving it is like cutting off a limb. Most would rather die." The stiff set of his shoulders let her know how much he must have sacrificed.

"Yet you left." It had to be painful and heartbreakingly lonely.

"My family wanted something from me that I was unwilling to give. They wouldn't have stopped pursuing me until they got what they wanted." He shrugged his shoulder like it wasn't a big deal.

"What did you want?" She was startled to realize that she'd never really asked about his past.

Tension seeped away from him at her question, and he flashed her a grin. "You. It just took me a while to figure it out."

Damn if her heart didn't skip a beat at the simple declaration. It wasn't extravagant or a flowery vow of undying love.

It was better.

It was rough and heartfelt and beautiful.

Before she could respond, a door to the long house at the center of the village opened. A tall, slim woman, who looked like she'd skipped too many meals, slipped out. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, and she waved them forward. "You must hurry before they get here."

Atlas dropped back a step, sliding his arm around her waist, and hurried her forward. Caedmon spun, sword aloft as he surveyed the village, walking backwards toward the main building. The woman practically twitched with the need to shove them through the door, and she quickly followed, barely slipping through before she shut it behind her with a thump.

Two waiting men placed a heavy weighted bar across the entryway, and everyone stepped back, watching like they expected the devil himself to come knocking at any moment. Morgan glanced around at the people, and her heart sank.

They were elves, but not like she'd ever seen. While they were no less stunning, the fierceness she was used to seeing was gone. Their hair was less vibrant, their eyes faded, their skin almost gray, like the life had been beaten out of them. Seeing them look so lost and hopeless made her want to hunt down those responsible and rip out their souls.

There were maybe twenty in total, most of the women had one or two children hanging on their skirts. The kids had big eyes that had seen too much horror. They were listless, no laughter, no smiles, no goofing off. It was like they were small mannequins.

The men were bigger and stronger, but not by much. It was obvious that anyone who was able to leave had already fled the village. All that remained were the ones who were too sick or had nowhere else to go. Most had little to no magic, like Faerie had already given up on them, which pissed her off even more.

"What's going on?" She mentally cringed when Caedmon shot her an exasperated look.

Whoops!

"You should have left them, Mirasole." One of the few men spoke, his massive fists clenched at his sides. He was slightly older than the rest, his face leathery from too much drink, his eyes slightly rimmed red. His beard was long and scraggly and resembled a rat's nest.

If she had to guess, he was only a quarter fae, if that.

On closer look, she doubted any of them were full fae.

"They would've died if we did nothing," Mirasole argued, hands on her hips, refusing to cower under the man's glower.

"That's none of our business," he shouted back, taking a threatening step toward the smaller woman. A thump much like hail fell on the roof, and the whole room cringed, fearful eyes scanning the ceiling and walls. It was only then that she noticed the windows had been boarded shut.

A hush fell over the room, not even the children whimpering. It broke her heart to see a few of them clutched small eating knives in their trembling hands.

The rain grew heavier, and Morgan's eyes widened when she realized that it wasn't rain but a lot of somethings landing on the roof. Scurrying feet sounded like thunder as whatever it was skittered across the ceiling. Another thud hit the wall, then another, until it sounded like thousands of critters were scraping at the wood, trying to pry their way inside the building.

The people backed away until they were huddled in the middle of the room, none of them with even a tiny spark of hope left that a rescue would come.

"Caedmon…" He tore his gaze away from the children, fierce anger making his eyes glow, and she saw the same resolve reflected back at her.

"Whatever you need." He didn't even hesitate.

Atlas squeezed her shoulder, not even waiting for her to ask, offering his silent support.

She could've kissed them both.

She should've been focusing on the trial, but she was an assassin to the core, born and raised, which meant she couldn't turn her back on people in need…especially children.

If they did nothing, these people would die.

She couldn't live with that, not when she could've done something to prevent it.

Morgan turned toward Mirasole, ignoring the man, knowing he would rather throw them to the wolves than help. "Tell us what's happened to the village."

Thumps and scratches sounded from underneath the floorboards like something was scurrying beneath their feet. Mirasole flinched and skipped nervously away. She huddled before them, her voice hushed.

"It arrived around a year ago." She blew out a shaky breath, balling her hands in her skirt. "It happened so slowly at first that no one really noticed. A person would go missing. We just thought they moved somewhere better."

She grimaced and brushed out her skirts before she lifted her chin. "A month later, two more people vanished, leaving behind everything they owned. They disappeared in the middle of the night without a word to anyone. We set up patrols, but it didn't matter. More and more people still disappeared before morning."

The door rattled when something solid thudded against it. Mirasole scowled and thrust an angry finger at it. "Then they showed up."

"They?" Caedmon tugged Morgan away from the door, menace darkening his eyes.

"Spiders." The village dickhead stomped toward them with a snarl.

Morgan couldn't repress a shudder and glanced at the walls apprehensively, her eyes stinging when she forgot to blink. "That noise is spiders?"

"Hundreds of them." Mirasole rubbed her forehead, looking beyond tired as she pushed her braids over her shoulder with a shaky hand. "They come back two to three times a week to terrorize us. If they find something to eat, they stay away longer, but the forest is empty. We're barely able to keep ourselves fed. Anyone who had somewhere else to go has already fled. We're what's left.

"It's like they're aware their food source is dwindling. They're getting more aggressive and setting traps." Tears crowded her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away before they could fall. "I'm not sure how much longer we'll be able to hold out."

"Then we'll need to set a trap of our own." Morgan flashed her a smile and glanced around the room. "Is this everyone?"

"Yes, but?—"

"Don't think you can come in here and put my people at risk," the loud-mouth fae blustered as he stormed forward, his chest puffed up with righteous indignation. "I won't stand for it. If you want to put your life at risk, go ahead, but don't expect us to help."

He acted like they'd brought the monsters to them, and Morgan barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled up at him sweetly. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to save your fellow villagers."

He narrowed his gaze, a vicious look entering his eyes. When he would've stepped forward, Caedmon crossed his arms, the tip of his sword pointing to the ceiling. The man eyed it warily, his lips pressed tight, and backed away, clearly not happy.

Morgan peered around the rest of the room, but no one else would meet her gaze.

Not one single person volunteered.

While disappointed, she wasn't surprised. They weren't fighters. It was too much to expect?—

"I'll go." Mirasole lifted her chin and glanced at the rest of the room with both dislike and resignation.

Morgan glanced at the slim woman and almost protested, worried that she wouldn't be able to keep up. The last thing Morgan wanted was for the girl to be hurt or killed.

"Don't," Mirasole warned and crossed her arms. "For this to work, you'll need someone who is familiar with the area. None of these cowards will go with you, so you're stuck with me. Take it or leave it."

As much as she wanted to argue, Morgan couldn't refute the logic.

They needed help.

"Very well, but you will stay with us at all times. No wandering away. No running unless we run. I don't want you to get hurt, understand?"

"Of course." Mirasole clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I'm not an idiot."

Morgan grinned at the spunky woman. "You've been here since the attacks started. You must have thought of a hundred different ways to get rid of them. What do you suggest?"

"Fire," she replied immediately. "They don't like fire. I believe one spider is in charge of all of them. If we can find the queen and get rid of her, the rest of them will scatter or eventually die off."

Morgan glanced at Atlas and Caedmon and lifted her brows. "Any idea what a queen spider would look like?"

Caedmon shook his head, and Atlas had nothing to add either. "No, but I have a feeling that we'll know when we see it."

It took them twenty minutes to create a dozen torches. As they headed toward the door, Caedmon stepped in her way. "Are you sure you want to stay?"

It was obvious that he wanted to leave and continue their mission, his concern for her safety first, and she couldn't resist the urge to lay her hand on his chest, warmed by his concern. "If you were alone, you would never turn your back on them."

He took a deep breath, then conceded defeat with a nod. When he opened the door, Atlas tossed five of the lit torches out first with a precision that should leave them room to stand in the center of a ten-foot circle.

The hiss of hundreds of spiders made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she shivered in revulsion as the little critters scurried back into the darkness. Knowing they only had seconds, the four of them shot out the door. They barely got outside before it was slammed shut behind them, and the heavy bar scraped against the wood as they secured it.

There was no going back now, even if they wanted.

She very much doubted that the asshole would allow them back anyway.

They skidded to the stop in the center of the circle when the spiders began to skitter toward them. They were fucking massive, six to eight inches in size. If she included the feet, it made them look nearly a foot and a half wide. Hundreds of black eyes latched on to them, looking like liquid marbles, and she took an involuntary step back.

Atlas grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her back to the center of the circle. "Steady."

Mirasole began lighting the rest of the torches, sticking them in the ground and waving them at the spiders when they became bold and ventured too close.

The light allowed her to get a better look at what they faced.

Firelight reflected back at her from thousands upon thousands of black, bulbous eyes from the hundreds of spiders. They paced in front of them, the whole ground rippling in the darkness, and she grimaced, knowing she would see them in her nightmares for years to come .

It was creepy to be in the center of the swarm. They began to gather around the circle, crawling over each other to get close, but they weren't like the spiders on Earth. There was an intelligence in their eyes, like an animal stalking their prey. A few of them in the back pushed up with their legs until they were balanced on the very tips, straightened to nearly two feet high.

"They must be able to jump at least six feet or more." Morgan shot a look at Atlas, and he nodded in understanding. They weren't safe. They could easily jump over the flames and get within the circle. "We need to locate the queen, and fast."

The guys lifted the torches higher, swinging them over the mass of spiders, when Mirasole gave a shrill scream. Morgan whirled to see her fears confirmed—five spiders had indeed leapt over the flames, working in concert.

Mirasole had dropped her torch, frantically struggling to pry one of the eight-legged freaks from her chest, desperate to keep it away from her vulnerable neck and face. Another one was on her back, while two more were on her legs, busily working to encase her in a milky web. Even as Morgan leapt toward Mirasole, the last spider tracked her movement and scuttled to the side, lurching back on his haunches, ready to launch itself at her if she tried to interfere.

Atlas grabbed her out of midair, pulling her tight to his chest, and they watched in horror as Mirasole lost her balance and toppled past the ring of light. She was immediately covered by a wiggling black mass, her screams muffled as she was dragged off into the darkness.

"Fuck!" Morgan struggled to get free but couldn't find leverage to break his hold. "Let me go. I can?—"

"She's already gone." Caedmon cupped her face, forcing her eyes away from the darkness and the juicy sounds of the spiders consuming their latest victim. "And if we don't do something, we'll be next."

Morgan blinked back tears, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

As much as it pained her to turn away, he was right.

It was a fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy, and her stomach heaved at the thought of her mates ending up the same way.

A deadly calm settled over her, and she took a deep breath. "We need to find the queen."

And fast.

Atlas gently lowered her to the ground and picked up one of the torches, lifting it high in the air. Then he paused. "Here."

Morgan and Caedmon came to a stop on either side of Atlas. She wasn't sure what caught his attention…until she saw spiders swarming in and out of the well. "What do you want to bet that the queen is somewhere down the well?"

"Then we better move." Caedmon lifted his sword and pointed at the darkness. "It won't be long before the rest of the spiders return."

Atlas picked up the extra torches and handed them off until they each had two. With a grim nod, they sprinted toward the stone well. Caedmon took the lead, using his sword as a golf club as he swatted the nasty creatures out of the way, the critters screeching in outrage as they flew through the air.

Once they reached the well, the spiders scurried away from the flames, chittering angrily.

Morgan glanced down, not sure what to expect, fearing something would reach out and pull her down into the dark depths.

And froze when she saw the graveyard of bones resting at the bottom. She counted at least a dozen different corpses mixed in the toxic sludge-like soup brewing at the bottom before she gave up. "What the hell?"

Atlas crouched near the base of the well and brushed away the dirt to reveal a thick chain. He glanced up at her with a grim expression. "The villagers lied. While it might have started off like they said, I'm guessing things changed. You heard them—the creatures gave them a reprieve and disappeared if they were fed."

"The devil take them!" Morgan lurched away in disgust, appalled at the discovery. "They were sacrificing their own people!"

"More than likely." Caedmon knocked away a few spiders who dared venture too close. "And the villagers decided that we were their next meal."

"Fuck…that's what they were doing inside the main building when we arrived." She should've been pissed, but her heart felt heavy as she recalled the scared faces of the helpless women and children. "We can't leave. They'll keep killing each other until no one is left alive."

"Then we find the queen." Atlas rose, raising a torch above his head.

Something inside her squirmed at seeing so many beady little eyes peering back at her. Hundreds must have gathered while they were talking.

They didn't move, didn't fidget, didn't so much as twitch.

It was eerie.

Like they were waiting.

After another minute, the spiders began to part, and Morgan lifted her own torch, squinting when something in the shadows moved toward them.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw Mirasole gliding toward them, completely unharmed, and everything began to make sense. "No wonder no one could find the queen. You were hiding among them the whole time."

Mirasole smirked, then shrugged modestly, the thin girl replaced by a confident woman. Her glassy eyes appeared too large for her face, the orbs almost completely black. "Mating season is nearing. It's survival. I must have enough food while I prepare my nest."

Even as she spoke, her back arched, and two long rods punched out of her spine with a moist, sucking sound. The poles cracked much like a bone, bending and arching over her head. When six more rods joined the first, her mind finally processed what she was seeing.

Spider legs .

It was all she could do to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. "An arachne."

Mirasole smiled, her jaw opening a little too wide, revealing a mouthful of needle-like teeth that should've been impossible to fit inside her mouth. "Smart and pretty. You will taste delicious. A simple bite from my beauties, and poison will flood your system. Your insides will liquefy, then I'll crack you apart and savor you slowly."

She licked her lips, as if Morgan were a tasty lobster. Her jaw unhinged, opening unnaturally wide, saliva leaking out in a long string, and a guttural groan escaped her. "I'm hungry."

The deep sound of her voice resonated in the air, the raspy words a hiss.

And a command.

Hundreds of spiders charged forward all at once.

Caedmon brought up his sword, while Atlas pulled two knives, but they were severely outnumbered. Even with all their battle experiences, they wouldn't be able to win. The metal cuffs around her wrists warmed, clearly eager for the fight, but it wouldn't be enough. She wanted to call her magic, but she was mindful of Atlas's warning.

"I can rip open a portal and push her through." Morgan kicked one of the spiders when it got a little too close. It soared through the air with a screech…only to have two more spiders take its place. She stomped, shuddering when they squished then popped like melons being crushed, green goo splattering everywhere.

"We can't risk it. Your magic doesn't come from Faerie, and anything else can be a bit unpredictable," Caedmon warned, slashing his sword through five spiders at once. Four of them dropped dead, while one lost half of his legs. It didn't slow it down, the creature pulling its body forward, his abdomen dipping and swaying like the critter was drunk.

"Then what do you suggest?" Before he could answer, the chain around her neck twisted and spun, the metal stretching until a bow formed. Instead of an arrow, a sword rested against the bowstring.

While she could create a sword, Morgan knew the weapon represented her fae warrior.

"How good are you with that thing?" Morgan gestured toward Caedmon's sword, watching him move like the blade was a part of his body.

He gazed at her for a moment, then nodded. "Whatever you need."

"Be ready." She turned, summoned the bow, and lifted her arm at the same time. She drew back the string, and a black arrow swirled into existence. One after another, she released the arrows. Mirasole managed to knock the first one away with one of her many legs, then the spiders began to jump in the path of the arrows, spearing themselves to block each shot.

Half of the spider army began to charge toward Morgan with an angry hiss.

Knowing she didn't have much time, she drew back the bowstrings, releasing the arrows faster and faster, until the spiders couldn't keep up. "Now!"

She dropped the bow and called her blades, even as she charged forward. Magic heated in her veins, giving her a boost of speed, and she launched herself in the air.

Mirasole barely had time to knock the last arrow away before Morgan slammed into her. Even as they tumbled toward the ground, Morgan slashed with her blades, barely able to keep up as the spiders tried to make a pincushion out of her with those damned freaky legs.

They slammed into the ground with a heavy thud, Morgan landing on the bottom. Only when it was too late did Morgan notice that Mirasole had coated her with a sticky liquid that seemed to ooze out through her spider legs, and she found herself pinned to the ground on her back.

Eight spider legs thumped into the ground around her, and Mirasole pushed herself up until she hovered in the air over her. Rage darkened Mirasole's face when she touched the dozen or so wounds on her body, then she locked those creepy black eyes on her and hissed. "Did you really think you would win?"

Mirasole leaned down, saliva dripping from her mouth, a ghastly smile stretching her lips. "I'm going to enjoy this."

Saliva dribbled against her bare skin, and Morgan gritted her teeth when it burned like her skin was being peeled away from her flesh. She called for her magic, but it answered sluggishly.

Warm breath brushed against her neck when a movement above them caught her attention.

Caedmon!

He soared through the air, his sword raised high. Even as he landed, he lowered the blade.

With a clean strike, he cleaved Mirasole's head from her body.

Morgan twisted to the side as much as her sticky clothes allowed and barely missed having the skull crack into her face. The rest of Mirasole's body swayed dangerously, her spider-like legs wobbling like stilts. Atlas crouched near her head, shoved his hands under her shoulders, then heaved back with all his might. He barely managed to pull her free in time before the rest of the body crumpled to the ground right where she'd been, the spider's legs snapping like matchsticks.

Cradled in Atlas's arms, she watched as spiders dropped to the ground around them, horrible screams of agony piercing the air. It was like they no longer had any control over their bodies as they lay twitching on the ground. Some tried to drag themselves away, but they didn't make it more than a few feet before they collapsed.

It was over in minutes.

Everything around them stilled, piles of spiders laid scattered in heaps around them.

Caedmon knelt in front of her and gently tilted her head to the side, lightly tracing a finger down the side of her throat. "Minor burns. They're already healing, but I want to get you cleaned up."

He didn't wait for a reply, just scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the biggest house in the village. She shuddered when the spiders scrunched under his boots, but he didn't once waver or slow.

"Shouldn't we let the villagers know that it's safe?" She rested her head against his shoulder, too exhausted to hold it upright, needing the comfort of his touch.

"I'll go." Atlas brushed his fingers down the side of her face. "Rest. I'll be back."

She grabbed his wrist before he could step away. "You'll be careful and come back to me."

"Always." He grabbed her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, then placed it gently against her chest. He glanced up at Caedmon. "Keep her safe."