5. Garratt

FIVE

Garratt

" O ut of the way!" I push through the crowd waiting to be let into the inn, and unlock the door.

"What got your mudweed in a stew this morning, Garratt?" someone calls with a chuckle.

"I think he had a late night," says another. "Never thought you had the charm to woo two females at the same time."

I grab hold of Elodie's arm and heave her through the door after me. Pria slams it closed and bolts it shut, then turns and folds her arms in front of her chest. She taps her foot as if she's annoyed I didn't correct the hecklers' assumption.

Or maybe she's annoyed I never tried to get into her bed.

Who the fuck knows.

Right now, we've got bigger things to worry about.

Elodie tugs against my grip and I realise I'm still holding on to her. Tight.

Shaking her off, like a piece of garbage stuck to my shoe, I hurry over to the bar, slam three glasses down on the counter, and pour three almost-overflowing whiskies.

I down mine, refill it, and down it again before offering Pria and Elodie theirs.

I can hardly breathe. I'm not as fit as I used to be, but it's not the journey from the castle to the inn that has winded me; it's the hammering drumbeat of fear in my chest.

It is so loud, so hard, so fierce I can hardly breathe.

I lean forward onto my forearms and close my eyes.

Outside, regulars are still banging on the door demanding I open up – now more annoyed than amused by my strange entrance.

Elodie hugs her waist. She hasn't taken even a sip of her whisky. Pria, however, is drinking hers slowly, and studying me as if she's waiting for me to say something profound.

Panic is rising like bile from my gut to my throat.

I tug at my collar and turn away from them, leaning back on the bar, trying desperately to remember how to breathe.

"Garratt?" Elodie's voice is willowy and small and makes me want to throw her out into the street with the others. Except then I think about actually doing that, and it makes me want to do the opposite: pull her close and hold her there.

I reach for the whisky bottle again, hand shaking, and this time don't bother pouring it into the glass. I just take a deep swig and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Shit." I shake my head and force myself to turn back to face them.

"Garratt! Open up!" A fist on the door. It makes me jump and sends shivers of fear skittering down my spine.

I see his eyes. I see his wings. I feel the shift in the air. Not just the air. The universe. The cosmos.

In that moment, as Finn rose into the air and his wings became thick, black harbingers of death, I knew this was what I'd always feared.

Even though I didn't realise it.

The catastrophe our ancestors talked about, and the secrets they kept guarded in the library, and the centuries they spent trying to carefully manage the peace of our kingdom... This is it.

This is the moment that was always coming and yet never foretold.

Not out loud.

Because if it had been . . . I would never have . . .

I lose my grasp on the whisky bottle and it falls to the floor. It splinters into several thick shards, and the smell of alcohol fills the air.

"Garratt! If you don't open the door we'll come in through the bloody window! What are you playing at?" More fists, more noise.

I am staring at the whisky, watching it soak into the cracks between the tiles.

The edges of my vision have blurred. I can't think straight. I have never felt fear before. Not like this.

Perhaps I have.

When I looked into my wife's face when she told me she was expecting a baby, and when she got sick, and when she died, and when the baby died with her, and I was left alone.

I drop to the floor.

I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't breathe.

"For fuck's sake, Elodie, help him," Pria barks.

In the periphery of my blurred vision, I see Pria march over to the door and fling it open. A shaft of light strikes across the dark flagstone floor. I shield my eyes. I still can't breathe. I am on the floor in front of the bar, knees drawn up to my chest, behaving like a terrified child, and I can't do anything to snap myself out of it because all I can see is the eyes.

The red, blinking eyes of the demon that will destroy us all.

"Fuck off!" Pria yells at the customers who are waiting to be let in.

"You can't tell us to fuck off, this isn't your place—" someone starts to argue with her.

She slams her foot into the floor and flashes her guard's badge. "Lord Eldrion has ordered this place to be shut down. If the courtyard isn't clear by the time he gets here, I don't want to know what happens next. Do you?"

There's a simmering pause. They know she's lying, but the threat of Eldrion is still enough to make them scurry away silently, lips pressed tightly together, thoughts locked inside instead of spoken aloud.

Elodie kneels in front of me and puts her hands on my shoulders. "Garratt... are you all right?" she asks.

I try to focus on her face. She is pale, and her complexion is clammy. She looks terrified. But clearly she doesn't feel it. Not the way I do.

"Of course, he's not all right." Pria tuts and strides over to the bar. She walks behind it, rummages, then returns with a paper bag full of peanuts. She empties it onto the floor, then shoves the bag into my hand. "Breathe into this. Slowly."

"Can I have one?" Elodie asks, pressing her palm to her chest.

Pria rolls her eyes. "No."

I start to breathe. Slowly. Counting. Pria presses a firm hand to mine and meets my eyes, nodding and breathing along with me.

We stay like this for what feels like hours but is likely only minutes.

When I can finally breathe again, I lower the bag into my lap and nod at Pria. "Thank you."

She shrugs and sits down on the floor next to me, avoiding the whisky spill. Elodie sits down too, crossing her legs.

"So," Pria says, "are you good?"

I fold my arms in front of my stomach. "I'm all right."

"Good," she replies. "Because that's the one chance you get to freak out. Do that again, I'll kill you myself."

The look in her eyes tells me she's deadly serious.

"Why would you—" Elodie mutters, frowning at Pria as if she can't understand what's happening.

"Because all hell is about to break loose, and if we're going to get out of this city before it does, we need to work together." Pria looks at me. "Right?"

"Right." I stagger to my feet. "In which case, we're going to need more whisky."

I stumble behind the bar and grab another bottle, my hands still shaking. I pour two more glasses and slide them across the counter to Pria and Elodie.

"What the fuck..." I mutter, taking a long gulp of the amber liquid. It burns my throat but does fuck all to calm my nerves. "Okay, okay." I'm shaking with adrenaline now, but at least I can see straight. "Okay. So..." I inhale deeply. "So, what the fuck was that?"

Pria downs her whisky in one swift motion. "A demon," she says flatly. "Or something close to it. I've heard stories, whispers, but I never thought..." She shakes her head, her pale wings twitching.

"Stories?" I grip my glass a little tighter. "What kind of stories?"

For the first time in the years I've known her, a look of vulnerability flashes across Pria's face. "My grandfather told me the Shadowkind used to be stronger," she says tightly. "He never explained what he meant. He started to. He was old, and sick, and my grandmother stopped him, but I always wondered what he meant."

"Stronger?" I put my glass down on the bar and nod slowly, trying to shake the pieces into place. "All of you? Not just Finn?"

Taking a swig directly from the bottle because her glass is empty, Pria says, "Maybe. Yes. I don't know. My grandfather said we used to be stronger and then they bound us. That's why they bound us. To stop us becoming our true selves." She pauses, brow pinched into a tight frown. "I had no idea what he meant. But maybe this is what he meant."

Elodie is staring into her glass, her face pale. "So there could be more?" She looks from me to Pria. "What are we going to do?" she whispers.

I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing. "We have to get out of here. Now. Before he comes for us." The thought sends a fresh wave of terror through me.

"Why would he come for us?" Elodie asks. "We're not important. We didn't do anything to him."

"I was playing him and Eldrion against one another!" I shout at her, and watch as she blinks under the weight of my rage. "If he finds out, you don't think he'll want revenge?"

Pria scoffs. "You think that's our biggest problem? Finn's not just going to come for you, Garratt. He's going to destroy this whole fucking city. You heard him. You saw him. He's got bigger plans than taking revenge on an elf who stabbed him in the back."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She's right. This is bigger than just me. Why would Finn care about me? I'm nothing. A speck on the landscape of whatever he has in store for this city.

So, the question is, do I care what happens to anyone else?

Do I stick around and warn the other elves what's coming their way? Or do I save myself?